#no it’s gonna be FINE. maybe work from home they’ll let me use my laptop

[bright-and-burning]

niche as hell but oh my god i think i’m gonna spend the first MONTH of work with my skin crawling from having to reconfigure all of my routines and workflows to work with windows… the adhd attachment to my routines and inability to handle deviation well + the comp sci attachment to my specific workflow… this might kill me

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

Jealousy

Word Count: 2,832

Characters: Derek Hale, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Noah Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Reader (gender neutral)

Pairings: Derek Hale x Platonic!Reader; Scott McCall x Platonic!Reader, Stiles Stlinski x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: angst, death, very small fluff at the end

A/N: okay either I forgot how to write, or my brain just hyped up this for no reason at all :/

A/N 2: it’s like riding a bike... writing will come back, right?

Masterlist

“We need to figure out a plan where we can all be safe. This isn’t gonna work if you can’t focus,” Scott was getting slightly, frustrated, sitting next to you while he put his hands in his head.

“Oh, come on, you have to admit this is a little funny,” you were holding back your laughter, seeing a look of anger on Derek’s face, and a look of annoyment on everyone else’s.

“How is this funny, (Y/N)?!” Stiles exclaimed.

“It’s hysterical because some dumbass bozo decided that a group of teenagers is the biggest threat in Beacon Hills!” you let out a small snicker, seeing Derek roll his eyes.

Stiles turned Lydia’s laptop screen to you, showing your name.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) 35 

No one on the entire Deadpool was nearly as much as you, your alpha was 15 million less than you. 

“That’s even funnier! Scott, my powers are a joke compared to yours! Besides, if we’re so high up, do you really think any idiot would actually come after us? We’re powerful, we’re a werewolf pack with a true alpha, a banshee, a kitsune, a were-coyote, and a witch! I can’t even control my powers, we’re all dangerous,” you scoffed, leaning back into the chair.

You saw Derek huff as he stood up, pushing off the couch with force before walking to you, holding your wrist tightly.

You could feel slight pain, ignoring it.

“Did I do something to upset your royal highness?” you gasped dramatically, feeling his grip on your wrist tighten.

You saw Scott stand up, tense, from the side of your eye while your head hit the wall behind you.

“Oh, are you about to kiss me?” you asked, a small smirk on your face.

“You’re not fucking indestructible. We are all in danger, you were all trapped in the school and almost died, you think this is the time to dick around? That this is the time for jokes?! We’re all in danger, these hunters are ruthless,” you saw his eyes glow blue, feeling your throat tighten before you ignored it.

It’s okay

“Every single threat we’ve ever faced, we’ve gotten over. We are good at this, hunters are shitty. Why not add a little humor while we’re at it?” you replied.

“Satomi’s pack is dead! You still think we can get over this?! They’ve been alive for decades!” he yelled.

“Derek, stop-” Scott started.

“They never learn. They never listen. We are in danger, (Y/N). When we find your body, when your name is crossed out on that fucking list, maybe then you’ll learn your lesson. Maybe you could stop being so fucking cocky and arrogant. When you’re dead,” you felt your heart drop, trying to keep calm before you pulled away from Derek.

“Just because your life is fucked doesn’t mean you have to take it out on everyone else,” you saw Derek clench his fist, while Scott quickly pulled you away, just in time as Derek’s fist collided with the wall behind you,

“That’s enough, both of you. We’re not going to find (Y/N)’s body like that, we’re all going to get through this, we just need a plan. (Y/N), we need to be serious,” Scott started.

“Serious as Sirius Black?” you said.

Derek glared at you before Stiles groaned audibly.

“You know what? Maybe it’s time to take a break and go home. We’ll talk about this in the morning,” Lydia said.

Stiles nodded his head in agreement, while Derek’s tense figure softened slightly.

“I agree with Lydia. It’s time for all of us to go home,” you gave a smile and wave to the pack before making your way to the door.

Scott pulled you aside before you entered your car.

“Hey, Scotty,” you smiled.

“(Y/N), look. I know this world is terrible, I know how you think up there. But you need to tone it down. We just need you to be serious for five minutes. Meet me in the middle here, what if one of us isn’t here next time Derek decides he wants to punch your face?” you could hear a worried tone in Scott’s voice.

“Well, we just pray that I’m never alone with the sourwolf,” you sat in your car while Scott sighed.

“Fine. I get what you’re saying. I’ll tone it down,” he nodded his head, thanking you before making his way to his motorcycle.

---

You yawned softly, turning on the lights as you dropped your bag to the floor.

“Hey, I’m home,” you called out to your siblings, getting silence as a response.

“Don’t pretend to be asleep. Get your asses down here!” you said.

You walked to the kitchen, seeing the dishes left all over the place, including some broken glass left on the floor.

You began to feel nervousness in your chest before you made your way up the stairs.

“Hey, Olivia, Liam? Is anyone here?” you opened their room doors, your heart stopping. They weren't there, they were nowhere in sight.

Both of your siblings knew and listened to your rules no matter what, it was a side effect of paranoia after your parents died. You made all the rules, they listened no matter what.

You felt your throat tighten, dialing your sister’s number, then your brother’s. They both went to voicemail.

You ran down the stairs, running your fingers through your hair as a small whimper escaped your lips. Your vision blurred as tears flooded your eyes. You wiped them away, taking shaky breaths before calling Scott.

The call went to voicemail, but he sent a text back.

You gathered your belongings once again, running out of your house.

---

Your breathing was shaky, you ran out of your car as you rushed up the stairs, about to enter the loft before you heard Derek yelling at Scott.

“They're going to die, I don’t know why we’re pretending (Y/N)'s not going to. They’re arrogant, they're cocky, they can’t stay serious for longer than two minutes-” you put your hand over your mouth to hold back your cries.

“(Y/N) has a different way of coping, that’s all this is. Their parents died, they have to take care of their siblings, they try to take care of all of us. I say let them be,” Scott replied.

“No. I want them out of the pack, all they are is a burden at this point.”

You’re wasting time, (Y/N)

You couldn't bring yourself to open the door, to ask Scott for help. Not right now, at least.

You found yourself running out of the loft, instantly freezing as you were met with the barrel of a gun.

Your eyes widened, putting your hands up as you froze.

“Get in the car,” his voice sounded calm, while your eyes glowed purple.

“If you try anything on me, you can say goodbye to both of your siblings,” you felt a shiver up your bones as you clenched your jaw.

“Olivia and Liam, was it? Oh, you should've heard them crying for you, it was pathetic,” he scoffed.

“They’re children-” 

“And they’ll have a chance to live if you come with me right now,” you felt a tear slip down your face, nodding softly.

You walked in front of him, keeping your hands up as your heart began to race in your chest, sitting in the van before the man handcuffed your wrists.

---

Your bruises covered the majority of your body, you sat alone at the Sheriff’s Station. Your hands were shaking, you tried to keep your focus off the events from the past two weeks.

You instantly remembered the events from last year, sitting in this exact position, at this exact place. 

“No, I-I didn't see them come in,” your throat tightened, you looked down while Sheriff Stilinski stood in front of you.

“So how did you know something happened?” he asked softly.

“I was… I was doing my homework, I heard this pound bang. I-I thought my siblings were playing but then-” your voice wavered as you stopped yourself, holding back your tears.

“I heard crying, and now…” 

You closed your eyes at the memory, letting out a shaky breath.

“(Y/N), we need to know what happened,” Noah asked softly.

He leaned down in front of you, your entire body remained tense.

“I can’t talk about this right now,” your voice broke.

You could see the surprised look on Stilinski’s face, you weren't much of a person to be serious, as the pack was familiar with.

You were the jokester, the class clown. The dead weight. You soon found out that if you focused on the humor in every situation, your mind would be too preoccupied to think about the pain. But there wasn't any humor in this, only your stupidity.

If you listened to Scott, your siblings would be alive. If you were serious for 5 minutes, you could have helped the pack come up with a plan.

But now you sat alone at the Beacon Hills Department.

“Stiles is almost here. How do you feel about staying with us for a while?” he asked softly.

Sheriff Stilinski always treated you like his kid, always taking care of you. He knew that you would feel bad, returning to your house all alone.

You nodded softly, while he nodded, giving you a small smile.

“Is there anything important that I need to know?” Stilinski asked softly.

You could see your hands shaking, while you clenched your jaw.

“I don't know what they did… I-I don't have my powers anymore,” you tried to keep your voice strong before his face fell, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I promise you that we’ll find them and make them pay.”

“(Y/N)?” you saw Stiles walk into the station, Scott following close behind.

The two of them ran to you, wrapping their arms around you tightly. You held back your cries, burying your face in Stiles’ neck before taking a deep breath.

“Hey, let’s go?” Scott asked softly.

You nodded, while Scott held your hand, beginning to take your pain.

“It’s fine,” you pulled away from him.

He paused for a second, before nodding softly.

Stiles gave a look to Scott before the three of you walked out of the station.

---

“Do you have any ideas?” you looked up at Scott talking to you, seeing the rest of the pack giving you a look.

“There isn’t anything we can do. We just need to be able to defend ourselves,” you explained quietly.

“Lydia, have you figured out how to shut down the…”

Your mind drifted from the conversation, you remained quiet and curled up on the couch. Stiles sat next to you. The entire pack kept their eyes on you, you know they pitied you. Even Derek remained silent about your actions, the two of you haven't fought all week.

“So then one of us can stay here and defend you-” Stiles started.

“I don't need anyone to defend me-” the two of them began to argue briefly before Scott sighed, stopping them.

“(Y/N), can you stay here with Derek?” Scott asked softly.

No, I hate him, he hates me 

You found yourself nodding before you cleared your throat to speak.

“Yeah, that’s fine. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Stiles pressed a small kiss to your forehead before he and Scott left.

You turned to face Derek, seeing a tensed look on his face.

“I can show you to the extra room,” he said softly while you nodded.

---

You kept to yourself mainly, keeping your focus on your work. Derek would even forget that you were there. He would occasionally try to talk to you, you were surprised to hear him cracking a joke.

You had grown slightly annoyed, you knew he felt guilty. There was never a time he didn't make you feel bad about being happy or making jokes. 

You held a gun in your hand, something that you weren't used to yet. With Derek losing his power, he was unable to defend himself, you had yet to tell the pack about you losing your powers.

You sighed, resting your head on your hand.

“Hey,” you clenched your jaw, hearing Derek’s voice as he approached you.

“This is kinda funny, you know. You having to protect me like this,” you tried to keep your focus off Derek, feeling your throat tighten in anger slightly.

“Hey,” you sighed deeply, looking up at Derek.

“I’m really sorry-”

“Shut up,” you clenched your jaw. Derek had a slight look of surprise on his face.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Stop,” you shook your head.

“(Y/N)-” 

“We were never friends. Why are you trying to be nice all of a sudden?” you stood up in front of him.

“I just want to see you happy again,” he said softly.

“Are you fucking joking?” you scoffed.

He stayed quiet, giving you a soft look while you crossed your arms.

“You’ve always made me feel bad about having a smile on my face, for trying to be happy. Isn’t this what you fucking wanted?!” you raised your voice, while he clenched his jaw.

“This isn’t what I wanted to happen-”

“No! They murdered both of my siblings in front of me, they took my powers. What the fuck did you think was going to happen?” you shouted at him, feeling your heart race.

“Your powers? (Y/N)...”

“Yeah, you’d rather you just found my body, right?! When my name is crossed off on that fucking list, so then maybe I can learn my lesson, right?!” you yelled.

“That’s not what I meant, (Y/N)-”

“Why? Because you’d rather kill me yourself?! You could’ve done it the other day, when you tried to punch me, if Scott hadn’t stopped you,” your eyes watered as your voice wavered slightly.

“(Y/N)-”

“I heard you telling Scott about how you wanted me out of the pack! How I’m a big fucking burden! So, please stop pitying me and just leave me the fuck alone!” you yelled.

“I know how you feel, (Y/N). My family’s dead too, (Y/N),” he said softly.

“You wanna compare?! Did someone murder your parents? While you were in the fucking house, too dumb to realize until it was too late?! Have you been taking care of your younger siblings for a year, a-and because you can’t do anything right, they get kidnapped and you watch them die. I can hear their voices, Derek. They were screaming, they cried for me to save them and I couldn’t do anything. Don’t pretend you know what I’m going through, what this feels like because you don’t. None of you understand,” more tears fell from your eyes as you continued to yell at Derek before you ran your fingers through your hair, letting out a shaky breath.

You let out a small cry, putting your hand over your mouth to stop yourself.

Derek wrapped his arms around you tightly, taking you by surprise.

But you didn’t care. You were in too much pain to care. You were too tired to care.

He stroked your cheek softly, holding you tightly as he rested his head on top of yours.

“You’re right, I don’t know how you feel. I never will. That doesn’t mean that I’ll let you go through this alone,” your chest was aching as you scrunched your eyes tightly, a small cry escaping your lips.

“Out of all of us, I’m the closest to understand how you feel, how to lose your entire family, and feeling like it’s all your fault. But, it’s not, (Y/N),” you buried your face in his neck as he continued to caress your back, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“And I’m sorry that I was such a dick. I never hated you, I could never hate you. I was just jealous,” he said softly.

You looked up at him while he stroked your cheeks, wiping away your tears.

“If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I promise I’ll never screw it up, and I promise that I’ll never hurt you,” you nodded as he pressed his lips to your forehead once again.

“It’s getting late, we should probably go to sleep soon,” he said softly.

“I can’t fall asleep,” you sighed.

“Then I’ll help you,” he nodded.

He walked you to his bed, laying down next to you before wrapping his arms around you once again.

“You’re safe, I promise,” you nodded softly, closing your eyes.

He continued to hold you, listening to your heart rate and breathing before making sure you were asleep. He sat up on his elbow, looking down to face you. Your face was covered in dry tears and snot, he could see your pain while he sighed softly.

“You’re safe now,” he muttered softly.

He turned off the lights, before laying back on the bed, falling asleep next to you.

[bigilante]

〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗

「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」

: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼

⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.

“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.

“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.” It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.

“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.

Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.

But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?

Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.

It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.

The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.

You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.

Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.

For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.

“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.

“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.

“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.

“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.

LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.

So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.

Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.

You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.

“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.

“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.

“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.

“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”

“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.

“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.

“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.

The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.

Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”

“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.

The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.

Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.

“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”

It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Just a Thought Away | Owen Patrick Joyner

Request:  Could you do a soulmate au with Charlie or Owen, whichever you're more comfortable with, where they can hear each other's thoughts or the music they listen to?

A/N: Made it an Owen one shot since I don’t have many requests for Owen! Hope this is what you expected and you like it! :) 

Pairing: Owen Joyner x Fem!reader

Warnings: Very minor swearing 

Words: 4,175

Another note: Anything in bold and italics is a thought! 

Songs used: Pump It - Black Eyed Peas

Growing up, Y/N’s mother told her these stories about soulmates and how every person on this earth would be assigned a soulmate by their guardian angel at 16. People would be able to hear their thoughts and the songs they were listening to or singing would be playing in their head as though it was just stuck in their head.  Of course, as a child, Y/N used to believe her every word and would be clinging to those words. She’d fantasize about her soulmate and where she’d meet them or what music they’d be into. She’d keep her eyes on every person in Middle School and even High School, trying to see if she could just find them. Not like there would be any physical notabilities, but she liked fantasizing about it.  By the time Y/N turned 16, she had almost forgotten about the whole soulmate thing. Her birthday was months ago and nothing ever happened. She never heard a song play in her head she didn’t know or hadn’t had any thoughts that didn’t belong to her. She was pretty certain all of those soulmate stories her mother told her were fake.  Until July 19th 2016. That’s when she first starts noticing some things. To start off the day, the song ‘Happy Birthday’ is stuck in her mind and it’s not even her birthday or anyone else’s in the family or friend group that could’ve provided that song in her head.  During the afternoon of that day, Y/N suddenly hears a humming in her mind that quickly changes into a full-on made-up song that no one close to her would ever sing.  “Mmh, Cake, cake, I like cake Cake, cake, I like cake.” She can’t help but laugh, though. She’d been studying for many hours without taking a break, it’s starting to mess with her brain a little. Y/N’s teachers have been giving so much work lately, she’s nearly drowning in it and it’s far from done. Sophomore year is possibly one of the hardest, in her opinion, and having the need to maintain a social life really doesn’t help with that. She hasn’t been to a party for weeks. She’s starting to crave human contact and dancing and having fun with friends and not sleeping until the sun rises.  Though that last part sounds very appealing when you’re at a party, it doesn’t when you’re in bed and trying to sleep. She’s woken up by loud music thumping in her ears. It sounds almost as though the neighbors are having a party next door, but when she gets up and walks outside the house, she realizes the house next door is completely dark. There’s no movement whatsoever. She must’ve hallucinated, but then why is she still hearing this loud music?  That’s when it dawned on her that the soulmate stories her mother used to tell are real. As a matter of fact, the songs she’d been hearing all day long were the songs her soulmate was listening to or singing. It must’ve been their 16th birthday, which they are now celebrating at a party. She always thought it’d be more fun and romantic to have a soulmate and hear them sing and think, but it’s actually pretty annoying. And it’s only the first day. This is going to be fun. 

“Morning, sweetie,” Y/N’s mother greets when she stumbles into the kitchen the next morning. She hasn’t slept one bit. Her soulmate has been partying all night and only got home by 6am, which was two hours ago. “Oh, you look rough! Are you feeling okay?” “I haven’t slept all night because my stupid soulmate was out partying all night.” Her eyes widen at this, as does her smile. “They turned 16 yesterday, so I guess that’s why I never heard anything yet on my birthday.” “Oh, yeah! You both need to be 16 before the whole soulmate-thing starts to work,” she informs her daughter and hands a cup of fresh, steaming-hot coffee. “Do you know anything about them yet?” She shakes her head before taking a careful sip from the goddess liquid --as she and her siblings call it. “No, I kinda thought it was my brain hallucinating from studying so much, so I couldn’t really think of a way to converse with them.” Her head snaps up as an idea crosses her mind. “How do you converse with your soulmate, mom?” She shoots her a tender, relieved smile, happy she can finally properly inform Y/N about it instead of those folklore stories. “You just think what you wanna ask them and they hear it,” she replies. “So, if I let my inside voice just yell ‘shut up!’, they’ll hear too?” Her mother chuckles, nodding her head in response. “Good! I ought to try that whenever they’re singing about their cake again.” Her mother laughs at that before leaving her in the kitchen, so she can get ready for work. Her soulmate is seemingly still asleep, which she would’ve been too if it wasn’t for work. Y/N works at a coffee shop on the weekends, just to get some experience and earn a little bit of money for her shopping addiction. Maybe right now would be a perfect moment to avenge her soulmate for keeping her up all night last night. So, while getting ready, she puts on some music on her laptop. With the volume on maximum, she starts belting the One Direction song along at the top of her lungs. “You and me got a whole lotta history!” It takes a while before a loud ‘SHUT UP!’ echoes through her mind. A teasing smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she stops singing. “That’s what you get for keeping me up all night, sweetie” she thinks, hoping it’ll come through. For a moment, she thinks it might not work like that until a boy’s voice floats through her brain. “Who’s this?” She chuckles, pausing the music and taking a seat at her desk. “Y/N Y/L/N. Ever heard of those soulmate folklore stories?” She starts doing her make-up whilst waiting for his response. “Yea, my father used to tell me those. I thought they were fairy tales?” “So did I. Turns out they’re real!” This feels so weird. “You just turned 16, right?” “Yeah, yesterday! How’d you know?!” he asks, and it makes her realize he might not be the brightest tool in the shed. “Because I turned 16 in January and I didn’t hear anything until yesterday…” A silence falls over the conversation. Either it’s not working anymore or he’s digesting all this information. “You heard me singing to my cake, didn’t you?” he finally asks instead, and Y/N can even hear him chuckle. “Yep! I thought I was hallucinating because I was studying so hard,” she lets out a chuckle too. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.” “Oh, thanks! I’m Owen, by the way. Owen Joyner.” She has heard that name before, but she’s got no clue where, though. Making a mental note to Google it later, she grabs the mascara and adds the finishing touches to her makeup. “Nice to meet you, Owen. I gotta get going though. Have to be at work in about…” She glances at the clock on her wall, her eyes widening when she sees the time. “Five minutes. See ya! Or… Hear ya?!” She hears Owen chuckle in her mind. “Yeah, I’ll hear ya,” he says, then a yawn-like sound buzzes through her, giving her the urge to yawn too. “Sorry for waking you up,” she quickly adds before running out of the house. Her mind’s going over a million excuses as to why she would be late to work, but none of them sound quite plausible. Especially not the truth. “Go with ‘the neighbors had a party last night and I overslept’-excuse, Y/N,” she hears Owen’s voice again, “Now stop thinking, I wanna sleep!” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Thanks, Owen. And I wanna sleep too, but I can’t, now can I? Me awake means you awake. Deal with it.” She can even hear a disgruntled groan, meaning he’s probably getting up because her thoughts won’t stop running through his mind. That night, she figures out he's the Owen Joyner, aka Crispo Powers from “100 things to do before High School”, a TV-show she’d watched almost daily in the last two years. She asks him about that too, and he explains the whole auditioning and filming process and how much fun it was for a first acting gig. He asks about her life too, and the two of them bond over thoughts. This whole soulmate-thing is still very whack. But, to be completely honest, she kind of loves it. It’s like having an angel on your shoulder, telling you what the best option for your dilemma is. Though, most times, Owen is more likely the devil. Which is what Y/N needs most times. The most fun thing about this whole Soulmate-connection thing, have to be the dance parties the two of them hold at night, unless she has to get to work the following day and Owen won’t stop singing at the top of his lungs. One night, he was singing Pump It by the Black Eyed Piece at 3am. She’d groaned at first, hoping that’ll subtly tell him to shut up, but it didn’t work at all. He just kept rapping the verses, keeping Y/N awake and annoyed. “Come on, baby, do it” She decides to finally give in, knowing he’s not going to stop until she starts singing along. So, she sits up straight in her bed, and belts the lyrics at the very top of her lungs, not even caring about anyone in the house hearing. “La-da-di-dup-dup die dy On the stereo Let those speakers blow your mind” “Blow my mind, baby” She chuckles at his interruption. “To let it go, let it go Here we go La-da-di-dup-dup die dy” “C'mon, we're there” “On the radio The system is gonna feel so fine” He stops singing then and a silence falls over the both of them. Y/N can’t lie, in the past couple of years as she’d grown closer to him, spending every waking -- and sleeping -- moment together, she’d started developing some feelings for Owen Patrick Joyner too. It’s ridiculous because she’d never seen him in real life. She knows everything about him and she knows what he looks like, but she doesn’t know what his hugs feel like, or what his cologne smells like. “You’re a great singer, Y/N,” he finally breaks the silence, “I’m gonna let you sleep now, kay? Good night, baby girl.” Of all the pet names he’d given her so far, Baby Girl, Princess and Gorgeous were her favorites. All of them with a platonic tendency, though, much to her dismay. “Good night, O-bear,” she whispers back before tucking herself into bed again. Then finally, in 2019, Owen and a couple of people from the cast and crew of Julie and The Phantoms, his latest project Y/N was most excited about, decided to make a trip to New York City, her hometown. To say she’s excited would be the understatement of the year. She’d finally be able to hug him and talk to him properly and show him around her hometown and get to know the rest of the cast she’d heard so much about. But among the excitement also hides a little bit of nerves. After years of talking to him by just thinking, she’d finally see him in real life. What if things get awkward? What if it’s not what she expects? What if he’s only so beautiful in her mind? Y/N is walking around the coffee shop, wiping down tables and jumping up every time a new customer enters, thinking it’s Owen. He knows where she works on the weekends, and promised to find her there the minute he’d gotten settled in his hotelroom. “Ooh, pretty girl over there.” Her stomach churns as she hears his thoughts. He forgets about the whole soulmate-connection thing sometimes and just lets it out unfiltered. She knows he doesn’t like her the same way she likes him, and he’s allowed to look at other girls and think they’re pretty, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. “All around the world pretty girls,” he sings the famous Britney Song. “Mostly at coffee shops, yeah I’m talking about  you, pretty girl.”  A soft rap on the window next to Y/N makes her snap out of her focus on Owen’s voice. When she looks up, there’s a tall, blonde man waving at her through the glass with the biggest smile on his face. A flutter erupts in her stomach whilst her mouth involuntarily curls up into the widest smile she’d ever managed. She gestures at him to come in and hastily makes her way to the door herself. The second he walks inside, she launches herself into his arms. Wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, she holds him tight and inhales the smell of his cologne. He smells of the most divine combination of spearmint and musk. Just as she’d imagined him smelling like. “I can’t believe this,” she hears him think, which makes her chuckle. “You know you can actually talk to me right now, right?” she tells him, pulling away slightly so she can look at his face. There’s a slight stubble growing on his cheeks and chin, and his eyes look even prettier in real life than on a phone screen. “Right, yeah,” he chuckles, Y/N’s new favorite sound in the world. “Old habits die hard.” She smiles down at him whilst the two of them just stare at each other, basking in the fact they’re finally meeting. “She’s even prettier up close.” YN/ blushes at the compliment, and combes her fingers through his hair. “Oh, fuck, you heard that. Sorry!” “It’s cool. You’re pretty up close too.” This makes him chuckle. The whole thing is still bat-shit crazy. Both of them have gotten weird commentary whenever they told friends and family how they communicate with their soulmate. Most people just start texting and calling when they find their soulmate, but they didn’t. This whole new way of conversing was way too much fun, though a little annoying at times. And especially now that they’re in the same place together, it’s even more fun because no one else knows they’re talking to each other. A soft cough behind Owen causes Y/N to snap back into reality. Peeking behind the boy’s head, there are three other guys, staring at the scene with wide smiles playing at their lips. Two of them are about the same age as them, but the other one is older. Older but very, very famous. Y/N herself is a big fan of his work. The legend, Kenny Ortega himself. “You might wanna introduce me to your friends over there,” she tells her best friend. Owen takes a quick peek behind him, realizing he’d forgotten about his friends that had come along with him to meet the infamous Y/N. He puts the girl down on her feet again before turning to the three men. “Guys, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Gorgeous, these are Jeremy, Charlie, and Kenny.” He points to each of them when their respective names are called. Y/N offers them a wave and smile, not sure if she should go straight in for the hug like she’d done with Owen. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” says Kenny as he opens his arms and embraces the girl. Said girl is now completely starstruck in a way she’d never been before, and she’d met a few of her favorite actors or artists. None of them made her feel this way. “You too, Kenny,” she manages to bring out when they pull apart, “Big fan of your work!” All she’s hoping right now is that she doesn’t sound too creepy. “You’re all good, Princess. Breathe.” Owen’s voice calms her down just in time for Charlie to engulf her into a hug too, and then Jeremy does the same. “Why don’t you guys take a seat, and I’ll make you some coffee before I’m off for today?” she suggests, and after hums of assent, the girl takes their orders and gets back to work. “There you go,” she mumbles as she places the coffees on the table and then distributes them correctly before sliding into the booth next to Owen. “So, what are your plans for today?” she asks. “Just some touristy bits,” Charlie replies with a shrug, “Any recommendations for us?” Y/N thinks about it for a while, knowing Owen can hear her thoughts. “Why don’t you come along?” Owen’s voice echoes through your brain. “Why don’t I take you guys around to the best spots no tourist will ever find?” she suggests, earning a thankful smile from Owen. “I think I knew a few places I could take you to?” All three other men agree to your suggestion. So, after you all finish your coffees and you’ve given them your employer’s discount, the five of you leave the coffee shop and hit the streets of New York City. “This is where I proposed to Care!” Jeremy exclaims excitedly as you’re sharing a couple stories from your childhood in Central Park. The guys have told a little more about their own lives, too, so Y/N felt comfortable enough to talk so freely and unfiltered about her own childhood, not noticing the way Owen melts at how adorable she looks being so excited about her childhood memories. “Re-enact it, Jer!” Owen exclaims excitedly as he scurries away from Y/N’s side and jumps down the small flight of stairs in one swift hop. Jeremy follows his best buddy and kneels down in front of him as if really proposing. Y/N takes her phone out of her back pocket and snaps a picture of the beautiful scene, giggling as she does, along with Kenny and Charlie. “The cutest couple!” the girl compliments, jamming her phone back into her pocket. “When’s the wedding?” Kenny adds, his laugh thundering. Owen lets out an airy laugh while Jeremy gets up again, the two of them rejoining the rest of the group. Y/N just knows this day will forever be the best day of her life. She just knows it’s going to be her favorite day ever for so many reasons; the laughs, the jokes, the friendship that’s building between all five of you, but mostly Owen. That night, Y/N goes back to the hotel with them too as Owen had asked her to hang out a little while longer and watch some movies with him. He’d asked the others too, but they were ‘too tired’. That’s an excuse Y/N could see from a mile away. They just wanted to give the two of them some quality time, which she appreciated very much. “I had the best day,Bubba,” she mumbles as she snuggles closer to him. She has her head on his chest whilst his arm is draped around her shoulders. It almost feels as though they’ve been doing this for years. “Me too, Baby Girl. Thanks for showing us around.” He presses a kiss to her hair, inhaling the luscious scent of peach, and deciding that’s his new favorite scent from now on. “Sucks we’re leaving tomorrow night,” he mumbles sadly. “Yeah… I know…” The words come out of her mouth in a whisper. “Wonder when we’ll see each other again.” She’d forgotten for a split second about him being able to hear her thoughts until he answers the half-statement with another question. “Will you come visit Norman Oklahoma soon?” She looks up at him, her nose grazing his stubbled chin, causing him to look down. “I really don’t wanna go another three years without seeing you, Gorgeous. I don’t think I can handle that, especially now that I’ve learned you’re a great cuddler.” Y/N chuckles at that before resettling on his chest properly. “I think I can make something work next month?” She starts tracing the patterns of his shirt, sending shivers down Owen’s spine at the sheer touch of her delicate fingers. “I think I can miss a few classes.” The chuckle that escapes past his lips, makes his chest vibrate and zooms into her ears, making her mouth curl up. This is the best feeling in the world; cuddling up with Owen and hearing him laugh. It’s a feeling Y/N wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. She wishes she could just stay like this forever. Or at least until the next day. Y/N has classes to get to, but promises Owen to come and say goodbye to him and the others at JFK airport around 8pm that night. And she does, though dreading it entirely. “You made it,” Owen whispers when he sees her walk up to the group. “Of course, I couldn’t just let you go back to Van City without saying goodbye, could I?” A tender smile plays at his lips as he takes her into a tight hug. “Have a safe flight, yeah? And talk to me on the plane if you’re bored.” She tells him and then turns to the three other men she’d just met yesterday. “Take good care of him and each other,” she tells them before taking each into a hug. Owen then offers her a nervous smile when she makes it back to his side. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, grabbing his hand in hers. “No,” her eyebrows furrow at his unspoken confession. “Yes, I mean yes. I’m fine. I’m okay… I just--” he cuts himself off, not knowing what to tell the girl now. “I’m just gonna miss you, is all.” “Oh…” is all she brings out, wanting something else to come out of his mouth. “I’m gonna miss you too, Big O.” She playfully punches his shoulder, smiling up at him with that smile that’s only ever reserved for Owen. It’s a tender one where her eyes sparkle as much as her smile. Owen then grabs her other hand too, pulling her a little closer as though he wants to say something serious. Y/N isn’t used to a serious Owen. He’d always be the one to pull pranks or make stupid jokes that’d make her laugh until her belly ached. He stutters and stumbles over a couple of words, then sighs frustratedly as he can’t seem to find the right words to tell her what he’s feeling. He can’t even find the right words to think. “Just kiss her, you dork!” Charlie shouts from the sidelines. Y/N turns her head to look at the boy confusedly, but Owen’s hands quickly cup her face and brings her up to press his lips on hers. She’s a little startled at first, unsure about what’s happening. But then she melts into his lips and into him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long!” his thought comes through in her mind, making her smile against his lips.   “Shut up, I’m kissing you.” He chuckles at her words, and pulls away but keeps his forehead pressed to hers. “I’ll see you in a month, Bubba,” Y/N whispers and pecks his lips once more. Though she hates to see him go, she has to let him leave. She has to let him get back to Vancouver and Oklahoma, and then she can see him again in about a month. It’s just how this must go. For now. “I’d rather stay, actually,” he tells her as he pulls away slowly. “Owen…” Y/N whispers, shaking her head, “Don’t make this harder than it already is. They need you in Vancouver…” she nods at Kenny and the guys. “I want you to stay, I do. But they need you.” A single tear rolls down her cheek. Owen reaches up and wipes it away as quickly as it came whilst shaking his head. “I’m gonna stay, Y/N. Just two more days.” He sounds too determined for her to convince him to go. “We don’t actually need him for two more days anyway, so he’s free to stay if he wants to,” Kenny chimes in. Y/N looks at the man talking, a surprised look on her face. The legend himself shoots her a smile. “Stay, Owen. Spend some more time together. You both need it.” “Thanks, Kenny,” Owen takes the guy in for a quick hug, and then turns to his buddies to give each of them one too. “I’ll see you in two days, then.” The couple watches as the three men walk away, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. “You really had to be dramatic, did you?” Y/N jokes once they’re out of earshot, which earns her an eye roll from Owen, though he can’t hide a smile either. “You know me, Baby Girl,” he winks before grabbing his bag. “Yes, I do,” she says, “And I’m glad I do.” “Me too, Gorgeous, me too.”

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay​ @thedarkqueenofavalon​​ @caitsymichelle13​​ @calamitykaty​ @wiselight​

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By My Side (Part 7)

Summary: Jensen hires a team to help watch over the reader after the events of the night before but his suspicions are high and that might not have been the smartest move on his part...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, angst, minor violence

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

Four Hours Later

“Hi,” you said, sat on the end of your bed as Jensen quietly walked inside and closed the door after himself. “Is your shoulder-”

“I gave you a direct order. I know you heard me. I know you purposefully ignored me. I-”

“You were losing.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m losing the fight, if I’m winning it, you get your ass away from the fight.”

