#open door policy means anyone can walk in SIR

[thresholdbb]

Michael Sullivan: That’s a fine tattoo. Are you off a ship?

Chakotay: You could say that

[lostlovesoul11]

[OPEN WIDE ]

[PART 2]

pairing: fuckboy haechan x reader

including best friends: jaemin, jeno and jaehyun x ( ft teacher doyoung)

don't read if underage pls 18+ content

warnings: pure smut, exhibitionist kink, double penetration, orgy, anal sex, overstimulation, voyuerism, orgasm denial, edging, oral sex, blowjobs, cum, breast play, teasing, creampies, teacher, univeristy, classroom, getting caught, needy reader, name calling, sir kink, needy hyuck, jealous fucking, mastermind hyuck, slight sadist, masturbation, slight humiliation, shame, pure filth, desperation, spankings, choking.

word count: 4.6k

[probably is my longest fic I've written, got too carried away lmao, didn't think of doing this but did and ofc had to add my fav doyoung. thank you everyone who have been liking all my posts esp part 1 of this story which received the most notes! by no means I'm no writer or anything of such, I just like reading smut and started writing it for myself randomly until I received likes on my posts lol]

PART 1

[17.28pm] Haechan: ready to get your mouth stretched out again slut?

the message come on to your screen and excitement gushed through you. Its been weeks since you felt so good, yes you've been with other guys at uni but something about haechan and his friends was so so different. you had the fucking time of your life. but there is also something bothering you. you don't normally let guys fuck you, you just let them use your mouth. its a strict policy you have. after having Haechan's request done, you really want to change that. you want them to use your body and every hole of yours too.

[18.02PM] You: I'm ready. When and where?

[18.03PM] Haechan: Meet us in the classroom behind the lecture room, tommrow. At 5pm. Don't be late slut.

[18.04PM] You: okay I'll be there.

you felt quite confused? being used to committing your sexual acts in the guys bathrooms, this is something new. this time you really have no idea what to expect, you're conflicted in the mind yet tempted to see what's in store for you.

the day finally arrives. in each lecture you could barely even concentrate thinking of what is possibly going down later. one of your lectures, your teacher Mr Doyoung even noticed you wasn't being attentive as you normally do. he clears his throat before he speaks.

  "Can you pay attention, this is really important information for your assignment". Mr Doyoung said.

"Sorry sir I will pay attention now" you responded.

"what is wrong with me? you think to yourself. its not like its your first time doing sexual things, however its different with Haechan and his friends. you do not know what to expect especially after his wild request. curious thoughts is all you have now.

finally you finished your lecture. most people had left to go since classes are finished for today. so here you was looking at the time on your phone, exactly 4.55pm. to be honest you felt something tight in your chest. perhaps nervousness. you normally are the one in control on what and where to be, you know what to expect but this time, the very first time you don't have the control. it does make you feel slight anxious, not knowing what to expect. and the thought of being in a classroom where anyone can walk in to does make you feel somewhat nervous. its a first to let others take the lead. you tell yourself its going to be just fine, small breathes. you want this just as badly. You already feel arousal thinking about the last time. there you are, walking towards the lecture. it was empty, no one at sight. you felt relieved and walked your way to the hidden classroom behind. just as you opened the door, you see Haechan sat right on the chair. you felt aroused just by seeing his beautiful face and sexy thighs well spread out.

"5 minutes early huh? Someone is pretty eager to get stuffed with a bunch of cocks"

he walks over to you taking slow and intimidating steps. you dont realise that you've pushed yourself behind a wall. no where else to walk back. stopped at your tracks, you finally made eye contact. Haechan's gaze is so intense, watching you in amusement seeing you look so confused and startled. he leans in closer giving a cold whisper. "You're probably wondering why I choose this place, right?" he said it in a sultry voice. feeling shivers going down your body,  having no idea why you can barely say a word. ever since you came across Haechan, he left a quite different impression. he was intimidating yet nice? he brings his finger on your mouth, you felt desperate being the needy bitch you are and sucked it. He laughed, "you're cute".

but it seems like he had other plans. he brought his fingers down to your chest, circling your hardened nipples then pinching them hard. "Mmmm." slowly trailing his finger further down to your wet panties. "Tsk I've barely even touched you and you're already soaked, slut". you let out small moans. just having him at close proximity to your body, moving his fingers makes you feel so frustrated.

"You think I didn't notice you begging to get your pussy touched that day?". you felt  exposed infront of Haechan, he manages to see right through your acts despite you not trying to show it. the sudden intrusion of his finger inside of your wet pussy makes you gasp so hard, "fuck! you moaned out. He pulled his finger out without warning, leaving you deprived. "Hae-chan please.." you begged. He grabbed on to your hair and pulled it hard. "Answer me slut!". You felt so deprived and wanting him inside badly. "Yes, yes Haechan I..  wanted my pussy touched.. i wanted to feel everyone's cock.. inside of me..". Haechan got his fingers near your folds, teasing you before he shoved them deep inside. "Fuck haechan.. your fingers feels so..good" you immediately started riding his fingers like its a cock, loving the way they feel inside of you. "Be a good slut and make my fingers dirty" he says and you felt yourself coming to climax. His fingers felt like heaven, you couldn't stop moaning out and creating a mess. As he got his fingers out, haechan seductively sucked your wetness off. "Mm taste so sweet my pretty slut".

it was weird to think only Haechan was here. To be honest he created a bigger impression on you. before you entered you had wished to see him first, you know how he makes you feel with his dirty words and gaze. you love how he knows how much of a slut you are. just as that happened, the classroom door opened. Walking inside you see familiar faces, Jaemin, Jaehyun and Jeno.

"Yo haechan why you always first?" Jaemin asks. To be fair even you wondered the same thing too.

"Had the stretch the pussy out before you fuckers get inside it".

"Damn her panties are soaking bad, so eager to feel us inside?" Jeno said.

"Clothes off now" Jaehyun ordered as he pointed at you.

you begin to strip your clothes off after Jaehyun demanded you. Jaemin told you to leave your soaked panties on whilst you removed the bra. the guys were in awe of your body, an hour glass shape with a nice ass and perky tits. instantly you felt all hands touching your body. Every hand made you feel a bolt of electricity in your body, never feeling such exposure of four guys watching you without anything on. making you feel sensations you've never felt before.

Jaemin came from behind and pulled you down to sit on his lap, feeling his hard cock against your ass. as you did, Jaehyun moved his hands to your tits and cupped them in his hands.

"So nice and juicy" immediately noticing how hard your nipples are he took the left breast in his mouth and sucked it off. massaging the right breast before he brings his whole mouth inside of it. "Mmm.." you started to moan. Jaehyun looks so attractive having your tits inside his mouth. The thought of sharing every part of yourself to everyone made you so so wet. "You like when I suck your plump tits don't you?"

"Yes.. Jaehyun I love it..".

when Jeno was approaching closer, you subconsciously spread your legs. "Fucking needy bitch" he said as he moved your panties aside, watching how your pussy is dripping. "Look at this pussy begging to get fucked" Jeno brings himself between your legs, moving his tongue all around your pussy and entrance, swirling his tongue onto your clit. you felt his tongue enter inside of you and penetrate through your pussy. "You like having Jaehyun touch your tits whilst I tongue fuck your pussy, don't you slut?". "Mmm feels so good.. more Jeno".

Haechan tells everyone to stop and get you  on the desk. Jaemin picks you up and places you on the desk. "Please fuck my pussy.." you whined out.

"Go on Jeno, fuck the slut" said Haechan. You was surprised he didn't want to nor did he touch you after what happened. Lowkey missing the feeling of Haechan's touch and wanted to feel him so badly. But ofcourse Haechan had other plans. He just wanted to watch you get used.

Jeno comes near the opening of your pussy and puts his head inside, then his inches until he was all the way in. "Fuck you gasped. Jeno had a huge cock. He began to grind himself on to you. Whilst he was fucking you into you, Jaehyun and Jaemin got their hard cocks out. You had your eyes closed in pleasure not realising that someone took your wrist. Jaemin got your hand on to his cock and made you stroke him. He was masturbating off with your hand. you gripped on to his hard cock and let him use your hand as a guide to pleasure himself. Meanwhile, Jaehyun rubbed his cock, grabbing your hair he pushed his cock inside of your mouth. "Her wet pussy feels so good around my cock, suprised a slut like you has such a tight pussy mm" as Jeno moved his pace faster quickly.

"Fuck you use your mouth so well slut" Jaehyun says bringing his cock out, rubbing it on your wet lips before he enters inside your wet mouth once again. you moaned yourself on his cock as you felt pleasure in all ways. Jeno was fucking you so good, feeling his hard strokes hit you. using your tongue you swirled it all over Jaehyun's cock. "Don't tease me with your tongue slut, im coming inside of your pussy".

you felt so deserpate with your moans as you got every part of you used. Jeno went faster, feeling shivers down your spine as you both moved fast. "Fuck gonna cum inside this dirty pussy of yours" he says, feeling the hot cum drip inside of your pussy.

"Jaehyun you're next to fuck her".

he was so excited to finally get inside of you.

immediately got his cock inside of you and began thrusting. "Fuck such a wet pussy making my cock feel soaked".

you love getting your pussy used by us don't you whore?" You didnt answer him so he thrusted into you harder, making you gasp out loud. "Yes! I love getting my pussy destroyed by everyone's cock..  feels so good".

Jaemin was getting too desperate. He wanted to feel how its like inside of your tight hole. Suddenly you felt yourself get lifted and placed on his lap. This was different, you felt his cock insert inside of your tight ass hole. "Oh my.. god fuck Jaemin!".

"Fuck me, ever had your ass fucked slut?". You nodded no. Jaemin slid his cock inside of your ass, you moaned in pain and pleasure. Holding you by the hips, burying his cock deep inside of your ass. "Lads her ass is the tightest.. fuck she's clenching my cock already". Moving around he changed positions, standing behind you instead,  making your legs spread out. Jaemin spits right inside your ass making it extra wet and pleasureable. You loved feeling Jaemin in your ass, looking back at him with tears begging to feel his cock inside again. "Want to feel your cock... Jaemin please give me".

"Such a needy cockslut, can't get enough of having your pussy fucked that you need my cock inside your ass too".

Jaemin thrusted inside of you from behind, "fucking slut, want me to fuck my cum inside of your tight hole?".

He kept thrusting deeper, seeing you in pain that changed into pleasure because you loved feeling him inside of your ass. Jaehyun made you sit on him instead. "Ride my cock whore wanna see those tits bounce". You start slowly riding but clearly wasn't enough for Jaehyun. "So fucking useless, want me to do all the work you slut". 

Hugging on to your upper body tightly with his arms wrapped around you, he forced his cock inside your pussy. His pace was roughness, you felt sweaty and slightly out of place. "Fuckkkk this.. feels so nice".

"Bitch you like the way I fuck your used pussy like this" feeling Jaemin hit harder strokes into your ass the pleasure of feeling penetrated at the same time was the best feeling you ever had. "She loves it bro, she can't wait for us to make her holes dirty".

"You love having Jaemin fuck your ass while I fuck your dirty pussy up don't you slut".

"Yes love feeling you both inside me, want to be filled".

Jaehyun fastens his pace as he can feel you clench on his cock. You're literally a soaking mess. "Fuck bro I've never seen a slut's pussy so wet" Jeno said. You bring your hand on Jeno's cock desperate to have inside your wrecked mouth.

"Jeno fuck her mouth up".

As he heard that, Jeno entered his huge cock inside of your mouth. Giving it slow strokes, you felt tears coming down your face. It was too overwhelming and overstimulating for you to have 3 cocks at the same time. But you fucking loved it. "Mmmh love feeling my holes fucked up like this.. feels.. too... too.. good"

"Fucking slut having three guys fuck all your holes, so pathetic" Haechan said.

you wanted Haechan to join in too but he was too sick. He thrived off watching you be a pure slut, degraded and used.

you feel the cocks inside of you twitch. "Gonna dirty your asshole with my cum whore", as Jaemin thrusted hard once more and cummed inside of your ass. At the same time, Jaehyun also fucked his cum inside of your wet pussy. the feeling of having cum run down from your ass to your pussy was amazing, feeling used by both.

"You love having mine and Jaemin's cum inside of you, making your holes filled with cum slut".

you couldn't even speak because Jeno was stroking himself inside your mouth. Soon enough you felt him grunt hard and he shot his hot cum inside of your mouth, which you swallowed all up. "Such a dirty girl she is, got all 3 cum in her holes" Jeno said.

"She likes getting used, look at her she's begging to get Haechan to touch her after taking our cocks the slut".

"Little whore still not satisfied is she? After we destroyed each hole of yours with our cum". Jaemin said.

"Did my pretty slut enjoy having all holes filled up"? Haechan held your chin up. Its the first contact he's had with you since.

"Yes.. i loved it.. so so much but..."

"But what?"

"Want to feel you fuck me Haechan" you said in your wrecked up state.

He smirked, then pulled you by the hair. "Really are a cumslut ain't you? Desperate to get touched by me so bad."

just as he spoke, someone tried to open the door. Everyone panicked slightly because who the hell could it be right now?

Haechan scoffed. He felt annoyed because he was just about to have his turn and someone interrupted.

as you looked up, it was none other than your teacher, Mr Doyoung.

"What on earth is going on here?!!'' As he walked in seeing you fucked out with cum everywhere. Feeling suddenly humiliated and caught out.

Mr Doyoung closed the door behind him as he entered the classroom heading towards everyone.

"*readers name* seriously? Aren't you ashamed of yourself doing such acts? The rumours I heard were right then."

"Sir, please.. its not what you think. Im sorry".

"Guys I'm disappointed in you all. Haven't you heard of the saying, "sharing is caring?". Mr Doyoung smirked.

"Woah you nearly scared us Mr Doyoung" Jaemin said. Everyone laughed.

"Ofcourse we can share her, sluts like her just want every cock inside her pussy." Jaehyun said.

Mr Doyoung made his way to your body. He wasted no time and removed his pants. his cock was out, rubbing himself all over your tits. you'd be lying if you said you never found Mr Doyoung attractive. He looked so sexy during your lectures, you can barely focus when he's teaching you. the times where you had a wet dreams about him, having his cock inside. this felt so surreal. no way is it coming true?

"Ever felt a grown cock like this before pretty girl?"

"No.. sir i have not".

"Going to be a good girl and use that slutty mouth of yours to good use".

he pushes his cock into your mouth. loving the way his cock is feeling inside of you. Your warm wet mouth making his cock sloppy. "Fuck those rumours weren't a lie, got a good mouth on you".

Using your hands and giving it fast strokes, teasing the tip of cock with your tongue.

"I bet you always wondered how i would feel inside your mouth, stretching that pretty mouth of yours, right?"

"Mmm yes.. sir always"

"Shit... fucking love when you innocently called me sir during lectures, made me want to bend you over my desk and fuck that little pussy of yours. But little did i know, you're just a massive slut begging to get stuffed".

Before Mr Doyoung was about to cum, he shoved his cock inside of your cum filled pussy. "Is this why you wasn't paying attention in class? Thinking about having everyone's cock buried inside your pussy?" you just kept moaning feeling so much pleasure. "Answer my question" Mr Doyoung said as he gave a hard stroke for not answering his question.

"Yes sir.. was thinking of getting my pussy filled.."

unbelievable he thought. "If you make me cum like a good slut you are, I'll give you an A grade for your assignment". What a tempting offer that was. Obviously you would agree because your a slut after all. "Ofcourse sir I'm doing a good job aren't I? love feeling your cock inside me. Please dirty my pussy with your cum sir...please sir always thought of getting fucked by you".

Mr Doyoung obviously couldn't control it any longer and started moaning. Fuck his moans were just as gorgeous as his face, pleasing to hear. In no time he shot his cum directly inside of your pussy.

"Such a good slut you are, love how your pussy feels filled inside".

Haechan was watching everything play out infront of him. its what he wanted to see and planned for you. to be extremely fucked out of your brains, wrecked and stuffed with everyone's cum. he did feel somewhat jealous, how you was praising Mr Doyoung and others. wanting to give you his final form, he awaited. the mixed feelings inside of him growing, anger, frustrated, needy and jealously raging, he was so aroused. you looked up and saw him approach you. feeling so much emotions at once. Fear. Excitement.

"Missed me?" Haechan said. you nodded so fast, he was finally giving you attention.

He knew you loved his fingers. A bit too much. so he purposely teased you, having his fingers inside and the other is rubbing your bruised clit. "Hae-chan you.. make me feel so good.." you were a moaning mess for him. How easily you was submissive to him. Haechan saw how your legs were beginning to tremble and he quickly stopped and pulled his fingers out of you. "What the fuck Haechan-"

"Haven't you had enough fucking all my friends and Mr Doyoung? "Don't you have any respect for yourself? Shameless slut, wish your parents could see how much of a slut they have raised".

you felt too fucked out of your brains, you just need haechan inside of you right now.

"Please.. Haechan.. need you so badly" you literally sobbed as you spoke. As much as you loved fucking everyone in the room, Haechan was the one who made you feel the most without doing much. You've had a lingering tension with him since the first day. You always wondered how it would feel being wrapped by his beautiful cock.

you was slightly embarrassed having to beg infront of everyone. everyone easily gave into you except Haechan and that mere fact made you want him even more.

so desperate, you kneeled infront of him, perky tits out with your mouth wide open. Haechan couldn't take it anymore, seeing you be so submissive for him wanting him in any way he wants. he brings his cock out and your eyes widen. Its not the first time seeing his cock but its the best one you've seen. a thick grith and beautiful veins appearing. "Please" you quietly whined out. "Please what slut?" Your mouth was salivating just seeing it. "Want to feel you in my mouth". "My horny little slut, I'll let you do what you want if you earn it." He said.

you smiled and started touching up his thighs, then leaving kisses making your way up higher. suddenly feeling his cock on your face, you got your tongue out and swirled the base of his shaft to the tip. as you kept swirling his tip, you closed your mouth and ran it over your wet lips.

"Tsk that's not really earning it slut, seems like you don't want me to be inside of you"

Hearing his response you took his whole thick grith inside of your warm mouth. You pulled his cock out as you kept shoving it deeper inside your mouth.

"That's much better slut"

just as you was continuing to take his length all the way in he stopped you.

"What.. happened, didn't I earn it?" With a confused look to your face.

"Eh you earned somewhat but I guess maybe not enough for me to fuck you"

you was annoyed, still sexually frustrated yet tolerated everything. all you want is to feel him inside of you. being the desperate slut you are, you began to suck your own tits seductively, trying to get him to fuck you. No response. he just watched you like it was pathetic. Its not that he didn't like your huge tits, fuck he loved them. but he wanted to see how much more you'd beg. Being the slut you are, you bent over exposing your plumped ass. getting the saliva from your mouth to your fingers, placing them directly inside of your hole. All whilst watching him. "Please Haechan.. want your fingers in me the most. It feels so much better with yours than any one else's".

"Not gonna lie she looks fucking sexy right now". Jaemin said and began to stroke himself off to you.

"Having four cocks in every hole still aint enough you slut?" Jeno speaks.

"She's our cumdump for a reason, she loved having me inside that pussy" Jaehyun said.

It slightly annoys him hearing everyone comment on their experiences. The way you your pussy was swallowng their cocks inside and taking all their cum because your everyone's little cumdump. Haechan can't resist any longer and walks over to you. He spanked you so hard you whimpered. And he continued spanking you as your ass is bent over. The hurt you feel and can tell your ass is bruised already. Purposely you shake your ass only to receive the biggest spanks. "Fuckk.. you already can feel the pain as he hits you hard. You lost count of the amount of spankings given, feeling mixture of pleasure and pain. Moaning and crying out. Haechan stops it. His fingers stroked you and felt your pussy.

"You're dripping wet slut".

"Please ..Haechan" you say.

"Please fucking what?"

"Please fuck me please" in desperation you say.

"Oh you want me now?" as he cockily says.

"Yes, I want you inside of me"

"I'm already inside of you, slut" as he shoved his fingers into you deeply.

you moaned and sighed, "want more hae-chan.. want your cock inside..me"

"Now you all will be watching how I fuck this needy slut of mine".

as he came forward he touched your nipples, playing with his fingers before he brought them inside his mouth and sucked.

He didn't wait much until he used his hands to cock your pussy up. Without knowing what's coming, he slammed his cock right inside of you. "Hae-chan.. fu-ck..." as he  thrusts almost savagely. You was so loud, a bit too loud. But that's what he wanted. wanted you to scream out his name so others could hear. That you're so desperate to have him than others. Your throat was hurting and struggled slightly to keep at it until you find his hands squeezing your throat, tightly. Finding that so arousing, your pussy literally tightened around his cock. This was far more brutal than others, you knew it was punishment of some sort and to always remember this day. feeling the tears coming down your fucked up face, barely having your eyes opened. He was balls deep inside of your pussy, thrusting in and out. Haechan fucked you like you were a useless toy and you loved it. Feeling used and for others to fuck themselves on. "Look at how tight your pussy is around my cock, so fucking good". You can hear him groaning near you. "Do my friends fuck you better like I do?"

"No.. only you can!". He rams his cock even deep "you seemed to love having them stuff your ass and pussy full of their cum don't you? Loved the way Jaemin streched your tight ass hole out?". The only thing leaving your mouth are whimpers. "Even had a wet dream you said about Mr Doyoung, can he fuck you like this?"

"No.. Haechan.. only you fuck me dumb"

"See, only I know the way to pleasure you properly, had you begging for me even after having 4 cocks inside that dirty pussy of yours, fucking slut" he spat at your face.

"If you wanna act like a slut, then I'll treat you like one".

His hands roaming all over your body, his touch felt so over powering on you. You can almost feel yourself getting off. Just as you thought, haechan's thrusting got even violent. "O... my god... hae-chan...fuck..!" you orgasmed so hard. Feeling quite light headed, he grabbed on to you tightly. You felt overwhelmed by this pleasure.

"Such a hot fucking slut, letting me take you from the ass. Only my cum makes you feel this good, only i know how to use your body, fill you up well, my personal slut".

Hearing his words just overwhelm you even more, making you feel pleasured and satisfied.

by each thrust getting deeper, you hear the way haechan moans out loudly. you love the sound of his moans, pretty like him. your wet pussy immediately clenched around his cock making him release a loud moan. he filled you up nicely, his hot cum shot inside of you making your hole dirty. he pulled his cock out and the remaining cum was dripping down to your thighs and legs.

"Don't bother cleaning it up, want you to go outside and show everyone what a slut you are. Desperate to have my cum on you like a needy bitch"

you looked back and saw everyone was literally getting off to you, cum dripping down their cocks. they watched the way Haechan fucked you so dumb. what a fucking slut you are.

smiling, you felt so satisfied. having not 4 but 5 cocks inside of you. loving the way and how different each felt. you won't lie, Haechan was your favourite, your glad he waited til last because he fucked you stupid. It felt nice to hear how angry he got since you get off those things. It made your pussy even sensitive and throbbing like crazy.

"My pretty slut did well taking all of our cocks inside your tight pussy, making us stretch not only your mouth but dirty pussy wide" Haechan says as he puts his thumb in your mouth as you sucked.

©2022 lostlovesoul11 all rights reserved.

[fuwushiguro]

@dabitdabi Welcome to playmate life gorgeous! Hawks is one of my favourites to write so thank you so much for sending him my way, I hope this is worth the wait!!

This is part of my Playboy Mansion event, feel free to participate!!

Hawks x f!reader

Genre: smut, (idk if this might be a bit fluffy too??)

Warnings: 18+, virginity loss, consensual sex, mentions of alcohol, oral (female receiving), fingering, mentions of cum, vaginal sex, unprotected sex.

Words: 3.5k

This wasn’t your first Playboy party, and you were sure it wouldn’t be your last. You’d been working as a bunny for around three months now, the first party was a little overwhelming, but the other girls were more than happy to hold your hand through the whole experience. The more parties you attended, the more comfortable you became. You never worried about guests being inappropriate, you weren’t just employees to your boss. You were bunnies, and you deserved to be treated with respect like everyone else attending the parties, you were the stars and made these extravagant events what they were.

You knew being a bunny came with the connotation of being hypersexualised, but becoming a bunny was too good of an opportunity to pass up. You weren’t one of the most popular bunnies since you were a little shy, but you were known by all of the guests who regularly attended these parties. You were often tagged in photos where you’d posed with guests. They’d always leave little comments that made you smile. You had the best job in the world.

Your first instance of trouble came at this particular party. You’d never experienced any guests acting unseemly, but this evening was different. You leaned over the bar to collect a tray of shots to walk around with, when you felt somebody tug on the tail attached to your corset. You ignored it at first, understanding that guests enjoyed playing with the bunnies. However when the assailant delivered a stinging spank to your ass cheek, your attention snapped in their direction. You recognised the man, he was a gruff looking entrepreneur who’s name you couldn’t place right now. It was apparent that he was drunk, you hoped it was just a little bit of teasing. He became a little more aggressive with you, begging you to kiss him and spend the night with him. There were no members of security nearby, but a few of your fellow bunnies did their best to help you get away from him, to no avail.

“Hey, get away from her.” You heard someone speak. You turned to face the soft voice, and struggled to see the man who had came to your defence through your bleary eyes. The drunk man tried to argue. Quickly you rubbed the droplets out of your vision so you could see who was helping you. Before the drunkard could state his case, your rescuer had grabbed him and pulled him towards a member of security to deal with. Some of your friends crowded you and coddled you, making sure you were okay after what happened. The blonde-haired hero came to check on you once he’d dealt with the situation. Before you could think, you rose to your feet with tears flowing from your eyes and ran to the nearest bathroom. You locked yourself in a stall while you broke down, feeling bad that your makeup would be ruined. You hoped that you wouldn’t get in too much trouble for taking the rest of the night off, but you’re sure that the other girls would defend you and explain the situation. You wouldn’t be surprised if the man who groped you got banned from attending these parties. There is a strict policy against any fornication at work, it was a fireable offence. But guests also had a one strike and you’re out rule, they mostly knew better than to try anything as brash as that man had, but he’d regret it now that he wouldn’t be invited to return ever again.

While you continued to cry, you heard the door squeak open, and footsteps approach your stall. You sniffed slightly, but mostly tried to calm yourself down. You couldn’t cry all evening after all, you didn’t want to give yourself a headache. You waited for the person to reveal themselves, assuming it was one of your friends. It would have been hard to tell who was who from the crack under the stall door. You were all in the same uniforms after all. But the shoes were nothing like your uniforms. It was a man, clearly, wearing a pair of bulky black boots and tan trousers.

“Um,” You sniffed, “Sir this is the ladies bathroom.” You alerted him, sure he already knew.

“Yeah, I know, I just wanted to check on you birdie.” He spoke back to you.

“I’m a bunny not a bird.” You corrected him, completely glossing over the pet name he’d decided to give you.

“Yeah I was just, never mind… You’re okay right? Can you come out here?” He queried. Obvious concern in his voice. You declined, you didn’t want him to see you like this. Your eyes were clouded with unshed tears. Your mascara had ran down your cheeks and you were sure your foundation underneath had probably ran too. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer, he asked you again… and again… and again…

“Fine.” You responded.

You flushed your crumpled up pieces of tear-stained toilet roll away and unlocked the door. His expression flickered from concern to sympathy as he saw how upset you were. You walked by him so that you could wash your hands, and you noticed in the mirror that he walked into the cubicle you’d just left. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but he returned to your side with several layers of toilet roll. When you washed and dried your hands, he ran the toilet roll under the tap. He cupped your face in one of his hands and lightly dabbed the damp tissue into your cheeks and under eyes. He was trying to help you; he was trying to tidy up your appearance. Why was he being so sweet?

“I think that just might make it worse.” You announced, knowing you were right.

“Okay then. Show me what I need to do.” He requested, “Please let me help you, I don’t want to see you upset like this over that scumbag.” He explained. Your heart clenched a little he was so caring and considerate; you could almost feel your heart melting. You took him by the hand and led him out of the bathrooms. You knew there were a lot of areas off limits and you’d risk losing your job, but you wanted to spend more time with your saviour and give him the chance to help you out again.

☆ ☆ ☆

You brought him to the bunny dressing room. You barged in with him assuming your co-workers wouldn’t be here, but one of them was sitting in a dressing chair topping up her makeup.

“You know you can’t bring people in here to hook up!” She reminded you.

“We aren’t here for that!” You protested, feeling extremely embarrassed. You felt the heat rise to your face and you tried to change the subject, “He just saved me from some trouble, please don’t tell anyone, he’s just checking on me.” You stated, hoping she’d take pity on you.

“Oh I don’t care, you know I won’t tell. I’m just about finished here so I’ll let you love birds do what you need to do.” She teased as she exited the glamorous pink dressing room.

You tried to protest once again before she left but it was too late. The honey-haired man smiled but decided not to join in the teasing. He simply requested that you show him what he needed to do to help you fix your makeup. But instead, you gave him your removal kit. You were done for the evening, there was no way you could go back to work when you felt the way you did. You both smiled and giggled sweetly as he did his best to remove your makeup for you. You chatted a little and got to know each other better, you found out his name was Keigo and he was a friend of the hosts. Once your makeup was off, you gave him a grateful, “thanks” and stood to your feet. The least you could do was escort him back downstairs before you turned in for the night.

“You know angel, you look just as cute without makeup as you do with.” He told you. You were stopped in your tracks as you couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. “Don’t you wanna hang out a little while before I have to leave?” He wondered, hoping you’d stick around. You knew that you shouldn’t, but you were too drawn to the handsome stranger that you couldn’t resist. You sat back down on the comfortable carpet with him and couldn’t help but coyly shy as he stared deeply into your eyes.

“Thanks again for saving me Keigo.” You repeated, you were so grateful for his help. You were sure that security would have helped you sooner or later, but you were truly fortunate that Keigo had been there to rescue you from his clutches.

“It really shook you up, didn’t it baby?” He sweetly questioned, “Have you never had to deal with something like that before?” He added. You shook your head.

“It was scary, obviously, but it wasn’t just that.” You expressed, not sure why you felt so comfortable sharing your personal life with this man.

“What do you mean?” He asked you, placing a hand on your leg. He stroked over your pantyhose with his thumb as he held onto you.

“Oh… I’m not sure I should say,” You started, “It’s a little embarrassing.” You followed. He didn’t speak, instead he just stared intensely into your sweet eyes, willing you to continue if you felt like it. You kept stuttering, starting and stopping your sentence as you tried to get the confidence to confide in him.

“Birdie, I promise I won’t judge you if you want to tell me.” He soothed, hoping to help you get your words out.

“It’s just… I’ve never…” You began. You screwed your eyes shut as you couldn’t bare to look at him when you finished your sentence, “I’m a virgin.” You blurted out. Your eyes were already closed but you felt so exposed you decided to cover your face with your hands too. You were so embarrassed; you were sitting with a guy who seemed too cool for school and probably had a wild sex life. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you opened your eyes and he was gone. But instead, you felt him grab your wrists and remove your hands from your face. Instinctively you opened your eyes, and right at that moment Keigo planted a delicate kiss onto your lips.

“I’m sorry if that was a little forward, I just wanted to show you it doesn’t bother me.” He smiled as he parted from your lips slightly. It was your first kiss, you weren’t upset. If anyone had to steal your first kiss, you weren’t mad about it being this beautiful stranger.

“Can we, um, do that again?” You asked, the words left your mouth and you instantly began to cringe. You hated how awkward you were, but he just had this effect on you. But before you could overthink your graceless comment, his lips were on yours once again.

You got lost in the feeling of his soft lips on yours. He tasted so heavenly; you couldn’t get enough. He got more adventurous and slipped a tongue into your mouth. You weren’t sure what to do so he did his best to guide you. Once you eased into it a little more, your kissing became more frenzied. You couldn’t get enough of each other. What started off soft and sweet became hot and passionate, but you knew you had to hold back. You couldn’t risk getting caught with him or you’d risk losing your job. He lightly groped your breast as his kissing traversed from your lips down to your neck. You couldn’t stop the moan that huffed from your lips, and you bucked against his thigh trying to gain some friction against your clothed cunt.

“You look fucking hot in that outfit.” He mumbled between kisses.

“Stop!” You raised your voice as you pushed yourself away from him.

“Did I do something wrong?” He wondered, confused by your sudden outburst.

“No, you’re great I’m sorry. It’s against the rules for Playmates to hook up with guests, I will lose my job if we’re caught.” You explained. Keigo nodded as if he understood, giving you an innocent smile as he planted a kiss on your lips once more.

“I get it. Sorry I got carried away.” He told you, picking himself off the ground. He held a hand out to you to help you to your feet, “I think I’ll get going. I’ll see you at the next party though, right?” He explained. You didn’t want to see him at the next party. You didn’t want him to leave. But you didn’t want to risk losing your job for the sake of keeping Keigo around. And you really didn’t want to throw your virginity at him just to prevent him from leaving.

“I, um…”

“I’ll have no reason to come to these things anymore if I don’t get to hang out with the prettiest bunny in the whole mansion.” He smiled, lightly brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You weren’t usually one for compliments. You knew guys would say anything to get in your pants. But there was something so sincere about Keigo. The way everything seemed so genuinely sweet and affectionate when he spoke to you. The way he made you feel like you were the only other person in the whole world with him. You loved being a bunny. You loved living with the girls and you loved all of the fun you had at the mansion. But you were in a role in which you were hypersexualised to everyone around you. How could they expect guests to not want to fuck you? How could you be expected to resist someone as sexy as Keigo? You didn’t think you’d lose your virginity like this, but who were you saving it for anyway?

☆ ☆ ☆

You pressed your lips against Keigo’s once again, and he was more than happy to respond. You began tugging at his clothes, indicating that you wanted them off. You didn’t break your kissing for more than a second. He took his jacket off while still deeply kissing you but removed himself quickly whilst he took off his t-shirt. You didn’t break the kiss either while you removed your high heels. You shrunk a few inches but Keigo didn’t mind leaning down a little further to keep smothering you in affection. He began to travel down to your neck once again but settled on the flesh of your breasts that were being hoisted up by your corset. You let out soft sighs as he continued. He crouched down slightly as he began fondling the bottom of your corset that resided between your thighs. He managed to unbutton it as he pulled down your sheer tights and panties. You were about to remove your corset when he asked you not to.

“You look too fucking good in that outfit to take it off.” He alerted you.

You felt slightly embarrassed by the praise, but it didn’t last long when he pulled you down to kiss him again, you were looming over him a little as you did. “Lie down.” He commanded. You did as you were told, eagerly awaiting whatever he had planned. He parted your legs a little, he repeatedly kissed your leg as he travelled up towards your pussy. He spread your legs wider when he reached your sopping sex, and instantly got to work licking your clit. You moaned almost instantly at the contact as your body softened into his touch. He slowly plunged a finger in, carefully working your innocent interior.

“Tell me if it hurts or if you want me to stop, okay birdie?” He instructed.

“Y-yeah…” You moaned. You’d be crazy to want this feeling to end.

He latched back onto your clit. His licking started off slow, but he eventually picked up the pace. He alternated between licking and sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves all while still pumping his digit in and out of your tight cunt. The euphoric feeling caused you to writhe around on the ground. You were compelled to close your legs and clamp them around your lovers head, but he used his free hand to pin one of your legs to the ground while he continued working at your desperate cunt. He slipped another finger inside of you and continued his motions. He frantically began scissoring you open so he could prepare you for his cock. The sensations were too much, you hadn’t felt like this before. You felt a rising knot in your stomach and you were sure it was going to unfurl at any moment.

“P-please, Keigo I… I think I’m gonna.” You panted, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“No.” He spoke. Halting all actions. You were crushed. Why did he stop? You whimpered at the loss of contact and Keigo admired your little virgin hole clenching around nothing. You sat up a little, wondering what was going on. “Lie back down for me angel.” He commanded. You did as you were told, anticipating what he was doing. You knew instantly when you heard the unzipping of his pants. He was going to fuck you.

“Keigo… N-need it. Need it s’bad.” You whined. Your bratty voice earned a smirk from Keigo.

“Yeah? My mouth and fingers made you a little needy huh? I wanted to feel you cum around my cock.” He told you as he made contact with your dripping pussy. The feeling of him sliding his cock up and down your slit alone was heavenly. You were desperate for him to fill out your hole.

“Please, please fuck me now.” You requested.

He lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly sunk himself into you, making continuous eye contact with you as he did so. He was paying attention to every facial expression you made, he didn’t want to hurt you. He was impressed that you took him like champ, he completely bottomed out inside of you and he was more than ready to fuck your brains out.

He set a harsh pace almost instantly, he was aching with such a desperate need to cum. As soon as he saw you he knew that he had to have you tonight. He could see there was something untouched and innocent about you, but he didn’t expect you to be a fully fledged virgin. You were his now. No matter what you’d remember him as your first sexual encounter and no one would ever be able to compare.

He continued drilling into you, thoughts of owning you bringing him closer to his climax. Your arousal was rebuilding too. He began kissing you once again, although it was hard for each of you to focus. The building pleasure in the pair of you caused you both to occasionally moan into each other’s mouths. The sounds being devoured by each other arousing you more, bringing you closer and closer to your highs. He bent both of your legs up to your chest so he could continue pounding you at a deeper angle.

“K-Keigo,” You whimpered, “It hurts.” You expressed, not used to the feeling of him nudging your cervix.

“I’m sorry birdie, I’ll make it better I promise, I just-“ He stopped as he moaned through his speech. Making no attempt to change what he was doing to alleviate the pain you were feeling, “Cum for me baby you’ll feel better, I wanna feel you cum around me.” He huffed into your face. He reached down and began toying with your clit as he encouraged you to let yourself go. The contact was more than enough to send you over the edge. You were forced to keep constant eye contact with Keigo as he fucked you through your release. Your cunt clamped down on him, milking his cock for all it was worth. He rested his forehead on yours as you both came together, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes.

You’d always heard mixed reviews about losing your virginity. You would either hear that it was a beautiful and romantic moment you should give to someone meaningful, or that it’s a terrible time and it has no meaning on your life. You didn’t know Keigo very well at all, but you felt grateful that he was the one you got to share your first time with. For someone who was a stranger, he truly did care about your enjoyment and keeping you safe. He was still between your legs, letting you warm his cock as he laid on top of you. He gently peppered kisses on your forehead and cheeks while stroking your hair.

You were lucky you hadn’t been caught, you were lucky that for now you still had a job. But if he comes back to the next mansion party, you knew that you wanted to do this with him again.

© 2021 dabistiktokdance

Thank you so much again for participating, it was a pleasure to write this and have you be a bunny for the night! I hope you enjoyed your experience at the party!! 