“I was okay though. I-”

“Damnit Y/N!” he shouted. You went quiet, Jensen’s chest puffed out, his hands on his hips. “You promised you would listen to me. You promised.”

“I did listen. I-”

“If I can’t trust you to listen to me, then you’re a risk to the both of us. I will stay on as your bodyguard until I can find a suitable replacement.”

“What?”

“I’m giving my notice. We’re done.”

You stared at him and he narrowed his eyes.

“Oh don’t you-”

“I saved your fucking life!” you said, standing and poking him in the chest. 

“I told you to run!” he shouted. You got in his face, brushing your nose against his. “You little...I told-”

“He wasn’t after me,” you said. You backed off as you rubbed the back of your head. “Me he wanted out of the way. He wanted you, didn’t he.”

Jensen bit his bottom lip and looked away but you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at you.

“Why?”

“Word is out about your bodyguard boyfriend. You have money. I’m ransom money to some people.”

“You’re a shitty liar yourself, Jensen,” you said. You walked away from him and went out to your private balcony overlooking the pool. The door opened after a moment and you crossed your arms, leaning against the railing. A hand ran over your head and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You can’t quit. Why did that person want you?”

“Truthfully, they probably wanted the both of us. I was the bigger threat so the guy went after me first. Next time it won’t just be one guy. Whoever is behind all of this will fork over more money for a team. You need your own team to stop that.”

“Why both of us?”

“I’m a soft spot of yours. Next time though they won’t try to take me probably. They’ll kill me outright. I’m too much hassle to try and deal with.”

“Someone wants to hurt me then?”

“I think a few things but I can’t know for sure. I think your life isn’t in danger. Your safety and the circumstances in which you live the rest of your life are but no, this person doesn’t want you dead. The gun didn’t come into play until you were clear of it. This person very much wants to be in my position.”

“My boyfriend?”

“Your protector. I’ll hire a team tomorrow. I know a guy that would be a good fit for your personal guard.”

“I thought I told you that you couldn’t quit.”

“I told you that when I say run, you run. You didn’t listen to me.”

“I’d make the same decision again.”

“Why?”

“Because he was hurting you and I’ve never been that angry in my life. Even the man that killed my father...maybe it’s because this was right in front of me but as long as I had the chance to help, I was going to help. Any bodyguard of mine is going to deal with that so get used to it.”

He leaned back against the railing, staring into the bedroom. He took a deep breath and rubbed his cut shoulder, sliding his hand over to your arm. He unfolded it and took your hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

“I would have liked to have met your father. It sounds like he raised an incredibly brave person like himself.”

“I run if you run too. I hide if you hide,” you said, turning your head. “New rules.”

“Alright. I still want a team. I have a feeling tomorrow night is going to be bad again.”

“I’m supposed to go to Gen’s baby shower,” you said.

“Do you want gun’s around your pregnant best friend?” he asked. You shook your head and he nodded. “They’ll need to reschedule anyways.”

“Why?”

“I need Jared on this with me and he won’t leave his wife and child. They-”

“Jensen. Leave them be. Jared needs to take care of his family. You’ll find a good team. We’ll just...take it one day at a time,” you said. 

“You should get some sleep.” He pulled you gently backwards until you spun around and followed him inside. You crawled under the covers, Jensen dragging a chair you had over to your small desk. 

“You’re not sleeping?”

“I need to work. I’ll sleep in the morning once I have a hire here to take over for me. You go ahead. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Jensen,” you said as you lay down. He hummed and stopped the side of the bed before going off to get his laptop you assumed. “Make sure whoever you hires knows to keep an eye out for you too.”

“Yes mam,” he said softly. “Get some rest, honey.”

You woke up late the next day, Jensen passed out in his room when you trodded down the hall. There were five guys and a woman sitting at your dining room table, one of them standing as you gave a wave to them.

“Ms. Y/L/N. Good morning. I’m Brock Finley. I am your second in command and this is my team,” he said.

“I have two rules. Don’t drink all of my coffee and dudes, don’t leave the seat up and clean up after yourselves.”

“Yes, Mr. Ackles did go over your...requests earlier this morning,” said Brock.

“Walk with me, Mr. Finely,” you said, curling a finger. You walked him over to the kitchen, Brock reminding you a bit like Jensen when you first met him. “How do you know Jensen?”

“We served at the same time. I was injured on an operation with him, we recovered in the medical hospital in the same ward and grew to know one another.”

“Keep him safe,” you said. “As safe as me. I’m scared for him.”

“Mr. Ackles is in charge of-”

“I know. But keep him safe. Please.”

“We’ll do our best. The team’s been investigating possible leads and working with your manager to comb through any threats you may have received that seemed minor or even infatuations with you. I think Mr. Ackles is onto something with that track.”

“I honestly have no idea what’s going on anymore,” you laughed. “If you need anything from me, let me know. I plan on staying home today. My step-brother will dropping by shortly.”

“In the future please let us know in advance when guests will be…” he said as he saw the look on your face. “I’m going to return to work. There’s a team of eighteen on the premise, nineteen including Mr. Ackles. Don’t be alarmed if you see people outside.”

“Good to know,” you said, shaking your head as he left. “Eighteen? Really Jensen? I’m barely a B list actor on a good day.”

The doorbell rang and you caught the clock, nearly noon as you groaned. You rushed over and pulled it open, Nick standing there with a very confused look on his face and backpack over his shoulders.

“Hey,” you said as you let him inside.

“Nice SWAT team. Something going on?” he asked.

“Let’s go swimming. Better to talk there.”

“Wow,” said Nick twenty minutes later after you’d told him everything that had happened recently.

“Yup. I didn’t call you to come over cause of that though. I was...I’m nervous that with everyone moving out here you’re gonna be alone back home and it...scares me when...Jensen said something about us loving each other even if we don’t like one another and I think he had a point. I don’t want you to go to a dark place again Nick.”

“Y/N, could you slow down for a second? I know you move at a faster pace than most of us but I’m still on the fact you shot a gun last night. The chick that cried that time she thought she hit a squirrel in the road and she didn’t.”

“Oh. Sorry,” you said. You sat on the steps in the shallow end, Nick wading over and joining you. He sat back and played with the water in front of him for a moment before he let out a deep sigh.

“I like you, Y/N. Michael and I both do. We love you.”

“Why are you two so mean all the time then? It’s not teasing. It’s mean.”

“Cause you’re dad’s favorite. We know it. He never hid it from us. When we needed him, he was always with you and your mom. We think of her as our mom now and you our little sister but god we needed him and we were left on our own. You were an easy target to make us feel more in control. Instead of bonding with you, someone who understood exactly what we felt, we took advantage and we never bothered to stop. You were tough and could take it and we’re assholes. I’m sorry. The only reason I’m alive is because of you. You got me help. You still pay for my therapy. Shit I call you in the middle of the night and you pick up every time and just listen to me. You’re always going to be a better person than I am, Y/N. I suck at saying it but I’ve always been grateful to have you as my sister.”

“Could have just said that in the first place,” you said, wiping your face with the back of your hand for a second. “Come out here, Nick. You’d put my mind at rest.”

“I was never coming,” he said with a smile. “I sort of have a place already lined up back home with a roommate.”

“Yeah but I’m sure…” you said, catching the look on his face. “Oh. A roommate. Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah, hi, I’m bi in case you weren’t aware,” he chuckled. “Michael’s known since we were teenagers but I swore him to secrecy.”

“If we’re gonna have secrets, can we at least just keep them from the parents from now on?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” said Nick. “Seriously don’t know you how didn’t catch on that I hang out with my best friend like all the time. Like all the time. And I sleep at his apartment all the-”

“I get it,” you said, Nick smiling. “He good to you?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to worry so much. You’re not the only one watching out for me,” he said. “But you though...what are you involved in?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Last night got way too close for...say that again.”

“What are you involved in?” he asked. 

“Nick, can you do me a favor, like a monumentally huge favor and not tell anyone else about what I said. This is gonna be over tonight anyways.”

“What’s going on?” he asked as you stood.

“I know who wants to kidnap me.”

“Who?”

“My old manager of course. Can you keep everybody away from here the rest of the day? I have a feeling this is going to be messy.”

“She has a point,” said Jensen, half dressed ten minutes later as you spoke to him and Brock, the floor still a bit wet from where Nick had walked out the front door to head back to the hotel. “She did ruin his career.”

“But why escalate?”

“He wants money and his career back...and she is smarter than both of us put together,” said Jensen as it clicked for him.

“You got it?” you asked as he nodded.

“Involved Inn. It’s the firm your manager used to work with. It’s the firm your current manager works with.”

“Inside man,” said Brock. “How’d he know you’d hire him?”

“He knows the kind of person I like to work with and he was smart enough to research Jensen and know that a military background wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh fuck,” said Jensen, his face going white.

“What?” you asked. He swallowed as he looked around, putting his hand on his holster and pulling out his gun. He undid the clip and showed you that it was empty. “Don’t you need bullets in that?”

“There were bullets,” said Jensen, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Brock. “Finely Associates. They’re hooked up with Involved Inn. Very, very closely involved.”

“You chose the absolute worst possible group of people to hire you know,” said Brock. Jensen walked backwards with you into the living area, the both of you catching sight of the various guards around. “Two against eighteen is not very good odds.”

“Let me talk to your boss, we can-” you said.

“Kid was unknowingly in on it. Didn’t think his old mentor would screw him over like that,” said Brock. “So here’s how it goes. We-“

“This doesn’t add up. People don’t admit to shit in real life like that. No one’s forcing you to say a thing. This is a paycheck for you. No, something else is going on. You just want us to think it was my old manager, don’t you?” you said. Brock tilted his chin up and you crossed your arms. “You knew Jensen would hire your team and we’d make a connection. So here’s how it really goes. I guarantee I got more money than whatever you’re being paid. You drop this little charade, I pay you, and we get down to the issue of who hired you.”

“Mr. Ackles hired us.”

“You know what I mean. Who-”

“Mr. Ack-”

“I didn’t hire you to do this,” said Jensen. “I said...you got a second phone call, didn’t you. One saying you wanted to perform a live test, didn’t you.”

Brock was silent and Jensen made a face. 

“Tell me the truth or you’re all fired and being brought up on charges immediately,” said Jensen. Brock looked nervous for the first time and you pouted. 

“You said-”

“Dammit, Finley. You’re all fired. Leave. Now.”

“But sir you said-”

“I hired you to protect her, not play games. All of you, get the fuck out.”

Brock nodded and the team all left, Jensen getting in Brock’s face.

“You are always so gullible. Always. It’s what landed your ass in that hospital. You never verify information. Just go in head first. I-” said Jensen, Brock’s jaw clenching.

“At least my whole unit wasn’t corrupt behind my back! At least I didn’t wind up living in a hole in the ground for weeks because I was too stupid to see-”

“Get the fuck out of my house.” Jensen’s whole body was tense as Brock left, his hands clenched by his sides. The house was eerily still, the only sound was Jensen’s harsh breathing.

After a moment he calmed and turned around, looking you up and down.

“I’m sorry. I thought Brock was smarter than falling for a fake phone call.”

“What exactly just happened?” you asked.

“Whoever wants you set up a fake drill, a test of sorts. Normally we would run one with the participants knowledge or give them a heads up in order to find vulnerabilities in a protection detail. What just happened was to mess with you and for this guy to say he’s smarter than us. It scares me because he probably is and he’s miles ahead of us. I don’t know how to keep you safe by myself, Y/N and I sure as shit don’t know who I can trust.”

“Your old unit, the good ones, call them. They’ll help you.”

“They’re all over the country.”

“You call them and I will get them out here. I will give them whatever they want. Private jets are a thing you know.”

“Y/N-”

“We need help. Let’s get help.”

“I’m sorry I’m so horrible at my job.”

“If you were horrible at your job I’d be in some basement right now. We’ll get through this and then just you and me can go on a trip away, just the two of us,” you said. He looked down and you padded over, taking his hand. “Okay?”

“I can’t stop everything,” he said. “This guy is smarter than anyone I’ve dealt with before, way smarter.”

“Then we call in for backup. We got this. I promise.”

Later That Evening

“Jared,” you said as he walked in the front door with a hum. “Jared Padalecki. What the hell are you-”

“Don’t even start with me,” he said, shutting the door after himself. You opened your mouth but he simply adjusted the bag over his shoulder. “Gen and Tom are safe and you need all hands on deck and frankly I was coming whether you liked it or not.”

“Jared-” you said as he walked past and into the living room. 

“I’m here. Get over it,” he said before putting on a smile. “Hey guys. I swear you got uglier, Benny.”

“Must be from looking at you,” said Benny before he stood and gave Jared a hug. You hung back at the kitchen island, quietly listening to the eight of them talk and catch up before Jensen was standing and going over what had happened lately. You got a bit lost once they started talking in technical terms but suddenly they were breaking and everybody was grabbing their bags.

“How you holding up?” asked Jensen when he took a seat beside you.

“Nervous,” you said. “Tonight’s gonna be bad, isn’t it.”

“Hopefully not,” said Jensen as a redheaded woman went over to your fridge and grabbed a can of beer. “Y/N, this is Charlie. She was in charge of tech and surveillance for us back in the day. She works for google now, right?”

“That’s so three jobs ago,” she said with a smile. “She’s cute.”

“Thanks,” you said, Jensen rolling his eyes. “Oh, you’re…”

“Jensen ever bores you, give me a call,” she said with a wink. You swallowed and she laughed, Jensen chuckling to himself. “I’m joking. If I were into dudes I probably would be all over that myself.”

“You are not what I was expecting,” you said.

“Oh just cause we did secret stuff didn’t mean we were all sir yes sir.”

“Charlie was picked straight out of college for her...unique compter skills we’ll call it. If I could train this flailing hot mess, you’ll be just fine, honey. Charlie’s going to stay here with Ash as an attempted diversion. She’ll wear your clothes, Ash’ll wear mine. They’ll put on some wigs, we’ll see how that goes tonight.”

“Where are we going?”

“So this is an interesting hiding spot,” you said, squatted down in your next door neighbors kitchen twenty minutes later. “Thanks again Doug, I really appreciate it, even if I don’t get what’s going on yet.”

“It’s no problem, kid. The girls are on the road with their mother for the week so perfect timing,” he said. Jensen paced back and forth by the window in the dark house, not that you had much of a view of your own from over there. “Mind if I ask why you two trust me of all people?”

“Because you were halfway through kicking that paparazzi’s ass by the time I even showed up,” said Jensen, glancing over his shoulder. “You don’t want someone hurting your kids. It’s not a big leap to you keeping a watchful eye on your young neighbor just in case.”

“What are you expecting to learn from all this though. Aren’t you just going to get the team at best and not the guy?” asked Doug.

“Team could lead us to answers.”

“You know that won’t work. You’re trying to keep your head above water at this point, aren’t you,” he said.

“Yeah, Doug, I am,” said Jensen, snapping back quickly. “You have any genius ideas I’d love to hear them.”

“Y/N, when your show starts back up, would you mind letting the girls have a tour of set? They love it,” said Doug.

“Of course. If I’m still around that is,” you said. He smiled and glanced at his computer. “What?”

“I’m about to use up a huge favor that’s owed me. Glad I held onto it all these years,” he said. He took a seat behind his laptop and took out his phone.

“What are you doing?” asked Jensen.

“I’m going to ask for surveillance from last night, see if we can’t backtrack where that intruder originally came from.”

“You can do that?” you asked.

“It’s not easy but yeah, I can do that. I still have a few friends in the business. Let’s see if we can get you kids a break.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 8 here!

[worksby-d]

A Great Mentor: They’ll Come Around

A One Shot

Summary: Being with Andy for the better part of a year now, you decide it’s time to tell your parents. 

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Age gap relationship, upset parents

Word count: ~1700

a/n: You can find the rest of this series by checking out my masterlist :)

Dividers by @royallyprincesslilly​ 💖

Just barely opening his eyes, Andy has to squint, eyes too sensitive from sleep for the glow of your phone in the dark room.

“Y/N?” he asks quietly, reaching to put his arm around your waist so he can pull himself closer to you. “What are you still awake for?”

Putting your phone face down on the bed, complete darkness taking its place, you sigh. “Am I a bad daughter?”

“Hey…” You feel him shake his head before pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “What’s going on?”

“I feel guilty, Andy,” you explain. “I told my parents I wasn’t coming home until tomorrow… but I’m here now… with you. God, they literally live like five minutes away from here.” He stays silent, letting you talk about it.

It’s your spring break, but you wanted to see Andy before spending the week with your parents, so you told them you wouldn’t be home until Saturday, saying you wanted to spend your Friday night with some school friends before being gone a week.

“I don’t want to have to lie to them anymore. I want to spend time with you without lying about it, or worrying if they’re going to find out,” you go on. “I think I just have to finally tell them tomorrow.”

“It’s up to you, angel.”

Half of you hoped he’d talk you out of it. Damn him for being so supportive. You roll over to face him, tucking your head under his chin, listening to his heart beat for a moment.

“They’re gonna kill me,” you chuckle nervously.

His chest rumbles as he laughs at you. “They're not gonna kill you,” he assures. “They’re gonna kill me.”

“Oh good,” you exhale, feigning relief. “That makes me feel so much better.”

“Relax,” he urges, continuing to laugh. “They’re not gonna kill anybody, sweetheart,” he tries to assure you, gently rubbing your back. “By the way, I think sleep will make you feel better.”

You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right. There’s no use in worrying about it right now, so you let out one more deep sigh and let his comforting touch lull you to sleep.

In the morning, you wake up to the bed empty. Feeling the space where Andy should be, it’s cold, so you figure he’s been up for a while.

Before you have the chance to check the time, he walks in carrying a plate and a glass of water.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Sleeping Beauty herself,” he teases, putting the food on the table next to the bed. He’s giving you a quick kiss before you can retort. “Good morning,” he greets you more seriously, sitting next to you, leaning to peck your lips one more time. “Or afternoon, I guess.”

Sure enough, the clock tells you it’s 11:34 a.m. when you finally look at it. You just groan, rubbing your hands over your eyes. “Sorry.”

“Hey, you’re on break, you’re allowed to sleep in,” he chuckles. “I brought you some sustenance, though. I’ve seen what you call ‘breakfast’ when you’re at school, and I don’t know how you survive, so thought I’d make something good for you.”

“Excuse you,” you scoff. “I cook fine breakfasts.”

“I wouldn’t consider a bowl of cereal with a cup of sugar on top a cooked breakfast.”

“Ass,” you chuckle. “Well, thanks. I appreciate it.”

He sits in bed with you while you eat, getting some residual work stuff done since he quit early yesterday to be with you all evening.

“So what time do you have to be to your parents’ place?” he inquires, breaking the calm silence.

“Um, just sometime before dinner, I suppose,” you shrug.

He looks up from his laptop and over to you, giving you a sympathetic look. He can sense your nerves, the same ones that were keeping you up last night. “It’s gonna be fine,” he smiles, putting his hand on your knee. 

You flash him a weak smile back. “Yeah,” you nod, honestly trying to convince yourself more than him. “Yeah, of course.”

You lounge around with Andy for a few hours before deciding it’s now or never. He gently grabs your hand before you head out the door, pulling you against him tightly for a hug. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

You nod against his chest, savoring the feeling of his embrace. “Thanks,” you mumble and lift your head to kiss him. “I love you.”

You spend dinner with your parents internally debating when you should break the news, but you almost choke when Andy’s name is brought up, your dad saying something about him not talking to them as often as he used to.

Trying to seem indifferent, you just comment, “Huh, weird.” It works though, your parents promptly moving onto other things you’ve missed since you were home last.

Later, you're curled up on the couch, knees to your chest, sipping on a cup of coffee while your parents sit in their respective recliners on the other side of the room, reading the newspaper and scrolling through Facebook.

“So, I want to tell you guys something,” you speak up. Apparently you’re doing it now.

They both look up at you with raised eyebrows. “What did you do now, Y/N?” your mom teases.

“No, it’s nothing bad,” you laugh. “At least, I don't think.”

“I’m kidding sweetie, what is it?”

“Well,” you start, trying your hardest to suppress your smile, reminding yourself you have no idea how they're going to react. “I’m seeing someone.”

You've never been in a serious enough relationship to announce it to them before, so their interest is piqued instantly.

“About time,” your dad teases, and you roll your eyes.

“Someone you met at school?” your mom asks.

Getting closer to the part you're dreading, you stammer a bit. “Uh no, actually we’ve kind of been hanging out since last summer.”

They give each other a look, and you’re confused. 

“We figured you were maybe seeing someone,” your mom explains. “You've seemed really happy the last couple months.”

You smile at that, but it doesn't last long when your dad chimes in. “We also figured there was no way you were actually spending that much time with Andy Barber last summer. Kind of thought it may have been a cover up,” he chuckles.

“That… wasn't a cover up,” you shake your head. “I was spending all that time with Andy Barber,” you pause, trying to gauge their thoughts, but they're just looking at you. “Because I’m talking about Andy.”

“You’re…” your mom tries to understand. “What?”

“I’m dating Andy,” you admit slowly, and watch your dad’s eyes widen.

“No you’re not,” he shakes his head. “No-”

“Dad,” you plead quietly, shaking your head.

“He’s my age, Y/N. What the hell are you talking about?”

You flinch as he raises his voice, and look toward your mom, but she's avoiding your gaze.

“What is- Is he your sugar daddy or something?” he continues his interrogation attempt. “Are you guys just screwing around? Dear God, he’s using my daughter for sex-”

“What? No,” you scoff. “What the hell? You guys told me yourselves you’ve noticed how happy I am. I love him.”

“You-” He stands up from his chair, not able to finish his sentence without pacing a few times. “You love him? You’re shitting me. I’m gonna kill that bastard.”

“Dad, stop,” you beg, teary eyed this time. “He's so good to me. He’s supportive. He tells me I’m beautiful-”

“Of course he does!” he cuts you off. “You're half his age!”

“Let me finish!” you yell back at him, even surprising yourself. You let out a deep breath attempting to calm yourself. “He's been there for me when no one else could be…”

“Have we not been there for you, honey?” Your mom finally joins back in. “What is it that we weren't there for?”

Of course you're talking about the pregnancy, but you know you can't tell them about that yet, or ever the way this is going. “I just mean law school stuff… He’s stayed up so many nights, talking to me on the phone, assuring me it's all gonna be okay. He just understands what I’m going through.”

A silence fills the room, neither of your parents knowing what to say next.

“I can't believe this,” your dad utters quietly. “No daughter of mine is ruining her life by being in a relationship with a man old enough to be her father.”

“Dad, wait-” Despite your plea, he's walking out of the room. “I'm not ruining my life,” you affirm, only to your mom now. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I can't stay here. Let me know when dad wants to talk to me again.”

As you gather your stuff, you ignore your mom’s apologies, not wanting her to be the one doing damage control for your dad. You tell her again to let you know when he wants to talk to you himself, and then you leave.

Andy’s expecting you when he hears his front door open. You texted him to let him know you need to stay with him.

“That bad?” he asks carefully when you walk straight to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of wine.

Leaning against the counter, you close your eyes and sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I wish they would trust me…” You finally look up at him. “My dad’s pissed. Said he's gonna kill you, by the way.”

Andy tips his head back laughing. “I expected as much. I’m sorry, baby.”

“I mean shit,” you continue. “I’m 23. I’m capable of making my own decisions. They’re the ones that raised me to think for myself and be confident with my choices… And now, my dad’s not talking to me because of who I decided to fall in love with.”

“Sweetheart, they love you. They just care about you and want to protect you,” he tries to justify, but you roll your eyes. “I would probably react the same way if my daughter told me she was with someone older.”

“Oh, come on, Andy,” you snap. “Whose side are you on?”

You push yourself off the counter to walk away, but he grabs your wrist. “Hey, hey, stop.” He wraps his arms around you, and some of the tension finally leaves your body as his hands stroke your back. “They'll come around.”

[imaginefan]

I Promise

Derek Hale X Stilinski Reader 

Word Count: 2078

Requested: Anon

Request: Hey this is my first request but would you be able to make one with stiles younger sister and derek.She sees him in her house with stiles and Scott when she comes downstairs to go to school with stiles,And she like says “hey are you rea-“. Then stops when she sees derek, and blushes etc. And stiles and Scott are like asking her if she’s okay etc and she looks read and derek can sense what it is due to being a werewolf and he starts smirking and she says she’s fine etc and they go to school in stiles Jeep and derek comes with themAnd they keep on bumping into each other all the time and one time he saves her etc and they start to like each other a lot and then they secretly date but then get found out by stiles.Also derek gets super protective of her and no one knows why and he tries to brush it off etc and he keeps on getting jealous when other boys look at her.Thank you :)

A/N: I think I got a bit carried away with this one, I just kept writing I really enjoyed this one though and might write a part 2 for myself but let me know if your interested.

Stiles often thought that he was good at hiding things from you but it became very clear very quickly that he was terrible at you, you being his younger twin meant that you were often the one to see him doing weird hard to explain things when your ad was at work and you were the one that was covering things up for him before long you found out what it was that he was hiding and in some ways wished that you never had to deal with it but the truth of the matter was there was no way that you were getting away from it.

The first time that you met Derek you had been the last one to get ready for school, you were headed down the stairs "Hey are you guys rea-" You stopped when you saw Derek in the kitchen, Stiles and Scott looked back in time to see you blush. "Are you okay?" Stiles asked, "you look a little red." "She's fine," Derek said a smirk on his face and Stiles looked between the both of you before his eyes widened. "No!" He said as he pointed at you. "Can we just go to school?" You asked. "Yeah about school." Stiles scratched the back of his head. "Look I don't care how many classes you skip, I'm not skipping any and you're the one that got the Jeep so you're dropping me to school." You ordered and you nodded. "How about we all drop you to school," Derek suggested. "It's quicker." "Whatever just hurry up or I'll drive it myself." You threatened as you grabbed the keys on the way out.

"You are blissfully unaware for being the sheriff's daughter," Derek said as he walked up next to you. "I'm not unaware of anything." You mumbled. "What are you doing out here anyway?" He asked. "Walking home." You answered. "Where's your hyperattentive brother?" He asked. "Probably off chasing supernatural with Scott." You shrugged as you looked through your bag for your keys and coming up empty, when you looked up Derek was holding them up in his hand. "You were talking about my keys earlier." You said in realisation and he smiled before handing them over. "Be careful, I'm not always going to be around to find your keys for you." He said before he was gone, you rolled your eyes before walking up to your front door and walking into the house.

From that night onwards it seemed like you bumped into Derek everywhere even when you were with your brother and it was becoming increasingly common for him to be overprotective when it came to you being involved in anything and that was why you probably shouldn't have been but you were out late one night, Stiles and Scott were at Lydia's party and it was a full moon but  then you saw Lydia, you knew that she was supposed to be at her party but she looked completely zoned out as she dragged Derek to her car, you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep up with her so you tried to call Stiles but when he didn't answer the phone "Useless." You muttered as you did your best to follow her which was definitely easier when she hit the dirt road of the preserve because you could follow her tyre tracks. When you got there, you saw Peter coming out of the house, your eyes widened as you hid behind a tree hoping that he hadn't seen you, you moved when you heard Lydia's car leave. You ran into the house and saw Derek on the floor, you fell to your knees ignoring the fact that in any other situation you would have taken a second to admire him and shaking his shoulders "Derek!" You called. "You can not be dead, I'm sure you've been through worse." "You might need something a little louder," Deaton suggested making you just as you looked around to see him, he was holding something in his hand and you were out of options so you nodded. You didn't hear anything but Derek did. He was awake within seconds, he looked over at you for a second before looking at the floorboards. "That sound, what was it?" Derek asked as he looked back at Deaton who held up the whistle in his hands, he rolled his eyes before touching his arm. "Don't worry. You're still an Alpha, not a particularly competent one." Deaton said "Where is he?" He asked. "I don't know," Deaton answered. "Then why don't you tell me why you're helping me?" He asked as he stood up. "Helping your family used to be pretty important to me." Deaton answered "Helping you was a promise I made to your mother." "You're the one my sister told me about a... Kind of adviser." Derek said. "She was right. And I have some advice that you need to listen to very closely right now. What Peter managed to do doesn't come without a price. He'll be physically weak, so he'll rely on the strength of his intelligence, his cunning. He's gonna come at you, Derek. He'll try to twist his way inside your head, preying on your insecurities. He'll tell you that he's the only way you can stop Gerard. Do not trust him." Deaton warned. "I don't trust anyone," Derek said and you rolled your eyes. "Edgy much?" You muttered to yourself which he of course heard. "I know. If you did, you might be the Alpha you like to think you are. And unfortunately, the one person you should trust doesn't trust you at all." Deaton explained. "Scott." Derek sighed. "He's with Stilinski right now. You need to find him, you need to find him as fast as you can. I've known Gerard for a long time. He always has a plan. Something tells me - it's going exactly the way he wants it to." Deaton answered.

You had been with Scott and Matt when the Argents started shooting, you had hidden under one of the tables, hands pressed against your eyes as you tried to stay hidden, the smoke helped and all the noise stopped the Kanima from coming back to find you, you don't actually know how long you were there for before someone crouched in front of you, they grabbed your wrist and you pushed away from them, your eyes opening for a second and catching that it was Derek, he gestured for you to come out "What are you doing back here, they'll kill you if they find you." You scolded him and he rolled his eyes before picking up. "Well, I'm not leaving you here." He muttered as he pressed your face to his shoulder "Keep your head down." It only took a couple of minutes for Derek to get you out  "Are you okay?" "I think so." You answered as he put you on the ground. "Wait here until everything is over." He said and you looked at him and nodded. When you finally got home that night, you didn't know what to do with yourself, you paced for a second before you were sitting on your bed, hands ran through your hair before you pressed the heel of your palm to your eyes in an attempt to stop yourself from crying. You looked up at your window when you heard it open but a second later Derek was in your room. "What are you doing here?" You asked wiping at your eyes but he just walked over and sat next to you pulling you into his side. "I wasn't going to come in but I think you need someone." He said softly and that was all it took for you to cry wrapping your arms around him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Everything was fine for a couple of days Derek came to see you and make sure that you were okay but then everything changed after he tried to kill Jackson, you stopped talking to him, you started locking your window and made an effort to be with Scott and Stiles and never being out late, that is until everything started up again and a pack of Alphas made their way into Beacon Hills and you knew that you were going to have to see him again "so are you going to tell me what happened between you and Derek?" Stiles asked as he walked into your room and walked over to your laptop. "What are you doing?" You asked. "I ran out of ink. I need your printer." He answered, "now answer my question." "Nothing happened between us." You shrugged. "So he didn't sneak into your room almost every night?" He asked you opened your mouth to lie but instead decided against it "How did you know?" You asked. "Scott could smell him on you." He answered. "Right." You nodded "well don't worry we haven't spoken since he tried to kill Jackson." "Maybe you should talk to him," Stiles suggested. The truth was that Stiles had been to see Derek with Scott to ask about the tattoo and he realised that for a few seconds he watched the door waiting for something, he was waiting for you. "What are you doing anyway?" You asked. "We found out where Boyd and Erika were being held." He answered. "So you're going to get them?" You asked. "Yeah." He nodded. "You don't need help?" You asked. "You wanna help?" He asked. "Well, I can't just sit around and do nothing." You shrugged.

The truth was the reason that you had never gone to see him was because you knew the moment that you looked at him you were going to forgive him and you had been right, you could feel him looking at you as Stiles talked "concentrate, we'll talk later." You said lowly knowing that he would hear you from your place on the sofa. "I'm thinking a diamond bit," Stiles said and you rolled your eyes. "Stiles you don't need a drill." You informed him and he looked back at you. "Sorry what?" He asked. "I'm sure the Alpha werewolf can punch through a wall." You said. "She's right." Derek agreed. "You're gonna punch through the wall?" Stiles asked. "Okay, okay, big guy. Let's see it. Let's see that fist. Big, old fist. Make it, come on. Get it out there. Don't be scared. Big, bad wolf. Yeah, look at that. Okay, see this? That's maybe 3 inches of room to gather enough force to punch through solid co..." Derek punched him and he doubled over in pain "he can do it." Stiles fell away from Derek and Scott and towards you. "Walk it off, big brother." You muttered as you clapped his shoulder and directed him back to the desk where the plans were. "try to remember that two of them combine bodies to form one giant Alpha. I'm sure Erica and Boyd were sweet kids. They're gonna be missed." You heard Peter say. "Can someone kill him again please?" Stiles asked. "What about you?" Derek asked as he looked at Scott. "If you want me to come-" "You're not going!" and "Not you!" Said at the same time yours and Derek's voices overlapping and cutting off your brother as he realised the question was directed at Scott.

When Derek came back the next morning his heart warmed at what he found, you were still on the sofa where he'd left you before, he walked over and crouched in front of you, he gently shook you away and it took a moment but you shot up eyes widening "what happened?" You asked. "Nothing, I'm fine don't worry." He said softly. "What are you still doing here?" You're going to be late for school." He said. "I promised we would talk." You reminded him and he nodded. "I'm sorry for avoiding you and basically cutting you out of my life, I just didn't know what to do after everything that happened I was scared that you... didn't need me anymore or that you didn't want me anymore and-" He cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips. "I will always need you and I will never stop wanting you." He promised. "I'm sorry about everything with Jackson and I know that's not enough but I promise nothing like that will ever happen again."

*Part 2*

Requests and general question!

[buckys-black-dress]

a fine line, part two

a/n: here she is, our promised part two of afl!!! honestly i love writing this series and it has almost all my fav things in one fic, so yup. anyways, again, thank you for reading/sharing/liking my work !! luv u all, x -ali

wc: 5.8k !!!

-

The tension in the room was palpable.

And although no one knew you two were working together by verbal confirmation, it was clear from the way you were both reacting.