[the-last-kenobi]

Oh for the bad things happen bingo, could you do 'passing out from the pain' with hurt Obi-Wan and the 212th being like 'this is unacceptable let us help you for the sake of our sanity Please'. Good luck with moving!

Thanks willow! 🤍 I hope this fulfills expectations!

General Kenobi had several policies that his men disagreed with. Strongly, fiercely disagreed with.

Unfortunately, all these policies were personal and were applied only to himself, meaning that the 212th had little means of having them changed.

Hoop, the Chief Medic, particularly hated his General’s insistence on handling all negotiations or Council briefings after a battle before he went to the medbay.

“If it’s bad enough that you need to see me straight away, you’ll be carrying me on a stretcher anyway,” the Jedi had said. Hoop sincerely hoped this was a jest. But so far, Kenobi seemed to return from every battle in either one way or the other — beaten and battered from leading the front line but capable of walking and talking, or on the brink of death on a stretcher.

How the man had managed to walk away from Kadavo with the injuries he had — Hoop wanted to punch a wall every time he thought of it.

The man should have been unconscious. He should have had lasting, permanent damage. He should have been on drugs for two weeks.

Instead he strolled alone into the medbay a full rotation after the rescue, still wearing his ruined tunics, every visible inch of him bruised or swelling or bleeding, his rib cage just a little too prominent through his undershirt. “I’m fine, Hoop,” he said, sounding vaguely amused. “I’ve held myself together this long, haven’t I?”

And he had.

But nothing lasts forever.

Not even the infamously stubborn Master of an infamously stubborn Padawan and Grandpadawan, the former protege of another infamously stubborn maverick.

Cody was aggressively trailing after his General like an overprotective guard dog, his lips curled in a snarl beneath his helmet. “Sir,” he said for the dozenth time.

“Never mind, Cody,” Obi-Wan said dismissively, waving an airy hand as he glanced over his shoulder at his Commander. “It will keep.”

“Sir,” Cody said more insistently.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan said, smiling.

They both knew there was no overriding the General, not when he was capable of thought and speech. Still, the Marshal Commander had to try. “Sir, it’s been two days.”

“And I’ve yet to collapse,” Kenobi pointed out blithely, now opening the doors to the bridge of the Negotiator. “If I had been injured on Tameris, then I’m sure we’d all know it by now.”

“Sure,” muttered Cody.

Obi-Wan turned his head again to face forwards, but as soon as he crossed the threshold into the bridge he was accosted by his Chief Medic.

“Sir, you didn’t report for detox,” Hoop said firmly.

General Kenobi sighed. “It appears I’ve come across a plot against me. I never would have expected my own troops to turn on me.” With a gentle tap on the shoulder he bypassed Hoop, who joined Cody in trailing the Jedi closely.

“General, everyone has to undergo the detox,” Hoop said angrily. “Not just the men. The officers too. Every species that was down on Tameris during the explosion—”

“I understand that,” General Kenobi said. He kept walking away, striding towards a group of officers gathered next to a holo projector, studying a slowly rotating map and arguing in low tones.

“I don’t think you do,” snapped Cody. He bit his tongue immediately, cursing his loss of temper. His General didn’t seem disturbed, however.

“I do,” General Kenobi said, and he stopped walking and turned to face them, causing both clones to stumble abruptly to a halt. “I do,” he repeated earnestly. “But so many of the men were caught in that radius, so many of the officers on the ground. I’m having a hard enough time trying to hold things together as it is; what happens if I step aside to be checked over and treated for days at a time while the Separatists close in?”

“I could do it,” Cody swore. “I’ve already been detoxed. I can take care of everything.”

“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head. His expression was unbearably fond as he stared at them both. “The structure is in shambles. The only reason we’re not on standby in need of assistance is because my rank and knowledge shared between the Senate and the Council permits me to make executive decisions. If I surrender my position to be treated…” he shook his head. “We can’t afford the chaos that would cause to our already fractured chain of command.”

He smiled and walked away as if the discussion had never taken place.

Around them, the bridge continued busy, the people present frantic and scrambling just as the General had said. Understaffed, uncoordinated, held together by determination. By the General.

Hoop swore colorfully and stormed from the bridge. Cody turned back to watch his General, a cold determination of his own creeping over him. He snagged a passing lieutenant and leveled him with a stern glare. “I’m setting up a rotation to have the General monitored at all times. He’s under extreme stress and he’s in danger of succumbing to possible illness. Understand?”

The lieutenant nodded. He did understand. With a discreet salute he stepped away, off to spread the word as quietly as he could.

-

Of course, Obi-Wan noticed that his men were suddenly watching him so intently.

No matter where he went, or how quickly, or how late he stayed up, there was always at least one brother standing nearby, close enough to catch him if he fell.

It was irritating and endearing. “Cody,” he began, his voice heavy with regret and reprimand.

“Sorry, sir, I’ve suddenly gone deaf,” the Commander said with a straight face.

Obi-Wan stated. “Excuse me?”

Cody didn’t even blink.

“What if I wanted to talk about the Chommel Sector instead?” Obi-Wan tried. Cody nodded and stepped forward, leaning over the desk the General was standing over to peer at the information spread out before them.

“And if I wanted to talk about the men followi—” Cody stepped away again, dropping his bucket back over his head.

“Sorry, sir. Deaf.” Cody said loudly.

Obi-Wan sighed long-sufferingly, although the corners of his mouth did twitch upwards, part of him touched by his men’s protective nature, touched enough to perhaps forgive the insubordination.

-

They were a week out from the disaster on Tameris when the General’s luck — or will of iron — finally failed him.

He was halfway through a holo transmission with the available Council, meaning that Mace Windu, Yoda, Shaak Ti, and Plo Koon were all watching when Obi-Wan dropped like a discarded droid part.

It happened so quickly that not even Cody, hovering a respectful three feet behind, was able to reach him in time. One second General Kenobi was staring up at Windu, nodding solemnly as the other man derailed their plans for the Chommel Sector, and the next second he was on the ground, his head striking the console and then the floor.

“No!” Cody screamed. He forgot about the Council, about the others in the room, and dove forwards, quickly removing his gloves so that he could search gently for injuries. And a pulse.

“Commander Cody!” Windu shouted, his voice full of concern.

“He’s breathing,” Cody said shakily, and he turned the General over ever so gently, nervous of aggravating the damage. “But his head… he…”

There was blood everywhere. Head wounds bled profusely, but there was already bruising forming around the places where the red-haired Jedi’s forehead and cheek had collided so sharply with the console and then the floor. His breathing was shallow, and his cheeks overly flushed on his pale face.

“He’s weak,” Shaak Ti said softly. Her image wavered. “He’s been weak for awhile. I can feel it, now.”

“We all can,” said Plo Koon. “Commander Cody.”

“Hoop!” Cody screamed over his shoulder. He pulled the General into his arms, cradling the broken head, the tired shoulders. “Someone get a medic in here!”

“Commander Cody,” Mace Windu said.

“Help is on the way,” Cody said, and he tilted his head far back to look into the holo-blue eyes of the Jedi. “Should I bring him back to the Temple? We can be there in four days.”

“Commander Cody,” Yoda said. Cody turned his eyes to the diminutive, ancient Master, pleading.

Yoda looked back at him, leaning heavily on his wooden staff. “Let him go, you must,” he said softly. “Too far gone, is he.”

“No,” Cody said. The word was defiant, but his tone wavered, wobbly and confused, like a frightened child woken suddenly in the night. Nothing made sense. He wanted to go back. “No, he’s just ill—”

“Sickness, there is,” Yoda murmured. “And strain. He will not survive the fever. Possibilities there are — hope, always hope. But very little. Overextended himself, has Obi-Wan.”

“No,” Cody said again, but this time there was not even the ghost of defiance in his voice. Just despair. “No.”

He curled around the General and held him tightly, even as Obi-Wan’s breath began to fade.

“He said— he said he had to—I shouldn’t have listened to him!” Cody screamed out between hitched sobs.

“You did what he asked,” Windu’s voice drifted to him through the ringing in his ears. “You trusted his judgement in a time of crisis. There was nothing else anyone would have asked of you. Come back to the Temple. Bring him home, no matter what happens.”

“I would have asked more!” Cody shouted, and he lifted his head from Obi-Wan to stare up at the other Jedi, his face twisted with rage and with tears. “I should have! I should have — I failed him. I failed my Jedi,” he said in disbelief, and Obi-Wan’s limp form trembled in his arms as his shoulders began to shake with wracking sobs. “I failed my Jedi.”

The Council was speaking, the other men were speaking, but Cody wasn’t listening.

He dropped his forehead to rest against Obi-Wan’s and waited.

Hoop burst through the door, furious and panicked.

The ship began to turn as they plotted their route back to Coruscant.

Obi-Wan’s breathing faltered.

fin.

[write-orflight]

Like Real People Do. Chapter 3

*Gif not mine*

Prologue  Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Sexual themes, talk about sex (not NSFW though), 

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N Y’all are really benefiting from my insomnia rn. I do have a plan to go back to my regular posting schedule but for right now enjoy the things starting to happen. Much love, Cia

       Chapter 3: The bugs and the dirt  

You’ve been on the team for about 6 months now, and you were loving it. Sure it was long hours, constant danger, and mounds of paperwork but you couldn’t be happier. You felt like you were doing what you were meant to do. The team had fully accepted you in the family around month 2. You and Morgan had become close after your “personal day” in October. He expressed that he knew what it was like to lose a parent and though he’d never understand losing both so quickly he offered you condolences and free drinks with him and Prentiss that night. Since then, the 3 of you have become good friends. 

There was always the occasional girls night with Emily, JJ, and Garcia, Dinner at Rossi’s and afternoon picnics with Hotch and Jack(which eventually just turned into you babysitting Jack while Aaron took a deserved nap). Your favorite however, was Saturday’s with Spencer. 

The two of you had fallen asleep that Friday night him and Garcia came over to watch Doctor Who. You woke up laid on top of him, legs tangled while your head was resting on his chest tucked under his chin. His arms were wrapped around you, hand resting heavily on the small of your back. You try to get up without waking him but of course you do, he startles awake in turn startling you causing you to fall off the couch. 

“Oh, Y/N,I’m so sorry--” He starts, immediately flushing. He stands to immediately help you up.

“No worries, Spen. Not made of glass.” You laugh. 

He blushes more at the new nickname. “Spen?” he asks. 

“Uh, yea.” You say. “Do you not like it?” 

“No-no, I like it.” He says. 

“Ok then.” You smile. “Do you have plans today?” He shakes his head. “Well, Saturday’s when I usually get coffee and work on homework at a cafe down the street, do you maybe wanna tag along?” you ask. He nods furiously. 

And every Saturday you guys had free since Spencer would meet you in the small cafe near your apartment. He would order an Americano with an ungodly amount of sugar and you would get a cold brew, despite it being winter still and you would sit and talk while you did work. Often he would help you with your thesis, telling you things you should add or consider. Sometimes you would just sit and talk about books you’ve both read or often you would explain the plots to various reality shows you know Spencer would never watch but he would sit and listen intently just like he did with everything you said. He treated every word that came out of your mouth like it was the most important thing in the world, treated every minuscule fact he learned about you, like it was treasured information to solving the mystery in front of him. You had become his personal cryptid. 

Of course the rest of the team had caught on to your Saturdays together, you worked with profilers and a very gossipy tech analyst. The amount of times you two had walked in together from being called in for a case last minute was enough to give you away. You thought back to a very uncomfortable conversation you had with Hotch one morning. You had come to drop off files JJ just pawned off to you to take upstairs. You held up your hand in a small wave walking into the office door. You put the files on his desk, starting to walk out when he stops you. 

“Y/N, we need to talk for a second. Close the door.” Hotch says. You nodded closing the door. You immediately tried to rattle off everything you’d done wrong to Hotch that could possibly warrant a talk. I forgot his coffee order that one time it was my turn, I missed Jack’s birthday once, I took a nap in the file room. You thought, all weren’t good but none warranted a closed door talk. 

“Yes, sir?” you ask, he gives you a weird look before it dissipates into his usual scowl,  neither of you used to the professional formalities still. 

“I’m sure you’re aware of the FBI’s fraternization policy.” He says. 

“Yes, sir…?” You say, not knowing where he was going with this. You weren’t fraternizing with anyone and no one knew that more than you except maybe your right hand. 

“Now there’s things I’d be willing to overlook as long as you don’t let it affect your work. But you would have to tell me and you would have to fill out an office relationship form--” 

“Whoa-wait a second.” you say. “What’re we talking about?” 

“If there’s something going on between you and Spencer you would have--”

“Hotch! There’s nothing going on between me an--What?” You say, you knew you had to be beet red right now. God this is humiliating. You thought.

“Really?” he said. 

“Yes! There’s nothing going on.” 

“But you guys have been together every week--” 

God, how did he even know that. “He’s helping me with my thesis, Hotch!” you exclaim, if this conversation continued you were going to be the same shade of red as the shirt you were wearing. “Why do you even know about that?” 

“Garcia.” he says, matter-of-factly. 

Of course, Garcia. 

 “Well, there’s nothing going on so now you can save the fraternization speech for someone else.” You move to stand. 

“You want there to be.” He points out. “Something going on, I mean.” 

“Oh my god. Aaron, I have a deep amount of respect for you and I revere you very much as a role model.” you say. “That being said, I will not be discussing my nonexistent love life with my boss! Jesus!” You exclaim. You see the smile ghosting his lips. He always enjoyed embarrassing you. “Can I leave now?” you asked. 

He nodded, waving his hand to dismiss you. You walk out of the office back to your desk, conveniently across from Spencer’s. 

“What did Hotch need?” He asked you. 

“Nothing!” You say instantly. Spencer just shrugged, returning to the file he had been reading.

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

Now you were here in the present, at a bar with the team celebrating the final results you had gotten back on your doctoral thesis. The Diploma hasn't come in the mail yet but it was official, you were officially Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. 

“To Dr. Y/N.” Garcia said, raising the shots Prentiss had just handed to you, Morgan and JJ. Rossi and Hotch raised their beers and Spencer clinked his water he’d been nursing to your shot glass. You smiled at her, before taking the shot quickly grimacing at the harshness of the alcohol. 

“Thanks, you guys.” You say, smiling widely. Your plan before to celebrate your doctorate had been to draw a bubble bath and try not to think of the student loans you’d accumulated. But of course Garcia being the genius and snoop that she was found out your results and insisted on a night out. 

“Y/N.” Emily said, getting your attention. “I think you should get the next round of drinks because that guy at the bar has been staring at you all night.” She said, leaning close to you to point at him. You look up to see a fairly built, tan man, with brown eyes and a well-maintenanced beard. Due to the amount of drinks you had and your inhibitions lowered, you smile at him automatically. He smiles back, lifting his drink to his mouth still looking at you. You look back down. 

“I don’t know, Emily.” You say, looking down at your mixed drink. 

“Come on, Y/N. We both know it’s been a while and you said you weren’t going to focus on that until you finished your doctorate.” Emily smirks, nudging you. “Now you’re finished so, come on, write him a prescription, Doc.” She laughs, inducing a few giggles from the rest of the group. Except for Rossi and Hotch who weren’t paying attention and Spencer, who seemed bothered but you didn’t know by what. 

“Hold on, mama, I have to know what a while means.” Derek says, laughing. 

“It means a while~”  Emily says, exaggerating the last word so that it was extra long. 

“Yea, a long~ while.” Garcia says, joining in, giggling all the while. 

“Ok, didn’t know you guys were moonlighting as comedians.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. You turn towards Derek, the alcohol clearly lowered your inhibitions enough to answer his question. “I mean, I went through the phase everyone went through in the first couple years of college. Partying, drinking, and unfortunately ending up in a frat guys bed, but after a while I realized that I had different goals then most of my peers so I put all my focus on getting my degrees. I’d say that was when I was what? 19?” You said, recalling. 

Morgan almost did a spit take, “6 years?” 

“Don’t make it sound so incredulous!” You say, drinking your mixed drink. “I was busy!” 

“Sounds like you and Pretty boy can start your own celibacy club!” Morgan says, patting Spencer back, laughing. 

“I’m not celibate, Morgan.” Reid says, rolling his eyes. 

“Pfft,” you blow a raspberry, incredulously. “When’s the last time you’ve gotten any?” Whoa, you had to have been drunk because you never would’ve asked anything like that sober. 

“It certainly hasn’t been 6 years.” He says back to you, smirking over his glass of water. 

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes. “Seriously, When?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

You would. 

You would very much like to know. 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter because I’ll still be the last one after I go get that guy’s number.” You say, downing your drink for liquid courage before standing to go to the bar, towards the guy who had been looking at you before. Sure, your game was a little rusty but you were a profiler and now a doctor of psychology, men were...simple. 

Reid watched  you go, your hips swaying way more as they usually do as you sauntered towards the man her and Prentiss had been talking about before. He saw you smiling at the guy who had just purchased you another drink. You trailed a hand down the man’s chest, as he moved closer into your space. Spencer looked away, he was going to be sick if he kept watching that. 

“Hey, Emily, do you see that?” Garcia said.

“No, Penelope what is it?” She said indulging her. 

“It’s our friend, slowly turning into the green eyed monster.” Garcia said looking back to Reid, the table erupting in laughter. 

Reid leaned back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure, you don’t.” Emily says, rolling her eyes. “Look Spence, If you like her you should say something and if you don’t, you can’t get upset about her looking for something else out there.” Spencer didn’t say anything to that, opting to turn his attention back to you. He watched you laugh at something the guy had said and a smile crossed his face. That wasn’t your laugh, he knew your laugh. Your real laugh, and thanks to his eidetic memory he could (and did) replay it whenever he wanted. He knew your laugh and that wasn’t it. 

He watched as you sauntered back up to the group. He already had trouble focusing on anything that wasn’t your body most of the time and the dress you wore tonight didn’t make it any better. A simple, deep blue dress that held your curves perfectly with a large slit up the leg that was probably to make it easier to walk in though right now all it was doing was distracting Spencer. You slid into the both back next to Prentiss. 

“So…” Emily said, smiling. “How’d it go?”

“Oh, I got his number.” You say, nonchalantly. You knew you would, it’s not like regular men were a challenge to you. Every man wanted 2 things; to think they’re funny and to think they’re smart. 

“Nice!” She says, holding her hand out you instantly slap it with your own. “Are you going to call him?” 

“Probably not.” You shrug. “We’ll see if I get bored this week.” 

That causes all the girls in the group to giggle. The night continued, more drinks being put in your system by your friends who want you to truly celebrate. Eventually Rossi and Hotch leave, both hugging you tightly, Hotch whispering a quick “I’m proud of you” in your ear. You smile brightly back at him.

Towards closing time you all leave, you’re a little more sober than before but you’re definitely still tipsy. You all say your goodbyes, promises to see each other at work then Spencer stretches an arm around your waist, ushering you to his car as he agreed to be your DD before.    

He slides you into the seat before climbing in on the drivers side. 

“Thanks Spen, I know you hate driving.” You say, patting Spencer on the leg. 

“No problem, Y/N” He smiles back at you, before turning his attention back to the road. You notice your hands still on his leg. He hasn’t tried to move it or move away from it so the alcohol in your system decides to take a risk and inch your hand up his thigh. One of his hands leaves the steering wheel immediately grasping your hand. 

“Stop.” He says, not sounding entirely convinced that’s what he wants himself. So you ask. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You say, innocently. 

“Obviously, I don’t want you to stop but you’re not sober so you have to.” He says, moving your hand back to your own lap. You decide it’s probably best to concede and lean your head against the cool glass of the window as street lamps roll by. 

Eventually, you make it back to your house. You sigh before turning to Spencer. 

 “Thanks again, Spen.” You say, moving to grab  your bag and the door handle. “I’ll see you at work.” Before you can move fully, Long fingers are circling your wrist. 

“You shouldn’t call him.” He says. 

“What?” You say, dazed by the close contact between you two. 

“The guy from the bar. You shouldn’t call him.” He says. 

“Why not?” You ask. You know the answer, or you think you know the answer but you have to hear him say it. You need to hear him say it. 

“Because I-” He cuts himself off. “I don’t know.” he says, looking down very dejected. 

“Well…” You say. You lean close to him. You guys are close, so close if you wanted you could kiss him and you know he would let you by the way his eyes flutter, pupils dilating instantly when you do. “Will you tell me when you figure it out?” You ask. 

He nods, letting go of the wrist you forgot he was holding. 

“Well then.” You say, getting out of the car and leaning through the open window. “Goodnight, Dr. Reid.” You smile. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Y/L/N.” He smiles back, before driving into the night.

Taglist: @haylaansmi​     @yoruebeautiful​ @kianagilder-blog​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms @dreamer7black​ @baby-banana​ @drreidshands​

[mfingenius]

The ‘Accio’ miracle

Trigger Warnings: very brief mention of self harm and addiction

Draco keeps secrets.

He’s always prided himself in it, knows there’s no one who’s better at it than him; he kept his father’s secrets, first, thirteen and feeling like he was being let into the world of the elite, where people knew things other witches and wizards didn’t. Then, he kept his mother’s secrets; the quiet contempt no one seemed to see, the anxiousness that ate at her day by day because of things Draco didn’t quite understand, things he wasn’t told, not yet, not even though his father had called him a man.

Third, he kept the Dark Lord’s secrets; he remembers the day they came into his home, the Dark Lord and his cult of followers, each crueler and more heartless than the last, and Draco had been fifteen and terrified, and he didn’t feel like a man, not at all, he’d felt like a child. He’d heard the things they planned, seen the things they did, and he’d kept his mouth shut. He thinks he’d died a little, then; the first time he’d heard someone scream under a Crucio was the first time he realized he knew nothing at all, that the glory and the knowledge he thought were his, what he thought the cause he was fighting for entailed, was all wrong.  

He was all wrong.

He still said nothing.

Fourth, he keeps his own secrets; or he tries to, at least. When he’s sixteen and the name Harry James Potter appears across his ribcage in horrible handwriting, he stays locked in his bathroom for three hours, the world crashing down around him; it is the summer before sixth year, and he just – he just needs to make it to September first without anyone noticing, and that’s all. He’s off to Hogwarts, and he can fuck off and never come back. For now, however – for now, well, he’s trapped in a place that used to be his childhood home but is now unrecognizable, filled with people who will not hesitate to kill him – or worse, and Draco knows what they’re capable of, he does, he’s seen them – if they find out who his soulmate is.

In that moment, Draco hates Potter, truly and overwhelmingly hates him, because he’s not going to get out of here, he’s not going to survive this if anyone finds out. The older Death Eaters already hurt him for fun, and he’s done nothing. After this, they’re going to kill him.  

So he does what he has to; he draws a Difindo across the name, over and over until it is unrecognizable, and the pain of it is agonizing, but he shoves a towel between his teeth and bears his way through it; it gives him time, an excuse not to come out of his rooms if anyone comes looking for him – they don’t - but when the skin heals, the name is right there, readable over the scars, and Draco has to sit and just breathe, because this can’t be happening.

After that, he does the next best thing; he wears layers upon layers, skin-tight shirts underneath loose robes so no one will notice, keeps the mark hidden, knows he only needs to get through the summer.

And he almost succeeds. The last day of July – Potter's birthday, Draco knows – the Dark Lord tells him he’s taking the Mark; it’s supposed to be an honor, Draco knows, he can see the pride in his father’s eyes, but the only thing he feels is dread.

He doesn’t want the Dark Mark.

“Shirt off,” the Dark Lord hisses, and Draco’s blood runs cold; he knows it is usual for people to take the Dark Mark shirtless; it’s a metaphor, he thinks, something about his mind and body belonging to the Dark Lord, but for him it’ll be his doom.

Slowly, very slowly, he begins unbuttoning his robes.

                                               Seven years later

“Anything yet?” Ron asks, stepping into their office when two bags of Chinese food; there’s a muggle place two blocks away from the ministry that makes the best spring rolls in the world, and they always eat from there when they’re working on a tough case.  

“No,” Harry says, gratefully taking the box that Ron offers him. “Fuck, this smells delicious.”

Ron nods. “Got extra spring rolls for you.”

Harry groans a muffled ‘thank you’, already devouring the fried rice; he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and he’s starving. He welcomes the taste of salty, fried food, and then looks back to the surveillance footage they’re watching. They’ve been investigating the death of a muggle military general, because he had no apparent cause of death to muggles – an Avada Kedavra - and because traces of magic were found at the scene.

“There he is, look at that.” Harry and Ron lean forward at the same time, eyes narrowing at the grainy footage; they'd ‘confiscated’ it from the Muggle Police – better to avoid unwanted questions when they saw it – but they’re used to how well one can see surveillance charms, so this is undoubtably a step down.

“What is he doing?” Harry asks, frowning; Edward Thomas can be seen drinking alone in the hotel bar; he’d be found in his hotel room, but they’ve already scanned the elevator and hall tapes and nothing has come up, so they’re working their way back.

He’s speaking to the man beside him, whose face they can’t see because his back is to the camera. Harry, however, can see Thomas’s face, and he looks – evidently interested. Harry thinks he might be flirting. The other man is evidently not interested, because he turns away, but Thomas reaches out to harshly grab the other man by the arm; the man steps back, and they struggle for a moment before he manages to break himself free, finally turning towards the camera to leave.

“Holy fucking shit,” Ron says, pausing the footage and placing his takeout box on the table, moving closer. “Is that Malfoy?”

Harry nods numbly.

“Holy shit,” he echoes, and continues to stare at the furious, cool face of his soulmate.

*

“I can stay on the case,” Harry insists. As a policy, the Ministry doesn’t allow an Auror to work any case where their soulmate is involved, but Harry thinks these are special circumstances.

No one’s seen Malfoy in years, for one. He went missing before their sixth year – two years of being a prisoner at the manor, Harry knows – and though he appeared briefly, it was only long enough for the healers at St. Mungo’s to take a look at him. He disappeared again afterwards, as soon as he was discharged, and hasn’t been seen or heard from in five years.

Secondly, they’d finished watching the surveillance footage, and Thomas had left for his room after talking to Malfoy, which means he was most likely the last person to see their murder victim alive.

“You cannot be objective about your soulmate, Potter,” Robards says.  

Harry would’ve loved not to tell him about this new development in the case, but he’d walked in while Ron and Harry were discussing it, so they’d had to.

“Sir, Malfoy and I are hardly soulmates,” Harry argues. “We haven’t spoken in five years!”

Robards looks at him calculatingly; Harry is his best Auror, and him and Ron work best together. Taking him off the case is a bad decision and he knows it, but if he doesn’t and something goes wrong because of Harry being stupid about Malfoy, it’ll be on him.

“Fine,” he says, finally. “You can stay on the case. Find me Malfoy, find me our murderer, and you do not stay alone with him at any point. If I hear you’ve messed something up because you’ve gone and done something more reckless than usual, I swear I'll fire you, Potter, even if the Minister himself tells me not to.”

Harry nods.

*

Malfoy opens the door, takes a look at them, and tries to close it again. Harry slaps his hand against the door to stop him, and Malfoy sighs, rolling his eyes and opening the door again, resigned.

“Potter, Weasley. What are you doing here?”

“Edward Thomas was murdered three nights ago,” Harry says; he thinks one of them should have something more to say; they are soulmates, after all. He expected Malfoy to ask how they had found him, five years after leaving the Wizarding World without a trace. Harry sort of wants to know where Malfoy has been, wonders if he’s been here, in muggle St. Rémy de Provence, the entire time, but he is trying to convince himself that he doesn’t care about Malfoy. It's not working; he’s looking at him and there’s an itch just under his skin that he can’t quite get rid of. “And you were the last person to see him alive.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Malfoy says.

Ron shows him a picture of Thomas, and Malfoy’s eyebrow raises marginally.

“Oh,” Malfoy says. “Him.”

“Yes, him,” Ron says, unimpressed. “You are a witness in our murder investigation, Malfoy, and we’d like you to come into the Ministry for an interview.”

“No, thank you,” Malfoy says politely. “We’re in France, which means you have no jurisdiction. You can’t make me.”

“You’re an English wizard,” Harry says, irritated. Malfoy hasn’t changed one bit. “We could bring you in under-”

“Subsection 1359?” Malfoy finishes for him smugly. “That law only applies to active suspects, Potter, and, as you’ve told it, I’m not one.”

“We could make you one,” Harry says. It’s less than moral, and not something Harry would do, not really, but the arrogant look Malfoy keeps giving him is pissing him off. “We know you left the bar before he did, but you could’ve hired someone to kill him.”

Malfoy cocks an eyebrow. “Oh? With what money?”

“The Malfoy fortunes weren’t seized after the war,” Harry says.

“Right.” Malfoy nods. “Except I’m not a Malfoy anymore.”

Harry opens his mouth to argue, and then shuts it again. “What?”

Malfoy – or, well, not Malfoy – opens his hands in a wide gesture. “Emancipated myself from my parents as soon as my trial was over, Potter, and I haven’t done magic in years. I’m officially a muggle. I have a muggle birth certificate, a passport – I'm Monéguasque, by the way, and yes, I chose it just because I like the way it sounds – and even social security and a job. I’m a muggle.”

“What?” Harry demands, because he can’t quite wrap his head around it; Malfoy as a – as a non Malfoy? Malfoy as a muggle?

“Yes,” Malfoy says. “So you can leave me alone.”

And he closes the door on their face.

“Well,” Ron says, awkwardly. “That was – not good.”

*

“You don’t seem very surprised,” Harry says, mildly, when he and Ron – mostly Harry – have finished their rant about Malfoy.

“Well,” Hermione says, shifting on the sofa. “I knew all of this.”

“What?” Harry and Ron ask.

Hermione sighs and puts down the box of Greek takeout she’d been eating.  

“He asked for my help, when the war ended,” she confesses. “I got him the muggle birth certificate, the passport, the school records, all of it. I had help, obviously. Luna was very helpful, unexpectedly. Turns out her father used to be a barrister, and she-”

“Why would you help him?” Harry asks. Then, “Why would he need help?”

“You’ve made him practically untouchable, I hope you know,” Ron says to his wife, kissing her cheek and reaching for another box of takeout. “It’s made our case a thousand times harder.”

“Thank you,” Hermione says, smugly. “That was the point.” She turns to Harry. “Harry, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but Draco spent two years as Voldemort’s prisoner because he is your soulmate. He lied for us in the manor. He – understandably, I might add – wanted a break from the wizarding world, he asked for my help, and I said yes. It was decent.”

Harry knows, logically, that she is right; that he shouldn’t be as angry as he is about finding out Malfoy has made a successful life for himself in France, and, if he’s honest, he’s not entirely sure why he’s angry.

Maybe – well, a tiny bit of Harry had been excited about knowing who his soulmate was since he was told about them when he was eleven, and, after getting through the initial shock of having Malfoy’s name on his ribcage, he’d hoped they could be – normal, for once.  

He should’ve known better; nothing between them is ever simple.

After Malfoy had lied for him in the manor – and Harry knows Malfoy knows it was him, because they could’ve recognized each other blindfolded and with their hands tied simply by the feeling of it – Harry had been stupid enough to think that, since the war was over, now came the easy part.

The part he deserved.

And then Malfoy had disappeared without another word, and Harry had been left without a soulmate and with the entirety of the Wizarding World expecting him to know why his soulmate had left, where he’d gone to, and when he and Harry would get together.

It had been stressful.

“Why did you never mention it?” he asks, finally, and Hermione gives him a knowing look that Harry doesn’t quite understand.

“You would’ve looked for him.”

“I wouldn’t have!”

“Harry,” Hermione says sensibly. “The first year after the war – you were a mess.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not that it’s wrong! Or that it wasn’t understandable, or anything, it’s just-” she exhales, shaking her head, and continues quietly, sorrowful. “We all were. All of us, we were all – Malfoy was, too. You did not see him - I spent only a week visiting him in St. Mungo’s, and it was like he was still trapped in that house. I cannot imagine what it must’ve taken for him to move forward. If you’d gotten together then, you would’ve broken up.”

Harry clenches his jaw and looks away, but he knows she’s right; he barely remembers the year after the war, drowned in a haze of alcohol and sex and potions and clubs and anything that could make him feel even a little better for a second.  

Hermione, though looking better from the outside, had been just as bad; she’d thrown herself into her work in a way that had meant she’d needed potions to keep up, and had had a brief addiction to a wizarding version of Adderall, five times as potent. She had spent almost an entire year struggling to stop after Ron and Harry had found out. There’s too much to fix, she’d said, frustrated. I can’t do it any other way.

Ron had been, surprisingly, the least self-destructive of them; he’d spent the first three months in bed, without moving at all, barely eating, and without speaking to anyone. He’d begun getting better after that – he’d seen a mind healer, and had later dragged Hermione and Harry with him, too – and now, thankfully, they’re all successful, functional people.

None of them forget, though.

Harry was surrounded by people who’d gone through what he did, by people who somewhat understood.  

He couldn't imagine Malfoy having to live through it in the muggle world, with no one who could understand why he couldn’t sleep at night, why he got lost in his own head.

“I’m going to talk to him again,” he says stubbornly.

Hermione’s smile is wry. “I know you are.”

*

“Holy shit,” Malfoy jumps when he walks out of his apartment and finds Harry standing there, leaning against the wall. “Don’t you know how to knock, Potter?”

“Would you have opened the door?” Harry asks with a raised eyebrow.

Malfoy glares at him. “If someone won’t open the door for you, the polite thing to do is leave.”

Harry ignores him. “Are you a doctor?”

Malfoy is wearing lavender scrubs, with a navy blue Henley underneath thick white shoes.

“Nurse,” Malfoy corrects, and then seems surprised at himself for having answered. He crosses his arms across his chest defensively. “I’m a neonatal nurse at the hospital.”

“Is it far?”

Malfoy shakes his head mutely.

“I’ll walk you,” Harry offers. Malfoy looks surprised and more than a little bit suspicious, but he chews on his lower lip and nods. Harry lets Malfoy lead the way, and, together, silently, they walk towards the hospital where Malfoy works.

St. Remy de Provence is unexpectedly beautiful; it’s small, and much quieter than Harry’s used to – magical London is busy and loud on the best of days – but it’s cozy, and Malfoy looks truly peaceful.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Malfoy asks finally, quietly. “I’m not going to help you with your case.”

“I don’t have a case anymore.” Harry shrugs. “I was transferred.”

He’d gone to Robards after he’d seen Malfoy, and had admitted he couldn’t work the case. Robards had already another team waiting.

Malfoy gives a humorless smile. “Should I be expecting another Auror at my door soon, then?”

Harry shakes his head. “I told them you didn’t know anything.”

Malfoy blinks, stunned for a second, and then mutters a quiet ‘thank you’.

They continue walking in silence, and then Harry decides to simply say it.  

“I want you to come back.” Malfoy immediately stiffens, and Harry can see he is going to refuse outright, which is why he continues quickly. “It doesn’t have to be right now. I don’t mean to pressure you, and I know you - I know you’ve been dealing with – well, everything, like the rest of us, but – it's not the same without you.”

He wishes he were lying, but he’s not; he’d been unable to sleep the night before, and had, very slowly, very painfully, realized that he’s actually missed Malfoy, all this time. Sixth year without him was worse than ever, and through being on the run, Harry had, secretly, wondered where he was, all the time. He'd checked every day, nearly every hour, his soulmark with Draco’s name in his handwriting, only to make sure that it was still inked black and not a faded grey, to know he wasn’t dead.

Seeing him at the manor – and that is not a memory Harry will ever forget. Seeing Bellatrix dragging him forward with a chain wrapped around his neck had sent blinding fury through Harry – had been a breath of fresh air and relief where there was none, if only for a few seconds. Losing him again so shortly after, when he’d disappeared after being discharged, had been unbearable, even on top of everything else.

“I can’t,” Malfoy whispers.

“What?”

“I can’t.” Malfoy clears his throat, looks away. “I meant it when I said I was a muggle, Potter. I – we're soulmates, and I’ve missed you for some – some reason-” he lets out a disbelieving laugh and shakes his head. “I can’t do magic.”

Harry cannot speak. Then, “What?”

“I can’t do magic anymore,” Malfoy says, louder. “When I was – there - my wand was taken away, and I spent - I spent two years without being able to even touch a wand, let alone do any magic, and – afterwards, I was so – so terrified of them I couldn’t bring myself to grab one.”

“Have you tried?”

Malfoy gives him a look. “Obviously. My therapist – she's a muggle, so I had to come up with some pretty creative metaphors, and I think she knows I'm lying to her – she suggested I try to get more comfortable to eventually start doing it again. I worked on it, and I’m not – afraid anymore, not really, I can be around wands, but - I can’t do magic. I’ve tried, even with the simplest of spells, and I can’t. She says – it's just trauma, I know that, but I can’t.”

Harry stays quiet; he cannot imagine not being able to do magic. It had been one of the few things that got him through everything after the war, and having it taken away – well, fuck.

“I’m sorry,” he says uselessly.

Malfoy gives a tense shrug. “I’ve gotten used to it. But I can’t go back.”

“I-”

“I have to go in.” Malfoy gestures to the big hospital on their right. “I’ll... see you later?”

Harry nods, and watches as Malfoy walks away.

*

“This is crossing so many lines,” Hermione had said, when Harry had told her of his plan.

Harry is aware he is crossing many, many lines, but he is now outside of Malfoy’s door, so he cannot back down.

He knocks, and, a few seconds later, the door opens; Malfoy seems to have just woken up – and it’s nearly four in the afternoon, but Harry doesn’t know what kind of shifts he works at the hospital, so he’s not judging him too much – and blinks owlishly at him for a few seconds before sliding his gaze to the person standing next to Harry.

“Potter,” he says, very slowly. “What have you done?”

“This is Healer Bo,” Harry says, placing his hand on Malfoy’s door to stop him from – predictably – slamming the door on their faces. Healer Bo is a little old man with dark, greying hair, shorter than both of them but also probably smarter than them combined. “I know you’ve said your therapist thinks it’s trauma, but what if it’s something different?”

“Potter.” And oh, okay, Malfoy is furious, as is evident by the quickly blooming color on his face. “I am not some victim you can focus your – your hero complex on. I told you those things to explain, not to have you turn me into some pet project!”

“That’s not what I'm doing!” Harry defends. “I’m only trying to help you-”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Well, deal with it, you git, because we are soulmates and I want to help you, and I want you to come back, and I want you to be able to do magic because you deserve it!”

“So you just want me to uproot my entire life for you?” Malfoy demands. “Why don’t you come to the muggle world instead of setting me up with a healer appointment I didn’t ask for? He’s not going to be able to do anything!”

“How do you know that?” Harry pushes. “Your therapist is muggle, Malfoy-”

“Don’t call me that, I’m not-”

“Draco, you can’t have told her everything, so her diagnosis can’t be reliable-”

“Well, too bad! I’m not letting some random healer you’ve brought to my door run tests on me-”

“I’ve already run them,” Healer Bo says calmly. “Your magical core is damaged.”