Bucky was rarely this quiet, so it was obvious what was going on.

Also the fact that you seemed frozen in place.

“Y/N? Everything okay?” Wanda’s soft voice filtered in next to you.

You nodded, trying to break away from James’ gaze.

“Mhm, who’re you working with?” You ask, moving away from the topic at hand.

“Oh, you know Professor Vision? He teaches Comp Sci.” Wanda is now visibly blushing, making you curious.

“Ooh, does Wanda have a crush?” Natasha chimes in as she sidles up next to you two. “I got Banner. How about you, Y/N?”

“I uhh, I got... Barnes.” You mumble under your breath.

“Who? I didn’t catch what you said there.” Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I... I got Dr. Barnes.” You said, not even daring to look up at your friends.

“...Oh. Well, that should be... interesting...” Wanda comments.

“...Yeah. It’ll probably be fine!” Natasha tries to comfort you, but there’s a stirring feeling in your stomach that almost makes you feel sick.

“He said there was no way to change it... right?” You ask feebly, trying to hold out hope.

“No... and I wouldn’t want to go head to head with Fury.” Wanda frowns.

“Great.” You conclude, taking a deep breath. “You know what, I can do this. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” You tell the girls, gathering your things and filing out of the office as people began to leave.

Wanda and Natasha were left watching your retreating form, staring at each other.

“I’ll be surprised if they make it to the end of next week.” Natasha says, earning a shove in her arm from Wanda.

Bucky watched you leave the office, and the gears were most definitely turning in his head.

-

You spent the rest of the week keeping mostly to yourself, trying to mentally prepare for what you’d have to face next week.

In the email sent out by Fury, he explained that you and your partner should have a lesson outlined prior to Monday so you could get right into teaching. He also explained that you would have to share all of your classes, and somehow correlate the two subjects that each professor taught.

English and History, seems easy, right?

Wrong.

Every idea you’ve emailed James has been shot down, and your patience was wearing thin. You didn’t like being unprepared, and the week would be coming to a close soon.

So naturally, you did what anyone else would do, and knocked on James’ office door until he answered.

“I’m comin’ jeez, would ya hold on?” You hear his voice, muffled by the door, until he swings it open, coming face to face with you. “What do you need, Y/L/N?”

“Oh, lovely to see you too, Dr. Barnes. I just wanted to know if you were actually interested in making our lesson plan. If we’re going to be spending the next few weeks together, we might as well have a plan. And I thought your input might be better, since you’re clearly not a fan of what I’ve shown you so far.” You rambled, moving to stand in the middle of his office, laptop in hand.

“You know, maybe if you sent anything good, I would’ve worked with ya on it. But I just don’t think your style of teaching fits me. It’s too... too intimate. You’re too far up your students’ asses. You get too close, too personal with them.” James explains to you.

You can only scoff at this.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, James, but my students and I have great relationships. If my students don’t like me, or what I teach, they’ll be more inclined to hand in subpar work. But if I make my expectations clear from the start, they’ll know what they have to do to earn an A in my class. That’s why my first two semesters here have been averaging with A’s all across the board.” You explain as simply as you can, because you felt like James was ridiculing you and the way you teach. You worked hard to get where you are today, and you know that’s why your students love coming to class.

Bucky stared at you for a few seconds, trying to process the information you dropped on him.

“So... your students... like you?” He asks, tentatively, almost.

“...Yes? I know you don’t like me, so it might hard to believe that others do, but I don’t think I’m that unappealing.” You scoff, looking at the floor to avoid Bucky’s eyes. “Anyways, do you have any ideas?”

Bucky’s chest tightened with guilt. After the incident at the bar, he was trying to not be as rude to you. He was trying to be more humane, in Steve’s words.

“I... Maybe we can take a look at some of the stuff you sent before. Maybe if you explain it to me face-to-face I’ll understand it better.” Bucky says, and you nod. “Take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while.”

As a few hours passed, you and James actually started a pretty solid outline for lessons. You started working on your first lesson, which would be the origins of literature. You could both talk about it, and you could both bring different aspects to the table.

“On average, how many kids do you have in your classes, Y/N?” James asks you, and your head snaps up at the mention of your first name. You had a moment where you imagine him calling you that way more often, making your throat run dry.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat, “my biggest class is about thirty students, maximum.” You tell him.

“Really? My smallest is forty...” He tells you, scratching his chin. “Also very male dominated, I’ve noticed.”

You freeze, trying to process this. It’s only ten more kids... you’ll be fine, right?

“You alright, there, Y/L/N?” James chuckles, to which you let out a weak one. You weren’t used to large crowds, they made you anxious, nervous, like you were losing your footing.

“I-I’m fine. Yeah, all good, let’s get back to work.” You tell him, focusing back on your lesson plan.

“It’s uh, getting a bit late. Thinking we should head home soon.” James looks at you a bit longer, trying to gauge your mood.

“Uh- oh, what time is it?” You ask, squinting and cursing yourself for leaving your glasses in your office.

“It’s almost 7:30...” He tells you.

“Oh, I have to go! Lucy, she’s been all alone, I have to feed her!” In a panic, you begin gathering your belongings.

“Lu- Who’s Lucy?” James asks in clear confusion at your sudden panic.

“My cat! Oh, poor baby, she’s probably wondering where I’ve been...” You trail off, making sure you’ve gathered everything you need.

“W-wait, can I get your number?” James asks, and you both freeze.

“M-my number?” You ask, not bothering to hide your shock.

“Well, we’re gonna need to discuss the lesson plan somehow...” He tells you.

“Oh... well, here...” You pull off a post-it note from the pad on his desk and quickly scribble down your number, handing it to him. “I’m not usually on my phone too much, so if I don’t answer within a few hours, try shooting me an email.” You explain, making your way out the door.

“Have a good night, James.” He hears you say quietly before you turn away from the doorframe, and he hears the resonating shutting of your office door not even five minutes later.

Bucky sits in his chair, not having moved an inch from when you left. He stares at the blue post-it with your number scribbled on it.

He picked it up, inspecting it further.

Your handwriting was neat, but flourishing and borderline cursive because of how quickly you wrote.

Bucky pulls out his phone and inputs the number, saving your contact.

Y/N Y/L/N

He then types out a message:

Just wanted to text you so I wouldn’t lose your number. Hope Lucy is okay.

And he hits send, deciding to pack up his things, trying to understand why he chose to include your cat in his message.

And on your end when you check your phone after parking in your apartment building’s parking, you see a message from an unknown number. You choose to not answer until you’ve made it into your apartment and feed Lucy.

You open your messages, staring at it. Something in your chest fluttered, but you pass it off as your hunger, waiting for your dinner to warm up in the oven.

Hi James. Lucy is fine, thanks for worrying. Have a good night.

You send it off, saving his contact but choosing to not look at your phone until after you’ve finished everything that you needed to do.

After finishing some grading, doing the dishes, and adding to the lesson plan, you decide to settle into bed with a book. You check your phone while brushing your teeth.

James Barnes: Good to hear. Do you think we could work on the lesson plan over lunch tomorrow? Just so we can get ahead of the game.

Y/N Y/L/N: Sounds good. Are we still going to also meet up after classes?

It takes a few minutes before your phone dings again.

James Barnes: Yep. Do you want to just come by my place after? Kind of getting stir-crazy in my office. We could also order food.

You stare at your phone. Are you going crazy? Why is he being so... kind?

Before you could even respond, another ping pulls you back out of your thoughts.

James Barnes: You could also bring Lucy with you, if you don’t want to leave her alone at home for too long.

Okay, now you were sure you were going insane. He was being way too nice. Where was this attitude a year ago, when you’d first met him?

But then again, it wouldn’t hurt, right? You were trying to get out of your comfort zone...

Y/N Y/L/N: Sure, that’s good. Are you sure it would be okay if I brought Lucy? I wouldn’t want to impose on your personal space.

His reply was almost instant.

James Barnes: No, I don’t mind at all. Alpine would love the company.

Before you could even wonder who Alpine was, you remember your previous conversation with Steve once.

‘Bucky also has a cat...’

Y/N Y/L/N: Okay, then I’ll be there. You also have a cat?

James Barnes: Oh, yeah. He’s the sweetest. *1 Attachment.*

Opening the image, you see a fluffy, stark white cat. He had big eyes that anyone would swoon over. You look at the foot of your bed where Lucy is curled up into a ball, fast asleep. You carefully snap a picture, smiling at her.

Y/N Y/L/N: I’ll admit, he’s cute. But can he compete with her? *1 Attachment*

You smile, seeing the typing bubble, waiting for him to respond.

James Barnes: Doll, no one can compete with Al. But I can’t deny, Lucy’s a gem.

Reading over the message at least seven times, your eyes keep lingering over the first word. Doll. It was in a loop in your head, the only thought you were having was that one word.

Why did he call me that? Is he flirting with me? No... he doesn’t even like me! But then why would he be talking to me right now? And why would he send me a picture of his cat...

And now your hands were working faster than your brain, typing out a quick response with your stomach doing backflips.

Y/N Y/L/N: Alright, whatever you say, Bucky. I’m heading to bed, good night.

And you don’t wait for a response before shutting off your phone and plugging it in, putting it on do not disturb and abandoning it on your nightstand, flipping open your book. You were trying to clear your thoughts but miserably failing.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky responded with a wide smile at the sight of you using his nickname.

James Barnes: Sweet dreams, Y/N.

That night, Bucky fell asleep with Alpine on the pillow next to him, but a wide smile on his face and his stomach full of butterflies.

Little did he know, so were you.

-

The next day, you woke up feeling like a brand new woman. You got a decent amount of sleep. You got out of bed and made coffee before you left the house. You arrived to school way earlier than usual.

To be honest, you didn’t know what was going on.

James was being nice. To you. Why the sudden change of heart? Or maybe he was going back to acting like an asshole when he sees you in person. You didn’t really know what to expect.

Honestly, what you expected the least was for a knock to be heard on your door, 15 minutes before your first class of the day.

“Come in!” You say, expecting a student or maybe Natasha or Wanda.

But the door swings open, and there’s James. He’s standing there with two paper bags, undoubtedly from the bakery down the street.

“Hi.” He says. Not offering anything. No explanation, no emotion. No indication of our conversation last night.

“Hi. Did you need something?” You ask, and for once, it wasn’t in a dismissive or cold tone.

“Uh, no. Just wondering if you’ve eaten anything yet today?” James asks, holding up the bags in his hand.

“Uhm... no...” You tell him, not understanding why he was asking.

“Oh, well I have an extra croissant, if you’d like.” He holds up the bags once again.

“Sure, you can sit in here to eat if you’d like...” You offer, not sure of the water you were treading in.

“Oh, thanks.” He sits down and you both pull out the pastries and start eating. “So, how’s Lucy today?” James asks, a slight smirk on his face. You honestly couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or not.

“Uh, she-she’s good. Clingy as usual. How’s Alpine?” You return the question.

“Same for him, also clings to me like a koala when I leave, I always feel bad, but I don’t really have a choice.” You both giggle at the remark, nodding in agreement.

“I understand. Lucy’s still a kitten too, so she’s been getting attached a lot. But I think I need her just as bad as she needs me.” You tell him, and you don’t know why.

“Oh... no boyfriend?” James asks, and now you really can’t tell if he’s pulling your leg.

“Oh-” You giggle, covering your mouth. “That’s funny. No, no boyfriend.” You continue to laugh until you fall back into silence, and James is just watching you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, genuinely perplexed at your reaction.

“James, I don’t think either of us are idiots. I don’t think I come off as girlfriend material to most guys.” You laugh again.

It became quiet, and you look back to your computer, ready to end this awkward conversation. You knew you had your insecurities, but it had always been hard for you to put yourself out there. Especially for guys. Your anxiety and introverted nature really put a pause on your already non-existent dating life.

Besides, you’ve always been alone. And you didn’t think that would be changing any time soon.

“Okay, well I’m gonna head out. I have a class to prepare for. See you tonight?” James asks, getting up from his seat across from you.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll see you then. Could you text me your address and what time I should be there?” You ask, also gathering your lecture notes and laptop.

“Sure thing, Y/N. Bye.” He waves, leaving. As soon as he steps out, you hear the clicking of heels against the laminate flooring.

“Why was Bucky in here?” Natasha’s gravelly voice asks, looking confused as ever.

“He just brought me a croissant, we were talking about our lesson plan for next week.” You explain to her. “Walk with me to my lecture?” You ask, pointing out the door.

“Sure,” she agrees, waiting for you to lock the door, “so, have things been... civil between you two?” Natasha asks tentatively.

“Actually, yes. He’s not all that bad. I’m going to his place after classes to work on the lesson plan, he asked me yesterday to even bring Lucy over so she could meet Alpine.” You tell her.

“Oh- wow, really? He’s being so... nice to you...” She responds.

“I-I know... I don’t understand why... He made it clear he doesn’t really enjoy my company.” You respond.

“Yeah... Well, this is new. I hope he keeps up with it.” She pats you on the shoulder as you reach the lecture hall.

“Yeah, me too.” You say, turning to her before going in.

“Hey, can I stop by your office for something at lunch?”

“Sure, see you then!” You tell her, setting up for your class.

-

Lunch time comes around, and Natasha was already waiting for you when you finished your class by lunchtime. You remembered James also asking to come by to eat with you and work, so you tried to make it quick with Natasha.

“So, you and Bruce already finished your lesson plans?” You ask, looking for a booklet she needed.

“Yeah, he’s fun to work with. Kinda a nerd, but he knows his shit.” She says, smiling and leaning against your desk. “Any reason you’re in a rush?” She asks, catching you off guard.

“Oh, uh, James is coming to eat here so we can get ahead on the lesson.” You tell her, looking back through your drawer.

“That’s... interesting.” Natasha’s brows were drawn together. “You two seem to have a lot of time allotted together.”

“Well, we have only a little of our lessons done, and we really don’t want to show up unprepared. You know how much I hate that.” You tell her, finally finding what she needed.

Outside your office, James was just about to walk in when he heard your voices.

“Yeah... Just wondering, did he ever... apologize for what he said that one night?” Nat asks.

“Uhm, n-no. He’s been really kind to be as of late, so I’m assuming we’re turning a new leaf... But he makes me... nervous sometimes. Just a few days ago, he wouldn’t even look at my lesson plan ideas. He looked like he would rather violently bash his skull in than work with me. I’m just- I’m confused. What made him change his mind?” You think out loud, really wondering if James’ behavior was genuine.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been through a lot, but I think you should give him a chance. Don’t be so weary. If he’s being nice, don’t question it. I don’t know why he was like that with you from the beginning, but you shouldn’t have to beat yourself up over the fact that he’s actually treating you with respect.” Natasha puts her hand over yours, meeting your gaze.

“Y-Yeah. I know. I know I deserve respect, but it’s been hard lately. Ever since my family stopped talking to me, I feel like a failure. They don’t understand that I deserve that respect either. They think teaching is a shit job, they think I won’t get anywhere in life with it. I’m just sick and tired of them acting like I didn’t work hard to get where I am today.”

I talked to my brother the other day, and he said the same thing they’ve been saying since I started my PhD. ‘You’re not gonna get anywhere with this, you should get a boyfriend, we want grandkids.’ Like, okay! I get it! But where the hell am I supposed to find a guy when the cute one doesn’t even like me!? And my last boyfriend was in my undergrad. I feel a like teenager. I have literally no romantic life.” You huff out, absolutely tired of this.

“I- Y/N, I’m so sorry. You deserve a family that’s supportive of you and your passions. I hope Wanda and Carol and I have maybe helped you, kind of like a work family, y’know?” She holds your hand tighter. “We’ll always be here for you.”

You smile, walking around your desk to hug her.

“Thank you, Nat. I appreciate you all so much. I don’t think you’ll ever really know.” You hug her tightly before letting go. “James should be here any minute now, but we’ll talk more after class?”

“You betcha, but don’t think I forgot what you said... Maybe he does like you.” She says, and your face turns beet red.

“Natasha, no. I think he’s made it very clear he’s not into me. Like, at all. I’m surprised we’re even working together. I didn’t think he would cooperate.” You laugh. “Okay, seriously, you gotta go. I don’t want him to walk in on us talking about him.”

“Okay, okay, talk later. Bye, Y/N.” She says, making her way out, and Bucky pushes himself against the wall, hoping she wouldn’t see him.

“Don’t forget what we talked about, yeah?” She says to him, not even looking back. Natasha only stops when she doesn’t hear his response, turning around. “Listen to me, Bucky. We may be friends, but so are Y/N and I. I don’t know if it was me or Steve who finally knocked some sense into the dumb head of yours, but if she comes to me again, crying, telling me she can’t take it from you anymore, I promise; you’ll be off this faculty faster than you can say ‘tenure.’ Now, am I understood, Barnes?” Natasha concludes, completely in Bucky’s personal space.

“I- yes. I understand.” He gulps, looking down at his hands. “I-I’ve been trying. To be nice to her. I know what I did before was wrong, but I’m trying, okay? Steve and I had a... a long talk.”

“Yeah, whatever. This better not just be a one-time-thing. From here on out, I want no complaints from her. She’s been through enough shit, and she doesn’t need any more from you. I have somewhere to be, and so do you.” Natasha says, parting ways and letting Bucky release a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

He composes himself one last time, and walks into your office.

“Hi, James.” You give him a soft smile, “Take a seat, we’ve got work to do.”

-

When your last lecture finished, you made your way home to get what you needed to head to James’ apartment. He’d texted you the address and told you you could come by any time after 6:30.

You were thinking back on your lunch break with him. He was quiet, almost nervous to be sitting in front of you, and you couldn’t understand for the life of you why.

It was uncharacteristic of him to be so demure, and you wonder why he was suddenly so shy. Before, he wouldn’t have hesitated to make a remark, or take a jab at you. But now, he was quiet as a mouse.

It was concerning, to say the least.

So, on your way to his apartment, which was a solid 15 minutes drive, you call Natasha for advice.

“Hey. Can I talk to you about something?” You ask while you drive.

“Yeah, everything alright?” Natasha’s voice filters through your car’s speakers.

“Oh, I’m fine, but did something happen with James? He was acting so... odd today... He was so quiet, so nice. His behavior has been so different lately.” Your brows were furrowed, genuinely trying to crack this puzzle.

“Uh... well, isn’t it a good thing?” She asks.

“I mean, yes, but did someone say something to him?” You ask, puzzled.

“Uh, no...” lie, “maybe he’s just turning over a new leaf, Y/N. I think you should stop worrying yourself over it so much. And if you really want answers, just confront him about it.” Natasha concludes.

“...Okay. You’re right. I think I’m just reading too much into this. I need to go, I’m almost there. Thanks, Nat.” You tell her.

“Bye, Y/N. Good luck.” And the line goes dead.

“Looks like it’s just me and you now, Luce.” You look over at her carrier in the seat next to yours, where she’s curled up into a ball inside.

-

Once you park and text James to let him know you’re on your way up, you sling your laptop bag over your shoulder and grab Lucy’s carrier.

As you make your way inside, you stop at the concierge desk, where an older man with grey hair and glasses greets you. His name tag reads Stan.

“Hi, I’m here to see James Barnes?” You tell him, looking at the grandiosity of the lobby.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Y/L/N?” He asks, and you nod. “He said he was expecting you. Not that I don’t trust you, but I just need a form of ID before I can let you up.” You nod again, handing over you driver’s license.

He hands it back, giving an approving nod.

“Elevators are to the right, he’s in 12B.” Stan tells him, and you give him appreciative ‘thank you’ before you scurry to the elevator.

When you knock on his door, it takes a second for him to open it, a faint ‘Al, one second!’ resonating through the door, making you snort out a laugh.

“Hey, sorry about that. Come in,” Bucky finally appears, swinging his door wide open.

You walk in, setting down Lucy and taking your shoes off.

“So, is Alpine friendly with other cats?” You ask, weary of unzipping the carrier.

“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” He asks, but stops when he sees your expression fall.

“S-Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply anything, It’s just- Lucy’s a bit shy, but she typically likes other cats.” You say, looking down at her.

“I-I’m sorry- that was rude. I wasn’t trying to sound like an ass, I swear. Alpine’s friendly with other cats, but he needs a little time to warm up to other people. Don’t take it personally if he isn’t too fond of you at first.” He laughs, directing you to his couch where Alpine was perched.

“Oh, hi baby!” You coo, holding out your hand to Alpine. He tentatively inspects you with his eyes, first, and then sniffs you. He then, his head buts against your hand, asking for affection.

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, shocked at how friendly Alpine was being. He barely even looked at Steve and Sam when they come by. But here he was, purring and shoving himself against you.

“Well, I think Lucy won’t have a problem with him at all.” You smile, bringing the carrier over to the end of the couch and unzipping it, letting Lucy move at her own pace.

At first, she just wearily looks at Alpine and the unfamiliar setting. She then looks at you, where you encouragingly coo at her, making sure she was comfortable.

Bucky gazes at the whole scene with a soft look, watching as Lucy slowly saunters out of the carrier, sniffing Alpine and the couch. Soon enough, Alpine sniffs back, and they start playing with each other, forgetting their owners completely.

You both laugh at how well they were getting along, and the contrast between the black and white furs making it that much better.

“Well, should we get started?” You ask, finally turning to Bucky with a big smile.

In that moment, his throat goes dry, and all he can think is... She has a beautiful smile.

“James? Everything alright?” You ask, breaking him out of his trance.

“I- Yes! Sorry, got distracted for a minute... Would you prefer Italian or Chinese for dinner?” He asks, shaking his head and trying to change the subject.

“Uhm, I don’t mind, whatever you’d like.” You smile, grabbing your laptop.

“So... Italian, then?” He asks with a light laugh.

“Sure.” You answer. “Where can we sit to work?”

“Oh, the table’s fine, we can eat while we work, too. Let me go order really quick.” He excuses himself after pointing to his dining table, and heading into the kitchen.

When Bucky reaches the kitchen, he takes a second to compose himself. He pinches in between his brows, his eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t know why he was acting like a teenager, he felt himself get flustered around you.

After he pulls himself together, he orders the food and comes back outside, finding you focused on something extremely intently on your screen.

“James, what do you think for something like this for a more interactive activity?” You ask, turning your computer to him, waiting for him to read the plan, biting your lip nervously.

“This- this is awesome, doll. This looks really good, the students would love this.” He tells you, reading over it one more time.

“O-Oh, thanks.” You thank him shyly, stomach fluttering while looking down at your lap again.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, breaking the silence.

“Oh, the food-” James moves to grab his wallet, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“James, you’ve already been so hospitable, let me get it-” You say, but he shakes off your hand and shakes his head.

“No, I can’t let you do that, I insist,” he responds, beating you to the door and handing the delivery man his card, letting him ring it up quickly.

You huff, sitting back down in your spot with a pout.

“James, you suck,” you huff, visibly annoyed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I did. Now, let’s eat. You good with red wine?” He asks, pulling out two wine glasses.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You say, unpacking the food as he pours some wine.

As he sets down some plates, he sees your expression still pouty, like a child.

“Y/N, stop pouting.” You look so cute. “You can get it next time.” I wish I could kiss you.

“Oh, there’s gonna be a next time?” You ask, your face turning red yet again.

“I mean, we’re going to have to make more lesson plans, depending on how long Fury keeps this up.” He laughs, but you freeze at his words.

It’s true, you think to yourself, we’re probably going back to how it was before when this is all over. That’s probably why he’s being nice to me.

“Hey, you alright? Did I say something?” James asks, a concerned look on his face.

“N-No, you’re good. Sorry. Ready to eat?” You ask, changing the subject.

“Yeah... You sure everything’s okay?” He asks again, trying to make sure.

“James, everything is okay, please. Let’s just eat.” You smile, placing a hand over his in reassurement.

-

Dinner was delicious, and now you and James were sipping on wine while working, occasionally checking on Lucy and Alpine.

“Hey, do you think a group project could work? I usually give some to my students, I have a template I follow, but you could change it to your liking-” James tells you, but you cut him off with your thoughts.

“James, can I ask you a question?” You ask, hovering a hand over his.

“S-Sure. What’s up?” He sounds weary.

“You know, before we started this project, you like... loathed me.” You say. “Why?” Your voice breaks at that last word, barely getting it out of your throat.

“I... I just-” He takes a deep breath and looks down, grabbing your hand, “I thought you were... snobby, stuck up. I thought you came to this school thinking you were better than everyone else, that you were here to one-up us all.”

And before you could cut him to deny it with your shaking head, he continues.

“And I know now that I was wrong. I-I’m so sorry for the way I spoke to you, especially at the bar. After you left and Steve took me home, he basically yelled at me and told me how what I thought of you was completely off. I shouldn’t have assumed all those things about you, and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me, one day.” He concludes, holding onto your hand so tightly to convey just how sorry he was.

“I- Oh, James. Y-You know, I never meant to come off that way. I just- I’ve always had trouble making friends and talking to people, and things have been hard recently. I never meant to make you o-or anyone else, for that matter, to feel that way. I’m so sorry.” You say, tears prickling behind your eyes.

“Y/N, doll.” James moves out of his seat, wrapping you in his arms. “I can’t even tell you how much I wish I was more open-minded, more patient. Ever since Steve and Nat have talked to me, I’ve been just-”

“Nat? What has Natasha told you?” You stop him, pulling away.

“She- she just told me to stop. She told me you’ve been going through a lot, and that I wasn’t making it any better for you so-”

“Did she say what? Why would she tell you about my personal life-” You begin to ramble and waving your hands around.

“Doll, no she didn’t-”

“She had no right to say-”

But before you could continue, Bucky cuts you off.

With his lips.

Against yours.

Bucky was kissing you.

Oh my god, he’s kissing me!

You pull away looking at him in utter shock.

“Wh- What did you do that for?”

“I just- You were rambling, but I didn’t know how else to stop you.” James says, a blush creeping up his neck.

“So you kissed me?” You ask incredulously.

“Uh- yes?” He says, more like asks.

“I uh... I have to go.” You say, looking anywhere but his eyes as you gather your items, hunting down Lucy and putting her in her carrier; much to her protest and distaste.

“Y-Y/N, please, don’t go. Let’s just talk!” James pleads, but you’re not listening.

“N-No, I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you in class next week. Bye, James.” You huff out, running to the nearest stairwell.

A part of you wanted him to run after you, but you needed time to process... whatever that was.

Did he kiss you because he liked you? Or because he wanted to shut you up?

You cut the drive home into half, the first thing you do after getting through your door is calling Natasha.

“Nat, I fucked up...” Your voice was weak through the phone.

And back in Bucky’s apartment, he dialed Steve’s number.

“Steve, I fucked up... real bad.” He meekly provides, his head in his hands.

-

a/n: oh boy. what’s gonna happen ??? hmmm... let me know down below! hope you guys enjoyed ;)

also, did y’all peep my stan lee cameo? :)

[talesofstyles]

Quid Pro Quo

Another lawyer!Harry. Technically six years before this piece. Enemies to lovers with plenty of angst :))) [7k]

massive thank you to @smokeinherperfume @for-fucks-sake-h and @emotionally-imbruised​ 🥺💛

This has got to be one of the worst weeks of your professional life.

It’s only Thursday and this past week you haven’t left your office before eleven every night. You’re currently working on nine cases, two of which require immediate action, and you’ll most likely have to go to trial for at least three of the cases because the motions to dismiss that you filed were denied. Last night alone you didn’t get a wink of sleep because you were busy preparing for a deposition this morning, which turned out to be practically useless, because your client completely ignored your advice and said everything you told them not to and basically shit the bed for you.

You know this is what you signed up for when you decided to become a lawyer at a top law firm in the City. Clifford Chance is not a joke, there’s a reason why they’re number second in the UK and you knew that long before you even started working here. There’s a common knowledge which most law students throughout the UK knows, that if you work at Clifford Chance, you don’t get to sit around. Put it this way: if you let six minutes tick away without achieving anything, you’ve wasted the firm fifty pounds. Twelve minutes: one hundred pounds. Eighteen minutes: one fifty. You do the math.

It’s not that you hate your job. On the contrary, you absolutely love your job. You know you’re good at it. You love the thrill of negotiation. You like to argue and make the best point in the room. You’re addicted to the adrenaline rush of closing a deal, and frankly, nothing satisfy you more than spotting the loopholes in a contract (with the exception of sex of course but it has really been a while and you’re practically a nun these days so it’s not even worth mentioning).

 But sometimes it’s just too much. You’ve been working for fifty five hours per week, and sure, the money’s good (scratch that—the money’s great), but you don’t have a life outside of work and you’re beginning to realise that it’s one hell of a price to pay. 

The truth is, you know all this nonsense is not because you hate your job, nor because you’re stretched too thin. Interestingly, you actually thrive under pressure and you know that’s one of your qualities that makes you a good lawyer. And life outside of work? Even the thought of it makes you laugh. Your work is your life. You’ve never complained about that. This bitterness inside of you that you don’t even realise exists emerged when Harry Styles waltzed into your firm three months ago. You don’t normally make a big deal about people coming into the firm, because you’re good with people and you’re friends with everyone. But the thing is, you resent him because your firm gave him a senior partner title right away, one that you’ve been busting your arse for by working about two hundred hours per month minimum for the past year, just because he came from your firm’s rival which happens to be the number one law firm in the UK. And on top of that, he didn’t come empty handed. He brought five big clients with him when he came knocking on your firm’s door, and that sort of sealed the deal for your managing partner to choose him instead of you to be promoted to senior partner this year.

Bloody bum licker.

Your frustrated groan bounces off the thin walls of your two bedroom flat that you shared with your best friend and you accidentally slam the door a little too harsh. Luckily, she’s used to you coming home in such a state for the past three months, so she just turns her head to see you from where she’s sat on the couch in the living room, stifling a laugh.

“Harry Styles?” She ventures, smirking at you and you groan in annoyance as you throw your keys in the bowl.

“Harry,” you grunt. “Fucking Styles.”

Fran can’t help but laugh, and you give her a look that tells her you’d probably kill her if she keeps that up as you walk past her and straight into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine from the fridge, so she’s back trying to stifle her laughter.

“Alright,” she replies, you can hear amusement in her tone. “What did he do this time?”

“He took my case!” you snap as you plop down on the couch with a bottle of Riesling in your hand. Fran puts her laptop on the coffee table and turns to face you, sitting expectantly, waiting for the oncoming rant. “He’s just- ugh. I can’t stand him, Fran. He’s unbelievable.”

“What?” She stares at you in confusion. “How?”

“So Luke came to the office this morning-”

“Luke-”

“Don’t-” you cut her off before she can finish her sentence. “I know what you’re about to say, and yes, that Luke. So, he came to the office this morning because he’s got a problem. Basically, his company just cut a huge deal but he needs to get out of this contract because his general counsel accidentally let them slip something into the fine print.”

“Shit,” she remarks. “That is a fireable offense.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “The guy was fired on the spot. The thing is, if Luke fulfills this order, he goes out of business.”

“And if he doesn’t,” she pauses, looking at you for a second before adding another remark. “Shit, they’ll sue him for breach of contract.” 

“Exactly,” you sigh. “I’ve been at it all day trying to spot loopholes in the contract to save his company.”

You really miss working together with Fran. You’ve been living together since you were both still in law school, and Fran used to work in Clifford Chance as well until ten months ago when she decided she wanted to focus on fashion law and moved to Addleshaw Goddard.

It’s not that you’re not happy for her. You’re glad she found something that she’s passionate about. It’s just you’re so used to working on cases and going to mock trials together and you can’t deny that you miss it sometimes. You just wish that she’d stayed, because you know it would be much easier to handle Harry if you’ve got your best friend with you.

“Right,” she nods. “And I’m guessing Harry came to you and he wanted in?”

“That bastard!” You scowl. “He just waltzed into my office out of the blue and was like, ‘I gather Luke Whiteacre needs to get out of something? I want in.’ I mean… who does that?! He didn’t even say hi when he walked in!”

Fran snickers at your terrible impression of Harry. She hasn’t met him yet but she knows there’s no way he talks like that. “And you’re upset because he didn’t say hi?”

“Fran!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” she hastily amends. “Look, maybe he’s just trying to help? He’s not taking your case, babe, believe me. You’re still on it, aren’t you?”

“Well, I am,” you let out another sigh.

“See?” She goes on. “And even if he tries to, Luke wouldn’t let it happen. He’s been your client since forever.”

“Still. I don’t like the fact that he thought he could just walk into my office and hijack my case,” you say in exasperation. “I’m gonna kill him, Fran. I swear to god I’m gonna kill him.”

Fran burst in laughter, muttering your name in a chastising tone. “Don’t. You won’t look good in prison stripes,” she shakes her head. “Really rubs you in the wrong way, doesn’t he?”

“Absolutely,” you roll your eyes.

“Come on, babe,” she continues with a smirk. “I’ve said this before, you need to shag him. Take out all those frustrations…”

“Keep that up and I’ll put your name on my people-to-murder list next to his,” you grunt, standing up from the couch and head towards the kitchen hoping to find some treats from the snack cabinet.

Fran giggles as she takes her laptop back onto her lap and begins typing. “Let’s go out,” she suggests. “Been a while. You look like you could use a night out.”

“I can’t,” you slump against the couch with a bag of chocolate buttons. “He’s on his way here.”

“What? Harry?” She looks at you in surprise. “Why?”

“Yeah,” you shrug carelessly. “We need to work on Luke’s case.”

“Have you still got some condoms in your room?” She says teasingly. “I’ve got some just in case you need them. Just-”

The sound of the doorbell rings cuts your best friend’s teasing remark. It’s definitely Harry, and you give Fran one last death glare and Ross Geller’s version of middle finger as you get up from the couch and walk towards the front door to let him in.

“Hey,” he greets you with his usual smug smile that irritates you to no end. “Lovely flat you’ve got here.”