Silence.  

“What?” Draco asks, fragile.

“It could be trauma, as well, but it’s not only that,” Healer Bo explains. “Your magical core is damaged. I need you to come into my office so I can run some more tests.”

Harry spreads his hands in an ‘I told you so’ gesture, and Draco throws balled socks at him.

*

“What did he say?” Harry asks anxiously, standing up as soon as Malfoy comes out the door, Healer Bo following close behind him. “What did you say? What’s wrong?”

Healer Bo and Draco share a look.

“I told you he frets,” Draco tells him.

“You were right,” Healer Bo agrees solemnly, and before Harry can be properly offended, he continues. “Draco's magical core is damaged because of Crucio.”

“That can happen?” Harry asks, frowning.

“That’s what Crucio does,” Healer Bo says. “It cracks one’s magical core. It’s why it feels like everything is burning. If it’s done enough, the magical core can be damaged irreparably.”

Harry holds his breath. “Is - Draco’s-”

“No,” Healer Bo says; Draco can complain all he likes, but he’s beaming beside Healer Bo. “It’s not irreparably damaged. It will be a long process, however. You’ll both need to be patient.”

They both nod, quickly, and Harry asks, “Do I – should I do something?”

“Support your soulmate,” Healer Bo says simply. Draco’s cheeks turn red, but Harry nods seriously. He’ll do anything he can. “I’ve already given Draco the Potions he’ll need to be taking, and we will have to perform Healing spells once every two days. You can either come in here, or I can send one of my interns-”

“We’ll come in,” Harry says immediately; he assumes Bo’s interns are good – Bo is, after all, one of the highest praised healers in the world – but he wants Bo to do it. He won’t trust anyone else with his soulmate.

“Alright,” Bo says. “I’ll see you in two days.”

*

“What are you thinking about?” Harry had taken Draco out for a late lunch; they’re at the only restaurant reporters never find Harry, a tiny Indian takeout place. The lady who runs it loves Harry, so she never calls the reporters, and doesn’t allow anyone else to call them, either. He’d figured Draco wouldn’t want to be in a Prophet article on his first day back.

“A lot of things,” Draco admits. “The possibility of getting my magic back. The fact that I didn’t quit the hospital before we left, which means that technically I have a shift in twenty minutes, which I figure I’m not going to make. The fact that I have nowhere to live and no money to get a place to live-”

“Come live with me,” Harry blurts. He’s never had the best brain-to-mouth filter.

“What?”

“Live with me,” he repeats. “I’ve - a flat. I moved out of Grimmauld place, it was too – too many memories, but – we can live together, and – if you want to leave, later, I’ll let you, but – well, I'd like it if you stayed.”

Draco stares at him for a moment, and then looks away, a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. “Alright.”

Harry can’t help but grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

*

The recovery of Draco’s magical core is, as the healer had said, slow. Healer Bo tells them that it really helps that they’re together, because being far from one’s soulmate can be greatly stressful, and Harry is glad to be doing what he can. Apart from that, they settle into Harry’s flat quite nicely.

Harry refuses to sleep on the couch – he was about to offer, but then Draco demanded it, so Harry would be damned before he gave up his bed – and Draco refuses to not sleep in the biggest bed available, so they share Harry’s bed, which Harry thinks should feel weird, but it doesn’t.

It feels... right. Like home, sort of.

Time passes much quicker than it used to, without Draco; Harry takes a year leave from the Aurors so he can dedicate, fully, to his soulmate. Draco gets reintegrated to the magical world slowly, and though he cannot do magic, he’s evidently glad to be back.

They even get pets – a fat kneazle that they call Morgana and a huge black crup that they call Godric – and pretty much build their life together. Draco opens a bakery – and really, of all things Harry imagined Draco doing, this was not one of them – and it turns out that Muggle treats are not widely known in the wizarding world, and they are widely liked, once Draco starts selling them. Because he runs the place, he only works during the morning, which means they get to spend their afternoons lounging together in their flat, watching the telly or teasing each other.

“Potter, I swear to Merlin,” Draco growls, glaring tightly at Harry, who’s holding his favorite mug as high as he can reach.

“I’ll give it to you,” Harry tells him. “As soon as you admit that you’re the one who got our reservation wrong.”

“I did not! You said seven!”

“I told you, a thousand times, that our reservation was at six!”

“No, you didn’t!”  

Turns out, being soulmates didn’t really stop their fighting, but it’s different now. Harry is rarely truly angry while they argue, unlike before, and Draco is the same way.  

“Yes, I did!”

“No you bloody didn’t!” Draco snaps. “Give me my mug back right now, or I’ll - I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Harry asks smugly. “What will you do to me, Draco?”

Draco glares at him, ears red in his anger, and then grabs Harry’s wand off the counter and yells, ‘Accio’.

The mug flies straight from Harry’s hand into Draco’s. They’re both so surprised it slips from his hands, shattering on the floor.

Neither of them care.

“Did I just-”

“Did you just-”  

They look at each other for a moment, before they both break into the biggest grins imaginable. Harry laughs and pulls him in for a tight hug, lifting him and spinning around in their kitchen, miraculously not stepping on any shards of ceramic.  

“You just did magic, Draco!” Harry practically yells, not putting him down. “Magic!”

“I did!” Draco’s ecstatic, over the moon, grin wider than Harry’s ever seen. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

And he grabs Harry’s face roughly and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

They both freeze momentarily, and Harry puts him down.

“I’m sorry,” Draco begins immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - I didn’t - I shouldn’t have-”

Harry pulls him in for another kiss, deeper this time, and pulls him closer, grabbing his hips.  

“Don’t apologize,” he pleads. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

“You have?” Draco sounds surprised.

“Yes,” Harry says, and he kisses him again. Draco wraps his arms around his neck, and Harry lifts him again, sitting him in their kitchen counter, and he can’t get enough, he can’t stop, he can’t.

When they both pull away to breathe – a long, long time later – Harry cannot stop grinning at him.

“I love you,” he says. “Soulmate.”

Draco’s grin is the only thing Harry wants to see for the rest of his life.  

“I love you, too,” he says, rubbing their noses together sweetly. “Soulmate.”

And Harry kisses him again, and he thinks that if everything he had to go through was leading to this moment, he’d do it all again, a thousand times, however many times it was necessary, because this? This is everything.

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

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[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Four: E-Stim

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane deals with the consequences of her email to her boss, both good and bad. A mortifying situation has an…unexpected outcome. Emotions run high in the fourth chapter of The Tx of Sy! Behind on the action? Catch up HERE! 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, some angst and emotions. (Like I literally cried writing part of it) And like, an asshole boss…but if you stick it out with Susan, you won’t be disappointed.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

 @cavillryarchive

 @summersong69

 @titty-teetee

 @bloodyinspiredfuck

 @agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

(you didn’t ask, but i took the liberty! Hope that’s okay!)

@tumblnewby @suavechops

Shane had spent her morning getting ready for work and treating her first patient with a whopping headache…maybe a small glass of wine would have been more responsible of her. But she slept like the dead, which was the goal.

She took a moment before her second patient to check her email…there was a reply from Susan.

Shane, come to my office at your next possible availability.

No "thank you" or "please" or "fuck you very much." just an order. Last she checked, SHE wasn't in the military. Since Heather wasn't in yet, she messaged the secretary on duty, Marsha, to see if she could find a way to make an opening in her morning. She wanted to get this meeting over with.

Sure, Shane. Looks like Cory could take your next patient, if you like. He's seen him before.

Perfect. Please make that change and block me for a meeting with Susan. Thank you so much.

She saw Cory walk by, and warned him. "Cory, I'm having Marsha move Mr. Greenbaum to you next hour. I need to meet with Susan about something." she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, shit. Okay. No problem." Cory knew all too well the fuckery that a Susan meeting could entail.

"I really appreciate it. I owe you big time."

"Nah, Mr. G is cool. We just talk about huntin' and stuff."

"He'll probably like that we switched, then." she laughed. And headed for what felt like the principal's office. Bleak and miserable.

She knocked on the door, and was told in an all too cheerful manner to come in.

"Hey!"

"Morning Susan."

"Close the door and have a seat, Shane."

She typed away for a moment before fully engaging…as was her way. She thought it gave her the power. It really just annoyed the fuck out of everyone.

"So, tell me what's going on with this patient you emailed me about."

"Well, he's an ACL and MCL tear, traumatic, plus a dislocated patella. He did it during a mission in Iraq. Ummm, he's improving a lot. Potter did the surgery. He had him keep the crutches about two weeks longer than we thought he would, but--"

"No I mean…this relationship. What's the deal, here?"

"Oh, there's not much to say about it, really. He's been fairly flirty from pretty early on. I've been able to ignore it, but to be honest, I think he's a really great guy, and I think he deserves better than me ignoring his advances, especially when, to be honest Susan, the feelings he has for me are not unrequited." her heart was racing. More than if Sy had been in the room flirting with her, but so much less pleasant.

"I don't think you should see this guy until the treatment is over. What if it doesn't work out and he doesn't want to come here anymore because of you." That hurt…not that it wasn't rattling around in her head, too.

"Well, Susan, to be honest, that's one reason I haven't spoken up about this already. I have that fear. But he's been very adamant about it lately, and it's been on my mind a lot, and I think I owe it to the both of us to see it through."

"I think I should call this guy. Let me pull him up."

She gave her his details to get his information pulled up in their system. God, this was embarrassing. She should have known this nightmare was coming.

"Hello?" a gravelly bark came across the speakerphone.

"Hello, Mr. Syverson?"

"Captain Syverson, yes, Ma'am." She wasn't expecting him to pull rank…and he did it so politely.

"Sorry, Captain Syverson. My name is Susan DeForrest, I'm the manager here at Fort Wood Therapy Clinic. How are you this morning?"

"This side of the daisies ain't worth complainin. What can I do ya for, ma'am?"

"Well, I have Miss Benton, your therapist here in a meeting. You're on speaker."

"Hey Sy." Shane mewled sheepishly.

"Hey there, Shane." she could hear the smile in his voice. She didn't know if Susan could.

"She's saying that the two of you would like to see each other socially, outside of therapy."

"Oh, that's not quite the words I'd use, ma'am, but I s'pose you're technically correct."

"And she's explained to you that this facility has a policy in place regarding such fraternization?" What a load of bullshit she was shoveling. Making it sound so sinister and clandestine what she and Sy were trying to start up. Like espionage. This woman…

"I'm aware that certain policies exist like that to protect patients or customers, and more frequently the staff from situations that could present problems for both or either parties. I am not aware that a strict policy exists to police your staff in such a stringent manner. In fact, I know the opposite to be true."

"Excuse me?" Susan asked, shell shocked.

"See, them policies o' yours, they're all available online. Public knowledge. Even your personnel ones. Now, y'all have a nice and thorough handbook, I mean, I have been up all night just pouring over this like honey on toast, and I can tell you, I ain't findin' a word about y'all not being allowed to date your patients."

"Well, it's in policy number…"

"Nope, you were gonna say 47, subsection 2, part b. But that just says that you shouldn't treat anyone you're close to (i.e. friend, relative, or significant other) if you can't maintain objectivity or your own comfortability. Now, if I'd make Shane uncomfortable, or if she lost her objectivity over me, I'd be devastated. Shane, do I or do you think I could make you uncomfortable or unobjective?" he was laying it on so thick. If she hadn't been falling for him, this would have done it.

"I don't think so, Sy." She held back a smile…but not well.

"There ya have it. Miss DeForrest, I trust that Shane is free to live her life in the way she sees fit?"

"Well, I still think she should wait…" Susan started, but was cut off again by Sy.

"Because you see, I've seen a lot of young people fail to grow old. A lot of people waitin' to do things…they never ended up doin'. This life…it can be real, real short, Miss DeForrest. And I'm not keen on waitin' to be happy when I could be happy right now. Have I made myself clear enough for you? Or do I need to go to the next link in the chain of command here?" The emotion and resolve in his voice was completely shattering. He wasn't crying. But Shane and Susan both were. And then suddenly, Susan sniffed herself into composure and answered him with dignity.

"No, Captain Syverson. That will not be necessary. Shane…is free, of course, to socialize with whomever she sees fit so long as it doesn't affect anyone's treatment adversely. Thank you for your time, candor, and perspective, sir."

"I'm glad to help Shane. She's helped me more than any therapist I've ever had. We clicked immediately. I knew she was somethin' special. But getting to know her over the last few weeks has shown me what true happiness could feel like…I'd forgotten that over in Iraq. She gave that back to me. I'd like to thank her properly."

"I think she'd like that too. Thank you, sir." Susan hung up the phone without letting them say goodbye to each other, but Shane was an utter mess, and unable to form coherent words right now, anyway.

"Wow." Susan exclaimed.

"Yeah." Shane sniffed into a tissue, dabbing her eyes and then blowing her nose loudly, and unapologetically.

"Did he say he spent the whole night reading our policies?" Susan asked, not sure she heard him right.

"That's what I understood." Shane was somehow not surprised.

"Did you tell him to do that?"

"I didn't even know the policies were online, nor did I know you'd pull him in to our meeting…I didn't even know we were having one until twenty minutes ago."

"Right…fair. Sorry, I'm still…off-put by all of that." She had been beaten…and it wasn't familiar or comfortable.

"So, are we finished here?" Shane inquired, tentative about the state of mind her boss was in.

"Yes, go on and take the rest of the hour for continuing ed or whatever." She was normally much more composed…Sy had really gotten to her. She loved it.

Shane hurried back to her treatment room. She had to call him.

"Hello?" that same gravelly voice now confused as he'd just hung up with her, basically.

"May I speak to the great hero Captain Syverson, please?"

"Sunshine. How ya doin'?"

"Did you really stay up all night last night to read our entire employee manual?"

"I wanted the straight up, true life details about this policy that could mess up my future."

"I think you broke my boss's brain. She was still stewing when I left. She thought I told you where to find all that and what not. I didn't even know you could find it online. Plus, I didn't know we'd be meeting or that she'd drag you into a personnel matter. She's the worst. And you're literally my hero for beating her down like you did."

"Hey, ya know, she started it. I just finished it."

"You sure did. And how!"

"So…since we're all legal now…"

"Is the magic gone since it's not forbidden?" she laughed.

"Oh, I was gonna say, yeah, I think this may be a mistake. Sorry."

They both giggled.

"I'm free after work on Friday." she suggested.

"Not anymore, you're not. Bring some nice clothes and change when you're done. I'll pick you up after. Just text me when you're about ready?"

"You haven't given me your number, Sy."

"It's in my chart, dork."

"You have to officially give it to me."

"Oh I'll give it to ya, baby." He'd dug deep into the bass part of his register for that one.

"Syyyyy." she groaned.

"Oh, you already know I like it when you say my name."

"I'm being serious right now, what's your damn number or the date is off." She bluffed.

"Not because I believe that idle threat, but because I wanna…give it to ya." he rattled off the number.

"Okay, I'll be texting you with mine. Now, I have work today, so if you text me and don't get an immediate response, you know that's why."

"I'm not your only patient? I'm hurt, Shane."

"I know, that's why you've been coming to therapy for weeks."

"Har-Har, good thing I'm not into you for your sense of humor."

"Good thing I'm not into you for your looks, since 80% of your face is obscured by hair."

"We could go all day like this."

"The stamina." she teased.

"Well, look who joined the game!" he sounded almost proud.

"Don't think I haven't been participating silently for…a while."

"How long?" he inquired

"Isn't that my line?" she laughed at the penis joke she'd just made.

"You'll find out soon enough, and you won't be laughing. How long?"

"Well, you remember your evaluation."

"I do."

"Yeah…then." she bleated, too shy to say so with pride.

"No way! You mean you've liked me all this time too! And haven't said shit!?"

"I had to be professional, Sy! I didn't want to! Damn! You've gotta know how much I didn't want to be professional."

"I'll forgive ya, I guess, lil' lady."

"Merciful of you, sir!" she chuckled. "I'll need to go here soon. Won't be long now until my next one gets here."

"Tease me with a 'sir' then cut me off. Cruel."

"You like 'sir,' huh?" she whispered.

"I do. Yes…I…do."

"Noted. Well, until tomorrow."

"Don't forget to text me. I want you to give it to me too." he chuckled.

"Oh, you're bad."

"But, I'm real, real good sunshine." The deep rich promise in his voice did not go unnoticed.

"Bye Sy."

"Later Shane."

She hung up and texted him immediately. A selfie. He replied in kind. He seemed to be home on his couch, Aika by his side…he was not wearing a shirt…well…this day would be eternal.

Up Next: Chapter Five- Sensory Integration 1

[lupin-for-president]

“Behind The Shelves” Pt. 2

(A Wolfstar College AU)

•••

Days passed, the air got cooler, and eventually a week had come and gone since the library incident.

I don’t know what I was expecting, Remus thought, It was stupid of me to think he was actually interested.

He tugged at his jacket collar as he walked across the college quad, trying to shield his neck from the cold breeze that was blowing through. His eyes were glued to the book in his hands, trying to finish just this one chapter as he was on his way to his final class of the day.

He should’ve been looking where he was going —that much he can admit— but that still didn’t stop the growl that sounded from his throat when a running body slammed into him, causing him to drop the book he was holding.

“Shit, let me get that for you,” the stranger said.

Remus ignored the voice and bent down to grab the discarded literature when he noticed a tan hand, rings littering the fingers, reaching out at the same time. His eyes slowly lifted up to the owner of the hand and he was suddenly completely awestruck.

“Sirius?” Remus asked, hardly above a whisper.

The boy in question looked up, Remus’ book in hand, wearing a hardened expression. This face was much different than the one he had seen just a week ago, he had seemed to lack that playful vigor from before. The tan boy was quick to cover it up, though, letting a smirk spread across his full lips.

“Remus, babe,” Sirius answered, handing the book over, “Lovely to see you again.”

Remus rolled his eyes at the sudden pet name, but was honestly doing his best to fight of the blush it was causing to rush to his cheeks. He slowly rose to his feet, clutching the book close to his chest.

“Yeah, lovely,” he said curtly.

“I would apologize for bumping into you like that, but in all honesty I am not at all sorry since it means I get to look at that pretty face of yours,” Sirius smiled smoothly, running a hand through his hair.

Remus was mesmerized with the way the light wind made it blow around his face ever so slightly, falling into those shining silver eyes. He wanted to reach out and touch it himself, feel it run between his fingers.

“So, are you just coming from a class?” Remus asked, completely ignoring the other boy’s flirtatious remark.

“Yeah, actually,” Sirius smiled, raising up his hands, the palms of which were dotted with different shades of paint, “Just came from Figurtive Painting, got to stare at a naked girl for an hour and a half. What a sight she was.”

“Oh,” was all Remus could push out.

Had he read the situation wrong? Was the flirting and invitations on dates all just some joke? Or maybe even just in his imagination altogether?

Was Sirius not actually interested in boys?

Why should you care, you turned him down, he internally scolded himself.

“But you know,” Sirius sang out, snapping Remus out of his trance, “I have a project coming up, a painting due. The assignment is Desire; we’re supposed to paint what our heart longs for. Would you fancy being my muse?”

Once again, the remark caught Remus off guard, causing his eyes to widen slightly. He tried to find any sense of falsehood and teasing in Sirius’ eyes, but there was none. It almost looked like he was genuinely asking.

“Sorry, you’ll have to find someone else,” he declined.

Sirius wasn’t surprised by the statement, if anything he had been expecting it. If he were being honest he had only brought up the proposition in hopes of seeing that faint blush spread across Remus’ freckled nose. And Sirius was kind of a fan of the little game of cat and mouse Remus was making them play.

Hell, he’s gonna drive me mad, Sirius thought.

“You wound me, Remus” he gasped dramatically, the corners of his mouth tugging up devilishly, “As if I could ever find someone else that would be acceptable by my standards.”

Remus scoffed, turning his eyes away from the boy. “You’re making me late for class,” he stated bluntly, though a smile was playing at his lips.

“My apologies,” Sirius drawled out, pulling a cigarette from his pocket, “However can I make it up to you?”

Remus watched intently as Sirius lit up the bud, placing it gently between his teeth. He thought for a moment, pondered over some ideas, before finally deciding what he would like.

“I have closing shift again tonight, you can bring me by some chocolate.”

“Chocolate, eh?” Sirius chuckled, taking a long drag, “If I knew that was the way to your heart I would have gotten you some a week ago.”

Remus rolled his eyes and nodded at the cigarette in Sirius’ hand. “That’s against school policy, ya know. Smoking on campus is against the rules.”

The tan boy simply laughed, twirling the stick between his fingers gracefully. His eyes never left Remus’ as he blew a light puff of smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry, Sir.”

Those two words were enough to make Remus’ face flush in an instant, his heart skipping a beat inside of his chest.

Had it been anyone else saying those words, they would have been meaningless. It was the fact that Sirius had said them —and they way he said it— that caused him to become flustered. It was just embarrassing how much of an affect this boy had on him, really.

He quickly turned away, taking the first step in the direction of his last class.

“Yeah, well, just put it out,” he grumbled as he took his leave, not even sparing the other a parting glance.

Sirius chuckled as he watched him go, his eyes maybe drifting down Remus’ backside just once —or twice— before finally landing on the back of his head. His feet started dragging backwards and he put out the cigarette on a nearby trash can before throwing it in.

“See you tonight!” Sirius called after him.

Oh, he loved that look on Remus’ face, absolutely desired it. The completely flustered and caught of guard stare, how his hazel eyes would shoot wide open. He wanted to see it more often.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about Remus ever since that day in the library. James even threatened to kick him out of their dorm because he wouldn’t shut up about it. He swore up and down that it was love at first sight, and he was going to make Remus fall in love with him, too.

Soon it became time for Remus’ shift and he actually found himself getting jittery when he though of Sirius stopping by. He knew he shouldn’t look too far into it, but he just couldn’t help it when he had went so long without having experienced something like this.

Every time the door jingled he would snap his head up to see who it was, each time being a little too disappointed when it wasn’t who he wanted it to be. Until around seven, when in through the door walked none other than the charming and dashing Sirius.

Remus did his best to fight off a smile, but the best he could manage was a slightly crooked grin. He tried not to stare when he saw Sirius tugging off his leather jacket as he made his way up to Remus’ counter.

“One order of chocolate here for delivery, babe,” Sirius smiled widely, sliding the box across the counter top.

Remus wasn’t sure how, but Sirius had managed to get the exact brand and flavor that was his all time favorite. He stared down at the chocolates for a moment before grabbing them and placing them next to his phone and keys.

“Don’t call me babe,” Remus said, “And I didn’t actually expect you to get me these.”

“Anything for you,” the other cooed, leaning on his elbows over the counter, “Can I get a thank you kiss?”

Remus huffed and placed a hand over Sirius’ lips, tilting his head. Sirius looked a little confused at first, but didn’t even make an attempt to move away.

“In your dreams.”

Sirius smirked against Remus’ hand, wrapping his slim fingers around the pale boy’s wrist and pulling it away just enough so that he could speak.

“Oh, we do way more than kiss in my dreams, babe,” he teased, leaning even closer, “C’mon don’t be scared, I don’t bite.”

Remus cleared his throat, yanking his hand out of Sirius’ grasp and grabbing his clipboard. When his eyes met Sirius’ again, there was a playful glint in them, almost mischievous.

“I do.”

For the first time since Sirius had met him, Remus made him speechless. A hot blush rose to his face as he watched the sandy haired boy walk away, almost swearing that he saw a smirk tugging at those chapped lips.

He had pegged Remus as the innocent type, I mean, he checked all the boxes —quiet, work focused, easily flustered— but just those two words threw that entire analogy out the window.

It only made Sirius want him more.

Sirius followed after him, watching with close eyes as Remus would mark things off on his clipboard. Sometimes he would lean against the shelves and Remus would shoo him out of the way if he were blocking a book he needed to see. Sirius wanted to know everything about him, especially now that Remus had just took their little game to a whole new level.

“So, babe, when’s our date?”

“Pardon?” Remus asked, not even attempting to debunk the pet name this time.

“I brought you chocolate, I think that means I get a date,” Sirius smiled, taking steps up to Remus, “You can decline again, but I’m not going to stop asking until you say yes.”

Somehow, Remus knew he wasn’t kidding.

The dark headed boy was only inches from him now, looking directly into his eyes. If his goal was to drive Remus absolutely mad from the proximity, then he was doing a damn good job. Remus sighed, turning his eyes back to the clipboard in his hands and walking down the aisle.

“I told you before, I don’t do dates,” Remus said bluntly.

Sirius felt his heart sink for a moment as he followed, but only until Remus paused and turned around to face him.

“But, I wouldn’t mind a study session. Whether you need to work on anything or not, I have a big test coming up in a few days.”

Sirius was confused for a moment, he wasn’t sure what Remus was trying to imply. He knew there was no way in hell this genius looking boy could be asking for help from him.

“I’m off tomorrow, but I plan on coming here to study since my roommate is always snogging some random girl in our dorm. You can accompany me if you like, but if you distract me too much—”

“Me? Distracting? Never,” Sirius cut him off, flashing him an innocent smile.

“Whatever,” Remus mumbled, turning around to hide the smile on his face, “I’ll be here at five, I plan on studying for a while so you don’t have to stay the entire time.”

“Alright, it’s a date.”

A date.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Remus really liked the sound of that.

[dontshootmespence]

Through It All

Part 23

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,203

Warnings: Basically nothing, mostly fluffy family stuff.

A/N: Hint of kink at the end!

Never had punching a phone number into a keypad been so vomit-inducing. Your finger trembles above the waiting digits, but when Spencer rests his hand on your shoulder, you take a deep breath and dial the number for Cradle of Hope.

“Hello, this is Cradle of Hope Adoption Agency, this is Marcie speaking. How can I help you?”

With more authority than you felt, you reply. “My name is Y/N Reid. My husband and I are looking to adopt and were wondering if we could come visit and speak with an adoption agent?”

Minutes later, you have an appointment. “When is it?” Spencer asks.

“Saturday. You ready for this?”

Spencer smiles, eyes looking off into the distance, as if imagining what the future holds. “Absolutely. I mean, I’m also petrified because this is unknown and I hate unknown, but I’ll get over it,” he laughs.

If that ain’t the truth.

---

Over the next few work days, both you and Spencer try to come up with any and all questions you might possibly have about this whole process. Questions are simple, but the unknown path ahead is what shakes you both. Just because you get chosen by a birth mother, it doesn’t necessarily guarantee that the deal is done. In an open adoption, she can change her mind at any time. And that’s scary as hell.

“You sure about the open adoption?” You ask, biting your lip as Spencer drives through the sleepy suburb to the agency. “I mean, I am. But I’m also terrified.”

Spencer’s hand floats from the steering wheel and onto your lap, where he entwines his fingers with yours. “I want to at least try it first. I love the idea of having the birth parents involved to some extent, but if we end up getting chosen and then the birth parents change their minds a number of times, I would look at a closed adoption.”

That had always been your train of thought, and hearing Spencer mirror it puts your mind at ease as you pull into the agency’s parking lot. “Ready?” You ask softly.

After opening the passenger side door for you, he takes your hand and leads you inside in reply.

---

For some reason, you’d imagined this place like a hospital, sterile and unwelcoming, but it looks a lot like someone’s home, and Marcie, who you’d spoken to earlier in the week, greets you at the door with a warm smile. “If you’ll both wait right here, I’ll get Minnie for you.”

A few minutes later, an older woman with kind eyes, round-rimmed glasses and graying hair makes your acquaintance. “Well, don’t you two look precious,” she says without making eye contact as she leads you back to her office. “Tell me a little bit about yourselves.”

Nerves make you seize up, but Spencer is in his element and begins rambling away about how he’d never imagined meeting the love of his life in a bar and yet here you were, happily married for a little less than 2.5 years with a beautiful baby girl to boot. You contribute to the conversation by pulling out your phone and showing Minnie the plethora of pictures of Charlie you have on your phone. Nearly 20 minutes pass as she coos over your hazel-haired little cherub. “So you have this beautiful little girl. What makes you want to adopt this time around?”

Spencer looks to you and allows you to reply, considering the reasoning is mainly yours. “Well, as much as I loved being pregnant, it was very difficult on my body. I’ve also always wanted to adopt, so considering we have one ‘naturally,’ we both liked the idea of adopting for number two.”

Over the next hour or so, Minnie asks a million different questions - some you’d expected and some you hadn’t. What does adoption mean to you? How often do you still frequent bars? In the event that something happens to you, who’ll raise your children? Are you aware of the pitfalls of an open adoption? It never seems to end until she finally pauses a moment, takes a breath and replies. “I think you two would do well with us,” she says softly, rummaging around in her desk for what is undoubtedly the first of a thousand pieces of paperwork. “Anyone adopting with us is required to complete ten hours of what we call adoption education, which for our agency we use Adoption STAR. The first class goes over talking about adoption with family and friends, as well as when to approach the topic of adoption with your child given their developmental and social levels. Class two goes over children with special needs. Class three addresses open versus closed adoption in great detail-”

She sees the wide eyed looks on your faces and places a hand on both of yours. “It’s a lot, but you look like you’ll be able to handle it,” she says genuinely before continuing. “Class four goes into talking points when it comes to the kinds of identity issues some adoptees can face, as well as how those talking points are affected by the child’s race. Five discusses adoption law, and then there are some post adoption classes as well, though not as many.”

While she continues talking about the policies of the agency, she beckons you to follow her around as she gathers paperwork. You were aware of the fees going in, but thankfully your finances allow for an adoption credit, so those worries sit on the back burner for a while.

Once she’s gathered the mountain of paperwork, she sits you in a room near her office where people can fill things out. “When it comes to your profile, be open and honest. Don’t try and make yourself appeal to everyone. Use specifics. Not everyone will love your profile, but the ones that do will feel more connected to you if you go into the specifics of your life and your parenting journey. Good luck,” she sing-songs with a smile. “You’ll do great.”

When the door closes with a thud, Spencer’s eyes scan the hill of paper. “Ready to tackle this?”

“For a baby? Hell yea.”

---

Hours pass with nothing but hand cramps, pens gliding over paper and soft touches from across the table, but finally you finish your paperwork with enough time to grab dinner on the way home. After dropping the papers off with Minnie, you both bid her goodnight and slip out the doors of the agency into a sky that had been bright and blue when you’d walked in earlier. “Now all we can do is wait.” You lean into him, his warmth comforting in the chill that’s settled into the air.

“And take classes!” He says excitedly.

You giggle at how excited he is about new knowledge of any kind. His nervousness seemingly fades away with something to focus on. “And take classes,” you laugh, walking toward the passenger side door. Your brain is racing with information and possibilities.  

“Wait,” he says, eyes gleaming mischievously. He knows you need focus. “You drive, I have an idea. Think you can handle the wheel?”

“For you, Sir?” You ask, falling effortlessly into that familiar headspace. “Yes.”

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn​ @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid​ @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1​ @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid​ @lazynoodledragon​ @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97​ @grace-superpowers​ @softestlavender​ @ssa-dr-ladylock​ @drprettyboy​ @patricks-fabulous-face​ @tearosaria​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @marvels-gurl​ 

[sleepypeaky]

now i’ve found you

finn shelby x male reader

request: male!reader, who is Tommy's assistant, is pretty sure he's straight. but he ends up falling for one of the shelby brothers (your choice!). insert gay crisis, and potentially tommy/aunt polly/ada being supportive?

w/c: 1,363

a/n: i love this headcannon so much thank you. i know i do finn for everything but i thought this would work the best and also i love him so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ note that john is alive because im in deep denial. i know i went for a heavier take on this than i could have, but i think it works. also yes i ripped that scene right out of the DA movie. i hope i did the mlm a good. #wlwmlmsolidarity

this is 1928 ish so finn is 20 and so is the reader

this is very obviously way more fully formed than any of my other fics but its tuesday and i have nothing to do so 

Ada Thorne had always looked out for you. So when she managed to get you a job working for her brother, you knew you would be safe. Now you hurried up the steps and knocked on a large heavy wooden door, which opened presently to a sitting room where you awaited your new boss.

Ada held the phone to her ear.

“Listen,” she said. “I have a lad who needs a safe place to work. He’s smart and capable and before you say anything, no, he’s not a spy.”

Tommy silently acknowledged the last part with approval. “Ok, but protection from what?”

Ada looked over her shoulder, making sure none of the others in the house were about. She sighed, “I know this means little to you, but he -lets put it this way- doesn’t fancy the ladies. And life is hard enough for people like him without having to worry about being kicked out of work for something that’s no one’s goddamn business.”

“As you said, this lad’s private life is moot to me, but if you can vouch for his work ethic and loyalty, i’ll give him a try.”

“You must be (y/f/n), nice to meet you.” Tommy shook your hand and led you into his office.

“My sister talks very highly of you, and she is quite possibly the only honest person i know.” He offered you a chair and lit himself a cigarette.

“So, the job is simple enough. I need an assistant, the most recent of which, is my wife, who can’t very well be working for me anymore.”

You smiled and nodded. 

“Well I have two years of university to my name so I hope I can be useful.”

Tommy chuckled, “Well you are more qualified than any other man here lad, and it’s probably smart to get some new young blood on the company.”

You smiled, “Thank you sir.”

He motioned you to follow him out of the room and into a smaller one just off it.

“This is your office, across the hall-” He motioned behind him through the door, where directly adjacent was another room, “-Is my cousin Michael’s office, he is the account handler so to speak.”

“Now,” He turned back to you, “There is the matter of this.”

He placed a pistol and a handful of ammunition onto the desk between you.

“You know how to shoot son?’

You looked concernedly at the weapon casually lying on the table,

“No sir.”

“Well, hopefully you wont ever need to use this but it seems to be company policy, never can be too careful. I’ll have someone teach you.” 

You thanked him and placed the items in a desk drawer.

“If you’ll follow me, i’ll give you the rundown of the company,” he said. “I’ve got some time and I need to wrangle up some people.”

You followed him out the door and through a series of buildings where different operations took place. At one point, you walked into a sort of yard-warehouse area.

Beginning from a distance and gradually growing louder,  you could hear ‘duck!’ ‘hit!’ ‘shift!’ etc.. 

All was explained when you and Tommy turned the corner.

In a roped off section of the cement yard were two very handsome young men. Both boxing and both, seemingly to vex you on your first day, shirtless.

“That’s Bonnie and Finn, don’t mind them.” Tommy commented off-hand. 

He turned left and walked into another building, leaving you just enough time to glance back at the two shirtless men, before ducking in after him.

After Tommy had introduced you the Charlie and Curly, he led you back to the office and then said he had to run, and you could start filing the stack of papers on his desk. 

You went right to work, and before long, had forgotten the time completely.

~~~~

You were in a filing induced trance when a noise took you out of it.

The noise turned out to be the door opening.

“Oh hi.. i didn’t know anyone was in here..” The boy stammered.

You looked up to see on of the boys from the boxing ring, taken slightly by surprise, you fumbled out from behind the desk to introduce yourself.

“Sorry to surprise you, hi i’m (y/n), Mr. Shelby’s new assistant.” You held out your hand and he shook it.

“I’m Finn,” he stumbled “Tommy’s brother.” he released your hand.

“Can I help you with anything?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Well I thought I’d find my brother here but i guess i’ll see him later.”

In a hasty fashion he held up a hand as a brief farewell, and scurried out of the room.

You sighed and cursed silently to yourself.

Out of all the people he could have been, why my boss’s brother.

~~~~

Like no time at all, the weeks and months seemingly flew past. You had become acquainted with everyone and felt like you had finally found your place. There were, of course, still some aspects with which you couldn’t fit in just the same as any other.

“Oi, you’re a good looking lad! Why don’t you come along with us tonight. Get some drink and find a girl, Birmingham’s best!” Arthur wheezed.

“That’s not saying much, but do come along mate!” John followed up. Giving you a friendly slap on the back.

You smiled,

“Thanks,” You gave john a man-pat on the shoulder, “But i got some work to finish here.”

“Suit yerself.” And they were gone.

You sighed with relief. You knew you’d have to go someday, but right now you couldn’t handle the idea of,,,that.

A few minutes later ,you heard a knock on the door and Finn entered, holding two crystal glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“i heard you skipped goin’ to the Garrison with the others so i thought i’d bring some to you.”

He placed the things down on your desk and sat on the chair opposite you.

“You’re a life-saver! thank you.” you exclaimed.

Finn chuckled, pouring you a glass and handing it over, 

“Yeah, it’s not really my scene either.”

You hummed, taking a sip and savoring it quickly in your mouth. You wondered, a stupid thing to do, if it wasn’t his scene for the same reasons as you. Though the more you got to know him. You suspected.

Suspicions are a dangerous thing. Especially ones that are led by the heart, and are ever so biased on your own happiness. Nevertheless, a week or so later from that night, you popped in to tell Finn, with perhaps too much certainty,

“You know, I think I know a place you might enjoy.”

~~~~

London always induced a joyous feeling inside you. Not that you had only fond memories from living there -far from it- but there was something about a city where the air wasn’t 80% coal soot.

You and Finn got off the train and made your way to Ada’s house. It was always a delight to be in her presence. Especially because you owed her so much, in fact, probably you owed her your life in so may ways.

After tea, and insisting that you had to make your way to a surprise spot, you and Finn made your way into the night.

Through a maze of mews and side-streets, down alleys and cracks you led him.

“I know i grew up in small heath,” He said at one point, when you were in a particularly funky alley. “but where the hell are you taking me?”

“Trust me.”  you assured him.

You both came out of an alley and into a small courtyard-like space. You brushed off your clothes a little and knocked on a door in the dark brick wall.

A little notch opened up and you whispered the password. the door swung open.

“Hello Love!” The doorman said, “ ‘aven’t seen you ‘round here for a long time!” 

You greeted the man back and made apologies. Presently, you went inside, leading Finn behind you.

Inside was an immaculate ballroom filled with people. Jazz music was pouring from the stage at the far end of the room. But as Finn looked around more, he started thinking that something was off. 

When he realized he froze.

All the people dancing, all the paired up couples, were men. Some dressed lavishly and others in plain working clothes. some with curled mustaches and some with cheeks of rouge and powdered skin.

Finn couldn’t believe his eyes.

He saw for the first time, a pair of men dancing hand in hand with wild smiles on their faces. Laughing, singing along.

Finn couldn’t move, nor could he take his eyes off the sights around him.

He felt your presence next to him, 

“Was i right to bring you here?” You asked.

He turned his head to face you, he was quivering. He looked you in the eyes, eyes that were lined with tears. 

“I had no idea,” He whispered,

“I had no idea there were others.”

Your heart ached for him in a way that only those like them know. You knew what he felt, the wonder, the pain, the confused elation.

You took his hand,

“There are.”

You slowly pulled him to the dance floor.

The music had gotten slower, and the dancing changed to a sort of swaying four-step. 

You took his other hand first, letting him go at his own pace, but soon you were as close as the others on the floor. both of you had a hand on the others waist.

Finn looked around again, at all the other people, eyes all closed and heads close. He turned back to you and moved even closer. He brought his lips up to your ear, 

“Thank you.” He whispered. He kept his cheek at yours, you felt his hands on your back.

He moved his head slowly so he could look at you again, it was such that your foreheads touched. Your heart beat slow, but hard. You whispered

“Can i kiss you?”

His eyes flicked up to yours before looking down again and moving his lips to yours.

It was ever so soft, barely even there. But it was there, and that was beyond anything Finn had ever felt or imagined before. He closed his eyes and kissed harder this time, and from beneath his eyelids came small lines of tears. The release of an unseen, unknown burden that he had carried for so long.

All you felt was warmth. And the ballroom surrounding you disappeared. You were on a different plane of being, the jazz music still crooned, muffled. 

All there was was him, and for him all there was was you.