“We better get started,” you say dismissively as you close the door behind him before you lead him into your living room. You suddenly realise that it’s your first time seeing him not in one of his expensive suits. Not that you care enough about him to notice that. It’s just he happens to be wearing a lot of Jermyn Street suits, and you know they don’t come cheap. 

This time he’s only in his crisp white button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just below his elbow. His arms are full with folders that you asked him to take from the office, and as the two of you walk into your living room, you see Fran turning her head to greet him. “Hi.”

“Hey, you must be Fran,” he smiles as he strides to the couch.

“And you must be Harry,” Fran replies, before tilting her head to smirk at you. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Have you now?” Harry chuckles. “Only good thing, I hope?”

“Oh,” Fran can’t help but snort. “Only the best.”

You end up ordering Chinese because neither of you have had dinner, and Fran ends up helping both you and Harry on the case in the living room. Even with three heads brainstorming together you’re still struggling to see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

It is now past midnight and you and Harry are still working on your case. Fran has gone up to her room a little over two hours ago, leaving just the two of you in your living room. Your coffee table is strewn with photocopied draft contracts, financial reports, note-pads covered in scribbles, post-its and two cups of cold coffee from four hours ago that both of you keep accidentally drinking. Take-out boxes are littering the floor, and you can barely keep your eyes open as you read through yet another file to find literally anything which could potentially help.

“I tell you what, this is ironclad,” you let out a heavy sigh as you throw the document on the coffee table in defeat. “Houdini wouldn’t even get out of this contract.”

“We need to adjourn,” Harry suggests, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Regroup tomorrow to get to the bottom of this with clear heads. I’ve got a trial at half nine but I’ll be done by noon.”

“I can’t rest before we figure this out,” you state stubbornly, pausing for a second to let out a yawn. “But you go home. I’ll let you know if I’ve got something.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “You have to rest. If you were to come up with something you would’ve by now.”

You feel a stab of indignation. “Are you saying that I’m not capable of getting to the bottom of this myself?”

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry says in exasperation. “How did you even come up with that? I was just saying you’re knackered, well we both are, so we’re not thinking clearly. But you know what? If you wanna keep going, that’s your decision. But I’m not going to.”

“Well, I never asked you to!” you retort defensively.

Harry rolls his eyes as he gets up from your couch, heading towards the door without saying another word and you can’t help but groan in annoyance. With Harry, you’re quite capable of going from calm to seething in 0-60, and you’re too pissed to even notice Fran stifling her giggles from the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” Fran appears in the living room with a glass of water in her hand, staring at you with one eyebrow arched high. “There’s no tension there at all.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, give it a rest!”

***

By two o’clock you’re already exhausted and brain dead after only three hours of sleep and non-stop work since this morning. You haven’t even had lunch yet, but even just the thought of eating already makes you nauseous because you can’t stop thinking about how crushed Luke is going to be when you tell him that he’s going out of business. Truth be told you don’t want to jump that far, but what Harry said last night keeps replaying on your mind like a broken cassette. ‘If you were to come up with something, you would have by now.’ And here you are, twenty-eight hours later, still have got nothing.

Speak of the devil.

“Where have you been?” Harry asks in a prickly tone as he walks into your office. His brows are knitted together and he looks concerned. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Honestly, a ‘hi’ would be nice.

“I’ll tell you where,” you shift your attention from your computer and look at him. “I was getting screwed by Berkeley Group and trying to figure out what to do about it.”

Harry gives you a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“I went there with a dozen win-win offers and they shot down every single one,” you say stonily.

“Did you threaten litigation?” asked Harry, a bit superciliously.

“Harry, I threaten them with everything but the kitchen sink,” you flash him an incandescent look. “The thing is, this contract is airtight and they know it.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Harry says promptly with a glint of hope in his eyes. “And this won’t make Luke go out of business.”

“What you on about?”

“Slicing and dicing,” says Harry with a smug smile. 

You flash him another incandescent look. “Are you telling me that your big brilliant idea is to split his commercial division from his retail?”

The glint of hope disappears from his eyes as he looks at you. “This is the only way out.”

“Cutting someone’s arm off is not a way out!” you practically shriek. 

“It is if their life depends on it!” Harry yells in frustration, the volume of his voice matches yours and you can’t help but notice two associates stop for a second just to have a peek at you and Harry having a screaming match before they continue walking past your office.

“Look,” he begins again, and you know he’s calmed down a little because he’s not as loud as three seconds ago. “If we do this, we have a chance to get Berkeley back to the table before we cut anything off.”

“Listen to me Harry,” you venture after a pause. “I’m sorry but we’re not going back to Luke with this bullshit. Thank you for your help so far, but you’re off the case.”

“What?” Harry turns to you in disbelief.

“You heard me,” you give him a dismissive blink that makes him feel like an insect. “I’m taking back this case.”

You turn your attention back to some random document on your desk, pretending to read carefully, not daring to meet his eyes. Luckily he leaves your office without saying another word after a second or two of pause, and you slump back further on your chair as he slams your door behind him.

For the rest of the afternoon you’ve decided to keep yourself busy with your other cases, but you know deep down you won’t be able to focus on anything else before you get Luke out of the woods. You can’t let him go out of business. You just can’t. Not only because you’ve been looking after his company for years, hell you were only an associate when he first became a client, but you also saw with your own eyes how his company grew. He was only just starting his business when he came into your firm, and you witnessed it firsthand how he nurtured it into the big and successful company it is now.

On a side note, you also can’t stop thinking about what happened in your office earlier. Sure, you and Harry don’t particularly get along like a house on fire, but you didn’t have to be so rude, did you? His approach to the problem might be different than yours, but deep down you knew he was only trying to help.

So on your way to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea, you decided to stop by his office. You know you owe him an apology. 

“Hi,” his door is open but you decided to knock anyway. “Mind if I come in?”

He looks up at you instantly, pushing his chair a little further away from his desk to break his attention from his computer. “Of course not, come in.”

“Look-”

“Look-”

You both say simultaneously, before breaking into a chuckle. 

“Let me go first,” he begins with a smile, which for some reason doesn’t look smug this time and you nod. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. That case is yours to begin with, and I should’ve trusted you to bring it home how you see fit.”

“Well I’m sorry too,” you add hastily. “Guess I let my emotion get the best of me back there. I was rude when you were only trying to help.”

“Hey, no need to apologise to me,” he replies without flickering. “I absolutely understand.”

“It’s just,” you continue as you saunter to his desk. “Luke was my first client. Ever. The first time I went solo on a case, it was for his company. I just can’t let him down.”

“Look, we don’t know that yet,” he assures you gently. “And even if it comes to that point, it’s not your fault. If anything it’s the general counsel’s fault.”

“Holy shit-” you say suddenly. “Harry!”

“What?” he looks at you in confusion.

“The general counsel didn’t just make one mistake,” you go on as you look at Harry with glimmering hope. “He made two, he never ran the final contract by me.”

“Holy shit he didn’t,” Harry remarks. “Because he knew you’d catch any mistake. So he didn’t make a mistake…”

“No it was on purpose,” you can’t help a pleased little smile coming to your lips. “Isn’t it a coincidence that he just signed a contract to work at a subsidiary of Berkeley?”

“This is brilliant,” he replies excitedly. “You’re brilliant.”

“Say that again?” you joke.

“No, you need to get them on the phone right now,” Harry gives you a rictus smile. “And I need to find us some bloody champagne.”

***

Harry grins as he walks into your office and asks, as though you’re mid-conversation. “Have you made the call?”

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” you grin when you notice a bottle of Moët & Chandon in his hand. “Where did you get that?”

“Leftovers from the Christmas party,” he chuckles as he quickly opens it . “How’s it? What did they say?”

“Well, the contract is back exactly the way it was,” you begin, giving him a smug smile for a change. “Well, with a twenty five percent increase.”

He looks at you suspiciously, one of his eyebrows arched high. “Twenty five?”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes comically. “Forty.”

“Bloody hell,” he chuckles. “You don’t mess about, do you? Remind me to never mess with you.”

You laugh and take a sip of the champagne. “We need to celebrate this.”

“Do you wanna go out?”

“Oh no, I’ve got something better,” you smirk as you hand him a folder. “Take a look.”

Harry takes the folder promptly and begins skimming through the documents, occasionally taking sips of the champagne in between. “Aha, you need to get out of a deal.”

“Exactly,” you grin. “We need to get out of a deal I negotiated for a mobile payment app with our client’s credit card provider.”

“This is a three years deal and you’re only three months in,” Harry observes as he continues skimming through the files.

“Well, that’s what makes it fun, innit?” your grin widens.

“Oh, absolutely. This is fun,” his eyes twinkling in delight. “You don’t have any legal grounds to do it. Have you got something in mind?”

“Mhm,” you hum as you take another swig of champagne. “I think if I can find a reason to pay into a trust instead of to them directly then we can squeeze them…”

“Make them take a buyout,” Harry adds.

“Look at us finishing each other’s sentences already,” you make an elaborate gesture with your champagne flute and Harry gives you a shrill laugh.

“We’re best friends now, aren’t we?”

You retort at once. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Alright,” says Harry, his eyes still flashing with amusement. “That’s a good plan by the way. What do you want me to do?”

“I need precedents by noon.”

“You’ll have them on your desk by nine am sharp,” he smirks.

***

Harry keeps his promise.

When you arrive in your office at a little over nine, there are six folders from Harry waiting for you on your desk, which means that he didn’t only get you one or two but six precedents for the new case that you’re both working on. This is the boost of confidence that you need, because today you’re scheduled to go to the judge’s chamber and meet with the lawyer on the opposing side. Who knows, maybe this will be a quick one and the case will be over by the end of the day.

Well, that’s a nice thought. But in order for the case to be dismissed, the lawyer from the opposing side needs to show up here first and foremost. You’ve been sitting in the judge’s chamber for nearly fifteen minutes now, and he has warned you about ten times that if the other lawyer doesn’t show up, he would have to deny your motion to dismiss.

“Hello, sorry I’m late,” a voice pipes in from the door, and when you turn around, you see a woman with a smug smile that reminds you of Harry’s, clad in L.K. Bennett from head to toe walks into the room. She offers you a hand before she sits down, and you politely reach out yours for a handshake. “Camille Sweetings, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Have you now?” you give her a mocking smile as you begin confidently. “Well, you haven’t lived up to your obligations and according to these six precedents, we have the right to nullify this entire deal right now.”

You really don’t like the look on her face. Any other lawyers would at least be slightly ticked to hear that, but she still has the same smug smile across her face. “You don’t have the right to do anything, you’re in violation of your contract.”

“Paying into a trust isn’t a violation,” you frown.

“No,” she agrees. “But meeting with the competition is.”

You can’t see your own face, but if you do, you’re most likely to look like you’ve just seen a ghost. How did she even know that? You try to remain calm and look at the judge. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“No,” she’s smiling as she says the word. “You just didn’t know I’d find out about it. Your Honour, I’ve got a confirmation that YN YLN has engaged in a pattern of dirty tricks, unethical behaviour and borderline illegal activity. All in the name of ‘representing’ her clients.”

Your rage simmers up into a froth. “If you’re gonna say all that about me, you better damn well be able to back it up.”

You want nothing more than to rip off the smirk across her face as she hands two files to the judge. “Here are two of Ms YLN's old cases. There you’ll find settlements withheld and meetings with the competition.”

“How the hell did you get these?!” you exclaim indignantly. “Your Honour, my past cases have no relevance here.”

“No, but your answers to my question do,” he says sternly. “Did you or did you not meet with the competition last week?”

***

You stride back into your office furiously. Who the hell was that woman? You didn’t even know her yet she apparently knew a damn lot about you. Nobody even knew you had a meeting with the competition last week, so there has got to be something bigger going on yet you just can’t seem to figure that out.

You begin to realise maybe this whole case isn’t a good idea and you silently promise yourself that you will never take on anything with getting out of contracts or deals or basically everything that Harry is good at ever again. This isn’t your thing, this is Harry’s. Your thing is everything that has everything to do with mergers, acquisitions, all that, just like Fran’s thing is everything with fashion law. This whole thing is really stressing you out and you plan to speak to Harry when you get the chance later today to just hand him the case. 

Speak of the devil.

“Hey! How was the hearing?” he sounds jovial as he walks into your office with a bright smile. “Should I get another bottle of champagne for tonight? Of course when I say ‘get’ I meant ‘steal’ from downstairs.”

“The judge bit my head off,” you scoff.

He flashes you a quizzical look. “What? Why?”

“The other lawyer found some dirt about me,” you begin, already seething as you picture her face with that bloody smug smile in your head. “She found two of my old cases and said really nasty things about me to the judge. And before you say anything, no, I didn’t do anything illegal. But I’ve got to admit it was unethical.”

“Shit,” he looks at you, concerned. “Look, there’s no way they could’ve found all those shit just like that.”

“That’s what I’m thinking about,” you reply at once. “There’s got to be something bigger going on. This is a desperate move, I tell you.”

“I agree,” he nods. “It sounds shady, and in my experience the other side only does something like this when they’ve already done something even shadier.”

You look at him with a glint of hope. “So you also think they’re hiding something?”

“Yeah,” he sounds so sure. “And don’t worry, we’re gonna find it.”

“Good,” you remark. “Because there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let bloody Camille Sweetings get the better of me.”

“Wait, who?” this time, it’s Harry who looks like he has just seen a ghost. The colours have drained from his face, and you look at him in confusion.

“Camille Sweetings,” you repeat yourself, wrinkling your nose in disgust because you hate the sound of her name rolling out of your lips. “Why? Do you know her?”

“Have they put my name on this case?” he ignores your questions.

“Yeah, yesterday,” you frown. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath before he begins, looking at you in the eyes. “She and I, well, uh, we were together for a while.”

“What?!” you can’t hide your dismay. “Fucking hell, Harry. As if this isn’t complicated enough!”

You lapse into silence for a few seconds, neither of you knowing what to say.

“I think this is personal,” he ventures after the pause. “Look, if you want me off the case now, I completely understand. I won’t fight you. But I hope you don’t because you need help now more than ever.”

“Just,” you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Please get out of my office.”

***

By nine pm you’ve already come up with three win-win offers, yet Camille bloody Sweetings gives you a shrill laugh every time and shoots down every single one. Honestly, she is the female version of Harry. They make a great couple, those two shady bastards. They should’ve gotten married and make a couple of shady children.

“Sod off, Harry,” you say without even moving your head from looking at your computer, but you know he’s standing in front of your office, probably waiting for the right time to come in. Honestly, he might be a brilliant lawyer but he sucks big time at a simple game of hide and seek. Behind the wall? That’s a toddler-level hiding spot.

“No,” he insists, finally walking towards your desk. “I wanna help.”

“I told you I don’t need your help,” you give him a dismissive blink that makes him feel like an insect.

He says your name sternly, making you look in his direction and finally meets his eyes. “Believe me, you do. You think I’m shady? That bloody snake is ten times worse. You need help, and I don’t care what you say because I’ve just checked and my name is still on the attorneys listed.”

“Fine,” you concede. “Take a look at this. This is as best as she could get yet she bloody refused them all.”

Harry takes the files from your hand and quickly skims through the documents, muttering one or two profanities under his breath before he puts them back on your desk. “You know what, we’re going out tonight.”

Is he joking? 

“My arse is on the line here in case you haven’t realised,” you look at him in disbelief. “She pulls shit like this again, it’s gonna cost me my license.”

Your name rolls out of his lips again and he looks at you without blinking. “Come on, we need to blow off some steam. We don’t do that, we’re gonna kill each other.”

Three hours later, you feel like you’ll never be able to get out of the comfiest bar stool you’ve ever sat on. You’ve never been to Hawksmoor, but Harry swears this place is good even though it’s filled with boring bankers with their ties stuffed in suit pockets (not that Harry’s tie isn’t also stuffed in his suit pocket, but, you know, at least he’s not a banker), so you followed his lead and let him take you here.

The salvaged furniture, low lighting, comfy seating and charming staff make it an easy place to settle into. Sitting beside you is Harry with his neat whiskey, which you realise that he hasn’t finished when you’ve already had three refills of your gin and tonics. Your head is most likely going to fall off tomorrow morning, you just know it.

“Argh,” you groan. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Right now?” Harry deadpan. “Huge quantities of alcohol.”

“Sod off,” you playfully nudge his shoulder. “By the way, you’ve got more ex-girlfriends lawyers I should know about?”

Harry laughs, his eyes crinkled and shining. “I’ll send you a list.”

“Good,” you mumble against the edge of the glass, before taking another swig of your drink.

“How about you?” Harry is smirking at you, one of his eyebrows arched high. “Any lawyers you’re seeing that I should know?”

You laugh. “I don’t shit where I eat.”

“Shut up,” Harry looks at you suspiciously, still with a huge shit-eating grin. “You’re telling me you’ve never got involved with anyone at work?”

There’s silence.

“Shit,” Harry remarks. “Who was it?”

You exhale sharply before you answer. “Luke.”

Harry takes a gulp of his drink. “Well, that makes sense.”

“You don’t even know which Luke I was talking about,” you frown. “You could be wrong, you know. There are millions of Lukes.”

“Oh, of course it’s Luke Whiteacre,” he chuckles. “Didn’t go to law school for nothing, did I? But I’ve got to say, it finally makes sense.”

“Don’t say anything to anyone,” you say sternly, starting to realise that you’ve probably made a mistake of telling him. “It was a long time ago anyway.”

“So, how was he?” he’s grinning.

You can’t help but laugh. “Are we having a girl talk right now?”

“No,” he shrugs carelessly. “Just wanna know how he was.”

“You want me to go into details?” you tease, and even though he doesn’t say anything, you know he’s glad you’re not as tense as a few hours prior. “Cause I could. What do you wanna know? Stamina? Girth? Technique? I could go on…”

“Ew!”

You’re laughing so hard that you nearly fell off the bar stool if Harry didn’t quickly catch you, and you realise this is the first time your arm brushes against his, and for a second you’ve both stilled, but you ignored it because this doesn’t mean anything. You’re both drunk anyway. “Why did you break up with she-who-must-not-be-named?” you peer at him.

“We had a pregnancy scare,” he says, looking down for a second at his drink before taking another swig.

“Shit,” you gape at him. “Was she-”

“No, she wasn’t,” he shakes his head. “But it made me realise that she’s not the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, let alone actually having children with. So I called it off.”

“Sorry,” you can’t help yourself from chuckling. “But you made the right decision. Don’t have a baby with a snake.”

“Don’t apologise, you’re right,” Harry joins you in laughter. “How about you and Luke? What happened?”

“Work got in the way,” you drain the rest of your drink before motioning for the bartender to get you another one. “I was only an associate back then so I worked so hard to get junior partner. And his company wasn’t as big as it is now so he was working crazy hours too because he was trying to expand it. We saw each other about three times a month for half a year before we called it off.”

“Three times a month?” his eyes widen in surprise.

“Mhm,” you hum, mouthing a thank you to the bartender as he hands you another drink. “We were besotted but we just didn’t have time for a relationship.”

“Do you still-”

“What? No,” you laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. The ship has sailed now.”

“Good,” he smiles at you, before hastily corrects himself. “I mean, good for you.”

You take another big gulp of your drink before you push it away. “Alright, playtime’s over,” you smirk at him. “Let’s get back to work.”

“Are you joking?” he gives you a quizzical look. “It’s nearly midnight and you’re drunk.”

“I just need two cups of coffee and a cold shower and I’ll be fine,” you reply as you hop off the bar stool, he quickly reaches his hand out for you to hold. “Let’s go back to my place so I can have a quick shower.”

“Let’s go to mine,” he offers. “Technically Maida Vale is closer from here than Hammersmith.”

“Are you trying to take me home, Styles?” you deadpan, your voice a little slurred. “Should’ve bought me dinner first, don’t you think?”

“Hey, I’ve bought you lots of dinners,” he retorts. 

“No, Styles,” you shake your head, chuckling. “Clifford Chance bought me dinners. Been using the company’s card, haven’t you?”

Harry laughs. “You’ve got me.”

***

In under an hour, you’ve arrived at Harry’s flat, had a cup of coffee, and a cold shower just as you requested. You’ve ditched your work dress and slipped into the clothes that Harry had laid on his bed for you; a blue Mickey Mouse t-shirt and a pair of black shorts, and when you walk into his sitting room, you see him sitting on his plush sofa with some clipped documents in his hand.

Your eyes dart around his flat once again as you plop yourself down on his sofa. He’s got a great taste, you’ve got to admit, because his flat is lush. It’s on the fourth floor of a beautiful, red-brick, Edwardian mansion which Maida Vale is well-known for, and the inside is modern meets classic. The gray panelled walls blend nicely with the elegant patterned wood floor, and the cream curtains really tie the look of his flat altogether. It really is a gorgeous flat, not to mention the white marble en suite and his really neat, sparsely decorated bedroom.

“Alright,” you begin, taking a document into your hand and begin skimming through briefly only to put it back on the coffee table in less than thirty seconds. “I’ve been at it all day, we’ve been at it for a while and it’s getting us nowhere. I think we need to shake down some employees.”

“And that’s all well and good,” he turns to look at you. “But if we don’t know what to ask, we’re not going to get any answers.”

“Yes we will,” you insist. “They don’t know what we don’t know, do they?”

“They don’t know what we don’t know…”

“That’s literally what I just said,” you frown.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Look, I’m saying according to this report, their accounts are growing by 200% a month.”

“Wait a second,” you remark. “If that’s true then why are they clinging to this deal like it’s their newborn and I’m Herod?”

“Because maybe they’re not really growing by 200% a month,” Harry adds. “Look, March, 5 million new users, but 60% of these card holders don’t even seem to know they have the cards.”

“Holy shit,” your eyes widen in surprise. “The people are real, but the accounts are fake. Harry, this isn’t just shady, this is the type of shit that lands someone in prison. And if Camille knows all this…”

Harry grins. “Wait til the judge sees this.”

“The judge?” you look at him suspiciously. “Why don’t we just leverage them into letting us out?”

“Because, darling, we have the upper hand now,” he says, still grinning. “We can’t give her a chance to get it back.”

“Harry, if Camille has anything to do with this it would ruin her,” you warn him. “I can’t let you do this to someone you once cared about.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about her,” Harry says harshly. “Not anymore. If she doesn’t want to be ruined she shouldn’t have gotten involved in this. And she damn sure shouldn’t have fucked with someone I care about.”

“What?”

“You better get some sleep,” he jerks his head towards his bedroom. “We’re going to the court first thing in the morning.”

***

Harry’s bed has got to be one of the comfiest places on earth.

He gave you his bed for the night and opted for the couch, which you bet just as cosy so you didn’t really feel bad. When you wake up, he’s already clad in his white button-up shirt and black trousers, swinging the fridge open to get a freshly squeezed cranberry juice.

“Morning,” he smiles when he notices you as he pours some coffee and juice for both of you. “Have some toast.”

“You know how to treat your guest with a good breakfast, don’t you?” you tease him as you look around the jars on the breakfast nook. There are several kinds of luxury marmalade, strawberry jam with champagne, wild blossom honey and even Belgian chocolate spread. Honestly, who is this man?

“No hangover?”

“Surprisingly, no,” you chuckle. “I mean my head is pounding of course but it’s not too bad, nothing I can’t handle.”

“You want some nurofen?”

“No thanks,” you shake your head and take the cup of coffee from Harry’s hand. “Harry, we need to talk.”

He sighs. “You’re gonna try to change my mind, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you nod as you look through the jars of fancy jams, trying to choose one, before going with just salted butter instead. “I can’t let you do that. She might be a snake but I’m not. We’re not.” 

Harry just look at you in silence, and you continue.

“If we do this, then what’s the difference between us and her?” you go on, trying to sound convincing. “We’re better than that. We’re good people, you know.”

“But we’re going to make her pay,” he finally concedes and you smile. “Really make her pay.”

“That I agree,” you nod. “Okay, I’ll just go home quickly to get changed then we’ll meet at the office? Need to pay her a visit don’t we?”

“We can just go together,” Harry suggests. “We’ll stop by your flat then we can go straight to that snake’s office.”

***

“Are you crazy?” Camille flashes an incandescent look at both you and Harry. “I sign that, my client will be on the brink of bankruptcy!”

“So you rather go to prison?” Harry frowns and you try to stifle your giggle. “I mean, it’s your choice, but-”

“Fine!” she says in exasperation. “I’ll sign it. But give me your word this wouldn’t go out of these walls.”

You hand her the file and pen, and as she’s signing it, you can’t resist yourself. “You go near me or my clients again I swear to god you are dead fucking meat.”

Harry can’t help but chuckling, and you both don’t waste another minute in Camille’s office before you head out with smug smiles plastered across both of your faces. 

“You’re a badass lawyer,” he compliments you as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Stating the obvious there,” you smirk as you slide into his car and buckle up your seat belt. “But thank you, you’re not a shit lawyer yourself.”

“Since we’re passing compliments, shall we do it over a drink?”

“Drinks, Styles,” you shoot him a savage smile. “And you’re buying. Not Clifford Chance.”

Harry laughs, closing the car’s door. “As you wish.”

-

gif

[fics-n-stuff]

Secondhand Sofa

Pairing: Willie x Alex

Summary: Alex and Willie need to buy a sofa for their new apartment, domesticity insues. (Alive AU)

Word Count: 1097

A/N: There is nothing that actually connects them, so you don't have to read it, but I wrote this in the same universe as my previous Willex fic Really, Really. It's like a few years in the future from that.

Alex felt like he was dreaming watching Willie dance around the kitchen, but he couldn’t be because he had just woken up not five minutes earlier. Therefore, it had to be real that he and his boyfriend had moved into an apartment together, and said boyfriend was currently the cutest thing on the planet while they made breakfast.

“Morning.” Alex said softly, a fond smile on his face. Willie spun around to look at him, a grin spreading across their lips at the sight of the sleepy blonde. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes.” Willie chirped, turning back to the pan. “How’d you sleep?”

Alex hadn’t expected to sleep well that night, it being their first night in the new apartment. Technically they had started moving in almost a week ago, but they had only gotten a bed yesterday and still didn’t have a sofa. But, to his surprise, he had gotten a full night of sound sleep and he was pretty sure it was because he’d had Willie sleeping beside him.

“Pretty good actually.” He answered, coming up behind his boyfriend to watch the pancake making process over their shoulder. Completely predictably, both the countertop and the stove were a mess. “I am not helping you clean this up.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Willie chuckled. They reached back to grab Alex’s arms and quickly wrapped them around their own body, smiling when he tightened his hold and rested his chin on their shoulder.

The two of them stood there silently while Willie finished making the last few pancakes, and then Alex grabbed some toppings and plates and they moved through to the living room. The area was sparse – they didn’t actually have any furniture to sit on – but they did have an old table that Ray had gifted them and a slightly ugly rug that Alex had stolen from his parents' attic. They had ordered a TV that should have arrived already but seemed to be delayed in it’s delivery.

“There’s a pretty good sofa at the second-hand store a couple blocks away, if we buy it before noon they’ll deliver same day.” Willie said as they sat down on the rug. “Before you ask, it’s not an ugly pattern and there are no mysterious stains.”

“That sounds pretty good. Is it yellow, orange or green?”

“No.”

“Can we afford it?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go after breakfast.” Alex smiled, making Willie giggle and they leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “You have to clean the kitchen first.”

“Ugh, why’d you have to ruin it?” They sighed.

“Because you have a habit of making messes and I need to get into the habit of making you clean them up.” Alex answered. “If I don’t start enforcing the rules early then you’ll never listen to me.”

The two of them finished their breakfast, chatting and joking while they ate, and then Alex relented to washing the dishes while Willie cleaned the kitchen surfaces. He really struggled saying no to Willie.

The walk to the second-hand store wasn’t very long, and when they arrived Willie pointed out the sofa through the window before they went in. It was a plain grey, fabric three-seater without any stains, just as Willie had said.

“You know, I didn’t expect it to actually be so alright.” Alex teased, earning himself a light punch on the shoulder from his boyfriend.

“Come on, let’s go pay for it.” They smirked, pulling Alex into the store by their joined hands.

Not only did they get the sofa, but they also came away with a couple of blue tie dye beanbags; Willie’s eyes had lit up when they saw them and Alex didn’t have the heart to say no. The sofa was set to be delivered that afternoon but they carried the beanbags home on their backs, earning a few amused glances from the people that they passed.

“Now we’ll have space for guests!” Willie beamed, dropping their beanbag onto the living room floor. “See, perfect!”

“Yeah, perfect.” Alex smiled fondly, setting his down too. “Two steps closer to having a fully furnished apartment. We have about three hours until the sofa is delivered, what do you want to do?”

“Cookies, cupcakes or brownies?” Willie’s eyes shone so brightly with excitement that Alex almost didn’t think about the mess that they would make baking. “Please?”

“Willie, I love you, but I cannot deal with you constantly making messes in the kitchen; the kitchen that I also have to use.”

“Yeah, and that means you can make the mess with me.” Alex wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Willie look so mischievous, which was saying something. He pursed his lips, trying so hard to resist giving in to his adorable boyfriend. But, alas, he was a weak man.

“Okay, fine, let’s make brownies.” He sighed, and Willie’s smile widened.

“I love you.” They cooed, grabbing Alex’s hand and dragging him through to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but feel that the words were some type of precursory apology for the mess that was about to be made.

+ + +

“I hate you.” Alex huffed, looking at the mess of flour and chocolate around him. “I love you, but I hate you.”

“You helped me make it so you gotta help me clean it.” Willie grinned teasingly. They had somehow managed to get brownie mix smeared across their cheek, and Alex couldn’t help but move his hand up to wipe it away.

“You tricked me. It was entrapment.”

“No, it was baking with your very pretty boyfriend.”

“The prettiest.” Alex smiled, placing a light kiss on the tip of Willie’s nose. Just then, his phone started ringing where he’d left it in the living room. “Start cleaning.”

“You got it, hotdog.” They chuckled, and Alex scoffed as he went to answer the phone.

The caller ID said it was Julie, but when he picked up he heard Luke talking to somebody else – probably Reggie - on the other end.

“What do you want?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting.

“Do you guys have furniture yet? We’re still waiting for a housewarming party.” Luke said, and Alex could just picture the smirk on his face.

“Who said we were gonna have a housewarming party?”

“Bro, Willie definitely wants to have a housewarming party.”

“And so do all of us!” Reggie called from the background.

“So, do you have furniture yet?” Luke questioned again. Alex let the silence drag out for a moment before he sighed loudly.

“Our sofa arrives in an hour and a half. We still don’t have a TV but if you wanna come then tonight works.” He answered flatly.

“Awsome!” Luke cheered. “See you tonight.”

“We’ll bring takeout!” Julie managed to yell before Alex hung up. He rolled his eyes, stuffing his phone into his pocket and going back to the kitchen.

“What time should we expect them?” Willie asked with an amused smile, wiping down the counter.

“I have no clue.” Alex shrugged. “But we don’t have to cook dinner.”

The two of them finished cleaning the kitchen while they waited for the brownies. It was so utterly domestic, and Alex couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face the entire time. Once the brownies were out of the oven they settled on the beanbags with Willie’s laptop to watch some Netflix while they waited for the sofa to be delivered.

The delivery guys were nice when they arrived, getting the sofa into the apartment and not complaining that the building’s elevator was broken and they had to carry it up five narrow flights of stairs. Now, finally, they had an almost fully functional living room. And to top it all off, the sofa not only looked good in the space but it was also comfortable.

“This place is really starting to feel like a home.” Alex said, taking a moment to stand back and take in the room.

“It’s always gonna feel like a home as long as we’re here together.” Willie replied sweetly, grabbing his hand and dragging him with them to sit on the sofa. “I definitely think we could use a few plants though.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say such sentimental things and then immediately follow them up with a throwaway comment.” Alex explained. He'd never brought it up before but it was something that Willie had been doing a lot for quite a while, and it made Alex’s chest feel funny. He wasn’t particularly good at verbalising heartfelt sentiments – it had taken him a while to even get comfortable with saying “I love you" – but Willie didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

“Because I love you.” They shrugged in answer. “And I love you all the time, even during the most mundane moments. Sometimes I love you and it’s a really big deal and it’s a special moment, but sometimes I love you during super casual moments like getting our sofa delivered.” Alex just stared at them, his brain struggling to process what Willie had said beyond how fuzzy it made him feel.

“Okay.” He mumbled after an unnecessarily long pause, not knowing how else to respond. Willie giggled, adjusting the laptop on the table and hitting play before curling into Alex’s side.

“You could say it back.”

“Oh, I love you too.”

“I know.” They grinned.

They sat together on their freshly delivered sofa for hours, watching Netflix and chatting about random things. Their apartment was turning out to be actually quite cosy. They’d been sitting in silence for a while when all of a sudden Willie spoke up.

“You know what we need to buy?” They asked.

“A set of shelves for all of our miscellaneous stuff and more storage for our ridiculous collection of socks?” Alex suggested, practical as always.

“Well, yeah, but not what I was thinking.”

“Of course not.” Alex chuckled. “What were you thinking?”

“We need fluffy blankets.” Willie smiled excitedly. “And pillows to put on the couch.”

“Why?”

“So that, when our TV arrives, we can have movie nights on the couch and be all warm and comfy.”

“Hm, maybe that’s a good idea.” Alex smiled. He pushed a piece of hair away from their face and tucked it behind their ear, leaning in.

“Yeah, I think so.” Willie replied softly.

They were both smiling, faces only centimetres apart, when they were interrupted by very loud knocking at their door.

“FBI, open up!” They heard Flynn call from the other side. Alex groaned.

“Our idiots are here.” He said flatly. “What incredible timing.”

“We’ll have plenty of time another day. Go answer it, before we get complaints.” Willie replied as the knocking persisted. They pressed a very quick kiss to Alex’s lips before pushing him off of the sofa towards the door.

“Stop knocking, I’m coming!” He yelled, then lowered his voice to a bitter mutter, “I swear to God, this better not become a regular thing.” Willie laughed, and the sound warmed Alex’s heart.

He finally had his own space away from his parents and he shared it with the most perfect boyfriend he could have ever imagined having. He reveled in the feeling for a second before he opened the front door and his rowdy friends destroyed the quiet domestic moment. But that was okay, because this was his family and, although he acted like he was mad, Alex wouldn’t want it any other way.

[wasithard]

my self esteem is through the roof right now (thank you @vinylpaperclip​) i’m just gonna post the whole “australian!annabeth” fic here even though i think its wildly out of character based on the fact that annabeth is absolutely a self-insert for myself but who cares!!!!! 

in case it isnt clear footy = football and in this case is referring to the great game of rugby league. i apologise in advance for the ending which is just....a whole lot of cheese. enjoy!

She really did bring a footy jersey all the way with her to England, even though it was going to be seen by exactly zero other people as she watched the game by herself in her room.

But hey, it feels like home, and from the excited text she gets from her brothers in response to the photo she sends them of her in it lets her know that she made them smile, which makes it worth it.

They’re halfway into the first half, Blues up by 2, when her phone dings.

 Dumbass: are you around i’m bored

You: watching the footy you may join me but no talking this is important

Dumbass: if it’s australian football it’s not important but sure

When she opens the door for him a few minutes later Percy squints at her.

“Are you wearing a jersey? Did you bring a jersey all the way here?” He sounds incredulous.

“Gotta support the boys!” She says in reply, turning around and racing back to her bed and her laptop so she doesn’t miss anymore game time.

Annabeth hears Percy shut the door before he joins her, poking her in the side to get her to make room for him on the bed. She shuffles over and he settles in beside her, stretching an arm behind her as she sinks into his side.

“Oh, it’s rugby league. That’s acceptable at least.”

“What did you think I was watching?” She asks him, eyes not leaving the screen.

“I thought you were going to make me sit through your country’s sorry excuse for soccer.”

“You know what, I’m not even going to try and defend us on that one.”

He chuckles, “Good.”

They fall into a silence and Annabeth is wholly focused on the game. She fills Percy in on the importance of this game, the long, intense rivalry of the teams, who her favourite and least favourite players are. For his part, he seems to actually care, or does a good job of pretending.

At half time he raises his eyebrows, “This is actually pretty entertaining.”

“Well duh,” she says, turning to face him, “We’re world number 1s and this is an all-stars match.”

“I don’t know about world number ones,” he says. The smile on his face tells her he’s just trying to rile her up, but she can’t help herself.

“We literally won the World Cup last year.”

“Home ground advantage. Doesn’t count.”

She’s smiling as she shakes her head, “Shut up.”

“Make me.” He says, and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick to her lips for the briefest of seconds.

It sends butterflies shooting through her stomach, and she’s suddenly very much aware of all the places he’s touching her. She loves it, this game they’ve been playing for the past couple of weeks, dancing around each other. She only loves it, she thinks, because she knows he feels the same.

There’s no mystery about either of their feelings for each other, the question is only when they’ll crack and act on them.

Not right now, she thinks to herself, I haven’t waited this long for our first kiss not to be romantic.

She grabs a pillow from her other side and whacks his face with it, laughing at the exclamation she gets out of him.

He grabs her and smothers her with it. She manages to blindly locate his armpit and starts tickling him there. Maybe not the most graceful way of getting him off of her, but it works.

“Did you just tickle me?!”

“Yes and if you try to do it back I can’t promise that I won’t draw blood.” She states simply, getting up from the bed and walking to the kitchenette. “Hungry?” She asks.

“Surely you know the answer to that.”

She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling, “I’ve only got snacks. Do you want chips or bread?”

He rolls onto his back, his head hanging off the side of the bed as he watches her, “Will that bread have Vegemite on it?”

“You know it will!” Her voice is cheery from inside a cupboard as she brings out her 1kg tub of Vegemite.

“Have I told you how happy I am that you recognise the sheer deliciousness of Vegemite?” She says, passing him a plate with two slices of Vegemite-lathered bread as she returns to the bed.

“Yes, many times.”

“Well, I’m telling you again. I’m so glad you have taste, unlike everyone else in this country who thinks Marmite is edible.”

“It’s a gift.” He says, grinning through a mouthful of bread. She scrunches her nose in disgust and fetches her laptop from the end of her bed.

“Perfect timing,” she mutters as the game restarts for the second half. They settle into their comfortable silence again, the only sounds the voices of the commentators, their mouths chewing the bread and Annabeth’s occasional gasps and muttered curses.

He takes their plates when they’re done and puts them on the floor next to the bed. They rearrange themselves so that she’s leaning against him again and this time his arm rests around her waist, hand laying on her hip.

It starts as nothing, but at some point his hand finds his way under the thick, blue cotton of her jersey and onto the smooth warmth of her skin underneath.

She hears her own sharp intake of breath and wishes her body wouldn’t be so obvious about the effect Percy has on her. He sounds genuinely worried when he says, “Sorry, should I–”

“No! No, you’re fine.” She says, glancing at him in reassurance, “It’s nice.”

Nice, she thinks, ugh. But she refocuses on the game, his hand a weight burning into her side.

They sit a few more minutes until he rubs his thumb slowly upwards along her stomach, and Annabeth thinks she might die. Involuntarily, she inhales again.

She can hear a small smile in Percy’s voice when he asks, “You ok?”

She doesn’t trust her voice so she nods and hums the affirmative, but her breathing is shallow.

“Ok,” he says, and brings his head down to rest on her shoulder, lips brushing the top of her back. She fights the urge to tense her body in anticipation and instead turns on him. He jerks back in surprise.

“Actually, you’re being distracting. I’m going to need to you stop this until the game is over.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk curling his lips. “I’m distracting am I?”

“Yep,” she says, turning back around, “I already said it, not saying it again.”

“What about what I’m doing is distracting you, ‘Beth?” He asks, bringing his head back down to near her shoulder.

“I’m not talking about this while there’s a game on, unfortunately.”

“Ok I’ll just chill here then.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t do that either.”

“Should I leave then?”

“Nope.”

“Well…”

She huffs in frustration, “Percy!” She turns towards him, mouth open to berate him but the words get stuck in her throat at the way he is positively beaming at her. She hates him for it. She falls a little more in love with him for it.

She exhales, deflating. “Why now?” She asks.

He tilts his head, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she turns her body so that she’s fully facing him now, the game momentarily forgotten. “Why now of all times to be so forward?”

She can see his brain thinking, oh ok so we’re actually talking about this now, as he blinks a few times. “Why not?”

She thinks about spitting some more banter about how she’s in the middle of a very important rugby game and it’s actually quite rude of him to interrupt her with this but decides instead to try and be honest, to let herself be vulnerable. Because if one thing has become clear to her over the months she’s been living in England, is that she can trust this man in front of her. He’s listened to her talk about architecture and Australian politics just as intently as he’s listened to her tell him about her parents and step-family and her attempts to start living a life for herself instead of a life to try and please the people around her.

Her voice is small when she responds. “Why me?” 

She’s staring at him with an openness that scares her a little bit, but she feels a bit better when she sees his entire body soften.

Percy’s gaze searches hers for a moment, the expression on his face as if he’s asking, are you joking? 

He shakes his head a little in disbelief, “Because, Annabeth, how could I know you and not be desperately in love with you?”

A sound falls out of her, like she’s released a weight she’s been holding for years. She hesitates for one last moment before both of her hands reach out and grab his shirt, pulling him close and capturing his lips with hers, because she has to. 

His words are ones she’s been wishing to hear for years, a suggestion of a romance she’s been blindly, naively hoping she’ll find one day. She kisses him with the force of twenty-two years of yearning for someone to see her and love her as she is; she kisses him with the relief of finally finding it.

His arms come around her and hug her closer to him and her hands slide up his chest and around his neck, pulling herself into his lap so that they are flush against each other. She’s not sure how long they’re kissing, but when she eventually pulls back they’re both out of breath. Her hair is hanging around them both like a curtain, enclosing them in their own world where they are totally lost in this moment, in each other. His eyes are sparkling up at her and there’s a beautiful redness to his cheeks that make his eyes shine even brighter. She brings her hands up to cup his face, thumbs tracing his cheeks, and he just stares and stares until she closes the space between them again with one more long, searing kiss. One that she feels deep in her belly.

He rolls them over so they’re lying next to each other on the bed when they break apart again, and she keeps one hand resting on his face as they just look at each other, entranced.

An eruption of cheers from the tinny laptop speakers snaps her out of her daze. She bolts upright and checks the score – it’s full time and the Blues have won the game. She shouts with joy, shuts the laptop and tosses it to the end of the bed before falling back down next to him.

“I guess I’ve won twice today.” She says, shuffling closer so that her nose brushes his.

“Well, congratulations,” He says, “What’s the prize?”

She smiles slowly, her lips taking time to break apart and expose her grinning teeth. His eyes follow the movement, and his soft exhale as her smile grows bigger fills her chest with a golden warmth.

“He’s right here,” is all she says before leaning in again.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

omg maybe she writes a song for cal before he leaves to go home? she produces it w her team and it’s more of a gift and she brings him in the studio to surprise him? but maybe she releases it and fans know it’s about cal but the two won’t admit it

Thanks for the suggestion! I combined it with @wonderlandiswhereitsatyo suggestions: 

Maybe they're facetiming snd one of them is cooking. They got too into the conversation and then the other is like "there's smoke behind you" and a tiny sexy surprise video chat. 

I hope you enjoy!

Here’s the masterlist for the Distance series. 

Here’s my main masterlist!

If you have any suggestions for this series, please feel free to send them to me. I will do my best to use as many as possible while also progressing the story along!

There is 18+ Content (Smut). Please read with caution. 

______________________________

Calum whines when the bed dips, her body rising and his arm falling into empty sheets. His nose misses being pressed into her shoulder and inhaling her scent. “Five more minutes,” he grumbles. 

“You’re the one that booked the red-eye flight.” Her voice is hoarse in his ears and he finally blinks up at her. Now, as he pushes up, he hears her alarm going off. His blaring along with it. How he missed the two of them going off, he’s not sure. He reaches for his phone, cutting it off and runs a hair over the cropped sides. A yawn pulls at his jaw and a slight moan falls over his throat. 

He hates leaving. As he sits in her bed, wrapped in her golden sheets, that somehow feel softer than his own sheets, he thinks about moving. If he lived here, or she lived in LA, things would be different. He wouldn’t think twice about this, wouldn’t think twice about what was happening between them. But every time he leaves, or she leaves, he is sourly reminded that this won’t be like his other relationships. This won’t be easy to ask her to spend the night, or to wake up early for dog walks, or going to get coffee. They’ll always have time zones and screens between at some point. 

He watches her, pulling open her closet door bottom half still bare besides her underwear. It feels so right just to hold her close. Without thinking too long about it, he pushes up from the bed and stands behind her. His arms encasing her waist and he buries his nose into her shoulder again. His lips leave butterfly kisses. “Leaving you always sucks,” he mutters. 

She finally settles on a sweatshirt and pulls the hanger down before hooking onto the knob on the inside of the door. Her nails scratch along his skin and it’s not even that cold in her house, but a shiver racks through his body. His bare chest pressed into her back. There are no platitudes, no words of reassurance that she can give him. Because it does suck. A lot. Though her leaving him sucked they hadn’t let those words fall. She turns his grasp, hands coming up around his cheek. “It does suck,” she agrees, pecking his lips. “I wish I could make it suck less.”

“Move to L.A. or somewhere closer,” Calum suggests, lips brushing against her as he talks. Their foreheads rest against each other. 

“My whole team is here and--,”

“I know, a last ditch effort,” he sighs, kissing her again. “Thought maybe in your half asleep state I could get you to slip up.”

Her body falls, shoulders rounding in and her hands fall. She tucks herself into his chest, fingers brushing along the tattoos along his collar bones. “I’d have to live in the mountains somewhere. I don’t do well with too many people.”

His laughter rumbles into her ears and Calum squeezes at her frame. “I’ll keep an eye out for anything.”

The sun is just barely rising behind the horizon when she pulls out of the parking lot of her complex. The windows are cracked a little, a breeze blows in, whistling around the otherwise silent car. Traffic isn’t bad on a Sunday morning this early. And the trees and hills roll by as they continue on the roads. It’s almost too scenic. He could see himself out here. Though she lives in a pretty quiet area, he figures it would be nice to always have a quiet place to retreat too. There wouldn’t be the blaring sounds and lights of the city constantly knocking at his door. 

When she pulls into the airport, Calum stretches across the middle console. He covers her cheeks in kisses, some more dramatic than others. She scrunches up on herself, attempting to cower away from the onslaught. Her giggle bounces around in Calum’s head. He can’t get enough. There will never be enough, it feels. But eventually, he has to pull away. He does have a flight to catch. “I’ll let you know when my flight lands.”

“And when you get home too?”

Calum nods. “Of course.” He climbs out of the vehicle, opening her backdoor to grab his duffle bag. She stretches around the seat. A black flash drive rests in her palm. “What’s this?”

“A gift. Don’t lose it now.” 

“I would never.”

“You can only listen once you’re on the plane though.”

“Listen?” She nods at Calum’s question. “You’re cruel.” He nods though to her stipulations.

“Oh, but you love it,” she grins.  

Slipping the flash drive into his pocket of the sweatshirt, he slings the duffle bag up onto his shoulder. He shuffles around, leaning in through the driver side window. And he just gazes, trying to remember the way her eyes sparkle in the rising sun and he can no longer see the lines on her face from how hard she slept. Her hands are soft as she drags her fingers over his and even plays at his rings. Something in the way the sunlight comes in from the windshield catches on her eyelashes makes his heart nearly stop. 

He tips her chin, kissing down her nose and then to her lips. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the death of me,” he whispers. And there’s so much honestly in the statement that it feels like weight off his chest. 

“But I won’t be the reason why you’re late for your flight,” she laughs, kissing him one last time. “Now, go!”

Calum laughs. “Okay, okay, okay.” He pushes away from the car, turns on his heel and then turns back around to the car. “Just one more kiss?” It’s with a laugh that their lips meet for one last brief kiss. Calum jogs to the front doors and to security. 

As the plane ascends, Calum runs this thumb over the flash drive. There’s the safety spill and he watches for the seatbelt light to go out. When they finally reach their cruising altitude, he pulls out his laptop. He almost forgot it was in his bags. Between being with her in the studio in the day and their drives at night, he hadn’t gotten much of his own work done. Now though, maybe he could get something done. Just a few emails read over.

He slips the drive into the port, watching it pop up on his desktop. It’s only with a few clicks that he opens it, finds the folder. For you, Calum, enjoy.  Slipping the headphones on, he opens it and there’s an mp3. His heart races and his finger shakes, but he watches the song load. At first, it’s a throaty creak of the piano and soon her voice follows with a soft and breathy first line, Brown irises and black tattoos. His heart skips a beat, maybe two or even three, but he lets his eyes close and listens to her singing to him, about him, about the way her heart flutters too. 

_____________________

“I’m gonna puke,” she groans. “God, what if no one likes it? What if I’m just like a one-hit wonder?” Calum pauses at his stir fry for just a moment. In three minutes, her debut album will be released. She was out with her team but her nerves were just too much. So she ducked out early, messaging Calum throughout the entire ride back up and now, she’s here. On her couch. With only two shots in her. Her dog besides her and Calum, even though it’s a screen. The eternity of the last 20 minutes have been rushing to the bathroom to stress pee early every three minutes and hovering over her trash can with nerves. 

“Lay back,” he directs, motioning to her couch just behind her. “Just lay back, close your eyes, okay?” She nods, moving so that her laptop is a little closer to her ear. “Comfy?” Calum asks. He leans onto his forearms, against the countertop, in front of his own computer. 

“Yeah, comfy.”

“Good. Now inhale for three seconds and exhale for five.” Calum can see the inhale and exhale, the rise and fall of her chest. For a fleeting moment, he wishes he could rest his head there, right in the space between her breasts and help her breathe through the nerves. “Again for me.” She inhales and exhales again. “One more time. This time in for four seconds, out for six.” Her breathing crackles in through the speakers. “Everything’s gonna be fine. I promise.”

The rumble of his voice sends a shiver down her spine. She misses being curled up in his chest in her bed. They laughed about nothing, about everything, it seemed. A stupid voice, a meme that sent them both into a fit of giggles. It didn’t matter because Calum was right there with her. He was laughing along with her. “People are gonna hear your angelic voice and they are to fall in love and you’re gonna be a superstar.”

She presses her thighs together, attempting to quell heat that starts in her lower gut. Now is not the time, she figures. “I guess.” It comes out breathy. It’s going to give her away. But there’s not much now to cover it up. 

“I know that tone,” Calum teases. He takes just a second to tend to his food, so nothing burns. But he turns back to her quickly. His gut quivers just a little too. They got hot a few times at her place, hands wandering under shirts, mouths peppering skin with kisses that got lower and lower. But they always pulled back. Calum wasn’t sure if having sex with her would be the right move. Would it make things insanely more complicated than they already were? What if this didn’t work out as a relationship?

“No, you don’t know anything!” she laughs. 

“Yes I do!” She’s still laying on her back, but her thighs brush over the other, as if that will ease whatever ache has developed. “Clearly you like something. I’m just here to help. Let me help,” he adds the last sentence in a slightly lower tone.  

She whines, not sure if she should give into temptation right now. Glancing at the clock, it’s past midnight. “It’s out,” she whispers. “My album is out, holy shit.” When she glances back to the screen, she giggles. “Cal, you might have to order out.”

When he spins around, there’s a little bit of smoke and he swears, turning up the overhead vent. It’s salvageable, for sure. But definitely not his smoothest moment ever. With the smoke finally cleared and the rice scrapped, Calum drops his head to his forearms. “It’s because of you,” he teases. It’s because he wants to see her unravel. He wants to hear her cry out for him. God, he wants it so badly, his toes are curling in his socks. He knows for now he can’t really stand all the way, it’ll give everything away. 

“Cal, you really should get something to eat, baby.”

His head snaps up. “What did you call me?” 

“You can call me baby and buttercup, but I can’t use it.”

“No, no, no,” he rushes out. “You can. I just.” He swallows thickly. “I like it.”

With a tiny smirk, she laughs. “I would bet money you’re hard right now.”

“You wouldn’t have to bet a lot,” he laughs, hoping now isn’t too obvious if he reaches down to adjust himself. It probably will be. But he really can’t be standing like this in the middle of his kitchen. 

“I should probably let you eat. Thanks, Calum.”

“Hey, whoa, why are you in such a rush to get rid of me now?” She doesn’t say anything, a not entirely unusual quietness overtaking her. But he can tell something is definitely off. Trashing the not fully burnt food, Calum dumps the dishes into the sink, hollering to his roommate that he’ll clean it up in a few minutes. His shuffle to his room doesn’t take long. She can hear the click of Duke’s paws traveling behind him too.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” Calum’s closes the door softly behind him. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” There’s a pause as she sees her phone blinking with text messages pouring in. “We’ve just--we’ve never gone that far. And I never wanted to push you if you didn’t want to go that far.”

Calum collapses into the mattress, laptop sliding onto the bed next to him. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t want to make this more complicated.” He sits up, bringing the computer back to his lap. “I don’t wanna fuck this up with you. Normally, it’s not this hard to weigh sex. But the long distance makes things different? Not necessarily difficult, but different. Sex is like part of the package, but what does that look like for us and like is there an us? I feel like there is.”

“There is an us,” she agrees. “Definitely an us.”

“I like the sound of that.” His grin splits his cheeks and he really thinks he shouldn’t this giddy. But fuck, his body does feel electric. “I really like the sound of that.”

She laughs, her own picture shaking just a little and soon, she’s barely illuminated by the brightness of her screen. It takes a moment and then the bedside lamp flicks on. “Are you familiar with JOI?” She watches as his brows furrow for a second, pondering the question. 

“Not that I know of?”

“Jerk off instructions.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with that.” It falls off his lips a little too eagerly, with a little too much of his own breath escaping him. A knock at Calum’s door sends his heart racing and through the door, his roommate shouts about ordering a pizza, to which Calum agrees to send him the money back. “Takes half an hour, minimum,” Calum tells her, wearing a much too wide grin. “It’s not too late for you, right? If it is, there’s always another time.”

Even though tomorrow she knows she has work to do, she shakes her head. “It’s not too late. And you’re wearing one too many sweatshirts, and if there’s a shirt under that, that should go too.”

Without hesitation, Calum pulls the sweatshirt and tank up and over his head. It rouses his hair and he straights it back out before he directs her to trace around her nipple. Under the shirt. It’s more than obvious that she’s wearing no bra either. “I know you like love bites, and I really wish I could decorate your chest in them right now,” she breathes. “But I just want you to sit back. Just for a second. Close your eyes. Envision my hands and nails racking down her chest.”

Calum falls into his pillows, allowing her voice to float over him and sink into his brain. “You’re not wearing a shirt though, in this version.” Her laughter is soft and he cracks just one eye to see her tossing the pink camisole somewhere behind the camera. “Fuck,” he sighs at the sight of her erect nipples. 

“Your eyes are not closed, mister.”

“Squeeze them for me, please. And then I will.” She complies, leaning in a hair closer to the camera too and Calum groans, but drops his head into the stacked pillows. “You’re a tease,” he says. 

“Oh, don’t say that,” she laughs. “You’ll only make this worse for yourself.” 

It doesn’t take long for them to instruct each other to remove pants and then underwear. Both with hands dragging over their bodies, desperately wishing it was actually the other. Her sighs feed into his ears and crawl down into his chest. He echoes with his own, watching her fingers dance around her sex. Her hips rise and it’s obvious she’s trying hard to follow his instruction, trying not to touch herself. 

He’s on minute four of a five minute time out, for calling her a tease one too many times and is forced to sit on his hands and just watch her. And his cock is practically a leaky faucet at this point. In the end, it’ll be worth it. But right now, he just wants to give in. He’s not sure how much longer he can hold out. If he’ll make it the full five minutes. “Do you like them sloppy? Blow jobs, I mean?”

His head is so foggy, watching just how much she appears to be dripping onto her towel. She grabbed one just in case and the mere thought of her gushing as Calum’s head all sorts of twisted. “Uh,” he starts, working his jaw again. It hurts from how hard he’s clenching it. “I guess so. There’s, fuck,” he groans watching her hips raise again, wishing his tongue was buried inside of her. “Please tell me five minutes is up.”

“You haven’t-haven’t answered my question.”

He drops his head again, eyes fluttering close. He’s going to lose all feeling his hands at this point. “To an extent, yeah. It’s hot when they’re really into it.” 

She’s seeing stars, and she hasn’t properly touched herself but once. She lost that privilege for five minutes as well when she joked that her toys had gotten her off faster. But she won’t lie. She likes the back and forth, the small punishments. Though she thinks, it might be torturing Calum more than it is her. She makes a mental note and then sighs. “You’ve been really good. I wonder if you’ll have that much restraint in person.”

Calum doesn’t fall far it. He watches, to see how far she’ll go, if she’ll actually touch herself without his permission. But she doesn’t either. “I know what you’re doing,” he laughs. 

“Because you’re doing it too.” His cock jumps just a little, his stomach tensing and untensing. He looks like he’s about to explode. “Do you like plugs? A little backdoor play?”

“You’re dancing real close to a fire there,” he warns, the tips of her fingers are hovering over her clit. “I didn’t say you could.”

“Damn you,” she growls, moving her hands back to her tits, kneading and pulling at them. Is he waiting for her to break first? Is she going to break? She needs something, anything and if she’s this close to cracking she knows Calum’s even worse. 

“Just the head, really work your precum over it.”

The groan that leaves Calum’s chest is long, and louder than he really wanted it to be. But god it feels so good to touch himself. At the moment, as he works just the tip, he doesn’t worry about having to explain anything to anyone. “Play with your clit. Ah, fuck. Circles, okay?”

She hums, body reeling at the new found sensation. “Fuck,” she cries out. “I like it when you squeeze my ass. And if you were here right now, god, I don’t think I’d get off.” She pants for just a second, before she lets Calum fully stroke himself. 

“So you on top, huh?” 

“What? Don’t like the woman taking charge?”

“Never, no. I love it. You taking what you need from me. God, I think my heart would stop, watching you. Tits bouncing.”

She clenches and it aches that it’s around nothing. Calum would be such a delicious stretch. He’d fill her in ways she probably didn’t know existed. He’d be so firm beneath her palms. Chest solid and warm as she braced herself. God, why hadn’t do made a more serious move when he was here with her? When this could all be a reality and not through a screen. The twinge of regret doesn’t last long when her lower gut continues to tighten. She can feel the small prickles of sweat on her forehead starting to run down her skin. “Oh, fuck. Cal.”

His ears perk up at the growl of his name from her lips. It’s hard, when his eyes blink open to get her in focus. His own body is on the edge, his own pleasure is ramping up to knock him over. But he manages, between the blinks to watch her fall apart. The grunt falling over her lips and the way her teeth clash together just for a moment, the skin around her brows folding for just a moment before they smooth back out and the waves rock her core. No gush. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter in the slightest. 

He’s not going to last much longer. Not after that beautiful sight and his heels dig into the mattress a little, hips stuttering up into his own palm. And soon the streams are spilling over his hand and up onto his stomach and chest. His vision is a little spotty just for a second as he tries to catch his breath. He doesn’t even have half a mind to know if he made too much noise or not. That is until she giggles. “Did you cum or start benching presses over there? Either way, very hot.”

“I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or not.” He’s thankful that he kept the box of tissues next to his bed from his sneezing fit the other day. Though he didn’t usually suffer from any sort of allergy something got to him yesterday at some point. 

There’s a shuffle to clean themselves up and Calum waits, finished first, until she comes back to the screen. It’s clear to see she’s tired. She slide between her sheets, not bothering with clothes again and her head immediately falls into the pillows. “Don’t forget the light, buttercup, he warns softly. She grumbles but turns it off. “Sweet dreams,” he continues. “I’m gonna stream your album on repeat when it releases for me here. You’re gonna wake up to a bunch of positive reactions. And maybe 85% of them are from me, but that’s besides the point.”

Her laughter is soft, partially muffled by her pillow. “Thanks, Calum.”

“Anytime, buttercup. Anytime.” Their call ends and Calum leaves his computer on the bed. He pads into the kitchen and notices a box of pizza still out and the dishes done. And his phone is still on the kitchen counter. 

“The pizza came like twenty minutes ago. But that wasn’t something I wanted to interrupt,” his roommate laughs, walking back towards the bedrooms. “You’ve got kitchen duty for the next two weeks.”

“That’s fair. Thanks!” As he settles down at the table with the first three slices warmed, he scrolls through his phone. A message buzzes in and he just catches the preview before it disappears. 

I know I should be asleep right now. But I got caught up looking at reactions. It’s a screenshot of some tweets. A string of emojis and keyboard smashes comprise most of them. A couple fans of sniffed out which song is about Calum, but overwhelming the reactions are positive. 

I told you so.

Oh wipe that smirk off your face, I know it’s there! Calum can only laugh in response. 

[caffeinatedbraincell]

Hi y’all I’m back with another TOG story! 

Summary: Joe and Nicky raise a duckling together during their time off. They're great parents and the ducking is very cute, and absolutely nothing sad or angsty happens because we all deserve some undiluted serotonin.

(Edit: Forgot to tag earlier, inspired by this post by @silly-old-guard-aus <3)

Read on AO3

“How are they?” Joe asked, smiling softly as he held the phone to his ear.

On the other end, Booker ran a hand through his hair fretfully. “I don’t know them like you do, obviously. But I- ah, I don’t know, this might be presumptuous of me. But I think they’re gonna be alright.”

“You know Andy well.”

“Yeah, but not Quynh. This is my first time meeting Quynh.”

“How did she react?”

“She didn’t cry in front of me. Didn’t even yell. Andy broke down instantly, but not Quynh. I told her Andy was mortal now, and then I left. I thought maybe it would be easier for them to be vulnerable with each other if I wasn’t around. Do you think Andy will be safe?”

“Yes. She is always safe with Quynh.”

“But Quynh was so angry.”

“She has every right to be angry. Even though it is not Andy’s fault. Andy knows this. Their love is many millennia old, Booker. These past 500 years will not break them.”

Booker grunted noncommittally. “I’m going to go back. Just to check on Andy. I’ll sleep in a motel if they want to be alone.”

“Alright. Text me, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. How’s everything over there?”

Joe looked over at the couch. Nicky was reclining in the corner spot, watching with rapt attention what Nile had called “one of the best episodes of Queer Eye ever” on their laptop. Nile was curled into a ball at his side. A cool draft snuck in through the cracked window, and Nicky adjusted the plush throw that was draped over them both. Nile sighed contentedly, snuggling closer for warmth.

“Good,” Joe replied, voice suddenly soft. “Everything’s really good here. You don’t have to worry about us.”

“Do you all need anything from Paris?”

“Not that I can think of right now. But I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. Okay, sounds good.”

“Sebastian.”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself, okay? They’ll both be alright. Don’t sweat it.”

There was a pause. Then Booker sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll relax.”

“Good. Text me when you figure out where you’re sleeping tonight.”

“For sure. Thanks, Joe. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Joe left his phone on the counter and crossed over to the living room. He sat down on the carpet in front of Nicky, tilting his head back to rest it against Nicky’s knees. Nicky smiled, reaching down to run a hand through Joe’s hair. He wrapped a few curls around his fingers, tugging ever so gently before letting go. He shifted his hand a few centimeters and repeated the act.

“Come up here?”

Joe shook his head, practically melting under Nicky’s loving ministrations. The floor was especially comfy when it was closer to Nicky. “I love you,” Joe mumbled, as instinctively as exhaling. After a moment, he frowned. “I love you, too, Nile.” Nicky laughed, and Joe could almost feel Nile roll her eyes.

The episode ended with Tan France demonstrating how to do a French tuck, and Nicky wondered aloud if the technique would work just as well with his highlighter-green shorts. Joe, despite knowing full well that Nicky was trying to provoke him, promptly went off on a well-rehearsed tirade about the detriments of wearing a dress shirt with basketball shorts.

“Nile, back me up here!”

“You’re right. He’s right, Nicky. Why would you even suggest such a thing?”

“You two can’t stop me,” Nicky argued, just to be contrary.

“At least it won’t be as bad as that time you wore only yellow for two months,” Joe said resignedly.

“Yellow?” Nile asked.

“Yes, he insisted it would make the duckling feel more at home.”

“Duckling?!”

Nicky clicked his tongue impatiently. “I wore various styles and shades of yellow, from pressed goldenrod shirts to an actual pastel canary dress. He has no right to complain about my lack of versatility.”

“The duckling liked me better, and I just dressed like usual.”

“She didn’t like you better. You always kept blueberries on you to bribe her with.”

Wait,” Nile interjected. “We need to backtrack. When and why did you guys have a duckling?”

Joe gave Nicky a pointed look that did nothing to hide the mirth in his eyes. Nicky sighed around a smile.

“It was an accident.” ___

“Nicky, stop moping. Booker, get up from the floor. Enough is enough,” Andy said, far more gently that her words implied. She prodded a very drunk, very anxious Booker with her foot. “Book, have you eaten at all today?”

“He hasn’t,” Nicky muttered from the kitchen counter. “But neither have you, boss. You’re telling us to get it together, but you’re equally antsy about this whole thing. Don’t deny it.”

Andy sighed in frustration. “I wasn’t going to. It was a bad call on my part. I shouldn’t have sent Joe alone.”

“It was a one-man job. You said so yourself. And he did have the best-suited skill set out of all of us. I think, tactically speaking, you made the right decision.”

“But you’re still upset about it, aren’t you?”

“Look, boss, just because it’s a one-man job doesn’t mean said one man wouldn’t prefer company. And it would be safer to have someone along.”

“It would have been a lot of extra work for Booker, security-wise. You know that.”

“Noooo, I din’ miiind,” Booker slurred from where he was curled up on the rug. He made a valiant effort to prop himself up on an elbow before collapsing back down with a thud.

Nicky put his head in his hands. “He was supposed to be back today, right?” he whispered into his palms.

“He’ll be back. He’s fine. I know he’s fine.” Andy paced back and forth restlessly. “We just need to get out of our own heads for a bit. Be a little patient. Joe will be fine.”

The stool scraped noisily against the kitchen floor as Nicky got to his feet. “I’m going to go for a walk and not think about anything for half and hour. I’ll bring takeout on my way back. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, solid plan. I’ll drag Booker to bed and try to get him fully conscious by the time you’re back.”

“Sober?”

Andy chuckled. “Don’t get too ambitious.”

Twenty minutes later, Nicky was sitting on a park bench, forlornly looking out over a pond as the sun set behind him. He’d already called a nearby Indo-Pakistani restaurant and ordered one plate each of everyone’s favorite biryani to-go, including Joe’s. Joe had to come back tonight. He had to.

Nicky shook his head in frustration. He was doing a very poor job of thinking about nothing. Suddenly, a tiny movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned his head, squinting at the reeds growing on the pond bank.

The reeds rustled ominously. Nicky was just contemplating his chances of outrunning a rabid racoon, or alternatively, how long it would take him to heal from death by racoon, when the rustling stopped. Then, with a piteous squawk, a small ball of yellow fluff popped out onto the footpath.

Nicky stared in surprise. The poor little thing had landed on its back, its orange, webbed feet flailing in the air. It didn’t seem to be able to turn itself upright. Cautiously, Nicky approached the creature and very gently scooped it up. It gawked at him with wide, frightened eyes, and he heard himself mumbling soothing reassurances as he set it back on its feet. It stumbled half a meter and fell into the pond with a splash.

Nicky almost jumped to rescue it, before remembering that it was a duck and probably did not need to be rescued from the water. Was this one old enough to swim on its own? At what age did ducklings learn to swim, anyway?

The baby animal splashed around happily in front of him, clearly not drowning. Still, Nicky decided to stay for a few minutes, just to make sure it would be okay. He looked around. The mother duck and her other babies had to be around here, somewhere.