~~~~

Epilogue

Finn stood outside the opaque glass of the door. And in the irony of psychology, he had never felt more confident about what he was going to do.

He opened the door to Tommy’s office. 

“Hello Finn.” He said from behind the desk, cigarette smoking from his lip.

Finn went right up and took a seat across from his brother. 

“I’m a homosexual.” He declared, his gaze unwavering despite the magnanimity of his previous statement. 

Tommy took the cigarette from between his lips and put it out.

“Well then.” He reached over and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, pouring two glasses and sliding one over to Finn. He took a sip.

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Because I’m in love with (y/n).” He replied casually, taking himself a swig.

Tommy raised his brow, but made no other physical impression of surprise.

“Well then.” He said again.

Finn sat there in the silence of Tommy’s company. Surprised, and at the same time not, at his reaction. 

Tommy got up from his seat and made his was around the desk. Finn stayed where he was. In an act so small, and yet untellingly powerful, tommy placed a hand of finns shoulder, and kept it there.

“How will the others find out?”

They found out at a family meeting a month later, when, a new agenda item was introduced.

For a while after, there was silence. 

John, being john, broke it with,

“Falling for a secretary huh?” he chuckled, “that seems more like something i’d do.”

That lightened the tension. Amid the other items on the list, Finn leaned over to Ada, who sat on his right.

“Tell me,” He asked quietly to her, “did you know?”

She breathed a moment, finding the words to use.

“I knew you had more on your mind than we could ever know.”