Eventually, his phone pinged with a message from the restaurant, letting him know his order was ready to be picked up. He was startled to find that it had been over forty-five minutes since he’d left the safehouse. If he didn’t get back soon, Andy and Booker might start to worry.

Nicky looked wistfully at the duckling. “Off you go, little one. Go home to your family. I’ll go home to mine.” The duckling blinked up at him quizzically. “I’ll come visit you tomorrow, if you want,” Nicky tried. “In fact, I’ll bring Joe with me. You’ll love him. He’s the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. A ray of pure sunshine, just like you.”

As he spoke, he unconsciously reached out a hand to the duckling. To his utter shock, the creature hopped right up onto his palm and settled down.

“No, you can’t come with me,” he cajoled. “You belong here. In the water. Come on, in you go.” Reluctantly, it leapt back into the water, but made no move to swim away. Nicky pursed his lips, thinking hard. Maybe if he just got up and walked off, the duckling would go back to its family. He figured it was worth a shot.

Nicky got to his feet and turned around. He’d taken only two steps away from the pond when he heard a frantic splash behind him, followed by the soft thwack, thwack, thwack, of webbed feet on concrete. He whirled around.

“No, you have to go back to your pond!” he whispered urgently. The duckling tilted its head. “The pond!” Nicky gestured dramatically toward the fading light on the surface of the water. “You know, your home.”

Nicky sighed. He would just have to walk away as fast as possible. There was no way this baby duck could keep up; it would have no choice but to go back to its family. The thought made his heart break a little, but he had no other option. Taking a deep breath, he began to stride away purposefully.

In a matter of seconds, a series of tiny, woeful quacks stopped him in his tracks. He turned to find the duckling flopped over onto its stomach, crying.

“Ehi, no, piccolo mio,” Nicky exclaimed, rushing forward to gather the poor thing in his arms. He unbuttoned the top of his coat and held the duckling against his chest to warm it up. “Don’t cry, it’s okay. It’s alright.”

He looked back towards the pond. There wasn’t one single other duck in sight. He looked down at the duckling, trembling weakly in his jacket as it calmed down. He sighed. Andy was going to throw a fit.

“Looks like you’re coming with me, little one.”

Nicky managed to smuggle the duckling in and out of the restaurant without anyone noticing. As he picked up the warm takeout boxes, the duckling poked its head out of his jacket to investigate this new source of warmth. By the time Nicky reached the safehouse, he was carrying four boxes of biryani stacked one on the other like a Christmas tree, with a sleeping ball of fluff on top where the angel would go.

Before he could even knock, the door flew open and Andy shoved her cellphone in his face.

“Look, it’s a message from Joe! He says his flight got delayed, but he’ll be here tomorrow morning!”

Nicky almost dropped their dinner (and the duckling) in his haste to grab the phone. Beneath the update, Joe had sent a selfie of himself at the airport terminal, captioned with a cheery “See, boss? I’m fine!” and a couple heart emojis. Looking at his beloved husband’s radiant smile, Nicky felt his eyes mist over involuntarily.

“There’s a duckling sleeping on my biryani.”

Nicky and Andy turned around. Booker, who must have maneuvered the takeout from Nicky’s hands while he’d been distracted by Joe, frowned dubiously at the stack of boxes.

“Do you see it, too, Andy? Or did I just drink way too much earlier?”

“Both,” Andy replied without missing a beat. “Nicky, why is there a duckling-”

“It followed me,” Nicky blurted out. “I was sitting by the pond and it fell out of the reeds right in front of me. After that, it just kept hanging out nearby. When I tried to put it by the pond and go, it started crying. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just leave it!”

“Okay, but what if its mother is looking for it?”

“I really, really tried to find the mom. But there wasn’t one other duck in that entire pond. I have no clue where this guy came from.” Nicky spread his hands helplessly.

Just then, the duckling woke up. For a frantic second, everyone held their breath as it flailed around, threatening to topple from the stack of boxes. But the moment it saw Nicky, it sat back down, contentedly preening its downy feathers.

“Oh my god,” Booker said incredulously. “Nicky, I think it imprinted on you.”

“What?” Nicky demanded.

“Oh, no way,” Andy countered. “Ducklings are supposed to imprint on their mother ducks. Nicky isn’t even the same species.”

“Yeah, but ducklings have been known to imprint on other animals, including humans,” Booker continued. “Especially if the mother is absent during the baby’s first few days for whatever reason, it will imprint on whoever it can find. Nicky, looks like you adopted a duckling. Or it adopted you. Good luck.”

“Oh no,” Nicky fretted. “I can’t raise a baby all by myself. Where is Joe, I need a co-parent! Andy, can I have some time off? Maybe, uh, a few weeks? Oh no, I don’t even know how long it takes for a duckling to grow up. I don’t know anything about ducklings. Booker, can you print out the Wikipedia page on ducklings for me?”

“Relax, Nicky,” Andy chided. “You’ve raised chicks before. How different can this really be?”

“8-12 weeks,” Booker read out from his laptop. “Nicky and Joe are going to need 8-12 weeks off to raise this duckling to full maturity. After that, they can reintroduce it to the pond.”

Andy sighed. “Fine. You two were gonna have time off anyway, since I have business in Portugal and Booker’s going to Germany because he scored tickets to the World Cup.”

“Oh, Joe didn’t want to come?” Nicky asked.

“I only managed to get one ticket,” Booker admitted. “I offered to let Joe go instead of me, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Said maybe next time, if we get more tickets.”

“Oh. I guess that works out then.”

“For the record,” Andy said as she extracted her box from beneath the duckling, “this is absolutely ridiculous. Only you, Nicky, would go out for a walk to ‘clear your head,’ and come back with a real live orphan duckling.”

In the end, it was a good thing they were in Genoa, because Nicky had maintained his ties to the port city over the centuries and, in a matter of hours, was able to take out a lease for a small cottage closer to the pond. After dinner, Booker and Andy helped him shift his and Joe’s belongings, as well as some meager furniture, into the new place.

“I think I’ll stay the night,” Nicky decided as they finished up. “The duckling is already asleep on my jacket, and I don’t want to jostle it in the process of moving back to the safehouse.”

“Sounds good,” Andy said around a yawn. “We’ll send Joe over as soon as he drops off the mission file. Come on, Book. Time to go.” There was no response. “Booker?”

Booker tip-toed out of the room where the duckling was sleeping, waving his laptop around triumphantly. “She’s a baby pekin. That’s the species. Also she’s a she, in case you were wondering. See this faded eyeline?” He pointed to a picture on the laptop. “That’s how you can tell.”

“A she,” Andy grunted approvingly. “What are you going to name her, Nicky?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask Joe tomorrow. He’ll come up with something pretty and meaningful.”

“Your laptop was dead, Nicky, so I plugged it in to charge,” Booker said, shoving his own laptop into a bag. “You’re gonna be doing a lot of googling, I think.”

“Thank you, Booker.”

“Mhm. Andy, let’s go? If I fall asleep before we make it back, you’ll have to carry me the rest of the way.”

“I’ll leave you on the footpath.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I might. Let’s go. ‘Night, Nicky.”

“Goodnight, you both. Safe travels, in case I don’t see you before your flights.”

The next morning, Nicky woke up to webbed feet padding determinedly across his chest. He opened his eyes to see beady black eyes staring down into his soul, and very nearly had a heart attack.

“Madre de dio!” he yelped, sitting up sharply. He managed to gather his bearings and catch the little ball of yellow fluff before it tumbled off the bed. “Piccolo mio, you can’t just do that!”

The duck let out several loud, indignant squawks, stomping around in his lap. Nicky furrowed his brow.

“Are you…yelling at me?”

The squawking and stomping continued.

“Oh,” Nicky surmised. “Maybe you’re hungry. Babies usually cry when they’re hungry. Is that right, preziosa? Shall we find you something to eat?”

Nicky doubted the duckling understood any of what he was saying, but she responded to his tone, nuzzling her tiny beak into his hand. He took that as a yes. Nicky climbed out of bed with a yawn, stretching thoughtfully as he walked over to the clothing trunk to get dressed.

That was how, ten minutes later, Joe walked in on Nicky standing at the kitchen table in yellow sleeping shorts and a yellow t-shirt, slicing green grapes in half as a very energetic duckling devoured them happily. Joe felt his lips curl up into a hopelessly wide smile.

“When Andy told me you had a surprise for me, this is not what I expected.”

Nicky dropped the knife and whirled around, practically throwing himself across the kitchen in his haste to wrap Joe up in his arms. Joe gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. He clung to Nicky, burying his face in his neck and breathing him in. God, how he had missed him. Finally - finally- Joe felt like he was home.

After a few moments, Nicky pulled back, eyes shining as he cupped Joe’s face in his hands. “You stink,” he accused, before kissing him soundly. Joe’s protests died in his throat, and he grinned into the kiss, feeling full to the brim with happiness. He marveled quietly at his husband’s ability to make 900 years seem like the blink of an eye. Perhaps his body had stopped aging centuries ago, but it was only in his Nicolò’s arms that Joe still felt 31.

Eventually, a series of tentative chirps interrupted them, and they broke apart, laughing.

“Aww, amore mio, how rude! You haven’t introduced us yet,” Joe quipped, gesturing between himself and the duckling.

“Ah,” Nicky smiles sheepishly. “Joe, this is…a duckling. Duckling, this is Joe - remember the one I was telling you about by the pond? The one with a smile like sunshine, sweetest person you’ll ever meet?”

Nicky turned, and Joe kissed him again, impossibly more in love than he’d ever been in his life. The idea of his husband waxing poetic about him to ducklings in a pond was just too adorable to bear.

Later that afternoon, after Joe’s valiant but fruitless attempt to potty train the duckling and Nicky’s stoic re-sanitation of their patio threshold, they decided to swaddle the drowsy baby in a soft washcloth and watch a movie together while she napped. They sat on the loveseat Andy and Booker had carried in last night, the duckling nestled comfortably between them. Both of them elected to watch a soppy romantic indie they’d seen a hundred times before instead of the new action flick; it was Joe’s first day back, after all, and he’d really had enough of gunfire for a very long time. Nicky couldn’t agree more.

Around halfway through, Joe leaned forward and paused the laptop. He stroked a finger gently down the sleeping duckling’s back, and then looked up at Nicky.

“Did you really not pick out a name for her yet, amore?”

Nicky shrugged his shoulders with a half-smile. “I figured that’s your department, no? Coming up with something melodious, beautiful. Poetic. Some worthy descriptor for this lovely little creature.” Nicky yawned. Maybe the duckling’s need for sleep was rubbing off on him. “You’re the creative one.”

Joe gasped in mock offense. “You are creative!” he whispered insistently.

Nicky laughed softly. “Yes, coming up with ways to keep you enamored for nine centuries does take creativity.”

“You could laze about on this couch for the next nine centuries and I’d still love you more than life itself.”

Joe’s retort was very matter-of-fact, but Nicky melted like sugar in a flame. Given how often his husband said things like that, he didn’t see how it was possible to be caught off guard every single time. To be stunned into speechlessness, heart alive with emotion his tongue knew no words for. It made Nicky realize what the poets meant when they compared love to a river of fire that could only be crossed by drowning.

“I know, hayati,” he replied at length, leaning in for a kiss. “Believe me, I know.” Nicky did not add that he felt the same, that if they never so much as left this house for another millennia, their love would only continue to grow - but Joe heard it anyway.

The next evening, Nicky finished showering and, after a moment of contemplation, opted for a mustard-yellow sweatshirt and last night’s sleeping shorts. As he walked towards the kitchen to make dinner, he decided to ask Joe to run down to the local pet store and pick up a bag or two of proper duck feed. The duckling could only be expected to eat grape halves for so long. He reached the kitchen and promptly froze in the doorway.

On the counter was a large steel basin filled with water. Inside the basin was a very happy duckling, splashing around gleefully. Next to the counter was a rather disgruntled Joe, soaking wet and trying in vain to coax the duckling into staying still long enough for him to rub a little Dawn soap onto her back.

“Wallahi, Nicolina, a little soap doesn’t hurt! Come on, baths are nice. You’ll like it, I promise. Would you rather smell like pond water, or, uhh…” Joe squinted at the soap bottle. “It doesn’t say what scent this is, actually. But I’m sure it’s better than pond water, don’t you think?”

“Joe, what are you doing?” Nicky laughed from the doorway.

“Nicky! Oh, thank God you’re here.” The duckling seemed to agree, chirping excitedly at Nicky as he walked towards them. “Give me a hand, amore. Nicolina doesn’t like soap.”

“You’re calling her Nicolina?!”

“It suits her. She’s just a miniature you, see?” Joe managed to seize the duckling and hold it up next to Nicky. “Both yellow, both don’t like soap-”

“I like soap!”

“Both like to swim,” Joe continued, ignoring Nicky and putting the duckling back into the warm water.

“And I’m only wearing yellow to make the duckling feel more…at home, you know?”

“Pekin ducks are white, Nicky.”

“Well, this one’s clearly yellow.”

“That’s because it’s a baby. Mother ducks are white.”

Nicky shook his head to clear it. He’d definitely come in here with the intention of telling Joe something else, not arguing about duck colors.

“Oh, right! Joe, I meant to ask you - could you get duckling feed from the pet store while I make something for dinner? After you’re finished bathing her, of course. That way she’ll have something nutritious to eat tonight.”

Joe nodded, and then leveled Nicky with his best poker face, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “Who will have something nutritious to eat, amore?”

“She will.”

“Who?”

“The duckling, Joe.”

“Yes, but the duckling has a name, right?”

“ I am not calling her that.”

“Però-”

“Yusuf al-Kaysani, I swear-”

Joe put on his best puppy face. “But you said I could name her anything I want!”

“I said you could name her something beautiful and meaningful.”

“There is no name more beautiful and meaningful to me than yours, Nicolò. You asked me to find a worthy descriptor for her - and I found no better way to honor her charm and kindness than to name her after you. You stole my heart the moment I saw you, and she did the same. What can I do? It’s perfect.”

Nicky gaped at his husband. “Wha- I- You- Hayati! You can’t just say things like that!”

Joe gave a tiny smile, trying to hide his triumph and failing spectacularly. Nicky threw his hands up in surrender, circling around the counter to thoroughly kiss the smug look off Joe’s face.

“So the name can stay, then?” Joe asked, a little breathlessly, when Nicky pulled back.

“Don’t ask questions which you already know the answer to,” Nicky scolded, kissing him again. “Now go pick up duck feed before the pet store closes. Remember, if Nicolina doesn’t get dinner, then neither will you.”

Joe burst out laughing. He stashed the bottle of Dawn soap next to the sink, waving an alacritous finger at the duckling as he scrambled out of the kitchen. “Looks like you’re off the hook for today, little one!” Nicolina splashed and quacked enthusiastically in response. “Nicky, there’s a clean towel next to the basin to dry her off with. Can you-”

“I’ve got it, love. I’ll finish up here before starting dinner.”

“Grazie mille, see you in ten!” Joe called from the living room, grabbing his wallet and heading out the door. Nicky sighed, reveling in the peace of the moment, silent but for the gentle splashes and chirps of the duckling in front of him. Eventually, he picked up the towel.

“Alright, Nicolina. Let’s get you dry and warm for your nap, shall we?”

The next few weeks passed happily, with Nicolina becoming a central part of their family. She was extremely intelligent, managing to figure out potty training by the end of week two. It took until week three to convince her that soapy baths were a good thing, but she grew to love it enough that as soon as a bubble bath was prepared, she would hop in of her own volition. Both Joe and Nicky were ecstatic. By the time week four was drawing to a close, Nicolina had even learned how to turn her heat lamp on and off by herself, by stepping on the switch.

One evening, as Nicky was walking back to the cottage after running an errand, he was struck by a thought. Tomorrow, he realized, would be the one-month anniversary of having found Nicolina by the lake. Since the duckling wouldn’t be with them for a full year, this was probably their best chance to have a first birthday celebration for her. He pulled out his phone and hit recent.

“Hello, Joe?” He paused as Joe spoke. “Yes, yes, the post office was open. It went smoothly. Yeah - I wanted to ask, can you feed Nicolina and whip something up for dinner? I just remembered a thing; I’ll have to take a bit of a detour.” On the other end, Joe grumbled something about Nicky going on impromptu shopping trips without him. “I never said I was going shopping!” Nicky laughed. “But you’re right, as usual. Tell me, hayati, how am I supposed to surprise you with what I buy if I take you with me?”

The next morning, Nicky snuck out of bed before either Joe or Nicolina were awake. He decorated the living room of their cottage with baby blue and yellow balloons - some hanging off the roof and walls, others rolling around lackadaisically on the floor. Then, he puttered around the kitchen for a bit, mixing batter and putting two cakes in the oven to bake: a regular one, and a special miniature one made with all duck-friendly ingredients.

Miraculously, neither of his housemates had woken up to all the ruckus he’d made in the kitchen. Nicky tip-toed back into the bedroom and quietly slid a dress box from beneath the bed. He went to the bathroom to shower and get ready.

When he’d stopped at a clothing shop the previous night, Nicky had honestly been dismayed at the lack of birthday-appropriate formal wear available for men in any color other than dark blue, black, or tan. Certainly there was nothing even approaching some semblance of duckling yellow. Nicky had sighed in frustration - he should have brought Joe along after all. Joe would have known what to do.

Nicky could almost imagine his husband’s gleeful smile. “Amore, try this!” he would say, gesturing to the obnoxious excuse for a suit on Nicky’s right. “Or no, wait - what about this?” Nicky’s gaze had snagged on a lovely light yellow dress, on display in the women’s section across the aisle. It was a simple a-line dress with short sleeves and a flowy skirt that would probably come down to a little above his knee. There was no print, only a few tiny red flowers embroidered at the hem and on one sleeve. Also, it had pockets.

In his head, Nicky imagined Joe, who would have suggested the dress as a joke, tracking Nicky’s interest and suddenly getting on his soapbox about how men can wear dresses, too, because gendering clothing is stupid and outdated, and really, it was supposed to be hot tomorrow, did Nicky really want to spend Nicolina’s first birthday all uncomfortable in a scratchy suit, and…

Before he could second-guess himself, Nicky took the dress off the rack. He skipped the fitting room and decided to just pray that it looked good on him instead. He’d made his purchases and been halfway across the street when he realized that he hadn’t picked one out for Joe. He’d immediately turned and started walking back, earning a confused honk from a taxi driver who had to swerve to avoid him.

That was the story of how, on the morning of Nicolina’s first-month birthday, Joe came into the living room to see his husband in a stunning pastel-yellow dress, glowing like the sun itself among a shower of blue and gold balloons, playing peek-a-boo with a delighted duckling perched on the coffee table. Warmth and sunlight streamed through the open patio, and the air smelled sweetly of vanilla and cinnamon.

Joe pressed a hand to his heart, so overwhelmed with love that he was physically unable to breathe for a few seconds. Looking back, he prided himself on being able to remain standing at all. It shouldn’t be humanly possible, he thought, to fully and truly embody perfection to the degree that his Nicolò did. Joe smiled at the irony - he sometimes forgot that the very basis of their existence itself wasn’t humanly possible.

Nicolina spotted Joe first, and ran excitedly off the end of the table in a wildly risky attempt to take flight. Nicky gasped and lunged after her, managing to catch her before she hit the floor. “Nicolina, what the-”

He looked at Joe, standing open-mouthed in the living room entrance, and smiled. “Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?”

“You’re beautiful,” Joe blurted out, like a thirteen-year-old talking to his crush. He frowned. Surely, Nicky’s current state of dress deserved something more poetic.

But Nicky’s smile only widened. “I’m so glad you like it, Joe. I have to confess, I had my doubts. But the look on your face convinces me I made the right decision.”

Joe opened his mouth to say, yes, yes this was absolutely the right decision, this might have been the best decision ever - but what really came out of his mouth was “Uh. Yeah. Can I, um. I really want to kiss you. If you want.”

Apparently, he would continue to be possessed by the ghost of an incoherent and besotted teenager for as long as Nicky was wearing this damn dress. Fortunately, Nicky seemed to find this endearing, laughing as he gently deposited Nicolina in his pocket - omg, it has pockets! - and walked up to Joe. He reached out to cradle Joe’s face in his hands, gazing at him like all the stars were in his eyes. Joe, who had just gotten out of bed and hadn’t even combed his hair, couldn’t imagine what Nicky was seeing, but the next moment, their lips were pressed together in a tender, blissful embrace, and every other thought in Joe’s head dissolved like salt in the ocean.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Nicky exclaimed, pulling back all too soon. “I got one for you, too! It’s in a dress box under the bed. Would you be interested?”

Joe blinked as his brain caught up. “One for me?”

“Yes, and don’t worry, I picked something you’ll like. It’s not tacky or unfashionable, I promise-”

“I like everything you pick.”

“That’s not true, you didn’t like the t-shirt I wore two days ago-”

“I like everything you pick for me.”

Nicky paused, trying to find a counterexample. “Ah. I guess you do. Well, go try this one on, then! Let’s see.”

Five minutes later, when Joe hesitantly stepped out of their bedroom in his new dress, Nicky realized that he had vastly overestimated his own ability to remain a functioning member of society with Joe looking like that. Even Nicolina, now resting quietly on a bunched-up blanket on the couch, couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of him.

“Well?” Joe asked, giving an experimental twirl that did nothing for Nicky’s screaming brain. “Does it look okay?”

Joe was wearing a knee-length deep teal sheath dress with a dribble of silver sequins spilling down one side like stardust. A shallow v-neck gave way to a sleeveless top, and the richly colored fabric fit snugly against his hips in a way that had not been nearly so breathtaking on the mannequin. Like Nicky’s own, this dress was simple, without excess print or decoration. Still, the way it looked on Joe as he stood there, smiling a little shyly in the late morning sunlight, left Nicky stunned.

He tried to speak around the sudden dryness in his mouth, but no sound came out. Rather, Nicolina chirped up first, quacking approvingly from her comfy spot on the couch. Joe grinned, crouching down next to the duckling.

“Aww, thank you, little one. At least someone has feedback for me.” Nicolina nuzzled her beak into his cheek affectionately.

Nicky sat back down on the couch and put his head in his hands. Joe glanced up.

“Nicky?” he asked, a little worried now. He walked over and sat down next to him. “Amati, is everything alright? Do you not like it? I can change back-”

“Mashallah, Yusuf,” Nicky said hoarsely, taking Joe’s hands in his. When he looked up, Joe was shocked to see tears glistening in his eyes. “It’s just - you are the most beautiful, wonderful, miraculous being that God has ever created, and I never forget this, but sometimes I am reminded anew and I just- I am left in awe of you, of your endless love and beauty. I can’t handle any of this. You’re too handsome, too kind. I wish I had one hundred hearts to love you with.” He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

For the second time that day, Joe was rendered utterly speechless. On Nicky’s other side, Nicolina whimpered worriedly, climbing out of her blanket nest and nosing at his elbow. He chuckled wetly, reaching out to pet her.

“I’m fine, piccolo mio. Better than fine. Don’t worry.” To Joe, he said, “Sorry. I’m overreacting.”

“No,” Joe mumbled. He dropped his head to Nicky’s shoulder, reverently bringing their joined hands to his lips. “Ti amo, Nicolò. So much. Thank you.”

Nicolina clambered onto Nicky’s lap, snuggling close to him for warmth. Nicky caressed her downy feathers comfortingly. He turned and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Joe’s head. It had been a busy morning, and they still had big plans for the day, Nicky knew. A nice long walk in the park, visiting Nicolina’s pond, eating cake, maybe going out somewhere fancy for lunch or dinner (somewhere that allowed pets; he would have to google it). But for now, he allowed himself to just breathe, swathed in bone-deep contentment.

Over the course of the next month, they took Nicolina to the pond every single day. By week five, her feathers were growing out in earnest, and she could fly quite reliably. In week six, Nicky and Joe got comfortable leaving her at the pond unsupervised, using the time to run short errands before returning to pick her up. By week seven, Nicolina would stay out longer and longer, often loathe to leave the water even after the sun had set.

As week eight drew to a close, Nicky reminded Joe to pack an extra jacket for their trip to the pond. Nicolina ran ahead of them excitedly. The pond was always her favorite part of the day. After watching her splash about for a bit, Joe went for a walk around the park, and Nicky left to go grocery shopping for the upcoming week.

When Nicky returned, Joe was back on the bench in front of the pond. For a second, Nicky had a vivid flashback to the evening this all started - he’d been sitting in that very spot, worrying about Joe, when Nicolina had quite literally dropped into his life. He shook his head fondly at the memory.

“Joe?” He approached the bench. Joe looked up at him and smiled, patting the adjacent seat.

“How was groceries?”

“Ah. Nothing too remarkable. A lady spilled a gallon of milk in the aisle where we were waiting to pay, and then we all got distributed into different queues, so it took longer than usual.”

Joe clicked his tongue sympathetically. For the next couple hours, they sat mostly in silence, listening to the sounds of the evening and watching the last rays of sunlight fade from the surface of the pond. As it got dark, the park slowly emptied out, save for a few teenagers roasting marshmallows over a fire pit in the distance.

Nicky sighed deeply, holding his arm out to Joe. Joe scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Nicky’s waist and resting his head on his shoulder.

“She’s not coming back tonight, is she,” Joe whispered. Nicky squeezed his shoulder, pulling him closer.

“Got attached, Yusuf?”

Joe huffed. “Two months is nothing in the span of centuries, right? So why…” He trailed off, but Nicky heard what was left unspoken.

“The heart only knows how to live in the present, hayati. That is why it falls in love. That is why it cries when something ends. Even if we always knew it would.”

“You’re so composed - won’t you miss her?”

“I will. Terribly so. It just hasn’t sunk in yet, so I can offer you wisdom like a hypocrite.”

Joe smiled sadly. “When it sinks in, I’ll do the same for you.”

“I know, my love. My all.” After a few minutes, he said, “Give me that extra jacket.” Joe handed it to him, and Nicky shook it out, wrapping it like a blanket around Joe’s shoulders. “Lie down.” Joe lay his head in Nicky’s lap, stretching his feet out onto the bench. Nicky wove his fingers through Joe’s hair calmingly. “Alright?”

“Mhm. Nicky?”

“Yes?”

“Are we staying the night?”

“We can stay as long as you want.” ___

“The end,” Nicky said with a flourish.

“Wait, what?” Nile lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him incredulously. “What do you mean, the end? You never saw her again?”

“Of course we saw her again,” Joe answered from the floor. “We walked by the pond several times a week, and she would always swim over to say hi when she saw us. It was the sweetest thing.”

“About a month later,” Nicky picked up the narrative, “Booker got back from Germany and Andy from Portugal. We took a series of back-to-back missions after that, and didn’t get to return to Genoa until early spring.”

Joe’s phone buzzed on the counter, and he got up to go check it.

“Mhm, and then?” Nile prompted.

“Well, when we got back, we came by the pond to see if the ducks had returned to their northern habitats yet. As we stood by the water, one duck, a beautiful, white bird, swam gracefully up to us and nuzzled our ankles for a bit. She looked really happy to see us.”

“Oh my gosh - Nicolina?!”

Nicky smiled in confirmation. “Do you know, she had a mate? He was quite lovely, too. They made a good pair.”

“Wow,” Nile breathed. “That’s so awesome.”

“Guys, look at this.” Joe walked back to them, phone outstretched. “A message from Booker.”

Nicky took the phone, and Nile leaned over to see. On the screen was a photo of Andy curled up next to a Vietnamese woman that Nile had only ever seen before in her dreams. Quynh, she knew. Andy was fast asleep, and Quynh smiled serenely at the camera. Her eyes looked like she had been crying, but her happiness was evident, even in the hastily taken picture. The message beneath it read “they’re letting me stay the night,” followed by a tentative thumbs up and smiley face.

Nicky grinned. “Oh, God. I can’t wait to see her. And look at them - I told you, Joe.”

Joe leaned in for a quick kiss. “I never doubted it.”

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fiancé: Chapter Four

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts​.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

Can I Tell You Confidentially, Ain’t You Sweet

MONDAY

“This is a fucking nightmare,” Steve mutters, leaning against the wall and looking out of the window, Sam the other side.

  Staring down at the seemingly growing crowd, his agitation is growing with it, but all he can think about is how you must be feeling.

He’d nearly hurled his phone into the God damn Reflecting Pool when Fury had told him.

“Now, hang on a second, what?”

“This is a great opportunity to find out who these guys are and stop them, Steve.”

He’d scoffed, a hand on his hip as he’d paced. “So we’re putting a civilian’s life in danger, my civilian friend’s life in danger, who not only has absolutely no training in any kind of operation but is also just an innocent human being?”

A sigh had come through the line. “Steve... What these groups are talking about doing is getting worse, and they’re recruiting, not just people to assassinate you but for other operations as well around the world.”

His jaw had moved as he’d stopped, staring into the water. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.”

“Nick, I can’t see—”

“This isn’t a request, Steve, it’s an order.”

So here he is, a soldier with his orders, putting his friend’s life on the line for his own... And even though they’d appeared to give you one, you hadn’t really had much of a choice.

He hates it. But... as Nat had said, you couldn’t be safer. Part of him was actually relieved that you would now officially be under the watchful eye of SHIELD and the best agents he’d ever known, especially after the letter he’d received.

Sam shifts, mirroring Steve with his folded arms. “Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he murmurs. Shaking his head, he looks to him. “Only for six days, man. Just keep tellin’ yourself that, six days.”

Steve releases a breath, a muscle in his jaw moving. “Yeah, ‘cause nothing goes to shit in six days, huh.”

—

“I’m coming over the moment work finishes, if I can get out of the damn building.”

You lick your lips, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you carry a box to your bedroom door.

“Uh, actually, Bridge’, I’m packing right now.”

“You’re packing? Oh my God, please don’t tell me you’re eloping, I want to be there!”

“No, no, we’re just moving in together.”

Just.

“Oh my God, your place or his?”

“Uh... a new place.” You lift a suitcase onto your bed, unzipping it.

“Where?”

“I’m not sure, actually, Steve’s chosen a place.” You move to your wardrobe, stare at it for a second and then grab an armful of clothes and turn, dropping them onto your bed.

“Ugh, it’s like he’s gifting you an apartment, that’s amazing. Oh, Y/N...” You pause your half-hearted folding of a sweater at Bridget’s sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Licking your lips, you place the sweater in the suitcase. “Well, we’re... we’re such good friends that we wanted to keep it a secret, just in case it didn’t work out so it wouldn’t be weird with our friends or for anyone. And, you know... the whole world seems to think it can be involved, as we’d, uhm, as we’d expected.“

You hear them hiss. “I know, I can’t believe what some people are writing, it’s such trash.”

“Yeah.” You haven’t dared to check the notifications that have been making your phone buzz, even as you’ve been speaking to Bridget, and their angry tone doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence.

As you fold another sweater, you hear the clicking of a computer mouse on the other end, and then Bridget gasping. “Oh my God, is the ring really from Tiffany’s?!”

“Uh...” You glance at the ring on your fourth left finger. The ring Nat had removed from a box she’d taken out of her coat pocket and unceremoniously handed to you, telling you to put it on. You have absolutely no idea where it’s from. Does SHIELD just have a storeroom full of these? Does Nat? “... I don’t actually know, Bridge’, but, you know me, I’m not really bothered by that kind of stuff.”

“Oh, I know. Is it new? Old? What does it look like?”

You continue to stare at the alien object. “It’s... silver. And new. Got a diamond in the middle, three smaller ones either side, going down the band.”

“Ugh, simple and elegant, love it. Can you send me a picture?”

“As soon as I’m done packing.”

“Good. And let me know where you’re moving to, please! I want to drop by unexpectedly every day.”

“Oh, I will as soon as I know.” Having finished folding, you zip the suitcase up and place a hand on it, exhaling a short breath.

There’s a small pause.

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I just...” You rub your forehead before making yourself smile even though they can’t see it. “... This is just all happening so fast and it’s a lot, truthfully.”

“Oh, I bet. You know we all love and support you here, right?”

That makes your smile soften. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you’re still okay for drinks with me and Doll’ on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.” 

I fucking hope it’s okay, I know I’m gonna need those drinks and giggles. 

“Good, we’ll blow off some steam then.”

Hauling the suitcase off the bed, your eyes dart to the door as someone knocks on it.

“Come in,” you say, raising your voice slightly.

It opens and Sam appears, smiling. “Hey, you ready?”

“Just about.” You pass the suitcase to him, him lifting it like it weighs nothing, and the expected sharp inhale comes from the other end of the line.

“Is Sam there?” Bridget whispers.

Your lips twitching, you nod as you say, “Yeah, Bridge’, Sam’s here.”

The man of the moment pauses, looking back at you as his lips lift higher. “You’re talkin’ to Bridge’?”

“Yep.” You have to control your smile.

“How, uh, how’re they doin’?”

“How are you doing, Bridge’?” you ask, raising your eyebrows slightly as you hear them clear their throat.

“Uh, tell him I’m fine, thank you... And that I would like to have a secret engagement with him,” they finish in the quietest of whispers that has your lips twitching again.

“They say they’re fine, thank you.”

Sam nods, pauses for another moment before he moves to turn again.

“Oh, hey,” you say, a wholesomely sneaky idea coming to you. “Sam, why don’t I give you Bridget’s number, then you two can plan the respective bachelor and bachelorette parties together?”

Bridget’s almost squeal of an inhale gives you their answer as Sam looks at you and grins. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

“Oke doke, I’ll give it to you in a bit.” You smirk to yourself as Sam heads into the hallway.

There’s half a second before Bridget launches into a speech. “Oh my God, I love you so damn much, I’m gonna throw you the best damn party ever, I’ll get you whatever you want, whoever you want...”

Okay, maybe I can joke about with this situation now... Just with myself.

—

It takes you twenty-five minutes to pack. You haven’t packed much, only what you need for the week, and any food that will be going out of date soon, and it isn’t like you are actually moving out, so... the essentials it had been. Like you’re going on holiday. A bizarre, unwanted holiday. Nat has assured you there’s towels, cutlery, glasses, bedsheets, etc, all at the new place, you just need your clothes, toiletries, laptop, phone and anything else you might want to entertain yourself, her words. The last part had made you think of the box you keep under your bed, an array of toys you’ve accrued over the years inside.

... I mean... This is going to be a very stressful week... I’ll take just one... The silent, water-proof one.

That had disappeared into your backpack after you’d, quickly as you could, fumbled with the box and pulled it out and your toy cleaning wipes, sweating slightly as you’d heard the three of them moving around outside your door.

I will not humiliate myself further this week, no thank you.

Well, Nat would probably just nod in approval, Sam would probably actually do the same or just not even react, but Steve... There’s some things that you didn’t talk about, no matter how close you are.

Pulling your coat back on and the bag, hoping Nat doesn’t want to rifle through it this time, you step out of your bedroom, closing the door.

“So, what now?” you ask as they turn to you, Steve carrying your suitcase, Sam holding two boxes in his arms, Nat typing on her phone.

She slips it into her pocket and clasps her hands together as she speaks, “We leave, quickly and safely as possible. Sam and Steve are gonna take your things and Steve’s and head down to the parking garage, Sam’s got his car there, and they’ll come a little behind us. You and I are gonna head out the front, draw some of the crowd away and head to the new place.”

“Right.” You can’t work out if this is nice or not, having someone else take over and make all the decisions. At any other time, you’d be railing and demanding an input, but with this situation...

Carry on, Nat.

“All right, let’s go,” she says, as if having heard your thoughts, and moves to the door, peering through the peep-hole, checking the hallway, before she opens it.

“See you later, Y/N,” Sam says with that lovely warm smile of his as he heads out and, actually, between remembering the people who are now going to be looking after you and having decisions taken away from you, you’re starting to relax a little.

You meet Steve’s gaze and smile as he raises his eyebrows a little. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at home, then,” he says, a smile pulling at his own lips.

“Yeah, I’ll put the kettle on,” you reply, making his smile widen a little more.

“I look forward to it.”

You watch him as he heads out and into his own apartment, Sam having already opened the door. As he closes it, Nat steps out into the hallway, gesturing for you to follow, and you obey. Pulling your door shut, you lock it and turn to her, your keys disappearing into your coat pocket and you zip it closed.

As you both head down the hall, she pulls her phone out and starts typing again, her thumbs moving rapidly. You press the button to herald the elevator, and grip the straps of your bag, staring at the closed outer doors.

You try not to think about anything in particular, but you’re definitely feeling a lot more mellow. 

Just six days, I can do that. Six days is fine, it’ll fly by. I just won’t watch the news, stay off of social media as much as possible and keep my head down with whatever Nat plans for us to do. Steve’ll want that, too, it’ll be fine.

Cheered by your new resolve, you breathe a little easier as the elevator arrives and you step in after the doors open. Nat presses the button for the ground floor as she steps in and glances at the ceiling corners, probably looking for bugging devices.

Pushing her phone into her pocket as the elevator begins to descend, she leans against the back wall, folding her arms and looking at you.

“We’ve got a couple of agents in the crowd and in the building along the street, so don’t worry, we’ve got eyes from every angle.”

“Okay,” you answer, having to stop yourself from saying ‘thank you’ because you know she’ll just smirk and arch an eyebrow.

She pulls the sunglasses down from her head to settle over her eyes once more and you raise your eyebrows.

“... Can I ask, what’s with the glasses?”

“They scan people’s faces, log and check them on a database we have.”

“Oh.”

Oh. Facial recognition.

That unsettles you a bit.

Licking your lips, you look back at the doors. “Where is the new place?” you ask after a moment.

“Other side of town.”

She doesn’t elaborate. You don’t know why you even bothered asking.

The elevator slows and she straightens, glancing at you. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, clinging onto the calmness you’d felt only minutes before.

The doors open and you both step out. Aaron is stood close to the door, his hands on his belt, frowning, and there’s another guard with him, one you recognise as usually taking the night shift. Aaron must have called him... and as your eyes dart to the windows, you can see why. The faint, jolly music is still playing and it’s a bizarre juxtaposition to the muffled shouting and screaming from outside because the crowed have spotted you now. People are trying to peer through the floor-to-ceiling windows, craning their necks and shoving each other out of the way to get a better look at you, filming on their phones and trying to take pictures.

Aaron turns to you and gives you a small smile as you approach, Nat a step ahead.

“How’re we looking?” she asks him and from his blinking and surprised expression, you guess he isn’t one of the eyes she was talking about.

“Uh, well, no-one’s tried to get in, yet. Someone seemed as if they were about to follow someone who lives here in, but other’s started yelling at them that we could then call the police, so, seems like they’re seasoned.” He glances at you, giving you another smile.

You return it because, God, he’s probably not trained for this, and he’s such a nice guy.

“All right, well, they should go soon once they realise Steve and Y/N are moving.”

“You’re leaving?” He looks rather crestfallen as he meets your gaze again, and you don’t quite know what to do, but it’s left to you to say something because Nat’s moved off to the other guard.

Lying to him almost feels as bad as having to lie to your friends. He’s been working here for quite a few months now and he’s always ready to have a goofy laugh with you, especially when you come back from after-work drinks. It was always nice, too, to come back from a shitty day and see him, smiling and asking you how your day was.

“Well, tomorrow’s a new day,” he’d always say back, to the point where you both just ended up saying it together.

Do you just say bye? Do you give him your number, or promise to add him on Instagram or Facebook?

Yes, please.

Yeah, all right, you have a tiny bit of a crush on him, but it’s fine and you won’t ever act on it, so it’s fine.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say to him, offering a slightly sheepish smile.

Why am I apologising.

He smiles quickly, a beam that you’d come to enjoy seeing. “Well, I wish you luck with your new life, you two always seemed happy together, I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out.” He laughs and you make yourself join in.

Oh, it’s because it’s not truuueee...

“Thank you, Aaron, I appreciate that.” You pause for a second before continuing as you don’t know what else to say, “I’ll see you around.”

He nods. “Yeah, we follow each other on Instagram, so...”

“Do we?” Oh God, that’s embarrassing, as is the tone of surprise you hadn’t quite managed to stop. It’s like you’ve forgotten about him or don’t care, oh my God...

“Yeah, we...” He pauses to let out a chuckle. “You just took my phone that one time, when you came back from a friend’s birthday party, and followed yourself on my account, then promised you’d follow me which you did, so...”

Dolly’s birthday party. Tequila shots.

“Oh, right, yes, sorry, I remember.” Your face feels too warm. “Well, I’ll make sure to say hello.”

“I’d like that.” He smiles and takes a breath before clearing his throat “Goodbye, then, good luck with everything.”

“Thank you,” you answer, but he’s already turning and moving back towards the other guard, Nat giving him a brief smile as they pass each other and she returns to you.

Arching an eyebrow at you, a smirk hints at the corners of her mouth.

“Already initiating an affair?” she murmurs as she places a hand above your backpack, gently guiding you towards the door.

“Shut up,” you mutter, very much aware of how warm your face still is.

Her mood shifts the moment you’re in front of the door, the other guard gripping the handle, ready to open it.

“Okay, just keep moving towards the car, all right, don’t worry if you feel me pushing you, just keep your feet moving, and look straight ahead.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and from the corner of your eye you see her nod.

The guard opens the door and steps out, pushing people back, and then you’re out and through the door.

The moment you feel the cold air touch your skin, it’s pandemonium. People scream, cameras flash, and questions are yelled at you, so many you can’t even make them out properly. You keep your feet moving but your eyes are darting all over, trying to take it all in, there’s so many people. Your anxiety comes flooding back as the guard and Aaron try their best to keep people back and Nat keeps pushing you forward, silent. You just can’t believe they’re all here, in the freezing cold, just to see you.

Well, not just you.

“He’s not here! He’s not with her!” you hear a man shout next to you, making you flinch.

Suddenly, your hands are on Nat’s Corvette and you’re fumbling for the handle. Finding it and tugging it open, Aaron has to really push against a group beside you to allow you space to open it and so you can get in. With your bag still on your back, you slide into the seat and call a “Thank you!” to Aaron. He doesn’t get a chance to turn and acknowledge it as Nat closes the door and the group surges slightly, trying to press against the car. Keeping your eyes down, you lean forward to slide your backpack off and drop it between your feet.

Your hands shake slightly as you buckle your seatbelt, so you clasp them together in your lap once you’re done. It takes Nat a few more moments than last time to get round to her side, but then she’s there, swiftly getting in. Slamming the door shut, she secures her seatbelt and turns the engine on, the sound of it, luckily, making people step back.

Within moments, she’s pulling you both away and down the street. Staring through the wing mirror on your side, you’re grateful for the first time for her speed, knowing by the time the group scatters and gets into their cars or news vans that you’ll be blocks away.

Closing your eyes, you try and cheer yourself.

The hard part’s over. That’s it. You did it.

—

The hard part is definitely over.

This is the fanciest fucking place I’ve ever seen in my life.

You don’t think your mouth’s closed once from the moment you stepped into the building let alone your new penthouse.

It’s huge. All open-plan and white or stripped wood furniture, lush, thick, beige carpeting throughout, except in the kitchen where it’s polished stone, and the bathrooms where it’s white tile with thin flashes of gold. The dining room is decorated to a show-room standard, with a long, glass table and white cushioned chairs, cutlery set out waiting to be used. The living room, with its two ridiculously comfy beige couches, darker than the carpet, with terracotta blankets draped over them, a huge TV, brick fireplace, and intricately carved coffee table, meets the floor-to-ceiling windows and a glass door that opens out onto a balcony and a view of the city. A swinging chair and four, regular, but as equally comfy-looking, chairs are on it with a stone table, and to the right there’s a pool and more couches and a firepit. To the right of the living room area, behind a door, is a gym room, complete with, what you assume is state-of-the-art, equipment. The kitchen is to die for with its black marble counters and island, accompanied by stools to sit at, and the huge silver fridge and the white beech-wood cabinets and the bedrooms...

There’s two, one’s going to be yours, the other’s Steve’s. You very much agreed with Nat when she said, as you were the first here, that you get first pick but, truthfully, you’d have been over the moon with either of them. The one you have chosen, though, is the first one you come to after walking up the stairs. The king-sized bed is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever lain on, and the grey and white striped duvet and sheets are so soft. The wardrobe is a walk-in, you have your own en-suite, featuring a clawfoot bath, a huge shower and an ornate sink, and the windows in the bedroom are also floor-to-ceiling, the view gorgeous.

Maybe this will feel like a holiday, maybe this won’t be so bad after all, oh my God, even the toilet paper is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, I never want to leave...

As you finally pull yourself out of the room, you lean against the landing railing, gazing down at the open-plan floor below. It looks even more gorgeous from up here, perfect, coordinated, a dream.

Nat stands by the balcony door, talking to someone on her phone, and as you practically float down the stairs, she brings it to an end and hangs up, pushing it into her jeans pocket as a smile begins to form.

“So, everything is satisfactory for you, ma’am?”

“Oh, Nat, this is beyond anything I could have ever imagined.” Crossing the room, you sit on one of the couches, leaning back and looking at her. “How did you find this place?”

She folds her arms, leaning against the window. “We keep a few places on hold, just in case.”

Your head tilts forward, your eyes widening. “This place is a safe-house?!”

Her lips twitch. “Not anymore. Clint’ll be pissed.”

Before you can respond, the front door opens and you both turn, watching Steve and Sam enter. Sam lets out a whistle as he walks down the short hallway, his eyes wide. “Oh my God, can I move in?”

Grinning because this feels good, this feels nice to find it exciting rather than terrifying, you raise your eyebrows. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind, there’s probably room for ten people here.”

“Yeah, Sam snores, so I don’t think so,” Steve quips as he passes the other man, setting the three suitcases, one of them yours, he’d been carrying down by the kitchen archway. He seems just as impressed, though, if a bit more quietly so, his eyes roaming the interior. They arrive at you.

“You happy with it?” he asks, and it makes your chest ache with how sincerely he says it.

“Are you kidding me?” You maintain your grin, wanting to keep the tone light. “I can probably sleep in the wardrobe I have up there and there’s a pool outside.”

“It’s winter, Y/N,” Sam says, but he’s craning his neck to peer outside as he puts your two boxes on the kitchen island.

“It’s heated,” Nat says casually, making you and Sam gasp quietly.

I’m never leaving.

“Right,” Nat continues, moving away from the window as Sam takes her place, her arms still folded. “There’s food in the fridge and cupboards, plenty of towels in the downstairs bathroom cupboards, there’s a washing machine and tumble dryer in there, too, and I’m gonna advise you to not order take-out this week for safety purposes.”

If that’s the sacrifice I have to make to live here then fine.

“Steve, come with me, I’ll show you how the machines work, Sam you take Y/N’s things upstairs and help her unpack.”

“I know how a washing machine works, Nat,” Steve sighs even as he follows after her.

“Oh, not this one, trust me.”

Your gaze darting to meet Sam’s, you both grin.

“Please show me this wardrobe, I’m dyin’ to see it.”

Rising off the couch, you gesture towards the stairs with a flourish of your arm. “This way, then, please, sir.”

Striding across the floor, he grabs your suitcase in one hand and manages to carry both boxes in his other arm before turning to you. “Take me there, ma’am.”

You feel like a giddy child as you both head up the stairs, nearly running.

Nat shakes her head as they listen to you both and she meets Steve’s gaze, her lips twitching. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Even though she knows you nor Sam will be able to hear her in the bathroom she and Steve are stood in, she still softens her voice. “You okay, old man?”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher than the other. “Yeah. It’s just gonna take some getting used to.”

“I know,” she murmurs, leaning against the washing machine, instructions forgotten, and she knows not needed. “I know this isn’t exactly how we planned on locating these guys but we couldn’t let this opportunity go—”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, a note of exasperation to it. “Fury said the same thing.”

She looks at him, the tightness in his jaw, despite how relaxed he appears. “She’s going to be safe,” she says gently after a few moments. “I know I don’t have to remind you, but we’re doing this for her, too.”

That makes him stiffen slightly, but she knows he needs an objective for this, something to fight for, something personal, his own life not being enough. He nods after a short pause, then his eyes meet hers and he gives an easy smile.

“You gonna show me how to use this thing or what, huh?”

—

You wish Nat and Sam could’ve stayed longer. Could’ve helped you both settle in, maybe even shown you how to operate the TV, even though you knew... Could’ve stayed longer because they helped to keep the excitement up.

The moment the door closed after they’d said their goodbyes, barely an hour after they’d arrive, said adamantly to call if either of you needed anything, and that the building was already being watched by agents, silence descended.

You’d both been stood by the front door to bid farewell, Steve holding it open, and you’d watched them cross the small circular foyer to the elevator that only someone with a passkey could get into and come to this floor with. You, Steve, Nat and Sam were the only people to have one. As the latter two disappeared, the elevator doors closing and Steve closed your own door and the silence came, you just looked at each other. You couldn’t think what to say, not quite in the mood to crack a joke, some of your energy having left you. Steve had appeared to feel the same way, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gave a light smile.

As the silence went on a second too long, you had returned his smile, though wider, and made some excuse about having promised to video call Dolly and Bridget to show them the place. He’d just nodded and joked about keeping out of the way.

You hate this. Hate that there’s some kind of... disconnect between you two now, though, you hope, you’re the only one to feel it. You don’t want to become awkward strangers to each other, you don’t want to feel uncomfortable and embarrassed every time you want to speak to him because how the hell are you going to get through the week? Or beyond it? You know it’s all your own doing, your own insecurities and embarrassment holding you back, but you just need... a few minutes to adjust.

The video call with your friends doesn’t exactly help. They’d gasped and squealed at everything you’d showed them, so delighted and excited for their friend, and you don’t know where you’d found the energy from to be ‘on’, to be at their level, and the level of an excited, engaged woman. You had quickly excused yourself after half an hour, though, saying you and Steve still have some things to unpack. 

You hate lying to them. You hate it so much.

You'd felt tears pricking at your eyes as you’d waved goodbye, catching their blown kisses like you usually would but unable to return them with quite the same goofiness. If they’d have asked, you just would have said you were tired, which wouldn’t have been a complete lie.

When you end the call and drop your phone onto your bed, you close your eyes, wiping at them after a moment to eradicate any stray tears.

Six days. Just six days. And it’s to help save your best friend’s life.

Changing into a sweater and pyjamas trousers, you leave your room, your phone held in one hand. A quick glance around as you descend the stairs shows no sign of Steve, but as you reach the bottom you hear sounds of a machine in the gym room despite the door being closed. You leave him to it, knowing he’s probably got his own adjustments to reckon with.

Despite his status, he’s still a private guy, and he probably hates the limelight now being shone on him once more.

There comes the guilt again, gnawing at you from the inside, and swiftly comes the challenge that without your lie you wouldn’t be able to help SHIELD find whoever wants to hurt him... Then comes the sadness, anger and helplessness.

You sit on the nearest couch, grabbing the remote, and turn the TV on. The channel you’re on is showing an advert, so you skip through until you land on a talk show. You pause for a moment, before lowering the remote.

“... also have a statement from June & Mayflower Publishing,” a woman is saying, text appearing on the screen beside her.

You don’t bother to listen properly or read it. Nat had called Yvette while you’d been packing, and she and her assistant Alice had drafted a statement saying the whole company was delighted. She’d sent it to you while Nat had been driving you here to read beforehand but you’d just replied to the email saying it was fine, you trusted her.

You tune back in when a man speaks, and a weird feeling rises in your chest as a picture of you and Steve, from probably only a few months after you’d moved to D.C, walking in a park and smiling, pops up on the screen.

“Y/N has actually been sighted with Steve before, they’ve actually been neighbours for three years, isn’t that romantic?”

“Awh, so cute!” the woman says, beaming.

“I know, right? People were asking if something was going on, we were desperate to know if our boy in red, white and blue had finally found the one again, but after months of quiet speculation we all knew they were just good friends.”

You wouldn’t have exactly called it quiet. You can still remember the shock and surprise of leaving your building and someone coming up to you to ask questions about you and Steve every other day, but it had soon faded, and had been nothing compared to what you’d experienced today.

“Now what we’re all desperate to know is is it going to be a winter wedding?”

“Yeeesss,” the woman says, clapping her hands together. “Now, some of us may think that that’s unusual but they are becoming more popular, and if the wedding of the century is going to a winter one, then, well, cancel Christmas, wedding planners, you’ve got work to do!”

As they laugh, you cringe, playing with the sleeve of your sweater. Unused to wearing a ring the size of the engagement one, it keeps catching on it.

“Now, we have Chrisse Christianson on the line from Chrisse’s Boutique, the store that specialises in all things weddings right here in New York, hi, Chrisse, have you been contacted by the couple?”

“Hi, guys! No, I haven’t been contacted yet,” she laughs, the trilling sound echoing across the studio, “but as Steve is from here we’re hoping they decide to shop local, and—”

As the gym room door opens, with lightening speed you change the channel, landing on a documentary of some kind.

Clearing your throat and lifting your head, you smile at him as he steps out... and you can’t stop your gaze from travelling him. His shirt is sticking to his skin with sweat, beads of it trailing down his neck and temple. His muscles somehow look bigger, straining under the sleeves of the shirt. You swiftly lift your eyes as you catch yourself, and his warm smile is what sets off the fluttering in your chest.

“Hey,” he greets, closing the door.

“Hi,” you manage to say nonchalantly.

Glancing at the TV screen, he then looks back to you. “Dolly and Bridge’ okay?”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms as you smile a touch wryly. “Can’t tell if they’re more excited about the engagement or the apartment.”

He chuckles, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. You have to stop yourself from watching his muscles flex. “Well, they’re only human.”

Your smile softens as you exhale a laugh. As he crosses behind the couch to the stairs, your eyes return to the TV, but you hear him pause on the bottom step.

“Hey, after I shower I’ll cook us something to eat, okay?”

You look to him, your smile returning as you nod. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He nods and ascends the stairs, and you make yourself look back at the screen.

Well, there you go, you’ve spoken and it wasn’t awkward. Hey, you’d even laughed. That was good, fine. It would just be a little weird adjusting, that was all.

You focus on the documentary, which you realise is about birds. You focus very hard on it.

—

Cutlery quietly clinks against plates, the only sound that fills the air of the penthouse. Usually when you both cook together one of you will put music on, more often than not the playlist you’ve curated together over the years that holds a charmingly eclectic mix of music ranging from the 20s to now. Today, though, neither of you felt much like listening to any.

You’d just stayed on the couch, anyway, when he’d reappeared, showered and dressed, and cooked, almost frozen to the spot and staring at the TV screen. It was nice to drift away for half an hour or so, be distracted by something. He’d gently called you when the pasta dish was ready, and you’d both decided to sit at the island, something too unspokenly formal about the dining table.

And so silence has fallen.

Steve watches you as you both eat quietly, your head slightly lowered. The only thing you’d said was how good it tasted after your first mouthful, and he’d thanked you. You haven’t said another word since. He himself is slightly slumped in his chair, his shoulders down, his arm resting on his thigh, back a little curved. You’d laughed the first time you’d seen him with such an unsuperhero-y posture, fully relaxed. He’d just smiled, and you’d realised over the years that that was how Steve Rogers sat and how he always had, even pre-serum, almost like his body was curving in, protecting himself.

Your fork lowering onto your plate pulls him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing back on you. Running a hand down his mouth, he clears his throat.

“How are you doing?” he asks quietly.

You just look at your plate for a moment as you push it away, your hands clasping together in its place. You’d known this was coming the whole time you’d been eating, before even. Taking a breath and exhaling it, you swallow before you finally look at him. His features don’t change, just watching you.

“Steve, I’m so sorry, about all of this,” you say, your voice just as quiet as his. “For what I said at the party, all of this, I just...”

“Why?” he asks when you don’t carry on.

You raise your eyebrows slightly, a faint expression of surprise. “I used you. I used you to get back at someone who doesn’t matter, and I hate that I did that, I hate it. It’s what everyone else does to you, they use your status and the symbol of Captain America, they take advantage of it, I’ve seen people do it, they pretend they’re your friend just to get something, and I never wanted to be the person that did that, I’m so sorry, I’m your friend because I like you, not because I want to look important or have some kind of status, but that’s what I wanted in that moment, I wanted him to look at me and think I was important and he’d missed out, and I could do better than him and now I’ve just thrown that all away, I’m a hypocrite and I’m so sorry.” You stop abruptly and inhale a slightly broken breath.

He didn’t interrupt you as you got it all out to him, finally, his expression didn’t change, he just sat quietly and listened, knowing the thoughts have probably been rolling around in your mind incessantly. His features soften now, though.

“Y/N...” he says after a moment, “... It was a bit of fun.” You just look at him, your lips slightly parted. “Sure, it’s spiralled, and here we are, having to pick out cake decorations...” He trails off with a smile as you exhale a laugh, your own smile finally breaking out across your features. When he continues, he’s still smiling but his tone is sincere. “I know the kind of person you are, Y/N. I know when I’m being used, despite how old I am I’ve still got all my marbles, but it was just some fun, and I was glad to do it for you, he seemed like an ass.”

Your smile has lingered, your shoulders relaxing in relief as you inhale a breath. “Yeah, he was.” Shaking your head, you look at him. “God, you’re just...”

He arches an eyebrow, his head tilting. “What?”

Your smile widens. “Incredible, Steve Rogers.”

He chuckles, his hand falling into his lap. “You are, too. And Y/N, you are important—”

“I know, I know,” you say quickly, feeling your face warm. You can’t bear to hear one of his pep-talks now, it’ll just make you feel like even more of a child for having done what you did.

Mercifully, he takes the hint and leans his elbow on the island, his fingers brushing over his lips. There’s a small pause before he speaks again.

“Look, I’m not the best at all this undercover stuff, I’m quite bad at it actually, I’m surprised Nat hasn’t entertained you with the tales, but I think having to do it with you will make it a little easier.”

Your gaze lifts to him, the heat lingering on your skin, and you smile softly. “Well, thank you. You, too.”

You want to cry. You have some kind of emotional release from the day, but you know that would just make him feel guilty.

You attempt to lighten the tone again, raising your eyes to take in the penthouse once more. “So why don’t you live in a place like this?”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “Your apartment’s the same size as mine, but you probably have ten times what I do. Don’t give me that look,” you swiftly continue, the corners of your mouth lifting, “They published it, and I couldn’t help but accidentally read it, and I’m just saying, why do we split the bill.”

He arches an eyebrow, a smile threatening. “Because you insist.”

“Well...” You scoff, raising your eyebrows. “I’m gonna stop insisting.”

He chuckles and shrugs, his hands clasping in his lap. “I like my place. And where could I find a better neighbour, huh?”

“Oh, well...” You shrug a shoulder as you smile faux-demurely, shaking your head. “You couldn’t, so, good.”

“I know, I know, God’s gift,” he concedes with raised eyebrows, his smile betraying his tone. Moving off the stool, he takes your plate and his and heads to the sink, placing them in and turning the tap on, letting the water run over them.

Placing your arms on the island, you exhale a long breath. “So... How are you gonna spend your first afternoon here in paradise?”

The corners of his mouth lift as he turns the tap off and leans against the counter beside him, his hands in his pockets. “Think I’m gonna give Buck a call, and Nat, see what’s goin’ on. You?”

You wrinkle your nose, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m technically not working just yet, so, I’ve got a few things I want to take care of and send to Yvette, then...” You shrug again. “... The shower in my room looks great, actually, so I might spend about three hours in there.”

“Yeah, mine was life-changing, so...” He smiles as you laugh, sliding off of your stool.

“Oh, good, maybe I’ll spend four hours in there, then.” Tugging your sleeves over your hands, you grab your phone and return his smile. “All right, I guess I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Yeah. Don’t work too hard.”

“Oh, I’ll try.”

And there it is again, that weird, unfamiliar awkwardness returns, not too overt, but definitely there. As you climb the stairs, you once again hope he doesn’t feel it, but, you are relieved that you got out what had been rattling around in your mind since the morning. Relieved that he was so understanding, too, but when is he not? That’s what you lo— admire about him so much. Empathy is seemingly a rare trait these days so it’s nice to be reminded that people do have it. And, oh, you’d had a normal conversation. You almost laugh at the boost it’s given you.

You push him, the day, everything out of your mind, though, as you enter your room and close the door. Taking your laptop from your backpack, you turn it on and sit back against the luxurious cushions on the bed, closing your eyes for a few moments to get your brain into work-mode. 

This will distract you for a good few hours, be something that you can handle and focus on.

Opening your eyes, you sign into your laptop and straighten your back.

Oke doke... Hello, my actual life.

—

You manage to waste more than a good few hours sending emails, receiving them, taking calls, approving events and posts, planning out the next few months of what you want to get done and make public. You ignore the emails that have ‘CONGRATULATIONS!!!’ in the subject line, hoping people will just think you’re too busy being desperately in love to reply to all the well-wishers. It’s almost bliss, to lose yourself in your work and think of nothing else, even though you do have to block a few numbers from tabloids every half an hour or so.

As darkness falls, though, and everyone else ends their working day, you force yourself to send your last email, to Yvette, explaining, as Nat had asked you to, that you would be taking the week off. Yvette already knows, of course, but Nat had requested you to do it just in case someone hacked into your emails, or the company’s. Shutting your laptop down and closing it, your gaze drifts to the window. The sky is an inky black, and the bedside lamp you’d turned on an hour or so before illuminates the room in a warm, gentle glow.

Moving off the bed with a slight, stiff, wince, you pull the curtains closed, and take a moment to let your thumbs caress the silver, velvety material.

Ugh, just perfect.

Blowing out a breath, you turn back to the room.

What now? 

...

Time for that shower, I think.

You take another moment to once more take in the beauty of your bathroom, before you open the shower door and stare at the buttons because it has buttons and not knobs and taps like you’re used to. Thankfully, they’re easy to understand and in seconds a warm stream of beautifully pressured water is pouring down onto the floor.

You dart back into the bedroom to grab your phone, wanting to play some music, and as you wander back into the bathroom, you unlock it. As you search for your desired playlist, an Instagram notification suddenly appears at the top of the screen. It’s a message—

You pause.

A message from Aaron.

You feel your face heating up, and it’s not from the steam of the shower, as you tap on it to open the app and read it quickly.

Hey, I hope you’re settling in okay, and your new door guys aren’t as funny as I am.

You smile, quite touched by the sweetness of it. Your thumbs start to move before you can stop them.

Hi, thank you so much! It’s all fine here, and no, they certainly aren’t, so you can rest easy.

Feeling faintly like a giddy teenager as you quickly close the app in case he comes online and sees you’re active, (and oh my God, did I reply too quickly?), you start your playlist and place your phone by the sink. After undressing, leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor, and spending a moment considering if you should remove the ring in case you damage it but deciding to leave it on, you step into the shower and are unable to stop a soft groan as the warm water washes over you.

This is so much better than the water in our building... then again, it’s not hard to beat it.

You take your time to shower, washing every inch of your skin with the new bottle of body-wash that was already in there and smells divine. When you finally turn the water off and step out, you pull a cream, fluffy towel from the nearby rack and it rivals the bed in softness. After patting yourself dry and moisturising with the new pot of cream that was in one of the cabinets under the sink, and comes from that fancy shop you and Dolly go into every month for samples, you wrap the towel around yourself, take your phone and head into the bedroom.

Checking for notification as you sit on the bed, you find Aaron has answered.

Oh, good, to both of those. My reputation remains intact.

Your teeth graze over your lower lip as you reply.

Absolutely, I’ll let them know here that they seriously need to do better.

Being on the app reminds you to make your account private as, oh, boy, strangers commenting on every single photo you’ve ever posted is overwhelming. You’re about to exit out of the app when you decide to have a look at Aaron’s profile. It’s a standard grid, photos of him at bars or parties, by the looks of it, selfies, photos of him at the gym...

Wow... His uniform kinda hides those muscles.

Stop it.

Locking your phone, you lie back on the bed, not quite ready to change just yet.

God, that was a good shower.

Wonder if Steve’s shower was really good. If the water pressure was good like mine, not if he had a nice time, if he just really enjoyed it as much as he said he did.

You stare at the ceiling, swallowing lightly.

Your eyes drift to your backpack on the floor.

Where your toy calls quietly to you.

... This would help the unwinding to continue.

Moving off the bed, you reach inside your backpack and grab the toy, pulling it out of its drawstring bag.

It’s one of your favourites; smooth, rose-gold silicone, medium length, a ribbed shaft, silent, different speeds and patterns, water-proof, you can use it anywhere, anytime, and do whatever you want with it.

Lying back again, you shift into a more comfortable position and close your eyes, your thumb finding the familiar button to set the vibration at the first, low speed.

You think about what you usually do when you can’t be bothered to look a stimulus up online; a faceless mouth on your neck, on your breasts, licking and sucking at your nipples, on your thighs, hands pulling them apart, gliding down to your wet pussy lips, caressing and stroking.

A rush of breath escapes you as you glide the head of the vibrator up and down your cunt, your hips jerking slightly at the initial contact. You’re wet already, and you hum gently as you stop at your clit, leaving the vibrator there.

Your free hand tugs the towel open so you can reach your breasts, your fingers going between your nipples and, tugging and pinching them along with your fantasy. You increase the speed by one as you start to lose yourself in the pleasure thrumming throughout your body.

... And you can’t stop yourself from not thinking about it anymore.

You picture Steve in the shower. 

You’ve thought of him a couple of times before while masturbating, accidentally. Like when you've been drunk he’s just slipped into your mind... or just at the last second when you're coming his face has appeared in your mind and his name from your lips. You just can’t help it.

The faceless mouth and hands become his as you rock your hips, quiet moans sounding from your throat. He whispers your name into your ear, telling you how good you feel, how wet you are, what a good girl you are, how he can’t wait to sink his cock into yo—

Two gentle knocks sound on your bedroom door.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snapping open, you stare at the door.

Steve.

Oh my God, it’s like I summoned him.

“... Yeah?” You try to sound as nonchalant as possible, your voice just a touch higher than normal.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh...” You’re off the bed in seconds, the towel falling to the floor as you thrust the vibrator behind one of the many pillows and clear your throat, “... Hang on, two seconds...”

You can’t answer the door to him in just a towel, you can’t, where—

You find the robe you’d spotted earlier, still hanging on the back of the bathroom door and grab it, pulling it on and tying the cord tight.

God, that’s soft...

Clearing your throat again, you take a breath and open the door, smiling widely as your eyes fall on him.

“Hey, sorry, I just had a shower.”

He takes an almost involuntary step back, his back straightening. “Oh, sorry—” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” You’re still smiling, and he’s returning it, albeit a bit softer and less forced, his eyes on yours.

“Right, I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie? I can make some dinner for us while you change?”

He’s just so fucking nice, how can I think such filthy things...

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“All right, I think it’s your turn to pick the movie.”

“All right, I’ll get thinking.”

I hope I don’t sound as manic as I feel.

You watch him descend the stairs for a moment before you close the door and lean against it, closing your eyes.

Oh, God...

It’s good actually, that he turned up, you shouldn’t be thinking about him, it’s wrong, he’s your friend— 

Stop. Just stop thinking about it.

Opening your eyes, you exhale a long breath and move towards your new wardrobe, finding your pyjamas.

Right, now to just get through the evening without any awkwardness... and the rest of the week.

Okay.

Right.

Fine.

Perfectly easy.

— 

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[erics-meep-morps]

One Lonely Weekend

A self-ship fic with Lapis and Peridot

Friday morning started out like any other. I got up, made breakfast, took a shower, and headed for work as I looked forward to the weekend. Lapis, Peridot, and I were planning to head into the city and visit a few bars. Peridot didn’t drink, but Lapis did occasionally. We’re definitely not heavy drinkers, just enough to get a little loose or buzzed at most. 

While I was at work, Peridot was working in the garden. She had gotten up before Lapis, which was normal since Lapis typically slept in. However, usually Lapis would be around by late morning. A few hours of gardening later and there was no sign of Lapis. Curious, she took a break and went inside to find her. 

Peridot looked in every room where Lapis would usually be, and checked our bedroom last. Surprisingly there was Lapis, still laying in bed with all but her hair covered by a blanket. 

“Lapis,” Peridot said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Lapis responded in a somewhat groggy voice. 

“Have you been laying in bed this whole time?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you planning to lay in bed all day or...?”

“I don’t know. I’m having difficulty motivating myself to get out of bed.”

Peridot sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Lapis’s hair. “Are you feeling okay? Do you need something?”

Lapis thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, I’ll let you rest,” Peridot said and got up after softly patting Lapis on the head.

Meanwhile at work I was trying to stay busy to make the day go faster since Fridays tend to feel longer than the other weekdays. My busyness paid off as the day was over before I realized it. I excitedly headed to the train station and didn’t have to wait long for the next train to home. 

After gardening, Peridot went inside and browsed the internet to pass the time. She became interested in chess and quickly became an expert at it. She checked in on Lapis periodically, and Lapis was still laying in bed, having barely moved. 

When I came home Peridot was in the living room on the laptop.

“I’m going to have a quick snack and then we can head out,” I said. 

“Well... there’s a problem,” Peridot said.

She brought me to our bedroom where Lapis was laying in bed. 

“She hasn’t gotten up the entire day as far as I know,” Peridot said quietly as we went in.

Peridot and I sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling Lapis,” I asked quietly. 

“Right now my mind is asking me what’s the point in doing anything. I just... don’t have any motivation. Not even to get out of bed.”

“So I’m guessing you don’t want to go to the city tonight?”

“Oh shoot, I forgot about that. I- I’m sorry, I’m just not in the right mood for it, or for doing anything.”

I gently stroked her hair. “It’s okay. I’ve been in that mood plenty of times before.”

“You two go ahead and enjoy the night.”

“You sure you don’t want us to stay here and keep you company,” Peridot asked.

“I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”

“Okay, if you need anything don’t hesitate to call or text me,” I said.

Lapis nodded and moved her hand out of the blanket to give a thumbs up.

“See you later Lapis. We love you,” Peridot said softly.

Lapis waved and then tucked her hand back under the blanket. 

Originally we were planning to take the train, but we decided Peridot would fly us to the city and we would just go to a couple bars. Both bars we went to had a relaxed atmosphere, which I liked. They also served hard cider, which I really liked since I never developed a taste for beer. 

After a couple drinks at both bars we walked around the city, which was surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. 

“You think Lapis is doing okay,” Peridot asked.

“Well, no and yes. Right now she’s not since she’s having a depressive episode, but I’ve had those too and it just takes time to recover from them. We’ll be there to support her and do our best to help her feel better, but if she wants to be alone that’s okay too.”

“How long does it take to get out of these depressive episodes?”

“It varies widely. Sometimes it only takes a few hours, or a few days, or... months.”

Peridot had a nervous expression on her face. 

“But as long as we’re there for her she’ll be okay, though I should see if she would be interested in coming with me to a therapy appointment.”

“Is that what you do when you have a depressive episode?”

“Not every time, but if I feel like I need some assistance getting out of it then I do, but also there are times when I’m feeling okay but see my therapist anyways. Sometimes it’s good to talk stuff out with a professional.”

“Interesting. Well we’ll see how she’s feeling for the next few days. Obviously no pressure on her to feel better.”

“Right. Positivity and support from us is what will help her.”

Peridot nodded. “So, anything else you want to do before we head back?”

“Want to sit at the park that overlooks the tracks and watch trains for awhile?”

Peridot smiled and wrapped her arm around mine. “I’d love to.”

After a little over an hour we headed back. Lights were on in the house, but there was no sign of Lapis. We checked our bedroom and surprisingly she wasn’t there, so we checked her private room and sure enough it was closed. We were kind of disappointed since we wanted to see how she was doing, but we respected her choice of wanting to be alone. 

For the rest of the night Peridot and I played chess. Although I had longer experience with chess she was able to beat me quite easily. 

“Not gonna lie, the fact you’re already an expert with this makes me kind of jealous,” I said with a chuckle. 

Peridot giggled. “I should challenge Pearl sometime. I have a feeling she would get close to beating me, but I would still be champion.”

We laid in bed and cuddled, though still thinking about Lapis. She had a bed in her private room though, so we took comfort in the fact she was probably just sleeping in there.

On Saturday Peridot and I went on a bike ride around our area. She didn’t quite understand the purpose of biking, especially when it didn’t involve going to a destination, but she did enjoy the breeze and the ability to move faster than on foot. Lapis was in her private room when we left, and it appeared she had been in there all day since her door was still closed when we got back. 

Although there were times Peridot and I got nervous enough that we wanted to knock on Lapis’s door, we knew we shouldn’t. We had all agreed that when someone was in their private room we were not allowed to disturb them. Lapis likes her alone time and we respected that. However, occasionally we would walk by her door to see if it was open. 

While I made myself dinner, Peridot tended to her garden. After finishing my meal and watching the sun start to set I could see Peridot standing with her feet in the water at the lake. 

I went outside to check up on her. “A little chilly isn’t it,” I asked.

Peridot turned and gave a soft smile. “It’s not that bad.”

I dipped a finger in the water and just that gave me a shiver. “Well maybe to you, but for a human that’s way too cold.”

“How about some warm water then?”

I grinned. “Jacuzzi?”

Peridot nodded. 

“Sounds good to me.”

We rested and cuddled in the jacuzzi for a couple hours. The warm water and Peridot’s soft body felt quite comforting. 

“What should we do tomorrow,” I asked as I nestled my face in Peridot’s hair.

“Hmm, well first let’s see if Lapis leaves her room, and then we’ll go from there,” she replied and intertwined her fingers with mine. 

“Alrighty,” I said and kissed her on the cheek before nestling my face back into her hair. 

After we dried off we went to bed. In the middle of the night I woke up and couldn’t help but walk to Lapis’s room. The door was still closed, and I quietly sighed. Just being out in the dark and silent hallway for a few minutes felt lonely, so I was quite worried about Lapis. Even though I really wanted to see her, I would just have to wait. When she was eventually going to come out of her room there was going to be a lot of hugs and kisses for her. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind. 

I tiptoed back to bed and fell asleep shortly after. 

Sunday arrived, and still no sign of activity from Lapis. Peridot and I decided to go out and get brunch. Peridot didn’t eat, but she was always a nice presence to have while I ate. 

“Did the server give me a weird look when I said I wasn’t getting anything,” Peridot asked.

“Yeah, I noticed that. I guess they prefer everyone who’s in here buys something, but whatever. With the amount of food I’m eating they’ll get enough money to look like we both ordered food.”

“Human culture can be quite weird sometimes.”

“Trust me, having lived with human culture my whole life, I can say that it’s weird all the time.”

Peridot giggled. “So, anything else you want to do today?”

“Part of me wants to stay occupied with other stuff so I don’t worry about Lapis, and part of me wants to stay home just in case Lapis wants to see us.”

“Well, what if I stayed home and then you can do whatever you want to do?”

“You sure? If you wanted to do something I could stay home.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m exhausted from the weekend we had.”

“If Lapis comes out of her room can you text me?”

“Of course.”

After finishing my brunch, Peridot and I hugged and kissed before parting ways. While she headed home I decided to go for a hike in an area I haven’t seen much of. I ended up at an amazing viewing spot with rolling green hills and meadows surrounding a small lake. I knew I had to bring Peridot and Lapis here sometime. Even though I tried not to, I occasionally checked my phone to see if Peridot sent anything. By the afternoon as the sun began its descent towards the horizon I decided to head home. However I took a long and scenic route back both to kill time and see more picturesque views. 

After getting back I assumed Lapis was still in her room since Peridot hadn’t sent a text. I sighed and went inside. 

The rest of the day was uneventful. Peridot went to her private room to work on projects that required a lot of concentration. Meanwhile I browsed the internet, and as quickly as the weekend started it was now coming to an end. Even though I didn’t have to get up early for work I decided to try to get to sleep early. 

When I woke up my nose was pressed against Peridot’s gem. I giggled and gently kissed it before getting up. As I walked to the kitchen I passed by Lapis’s room. For a moment I kept walking but then stopped and turned around. The door was open. My heart started racing and I ran into the kitchen. With her sitting on the couch, almost immediately Lapis and I made eye contact.

“Hey,” she said with her beautiful smile. 

I ran to her and nearly knocked the couch over as I threw myself at her for a hug. 

She snort laughed and held me tight. “How are you?”

“I should be asking you that!”

“I’m feeling better, especially after I realized my motivation for getting out of bed and living life.”

“And what was that?”

“Seeing my two wonderful partners and being with them,” she said and kissed me on the cheek. 

“I’m really glad you’re feeling better, and that Peridot and I indirectly helped you through this.”

“Me too, and I’m sorry I wasn’t around this weekend.”

“It’s alright. I know how you felt and sometimes it’s best to take a mental health break. Also, if you’re ever interested, my therapist may be able to help with depression episodes. She’s helped with mine and other issues I’ve had, so if you ever want to give her a chance let me know. No pressure of course.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely keep it in mind, though for me I think it just simply helps to be alone for a little bit to think things through. But now that I’m better all I want to do is spend the day with you and Peridot.”

“Well... I have to go to work since it’s Monday.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Lapis said with a slight frown.

“Hmm, I do have paid time off though,” I said with a grin.

“Is- is that a good thing?”

“It means I can take today off and still get paid.”

She became starry eyed. “Do that!”

I chuckled. “Alright, the three of us are going to spend the day together, and we’ll do whatever you want to do.”

“I would love that very much.”

As we continued embracing each other we heard footsteps quickly coming down the hallway. Peridot rushed in and practically attacked us with a hug, and it was enough to knock over the couch. 

For a moment we were shocked but then laughed as we laid on the floor hugging Lapis. For awhile we just laid there and cuddled together before eventually getting up and starting our day. 

[ao-anonymousobsesser]

Oops?

Hey! So! I’m not dead! Surprised? Me too!

This story was written for my good friend @comfortably-chaotic-mind -  I love them, please go follow them and read whatever they post. Some ColdFlash written just for you, buddy, since I know I haven’t written much...and this is honestly kind of garbage and not in any way explicitly ColdFlash until the end, and I might eventually continue it in a real story (probably not). But anyway! Good job with school! Here you go!

Oops? a ColdFlash Fic for @comfortably-chaotic-mind - 4700 words

“Allen.”

He glanced up, fingers pausing their furious typing but still hovering over the keys. “Yeah?”

“There’s some guy at the door, says he knows you.”

Barry’s brow scrunched. “Who?”

His roommate shrugged. “Didn’t give a name. Said he was your friend, asked me to get you.” A pause, and he looked over his shoulder almost nervously. “He’s creepy, dude—I think he might be on the run. Who the fuck you hangin’ out with?”

Realization dawned, and he laughed. “Oh, okay,” he said, still laughing. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just Len—you can let him in.”

“You sure?”

Barry rolled his eyes. “Yes, Hal. I promise he won’t steal your stuff.”

His roommate’s eyes narrowed at that. “Even more suspicious,” he muttered, but he disappeared back into the hall.

There were muffled voices—Hal telling Len where to find him—and then the front door shut and the TV in the living room turned on. If he listened really carefully, he could hear quiet footsteps on the creaky stairs.

The door to his bedroom-slash-office opened again, and he turned back to his computer. The data report wasn’t going to finish itself. It didn’t take long for the door to shut, and then a man’s figure came to lean against the desk beside his arm.

“No Cold-Gun today?” Barry asked, conversational. “How bold of you. You know, without that thing, I could take you to jail whenever I want.”

The man scoffed. “We have a deal, Scarlet—I don’t kill, you don’t turn me in. I haven’t killed anyone, so…”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Snart?” he sighed. “And how did you even find me?”

“I asked Vibe.”

Barry waited for him to continue, but he left it at that, so Barry finally stopped talking and looked up with a raised brow and a completely nonplussed expression. “What do you want, Cold?” he snapped.

Len just frowned. “What are you doing here, Scarlet?”

“What do you mean?” He gestured pointedly around them. “I’m working.”

“You work in Central City,” the man corrected, almost…grumbling.

Barry shook his head, face scrunching in utter confusion. “No, I mean—I had to go back to school.”

“Back?”

“Yeah? Back? This is where I went to get my degree in the first place, and now I have to take an updated course. Just a few weeks. I should be back by next month. I’m even getting paid for it.” He grinned, though it almost immediately fell when Len just stared at him. “What?”

“When did you get your degree?”

“Every CSI has a college degree, Snart. It’s mandatory.”

“No. When were you in Coast City?”

He shrugged. “I moved the summer after high school. School for three years, training for one, and then I went home.” The other man was silent, and his brow scrunched in concern. “Why?”

Len shook his head. “No reason,” he said quietly, glancing around the room. The way he said it indicated that there was, in fact, a reason, but that he would not be disclosing it. “What are you doing back?”

“Refresher course,” Barry replied slowly. “They updated the curriculum for the new tech we have now, and Singh offered to send me back here instead of doing the course in Central, since Coast City is way better in the university department.”

The other man didn’t ask anything else, still looking around the room, and the speedster sighed deeply.

“Look, Snart, I have a lot of work to do, so if there’s a reason for this visit, please get to—”

“What was it like,” he interrupted, the words rough and halting, as if he were forcing them out of his throat, “for you, when you were in your coma?”

Barry blinked in surprise. “How do you know about that?”

“Humor me, Scarlet.”

“I…” He hesitated before shaking his head. “Well, it was hard, at first. Not just because I woke up with superspeed, but—when I was…asleep…I was just dreaming. About anything, everything—and it didn’t really feel like anything more than just regular dreams and stuff. And then I woke up, and it had been, like…nine, ten months without me even noticing. So I had to deal with that.” He sighed. “The world just kind of…I mean, the world doesn’t stop because a random CSI is in a coma. No one really cared—No one other than Iris and Joe, and STAR Labs kinda. So, yeah. It was rough for a while. Everything had changed, and I didn’t even get to see it.”

Len was quiet for a long moment. Barry watched him carefully, searching for any sign as to what this was all about.

Finally, the older man sighed and shook his head. “How did you know it was me at the door?”

“Hal’s description,” he replied without hesitation. “He’s pretty intuitive about stuff. Said you looked like you were on the run, and creepy, and suspicious, but if he thought you were actually dangerous, he would have come out and said it. And you’re the only one I know that could pull that off and still say, I’m a friend of Barry’s, can you get him? with a totally straight face.” He shrugged. “Anyone else who might have done that is still in Central. I got an update last night—they all went out to celebrate Caitlin’s first official catch.” He grinned.

Len rolled his eyes. “You left a bunch of newbies to protect the city,” he sighed disapprovingly.

Barry frowned. “You know, when we first met, I was a newbie,” he pointed out. “I had only been a speedster for like—a month.” He huffed. “Cisco and Iris have it under control for now. It’s fine. The city’s in good hands.”

“I don’t like it.”

The speedster paused, head tilted as his eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I just don’t. A lot can happen without the Scarlet Speedster around.”

“There are three other speedsters in town right now. I think they’ll be fine.”

“None of them are you.”

“What’s your point, Len?” he sighed, exasperated now. “Did something happen?”

“No.”

Just then, Barry’s alarm sounded, startling him. It was noon: officially lunchtime. He huffed, shutting down his laptop and standing to stretch. Then his phone started beeping again—not his alarm, this time, but his text-tone. And then it started ringing. Like, ringing ringing, in the way it only did when Cisco’s latest installation was being put to use.

He had only let him put the app on his phone a few weeks ago, before going to Coast City, just in case. If several people called him at once, he could choose which he wanted to answer rather than hearing the busy-line beeping noise when he answered the phone.

Barry raised a brow and reached for the device.

Len grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “Don’t answer that,” he all but ordered. “Trust me.”

“Why?” His face scrunched. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“They’re just going to tell you that I’m on my way here,” the man explained carefully. “And since I’m already here, you don’t need to know.”

“How did you get here so fast, then?” Barry retorted.

“Kara lent me her generator.” Len shrugged. “She was…strangely nice.” His brow rose. “I’m guessing you only told her the good parts, and not that I’m a criminal?”

The speedster ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe? By the time I met her, you were with the Legends.” He paused. “How did you meet her?”

“Long story.”

“Obviously, I’ve got time.” He crossed his arms and glared pointedly. “What the hell is going on, Len? What did you do in Central that has everyone trying to get ahold of me? When did you get back from the Waverider? Why are you here?”

“I didn’t know where else to go!” Len shouted, expression crumpling. “Mick won’t talk to me, Lisa’s underground, Sara thinks I’ve lost my mind, and the rest of the crew—they can barely look at me after what they did! What they let me do!”

Barry was utterly confused, now, and he took a slow step forward as if approaching a scared, wounded animal. “What are you talking about?” he asked carefully.

“I died, Barry.”

He froze—actually froze, standing stock-still like a robot shutting down. This was… “What?” he asked. “What…That…What?”

Len sighed, slumping down into the vacated office chair. “The Time Masters were—They were gonna let Vandal Savage wreck the timeline. Kill whoever he wanted. They said they had to, to ensure the world’s survival.”

“What does that mean?”

“In a couple hundred years, we’re going to be invaded by Thanagaar—an alien planet with a warlike people. And the Time Masters don’t think we’ll make it unless Savage is there to help us. So, they let him do what he wants, shape the world into what he thinks is best, and he’ll save the world.”

“It’s Vandal Savage, Len. He can’t be trusted.”

“I know,” he snapped. “We all knew that.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We decided to destroy their time-keeping device. The Oculus, they called it. It held the records for every timeline, every little change that would or could occur. Destroy that, and time is guided by freewill.”

“And?”

“And the only way to destroy it was to stand right next to it, holding down the button until it exploded.” He looked up, watching the horror dawn across Barry’s face, and nodded. “Ray was going to be the one, thinking his Atom suit would protect him, but we saw that it wouldn’t. And then Mick tried to step in, because Rip convinced him it was the way to repent—by saving his friend. I couldn’t—I couldn’t let him die.”

“Len…”

“I couldn’t let Mick die, Barry,” he snapped. “Not like that. Not when I—I was the one who dragged him into the whole thing. Into the Legends. He followed me, after everything, after everything I did to him, and…and I couldn’t do it.”

“I get it.”

“I knocked him out, took his place…blew up the Oculus. Took out half the Time Masters, too.”

“And then?”

“I died. Disintegrated. Became…Nothing.”

Barry reached out to set a hand on his shoulder, brow scrunched in sympathy. “How long?”

“I don’t know.” Len shook his head. “Days? Years? Centuries? I…I wasn’t sleeping, exactly, or dreaming. It was all…real. And then you were there. Every time I managed to pull myself together, every time I relaxed into the pain enough to think…You were there.”

He was confused again. “I don’t remember…”

The man was already shaking his head. “An older version of you,” he clarified. “You were…maybe thirty?” He sighed. “There were so many fragments, different timelines…It’s hard to keep track. Most of them didn’t make sense.”

“Why?”

“I’d rather not say. If you don’t mind.”

Barry shrugged. “That’s fine, I guess. It’s your trauma.” He sighed. “So this was maybe…three, four years in the future.”

“Most of it.”

“And the rest?”

Len looked away at that, silent for a minute. Then, quietly, “The last one was a few weeks ago. He brought me back to the Waverider.”

“He?”

“You…Future-You.” He chuckled softly. “I fell through a wormhole onto his kitchen floor.”

Barry laughed. “I’m sure that was surprising.”

Len shrugged. “He didn’t seem surprised. But it could have been because he was older.”

“What do you mean, he didn’t seem surprised?”

“He…” Hesitation, again. “He just leaned over and said, Finally. Then he helped me up, explained some science stuff that I couldn’t understand, and offered to take me back to my time.”

“How old was he—I?” Barry stuttered.

“Forty? Maybe forty-five?” Another shrug. “You might have been older, though—I had a feeling. Speedster aging must be slower.”

“Strange.” He shook his head. “How long did you stay with the Legends?”

“Not long. Like I said, they can barely stand to be around me.” He sighed. “It didn’t take much to get them to drop me off in 2016.”

“You still haven’t told me how you met Supergirl. She’s on another Earth, Len—the Waverider couldn’t have taken you there, and I don’t think you have any favors left with Cisco. So how did you meet?”

Len nodded, thoughtful. “That…is complicated.”

“More complicated than literally dying?”

“Yes.”

Barry huffed and sat down on his bed, crossing his arms. “Hit me with it, then.”

“First of all, I didn’t meet her this year. I met her…probably at least fifteen or twenty years from now. It’s all a little fuzzy.”

“Why?”

“She—Well, her team, really…They were the ones who pulled my threads together.” He shook his head. “They didn’t mean to, not really—they were looking for some sort of robot, or something—but they got me out first. I was unconscious for that part. Woke up in a hospital bed next to Kara’s.”

“She was hurt?”

Len shook his head again. “Not exactly…More drained. The machine they used drew power from her. She insisted it was fine, that she just needed some Vitamin D, and she’d be fine.”

“Her power comes from the Sun.”

“I know that now—I didn’t know back then.” He sighed. “She asked who I was…and when I told her, she immediately asked if I knew you and Oliver.”

“Of course she did,” he muttered. “And then?”

“I don’t remember a lot of it,” Len admitted. “She gave me one of her spare generators, and then I woke up on Older-Barry’s kitchen floor.” A scoff. “And then I get home to a crew that no longer wants anything to do with me. They dropped me off in Central. I looked for Lisa, but it looks like she’s underground—she’s not at any of her usual safehouses.”

Barry grimaced, shifting slightly in his seat. “Um…”

The former villain narrowed his eyes. “What’s that, Scarlet?”

He winced. “Lisa’s not underground, Len.”

“What are you talking about? Is she in jail?”

“No…” Barry sighed. “She’s on Earth-2.”

“Why?” Len demanded, lurching from his seat.

“Because she’s sick,” he said calmly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Harry—Earth-2 Wells knew a doctor who specializes in her condition, one who’s much better than anyone we know on this Earth, and we sent her over there to get help. Cisco’s probably on his way there right now to tell her you’re back.” He paused. “Actually, she’s probably with the you who lives there, now that I think about it.”

“What?” That made him pause in his anger, at least, now confused and concerned. “Why?”

“I don’t think you want to know,” Barry hedged. “But she’s in good hands, I promise.”

“Just tell me, Barry.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “The doctor I told you about, the specialist? It’s her—Earth-2 Lisa Snart is a bio-engineer with a Medical Degree. Basically, she’s Caitlin. Minus the ice powers and with the addition of some pretty sweet inventions.” He grimaced. “Her brother is…the Mayor. Of Central City. They killed their dad when they were kids—self-defense.”

Len was quiet for a moment. Then: “You’ve met, then?”

He nodded. “Twice, actually. Once on accident…and then again when Harry introduced us to Lenny and Doc. They’re…nice. Safe. Very protective, which isn’t surprising.” He grinned. “Last I talked to Lisa, she was awake and feeling a lot better. She hasn’t had an episode in almost two months, and her brain activity is back to normal. She sounds better, too—more like herself. Even flirted with Cisco when they talked, which she hadn’t done in a while…”

“She’s okay, then?”

“Not at a hundred percent yet,” Barry warned with a shrug. “But yeah. She’s safe. Happy. Feeling better than she did when she first came to us.”

“What happened?”

“She just—Showed up at Joe’s one night, out of nowhere. I think it was maybe a month or so after you left—she had called Cisco before that, asking if we knew where you were, and we told her, and she was pissed at me for some reason.” He laughed, just a little. “Then she just shows up out of nowhere at Joe’s house, scares the hell out of me when she just walks right through the front door. Which was locked.” He shook his head. “Apparently, she stole your key?” His brow raised.

Len just smirked. “Lock-picking gets tedious after a while.”

“Where did you even—”

“Iris should be more careful about leaving her purse lying around.”

“…Whatever.” Barry huffed. “So, anyway, Lisa just walks in one night—middle of the night, out of nowhere—sits right next to me on the couch, scaring the hell out of me. She looks at me, and I could already tell something was messed up with her, because she just…she didn’t look right. She looked tired and sad and…sick.” He sighed. “She looked at me for a minute and then said, Don’t freak out. You know, like she hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere. And then she said, I need your help. And I was like, With what? And she told me she ran into an old boyfriend and he did something to her.”

“What the f—”

“Not that,” he assured quickly. “That was my first thought, but she kind of lost it when I asked her, and—yeah. So then, when she calmed down from that, she got this headache…migraine…thing, and that was when I first saw her get one of her attacks.” He grimaced. “It was…bad. Weird, and scary, and it actually kind of freaked me out.” A sigh. “So, uh, I called Caitlin first, and then Cisco and Harry, and asked them to meet us at STAR Labs. Harry had actually seen something like it before, on his Earth, and he knew a specialist—other-Lisa—who could help. So we took her there. She insisted that I had to come with her, and she wouldn’t let me leave until she was with Lenny and Doc, until she was sure she could trust them.”

Len thought this all over for a moment. “What exactly did this attack entail?”

“Hard to describe…” Barry thought about it. “She kind of…exploded? Not her body, but like…her spirit, kind of. Like an astral projection, except she couldn’t control it enough to actually appear as a person.” He sighed. “We met the ex-boyfriend a few weeks later…Roscoe?”

“Dillon.” He sneered. “He’s still around?”

“Not anymore,” the speedster said darkly. “He was a metahuman…some kind of tornado-hurricane-spinning abilities. Cisco called him Topsy-Turvy, but after he just kept coming and coming…it was an accident, but he died.”

“How did he hurt Lisa?”

“As far as we can tell…She was working on some sort of mercenary work or something, and he was robbing a bank, and they…literally ran into each other. She got thrown into a wall, got a knock on the head, and apparently the concussion triggered some kind of ability she didn’t know about.”

“She wasn’t in Central—”

“When the Particle Accelerator blew.” Barry nodded. “Yeah, we know.” He winced. “You’re not gonna like our theory on that.”

“Why not?” Len asked, very slowly.

“Because it might be my fault.”

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Turns out…I kind of…give off small amounts of Dark Matter because of the Speed Force…mostly when I run.”

“And?”

“And, the people that I transport, if they carry a metahuman gene, could, theoretically, absorb that Dark Matter in the same way that people affected by the Particle Accelerator did…and, theoretically, this would make them more likely to develop an ability when exposed to violent trauma.” A pause. “I transported Lisa a handful of times when we were helping you guys last year, and even before that for different reasons.”

Len didn’t say anything to this, instead looking down at his hands.

“I’m sorry, Len,” Barry said quietly. “If I’d known…”

“It’s not your fault,” he told him. “You didn’t know.”

“I…”

“Not every bad thing that happens is your fault, Scarlet,” Len said with a smirk. “It’s alright.”

Barry huffed. “Fine.” He was quiet for a minute. “If you want, I can take you to her. You know, so you can see for yourself.”

He thought about it for a bit before shaking his head. “No,” he decided. “If she’s getting what she needs, I don’t want to interrupt it. If Cisco does tell her and she wants to see me, I’ll go, but for now, she needs her rest.”

The speedster nodded in understanding. “Okay.” His phone was still ringing, and he looked at it. “I’m just gonna tell them that everything is fine.”

He picked up the device, ignoring the calls, and opened the group chat, which was full of about a hundred messages that all said pretty much the same thing. He sent out a text saying, Yeah, he’s here. Just wants to talk about some stuff. Everything is fine. Thanks, I’ll let you know later. Love you guys.

With that, Barry sighed and slipped the phone into his pocket. “So, what are you going to do now?” he asked the former villain.

Len just smiled. “Not sure. I could go back to robbing banks…but I don’t really need the money. Maybe I’ll offer your team some help in Central.”

“What do you mean, you don’t need the money?” His eyes narrowed.

“Blowing up the Oculus had a few benefits.” He shrugged. “I know all the lottery numbers for the next five years. I’ve already made four-hundred grand.”

“Len…”

“Technically not a crime.”

“Still.” Barry shook his head with a deep sigh. “Fine, whatever. Well, I’m sure STAR Labs could use the help. And I’ll be back in no time…as soon as I finish this course, which is…not what I expected.”

“Too hard?”

“Too easy,” he corrected, scoffing. “I’ve read all the material, and the projects are all…solved with very little effort. Nothing near as challenging as my actual job in Central. Science there is always complicated.”

“Because of the metas.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Superpowers make regular science look way easier than it did in college.” He nodded at the computer. “Actually, after the paper I’m working on right now, I only have two more and a final exam. I could be done by next week, if I wanted. I just don’t want Singh to think I rushed through it.”

“He already trusts you more than any other CSI, Barry. I think he trusts you to do the work on your own schedule.”

“Maybe.”

“Then I’ll see you back in Central next week.”

“I—”

“Next week, Barry.”

A sigh. “Fine. Next week.” His phone buzzed, he looked at the message and laughed. “Harry says your sister is attempting a prison break to try to see you. You might want to visit her.”

Len chuckled. “Alright then. I suppose it’s time to tell her what’s happened.” He stood, holding out a hand when Barry followed suit. When their hands clasped, the villain-turned-legend pulled the speedster forward until they were almost hugging. “I’ll see you soon, Scarlet.”

“See you soon, Cold.”

And with the press of a button, Len was gone, leaving Barry to wonder exactly what just happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6 Weeks Later

“Barry…”

“Iris…”

She sighed. “This is getting unprofessional.”

He laughed, a little nervous. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Len.” It had taken a while for everyone to get used to each other, but now he was just Len instead of Cold. Progress. “You guys have got to stop flirting in the field. It’s weird.”

“We do not flirt.”

“You’re literally blushing, Barry.” Her tone was amused now. “Do you have a crush?”

“Iris,” the speedster all but whined, pulling a t-shirt over his head. “This is weird.”

“Why? Because we dated?”

“Yes!”

“Barely.” Iris rolled her eyes. “Barry, it’s fine. You have a crush on Len, it’s fine…but you should probably tell him.”

“No!” he said immediately. “No, that’s—That’s a bad idea.”

“Why? I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

That made him pause. “Really?” He bit his lip, looking at her. “You think so?”

“Lisa keeps teasing him about it.” She nodded. “And you’re both clearly attracted to each other, and you’re always flirting, so…Why not just come out and say it?”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.”

“What if it ends badly?”

“What if it doesn’t?” Iris laughed brightly. “Barry, sometimes you get in your own way. You just gotta go for it sometimes. Take a leap of faith. It’s gonna be okay.”

Barry was quiet for a long time, and Iris eventually left him to his own devices.

Ultimately, he decided to go for it; he went to find Len. Unsurprisingly, he was at “their” spot: a diner across from Jitters and CCPD, filled with leather booths and chrome and the smell of fresh homemade pie.

Barry slid into the booth across from Len, who looked up from his phone with a smile. “Hey, Scarlet. Look at this.”

He turned the device around so the speedster could see. “What’s that? Oh—Oh, that’s so cool!” He grinned. “Lisa-Squared?”

“Yeah. Lisa drew up the models, and Doc built it. It came out pretty neat, I think.”

“It did, yeah. I like the melting feature—there won’t be ice-streaks all over the city.” He laughed. “Of course they’re gold—Lisa’s choice, I’m sure.”

“Naturally.” Len shrugged. “You can’t take the Gold out of the Glider, I guess. Not completely.”

“No, I guess not.” Barry leaned his head on his palm, elbow on the table.

The newly-branded Citizen Cold raised a brow and put his phone away. “Something on your mind, Barry?”

He shrugged. “Iris came to talk to me today.”

“What about?”

“She said that we flirt a lot when we’re in the field.” He scrunched his nose. “I told her she was crazy, and she looked at me like I was an idiot…not unlike you’re looking at me right now, Len—what the hell?”

“Barry,” he said quietly, slowly, “I don’t know how to break this to you, but almost everything we say to each other is banter…which is a form of flirting.”

“But—But,” Barry sputtered. “But!”

“What’s wrong, Scarlet?” Len teased. “Can’t keep up?”

He frowned, almost pouting. “You never said anything,” he accused.

The other man shrugged. “I was told not to.”

“By who?”

“By you. Older you—The one who brought me back. He said you had to figure it out on your own.”

Barry stammered again, arms flailing. “What the hell!” he said, frustrated. “That’s stupid!”

“You’re calling yourself an idiot?” Len clarified.

“Yes! I’m an idiot, now, but like—that’s just stupid.” He sighed. “I mean, I guess it makes sense to keep the timeline the way it should be. But still.”

They were both quiet for a long minute. Long enough for a waitress to come by and take drink orders and then bring them back.

Once she disappeared, Barry took a sip of his soda and then suddenly blurted, “Will you go with me to Jesse’s party on Earth-2 this weekend?”

Len raised a brow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? That’s a lot of pressure.”

“It’s just a party, Len,” he said with a grin. “All our friends will be there, and we can be together without doing the awkward first-date thing…I mean, we already did a lot of that without realizing. Unless you want to…”

There was a pause as he thought about it, enough to make Barry almost panic, but Len nodded slowly. “Alright. But I have two requests.”

“Shoot.”

“One: If Caitlin makes her Speedster Alcohol, you have to stop drinking at least two hours before we leave. I want you sober when we head out.”

“Why?”

“Because, two: I want to go for a walk. We’re not doing the first-date-awkward dinner thing, and movies aren’t something we have time for, but we can go for a walk and talk about things.” A pause. “It’s important, to me.”

Barry thought about this, about what it might mean, but he didn’t see a reason to say no. Besides… “That sounds nice. Okay. I won’t drink too much, and I’ll stop before we leave so we can go talk. It’s a deal.”

“It’s a date, Scarlet.”

“A date, Cold.”