Finn looked back ahead, letting her words sink into his mind. Her hand rested on his knee with quiet warmth and reassurance.

~~~~ You waited outside the meeting room until the rest of them filed out. Finn was the last, and when he appeared you gave him a quick peck on the lips, and held his hand, walking together out of the building.

[wemayhavestartedthefiresorry]

“Six or Seven what? Beers? Shots? Gallons?”

pairing: reader x tony stark 

summary: Peter brings you to Tony’s house after a frat party. You’ve been drinking a lot and you drunkenly confess your crush on Tony. (AU where Tony is still alive after the snap and Pepper isn’t in the picture lmao.)

warnings: age gap, PTSD from the snap, mentions of alcoholism, angst, fluff, angry Tony, drunk reader

note: This one shot doesn’t really fit into the series in cannon. Reader is assumed to have helped the avengers with Thanos. I’m LIVING for angry Tony >:) I’m not a fan of Pepper Potts so lmao shes gone BYE

Tony sat in his workshop working on something that you had no chance at understanding. Especially since you were blackout drunk. Peter held your arm as the both of you walked down the steps. His music was loud but Tony often had it that way. So he didn’t notice as you stumbled down the stairs. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter tried to speak over the music but with no luck. Tony was facing the other way. You looked at him in your drunken stupor, he was terrified. “Mr. Stark?!” He yelled again, but to no avail. You couldn’t help but giggle. You wiggled yourself loose from Peter’s gentle grip and ran over to Tony. He was working on something that looked small, maybe a microchip or something smart. You carelessly wrapped your arms around him, giving him a back hug and effectively scaring the shit out of him. He looked over his shoulder with his eyebrows furled. 

“FRIDAY, pause my playlist.” He called out. The music ceased almost instantly. 

“Hi Tony!” you smiled widely, still hugging him. 

“Who let you in here? Was it FRIDAY?” He looked at you, then Peter. “If you haven’t noticed, I have a strict ‘no children’ policy in my workshop.” 

“I know, I’m sorry Mr. Stark. It’s just-” 

“I’m not a child! I’m twenty three and 4 months old!” You blurted out. “Maybe you’re just older than dirt- no, older than dinosaur bones.” You laughed at your own joke, no one else did...

“You’re two hundred and eighty months old, you’re essentially an infant. Are you going to get off of me anytime soon?” Tony said. 

Peter began to ramble. “We went to a party at a frat house and (Y/N) was doing shots and I was trying to get her to stop but she kept going and I didn’t know what to do and I can’t remember where she lives and she wouldn’t tell me because she didn’t want to leave the party and then she kept saying she just wanted to see you so I brought her here and I’m really sorry Mr. Stark-”

“Were you drinking too?” He interrupted.

“No, I wasn’t. I swear Mr. Stark I didn’t even look at any of the alcohol-” 

“It’s okay, kid. I believe you. But you better keep it that way or I'm taking the suit.”

“No, sir. I mean- yes, sir.” 

“How did you get here?”

“I took an uber.”

“FRIDAY, get the kid a ride back home.” Tony called out.

“Yes, sir.” FRIDAY responded. “A car will be out front for Mr. Parker.” 

“It’s Friday Friday, gotta get down on Friday-” You began to sing off key. 

“Thank you Mr. Stark.” Peter said. 

“Yeah, we’ll talk more about this tomorrow...” He trailed off, looking down at the leech  attached to him. Peter made his way back up the stairs to catch his ride. Tony was so warm, you didn’t want to let go. Usually you’re reserved in the way you act in front of your crushes but you were too drunk to care. 

“So are you going to let go or am I your new life source now?” He asked. You peered up at him with a goofy smile but you got the hint and decided to let go. He turned around to face you. “My god,” He sniffed the air. “You smell like a distillery, and that means a lot coming from me. I literally own a distillery.” 

“That’s weird,” You cocked your head to the side, “I haven’t been to a distillery.” you slurred. But something across the room caught your attention; the bar. You walked towards it to make another drink. Tony caught on to your plan quickly.

“Oh no you don’t,” He quickly stepped in front of you and crossed his arms. “I think you’ve had enough.” 

“C’mon Tony, have a drink with me. I’d much rather drink with you than with some stupid frat boys anyway.” You turned away from him and took a seat in one of his desk chairs. “You’re more my speed. I don’t like hanging out with people my age, they’re too immature.” 

“Yep, you’re definitely the poster boy for maturity right now. How much exactly did you drink?” He asked.

“Hm” You started to count on your fingers and mumble to yourself. You couldn’t remember how much you had actually drank. You took a guess. “Six- maybe seven.” 

“Six or seven what? Beers? Shots? Gallons?” 

“Maybe eight,” You got distracted and started to play with the spinny chair. 

“You’re going to make yourself dizzy- Y/N, stop that.” You didn’t listen to him. “If you throw up on my floor I’m sending you the dry cleaning bill.” He said, but you still didn’t listen. He gave up and walked over and stopped the chair from spinning by grabbing the armrests. Leaving you and him face to face. For a moment you got so lost in his eyes that you forgot where you were.   

“You know, you’re kinda cute when you're angry.” You reached out and pinched his cheek. You giggled, he wasn’t happy. 

“That’s it, sport. You’re going home. FRIDAY-” He called out, but you cut him off before he got the chance to send you home. 

“Jeez, Tony,” You whined. “Don’t be such a party pooper. I thought you were supposed to be the fun one.” 

“Oh, I am.” He raised his eyebrows. Suddenly he seemed very annoyed, oops. “What’s not fun is taking a high schooler to a college party, getting blackout drunk, and making him take care of you.” His anger was subtle and masked with sarcasm but it sobered you a little bit. Your smile began to fade. 

“I-” You were at a loss for words. Tony had never expressed anger at you before. “I’m sorry…”

“What you did tonight was at best irresponsible and at worst dangerous.” His temper was rising, you could tell he was reaching his boiling point. “What were you thinking? You know what, don’t answer that.” He held his finger up. “You” He pointed, “are going home.” 

“Tony, I'm sorry. I mean it. It was a stupid mistake.” You began, getting more and more upset by the moment. Tears started to sting at your eyes and your voice trembled. “I won’t do it again. I just can’t be alone after everything that happened. Drinking is the only thing that makes me feel okay and I just-” You felt a tear drip down your cheek. For the past few months you had been having trouble with your PTSD from the Thanos snap. Even though it was all over, the trauma still scarred you. You used alcohol to cope. 

“Shhh,” Tony’s expression softened. If anyone understood that struggle, it was him. “It's okay.” 

“Please don’t be angry at me, I can’t-” you choked out as you tried to hold back your tears. “I can’t handle you being angry at me. I can handle when Steve is mad at me, I can handle when Clint is mad at me, hell, I can even handle when Nat is mad at me. But you? Not you.” Tony pulled you into a hug, petting your hair with his hand. You let yourself cry onto his t-shirt. 

“I’m not angry at you. It’s okay…” He cooed. “I understand it more than anyone, trust me.” His chest was soft and warm, you loved the way his expensive cologne smelled. It seemed like a mix of pine and spice. It smelled like home. You pulled back to look him in the face. Through your dizzy drunkenness, you could feel the tension between you two. Looking into his eyes made your stomach flutter, you were sure that he felt it too. After a momentary pause, you leaned in and kissed his lips. He barely kissed back, but he didn’t reject it either. The kiss was quick, kind of like an experiment. You pulled back and stared at him, waiting for a chemical reaction. He stayed confused. 

“I’ve always wanted to kiss you.” You said, breaking the silence. “I’ve liked you for a while but I’ve been too shy to say anything.” You anxiously awaited his response. 

“(Y/N), I’m old enough to be your father-”

“I don’t care.” You cut him off. “I like you. I want to be with you. You’re the only person that truly makes me feel safe and that’s why I wanted to come here. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be with you.” There was a long pause. Tony seemed to be thinking very carefully about what to say next. He looked at you with a mix of confusion and sympathy. 

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow. I think we should get you to bed.” 

“Okay…” You said, slightly disappointed but understanding that he didn’t want to talk about it. You walked up the stairs with him and he brought you to the guest room. You peered in through the open door as you stood in the frame. It was roomy and looked comfortable, but the whole reason you didn’t want to go home is because you didn’t want to sleep alone. 

“You can sleep in here. I’ll just be right down the hallway, okay?” he said. 

“Okay.” You replied. He began to walk away but suddenly you got the courage to speak up. “Tony?” you called to him and he turned around. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” You asked timidly. He paused for a moment. 

“Sure, just for tonight.” you smiled. “But if you throw up I’m kicking you out.” He teased, you giggled as you walked towards his room.  “I’m being completely serious.” You waltzed into his room and flopped down on his bed. He turned around and started rifling through his dresser. 

“You can borrow my clothes to sleep in,” He said with his back turned. “I’ll probably have to incinerate them tomorrow to get the smell of whiskey out of it but here-” He turned around to look at you, but while he had been looking for pajamas you had already fallen asleep. 

The next morning you woke up with a pounding headache. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groaning with exhaustion. You looked around at the room. Tony had fallen asleep on the comfy chair on the other side of the room, he was passed out. You looked down at your clothes. You weren’t wearing what you left the house in last night. Suddenly nausea overcame you and you ran to the bathroom as quickly as you could to throw up in the toilet. You leaned over the porcelain bowl and yacked for a while, but you felt better afterwards. You took a deep breath, washed your face and mouth out in the sink, and walked back into Tony’s room. Clearly you stirred him with your vomiting because he had already woken up and left the room. You crawled back in bed wearing Tony’s oversize t-shirt and no pants, you covered your legs with the soft plush blanket. Tony walked in.

“Good morning, Dionysus. How’s your head?” He sat at the end of the bed with a glass of water and an aspirin. You winced in pain.

“It’s just peachy, thank you.” 

“Here, take this.” He handed it to you and without hesitation, you took it. 

“What happened last night?” You asked, your memory was still hazy. 

“Peter brought you here after you went to a frat party and you refused to go to your own home. You passed out on my bed but not before confessing your crush on me.” He stated very matter-of-factly. You could tell he was basking in the fact that you were reaping the consequences of your actions. Your stomach dropped. It all came back to you… the crying, the kiss, the confession.

“Oh no,” You shut your eyes tightly.

“Oh yes, and I believe you mentioned that I’m older than dirt. Or was it ‘older than dinosaur bones’?” You cringed. You couldn’t believe you said that to his face. “You’re quite the flirt when you drink.” You looked down at your clothes and suddenly a big question hit you.

“Oh my god, did we…?” 

“Absolutely not, you came in and passed out on my bed. I figured you didn’t want to sleep in a leather skirt so I changed you…” A moment of silence hung in the air. “Don’t flatter yourself, I didn’t look.” He avoided eye contact. 

“Thank you…” You felt bad for being such a pain when he was being so kind to you. “I’m sorry for um, saying all that stuff to you last night. But also for the kiss...” You took a deep breath trying to build up the courage to talk about your feelings. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while…” You awaited his response.

“I know,” He said to your surprise. 

“You knew?” You said in disbelief. 

“I’ve always known, Y/N. I see the way you look at me, I’m not stupid.” 

“W-why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“You’re half my age, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Tony, that doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care about how old you are.” You assured him.

“Your drunk alter ego seems to care.” He teased. 

Are you saying you feel the same way?” You asked, trying to make sense of everything.

“Yeah-” Before he could finish his sentence you cut him off with a kiss, a sober one this time. You felt him lean into you, caressing your face in his hand. Despite the age gap, it felt right. You felt safe. As your lips disconnected, you locked eyes with him. He sighed. 

“What?” you asked. 

“I need to find you a toothbrush,” You cracked a smile. “You smell terrible too. I’ll turn on the shower for you.” He stood up and walked out of the room. Although your head was pounding, your heart was full with joy. Tony was finally yours.

[zebrabaker]

Choosing Destiny; Part 1

TA-DA! I promised this to @sayuricorner like, two weeks ago, but it’s finally done! THis is a Twisted Wonderland/Ever After High crossover, and pretty salty. PLEASE COMMENT

Rook had been relaxing in a grove when he heard a rustling in the woods. His eyes snapped to the side when a branch snapped just beyond the tree line. Slowly, he stood, preparing to fight if necessary. Then, stumbling, no, limping, out of the woods, came a girl. Her skin was deathly pale, and her t-shirt and sleep pants were shredded in some places. Her left ankle was swollen and bruised, and she whimpered every time she put her weight on it. The girl’s eyes lit with hope and desperation when she saw him, and she froze, lifting her hands in the universal gesture of surrender.

“Please, I don’t know where I am, or what I’m doing here, or how I got here. I just need a doctor, I hurt my ankle at one point, running from a pack of wolves. I hid in a tree for a few hours, but I’m really lost and scared and I don’t know what to do.” Her voice was rising and her eyes starting to water.

“You can come here, Mademoiselle. I won’t hurt you. Come, there should be a doctor at the school.” He slowly walked towards her, keeping his hands up to show he was no threat. Still, the girl remained wary, her shoulders tense. He took her hand in his, and slipped an arm around her shoulder. She sagged into him, and he could feel how weak she was. Slowly, they made their way towards the main building. Almost halfway there, the girl let out a gentle yelp and collapsed, clinging tight to his arm in an attempt to stay upright. Thinking fast, he squatted and swept his free arm under her legs before standing. After taking a moment to adjust his hold on her, he continued up the path, moving slowly to not jostle the poor girl. How had she gotten lost in the woods? There wasn’t anything but trees for miles around.

They had just entered the main building when the girl spoke.

“My name is Raven. I really can’t thank you enough for helping me.” Her voice was lovely to hear, slightly raspy and sweet like a candy apple.

“There is no need to thank me, it’s what anyone would do. My name is Rook Hunt. We’re almost to the nurse’s office. How did you get lost in the woods? There’s nothing around for miles.” There were no students in the hallways, as it was technically time for classes. He had a free period, so he wouldn’t get in any trouble. Gently tapping his boots against the door to the nurse’s office, he waited for the school nurse, Nurse Isla, to open the door.

“Mister Rook? Who is this young lady?” The frail looking woman asked. She stepped back, making room for Rook to carry Raven over to a cot and set her down.

“My name is Raven, ma’am. I got lost in the woods. Where am I?” Isla and Rook shared a look. Everyone in Twisted Wonderland knew what NCR was.

“Well, you’re at Night Raven College, of course.” Raven’s brow furrowed.

“I have no idea where that is. Are we still in the White kingdom, or anywhere near Ever After High?” Something like realization dawned on Nurse Isla’s face.

“Mister Hunt, you need to go fetch the Headmaster.”

“What? Why? Is something wrong?” There was a note of panic in Raven’s voice.

“Nothing dangerous dear, now let’s see what we can do for that ankle of yours.” Rook waited no longer, and left for the head office.

X0X0X

Today had started well, considering that it was just three days since the disaster that was Legacy Day. Maddie was sick with some Wonderland virus, and had been in the school infirmary for a day and a half, leaving Raven alone. Most of the other Rebels had been supportive, but she wasn’t close with any of them. She had taken to hiding in the woods between classes, just to avoid the hateful words and glares of the Royals. Everything had gone wrong when she had tried practicing her magic. She centered herself, and slowly took deep breaths. She had just been trying a simple teleportation spell to take her back to her room when a twig snapped and she lost control. The next thing she knows, the woods look different, and she hears the baying of hungry wolves.

“Ah!” She snapped out of her remembrance when the nurse pressed on her ankle.

“Sorry, dear, but I need to check if anything is broken.” The nurse continued to poke and prod the throbbing area. After five minutes, the nurse spoke again. “Not broken, but seriously sprained. I’ll need you to drink a potion, and it should heal in a few minutes. For now, just stay here.” The nurse bustled away, rifling through a cabinet for a few moments. The door swung open, revealing a man in what looked like a plague mask. This must be the headmaster, she realized.

“Hello, young lady. I am Headmaster Crowley; might I know your name?”

“I’m Raven Queen, sir.” She greeted.

XOXOX

Crowley watched as the girl seemed to shrink as she introduced herself. Odd, she was a rather pretty girl, but she seemed scared to death of him.

“Queen? That’s a rather unusual last name.” Nurse Isla commented as she came back over, carrying a potion vial.

“It’s from my mother’s side.” Raven murmured, looking ashamed. “Next Evil Queen and all that…” Crowley sucked in a deep breath. Between her references to Ever After High and what she just said, this girl was a descendant of the Beautiful Queen, one of the seven founders.

“Drink up, Miss Queen.” Nurse Isla said, handing Raven a small vial. Raven wrinkled her nose and drank the potion like a shot, gagging on the foul taste. He winced in sympathy. Nurse Isla’s potions were terrible tasting, but they worked wonders.

“Miss Queen, if you would come with me, we can get you sorted out.” Raven nodded and swung her legs over the edge of the cot, testing her weight on her ankle as she slowly stood. With her arm wrapped around herself, the girl slowly padded after him down the hall. Classes were still in session, which was probably for the best, since Raven looked ready to jump out of her skin at the slightest hint of danger.

“Um, Sir, where am I? The nurse said something about a college?”

“This is Night Raven College; an elite boy’s school founded several hundred years ago by seven powerful people. I believe you are descended from one such person, the one we call the Beautiful Queen. However, I need to test this belief, before we decide what to do with you.”

“Really? But, why would you call her that? She was second fairest, that’s just…how the story always goes.” Raven asked, seeming to hesitate.

“Though Snow White was deemed fairer than the Queen, Snow’s beauty and kindness were a façade, hiding just as much vanity and cruelty as the so-called ‘Evil Queen’. Honestly, such a mean thing to call someone.” He sniffed. Miss Queen was looking at him like he was quite mad. They arrived at his office, and he pushed the door open, revealing the floating mirror. He heard Miss Queen suck in a deep breath.

“Is that…the first magic mirror? It went missing almost five hundred years ago!” She slowly walked forward, reaching out one hand towards the glowing mirror. Right before she set her hand against the gilded frame, the mirror lit up, making her recoil in shock.

“Who goes there?” It boomed, an eerily under-lit face appearing in the perfectly smooth glass. “You!” The face boomed. “You are of the blood of Queens! You are not to be here! Has the fool Grim truly let one slip from his grasp after so long?”

“If Headmaster Grimm knew where I was, he would have taken me back to Ever After High by now. He’s very strict on the whole ‘destiny-or-poof’ thing…” Raven seemed disgruntled. “So, what exactly is this place? Everyone keeps calling it a college, but what kind of college has the First Mirror?” Hmm. Miss Queen seemed to be rather bright.

“Well, simply put, Night Raven College is a prestigious boy’s high school for those with the potential to become a truly powerful magic user. We were founded almost five hundred years ago by seven powerful beings, each of whom has a house for their favored students. Your ancestor founded Pomefiore on her heavy efforts.” Crowley paused as an idea came to mind. “Say, Miss Queen, I have a most brilliant idea! Why do we not enroll you as a student?”

“What?” The girl spluttered. “I thought you said this was a boy’s school?”

“Only by tradition. There’s no official school rule or policy that says no girls can attend. Now, to begin, simply place your hand flat against the mirror. From there, the magic of the mirror will sort you into the proper house. I highly doubt you’ll be placed anywhere but Pomefiore, but formalities must be observed!”

X0X0X

Raven, feeling rather steamrolled, did as she was told, pressing her palm flat against the cool glass. She shuddered at the slight tingle that raced up her arm and down her spine from the overwhelming magic in the mirror. The image of a poison dipped apple appeared in the mirror, with the poison taking the shape of a skull.

“Just as I expected then! Now all you need is a uniform!”

“I can handle that aspect, my mother, despite being in the mirror prison, taught me whatever interested me magic wise. I wanted to be a fashion designer when I was a little girl…” Her voice trailed off, melancholy, as magic washed over her. “I can base it off the uniform I saw Rook in earlier.” Raven’s hair tumbled down her back, dark and smooth, missing the usual purple streaks, and reaching the small of her back. She wore a peasant collared, knee length black dress with sleeves reaching just beyond her elbows. Underneath were fishnet knee highs, and fingerless gloves of the same material. Around her waist was a lavender knot belt that matched the headband that materialized on her head, and the new shoes that appeared on her feet.

“Most impressive, Miss Queen!” Headmaster Crowley cheered. And it really was. In a swirl of lavender and lilac magic, her clothing had been completely transfigured from decidedly disheveled and torn pajamas to a fully functional, seemingly stable outfit.

“Ah, it’s nothing. I haven’t done it in a while, since I was maybe thirteen, I suppose. I just…lost interest.” She shrugged, seeming to shrink under his praise. There was a knock at the door, and Grim clapped his hands.

X0X0X

“Ah, there’s your new dorm-mate. Come in, Mister Felmier!” He called towards the door. It swung open to reveal a rather short boy with purple hair, who was almost as pale as she was.

“You called for me, headmaster?” The boy asked, seeming to be scared of his own shadow.

“Indeed! I’d like you to meet Miss Raven Queen! She’s just been sorted into Pomefiore, I was hoping you could show her to the dorms, as I have some business to deal with concerning her enrollment. Miss Queen, I leave you in capable hands!” And with that, the headmaster was gone.

[bad-at-names-and-faces]

Childhood Fears

chapter 28

chapter index

Lars and Elizabeth weren’t the sort of couple to dance every dance. They had, in fact, met while both of them were avoiding the dancing at a party held by her father at their house back in Corona. Her sisters were all competing for the attention of the young officers by the tent in their back garden, and she had gone around to the front to avoid them. Lars had been dragged to the party by his brother Karl, who had been concerned about his brother's intense focus on his studies, and insisted he needed to take some time to have some fun. The party seemed to Lars to be mostly young ladies trying to catch naval officers, and he soon found himself quietly exploring the gardens, where he ran into Elizabeth. 

This evening, Elizabeth’s mother and sisters were monopolizing her attention any time she wasn’t dancing. They were leaving in the morning, so Lars knew that Elizabeth felt obligated to spend time with them, but she had told him on more than one occasion that when she was away from them, she didn’t miss them as much as she felt she should. As soon as Lars got himself away from Mr. Meyer, he made sure to find his wife and ask her to dance.

After the second dance, Lars was once again called over by Mr. Meyer, this time to meet someone who had spent several years working in America.  He felt bad for abandoning Elizabeth at the party again, but at least, professionally, it was an interesting conversation.  There were more dances while he talked with the other men, and eventually he was able to return and get in one more dance with his new bride.

The party was starting to wind down.  He stood holding Elizabeth’s hand while her mother and sisters excitedly told her about their travel plans, and all the things they would be able to do once they arrived in Wesselton. He looked around the room as they spoke.  The Maldonian ambassador was speaking with Mr. Meyer, while the rest of the Maldonians had left for the evening.  Frederick was pestering Elizabeth’s father and Admiral Sorensen with more questions about the details of naval operations, and meanwhile he saw the Queen and her husband quietly leave.  There was some commotion in the opposite corner of the ballroom, and he noticed Inga being led out by the steward.

Elizabeth looked up at him. “Do you think something’s going on?” she whispered as her mother was busy discussing something with her sisters.

“I’m not sure,” he murmured back. It did seem odd, particularly since the princess was normally allowed to come and go as she pleased. His wife was worried about her friend, and clearly not interested in the conversation with her mother.  “Why don’t you go check?”

Elizabeth nodded and tried to quietly go. 

“Elizabeth, dear,” her mother called, “are you turning in so soon?”

“No, of course not,” Elizabeth replied, “I just wanted to check on Inga.” 

“You’ll get plenty of time to talk to her, but we’ll be leaving in the morning.”

“I just need a minute, Mother, if you’ll excuse me, please,” Elizabeth said firmly.

“I think the Princess will be fine, dear,” her mother replied.

Lars squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “I’ll go see if there’s anything happening.”

“Thank you,” she smiled at him.

“Now, what were you telling me, Diana?” Lars heard their mother saying as he walked away.

Lars saw Kate and Edith standing together off to the side of the room, exchanging guilty looks with each other.  The sisters were discussing in hushed tones about whether they had gotten Inga in trouble or whether General Mattias would hear about their gossiping and they would be the ones in trouble. The General had left an hour before on their assurance that they would behave themselves.  

“Ladies,” Lars greeted them.

They both startled a little.  

“Elizabeth was worried about Inga, so I promised I’d check on her.  Do you know why Kai called her out of the room?”

“No, I swear, we don’t,” Kate blurted rapidly.  Lars rolled his eyes. 

“I didn’t think there was a reason before, but now you have me suspicious,” Lars smiled.  He had noticed Inga taking a few extra drinks, but the evening was almost over and it didn’t seem like the princess was likely to make a scene.

As he stood around waiting for the girls to say something more, he thought about what might be going on.  Elizabeth had told him they were talking about his new position, but he couldn’t imagine why that would be a problem. If Elizabeth was there, they might have been talking about Wesselton.  Perhaps there had been too much talk of Wesselton; after all, Arendelle had no official diplomatic relations with them. He thought back to the briefings before he had arrived in Arendelle, and shook his head at their foreign policy. And they wanted him to work for them? At least with Wesselton they officially had no relations, unlike the Southern Isles, where they had quietly stopped sending each other ambassadors some twenty-one years before. Of course, he knew from talking to both Mr. Meyer and his father-in-law, Corona profited off of this ambiguity.  He knew that Arendelle lived in fear of a naval attack from the Southern Isles, though he could never understand why this was an issue if that kingdom had long ago punished and exiled the would-be claimant to Arendelle’s throne.  Perhaps if he were working for Arendelle, he could convince them to be more rational in their foreign policy.  Even if the Queen wouldn’t listen to reason, her children seemed more open.

“We should go now,” Edith announced, pulling at her sister’s arm. “Good night, Mr. Nilsen.”

“Good night, ladies,” he replied, not sure how long he had been distracted in his own thoughts.

Elizabeth remained across the room talking to her sisters, glancing over and trying to move them that direction.  Her mother had found her husband, and was discussing last minute details. The Captain came striding over to Lars.  

“Well, son,” he laughed, shaking Lars’s hand, “we’ll be leaving early, so I think this is goodbye for now.  I know you’ll write to us.  Take good care of Elizabeth.  Good night!”

“Good night, sir,” Lars replied as his father-in-law left the room.

Elizabeth followed her sisters as her mother herded them out of the party. “I’ll see you in our room,” she told him as she walked with her mother and sisters up to their rooms, “see if you can find out what happened to Inga, and don’t let Mr. Meyer keep you too long.” 

He saw Mr. Meyer shake hands with the Maldonian ambassador as they bid each other good night, and took his chance to leave the room.  There wasn’t much point to going to bed just yet, but if Mr. Meyer caught him, there would be another dozen dignitaries he needed to talk to, and they would often insist on taking him to late night drinks. He wasn’t sure if it would be prying to look for Inga at this point, but Elizabeth had asked him.  Still, it didn’t sound like anyone else was in this part of the castle, with everyone either leaving for the town or retiring to rooms inside.  

He walked out the door, and headed to the courtyard. The air was crisp, but not too cold, and the moon, though not full, still gave enough light to see his way around. He decided that a walk through the gardens might help clear his head. Ever since the new position had been offered to him, nothing seemed quite right.  As he walked along in the moonlight, he thought of his conversation with Elizabeth before the party. 

Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror trying to decide what to do with her hair. "You never told me how fancy they get at this sort of thing."

Lars looked over. "It's not something I've really thought about. Dress for dancing, but it's not like it's some big occasion."

"Well," she said securing her hair, "it's the in between things that are tricky to dress for.  How do I look?"

"Beautiful.  What else do you expect me to say?" Lars smiled as she walked over. 

"You’ve seemed a bit distracted the last few days. I mean, I know it's a big deal deciding on the position, but I get the feeling it's something else."

He sighed. "You're right. Maybe it's just being gone for a week, but it feels… something feels different now.  We met with the Queen yesterday afternoon, and I could swear she wouldn't even look at me."

"Inga told me her mother wasn't feeling well last week. Perhaps she still hasn't fully recovered."

"But her husband, he had been so friendly, and he's made excuses of being busy the times I've run into him."

Lars sighed to himself.  He hadn’t discussed this with anyone else. If Mr. Meyer had noticed any difference in attitude, he certainly hadn’t said anything, but he was focused on how they would proceed once things were more settled.  Corona had mentioned sending royal emissaries, presumably to deal with the special situation. They hadn’t given exact dates yet, but he wondered if some of his classmates from the School who were particularly jealous of his placement here would be candidates for his replacement.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the noise of one of the nearby small side doors to the castle slamming open, and he heard a rustle of silk as someone ran by.  He quickly realized it was Inga.  He looked back at the door to see if anyone was following, but the door was shut again.  He walked in the direction she had run, but couldn’t see anyone.  Suddenly, he heard some noise from a nearby tree, and saw Inga sitting on one of the branches, noisily gasping for breath like she’d been crying.  He wanted to call to her, but as soon as he looked up, he found himself quickly looking away, realizing that she hadn’t taken any care of how her skirts were arranged. Even if he weren’t married now, this wasn’t proper for him to see, but Elizabeth was probably still stuck with her mother, and he had the feeling that Inga wasn’t in a good frame of mind.  As he walked closer to the tree, he noticed a nearby branch, which would avoid the awkward view he found himself looking at from below. Grabbing onto the side of the tree, he started climbing.

“Frederick, is that you?” she called out, not really hiding the sniffling sounds.

“No,” Lars called out, hoping she wouldn’t be too startled.

He saw her begin to stand up, holding on to the tree trunk. “Lars? What are you doing here?” 

“I used to climb trees, too,” he laughed.

“No, no, I mean… why are you out here? Were you looking for me?” she asked.

“Yes... Elizabeth was worried about you,” he explained, reaching a nearby branch, a little out of breath.  “She wanted me to check on you when you were pulled away from the party. Is anything wrong?”

“You can go tell them I’m fine,” she told him with a forced calm.

“But-” 

“I’m fine.”

“Elizabeth said you seemed a little unhappy earlier.”

“Everything was just fine earlier,” she spat out, looking away.

“Is everything fine with your parents? I saw that they left a little early.”

He looked in confusion as Inga began crying again. 

“What is it?  What’s wrong?” he asked.  Surely he would have heard something from the Ambassador or one of the other diplomats if her parents were ill.  He couldn’t think of any disputes they might have with Inga.  

“You have to leave right now,” she cried. He didn’t know what he was expecting to hear, but that certainly wasn’t it. 

“Why?  I want to know why you’re upset.  Is there something wrong?”

“I can’t tell you.”  He watched as she carefully lowered herself to the ground.  

“Fine,” he sighed slowly, “it’s personal, none of my business.” He lowered himself from his own branch.

“That’s just it,” she said, almost shouting, “it should be your business!” She looked like she was trying to find a way out, almost like she was trapped.

“I really don’t understand. If it’s my business, you should tell me!” He grabbed her hand.  She quickly pulled it away.  

“It’s not my secret,” she sobbed, turning around and starting to run. Lars hadn’t been looking around, and was nearly as surprised as Inga was when she bumped into her father.  Lars gasped when he saw him standing there.  He hadn’t seen him walk up.  Inga collapsed in the grass where she was standing and buried her head between her knees.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know what’s going on.” Lars said as he approached Kristoff. Lars wasn’t sure what else he could say.  Had he been imagining Kristoff’s avoidance of him, or was the reason the same as Inga’s reaction to seeing him tonight?  Or was it worse now?  After all, a young lady screaming and crying, trying to get away from a young man? 

“It’s nothing you did,” Kristoff replied, stepping a little closer to Inga, “but you should probably go back inside now.”

“I… sorry again, I hope she feels better soon,” Lars stammered.  Hurrying back up the path, he heard Inga’s muffled sobs.

***

Kristoff tried not to slam the door as he walked into the bedroom. He stood rubbing his forehead.

“Where is she now?”

“I left her with Gerda to get her ready for bed. I think she’ll be better with some sleep,” he sighed, sitting down and taking off his shoes.

Anna stared at the ceiling. “That didn’t go well.”

“We didn’t exactly plan it,” he replied flatly. “We probably should have let Inga keep gossiping with those girls. She knows enough not to believe what she hears.”

“How are you so calm right now?”

“I’m not calm, I’m exhausted,” he replied, collapsing into bed.  “She was right, though, it wasn’t the right time to tell her about that.”

***

Anna quietly opened the door to the library and walked in, though it was more of a waddle.  She didn’t remember Inga or Fred being quite this large so soon, nor was she this big when she was in Corona, even if she had felt so at the time. 

“And then she unfroze!” Olaf exclaimed.  Inga cheered and giggled.  Kristoff had fallen asleep, sprawled across the sofa, snoring.  Little Frederick had toddled over and was plucking out notes on the mandolin in the corner.

“Hi, Mama!” Inga exclaimed, “Olaf was just about to get to the part where you punched the mean man!”

“Olaf, are you getting them worked up before bed?” she gently chided him.

“No, Inga asked for the story!”

“Well, why don’t you go tell Nanny that it’s time to get them to bed?” Anna smiled as he wandered down the hall, and walked over to Kristoff.  “Honey, you fell asleep.” 

“I…” he muttered, sitting up quickly, “Okay, I did.  Here, you need to sit down.”  He scooted over and gently tugged her hand.  She sat down.

“I’m fine, really,” she smiled. “I wrote to Elsa this morning that it will  probably be a little longer.  The midwife thinks maybe another month.”

“You were working too late again,” he said, rubbing her belly.

“Mama!” Inga interrupted, “Why didn’t you let Papa punch the man? He says you wouldn’t let him.” 

“Inga,” Anna sighed, “how many times have you heard this story now?”

“I don’t know.  A thousand?” 

“Well, it’s time for bed,” she told her, cuddling Frederick who had just climbed up on her lap.

“Mama, what if you had married that man?” 

“What?” 

“What if you had married that man?”

“I… I don’t know, but you wouldn’t be here asking me that question.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wouldn’t have married your Papa.”

“But why does that matter?”

“Because…”  How long was Inga going to continue questioning?  “Oh, good, here’s Nanny.  Good night, Inga, I love you.”

“Night, Mama, night night, Papa.”

“Good night,” Kristoff said, leaning over to kiss her forehead.  They watched as Nanny led Inga and her brother to the nursery.

“Anna, do you think maybe you should tell her?”

“About what?”

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh…  she’s so young, but I guess at some point...  Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow night.”

“Let’s go to bed now.  You’ve been working yourself too hard.” Kristoff helped Anna up off the sofa.

“I’m fine.  Besides, I think at this point I know what I’m doing.”

“Have you thought of any more names?”

“Not really, no.  Several members of the council had suggestions this afternoon,” she laughed.

“Well, there’s still time for figuring that out,” he smiled.

Anna clutched at her belly. “Maybe not…” 

***

Lars arrived back at his room in a daze. He washed his face, and changed for bed, trying to figure out what had just happened.  He spent several minutes pacing, finally giving up and lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The door opened.

“Lars, I didn’t expect you to be back already,” Elizabeth said cheerfully.

“I avoided Mr. Meyer,” he replied, trying to sound equally cheerful, knowing she would see right through it, but he was too tired, and it was too late at night now.  He could censor himself around her, but he could never keep up the act he put on for diplomatic functions.

“What happened? Did you find out why Inga had to leave the party?”

“No, I didn’t… that is, I didn’t find out why she left. I ran into her later. She was upset.”

“Did she say why?” 

“No, and… it was very confusing.  Her father found her.  I’m really not sure what was going on.”

“Well, let’s just sleep on it. I’ll see if I can find her tomorrow. Maybe she’ll be more willing to talk to me.”

“I suppose you’re right.” 

[the-fox-populi-says]

Written & directed by Fangirl Quarantino

Ao3 has been very Foxphobic in that first I had to wait a whole day for an invite once I decided in the spur of a moment I should really make an account, and then telling me my username did not follow requirements (...it really did?? I swear!). So. Ao3 link might follow when that is fixed but for now, have a direct copy-paste of my latest one-shot. Summary: After an Order meeting runs late during a curfew, Shiro is stuck in Faust Mansion. Mephisto offers to poof him home, but had a few glasses and Shiro does not trust drunk magic. He also doesn't trust drunk opportunist Mephisto conveniently having no guest rooms available, and goes in search of alternative beds. Characters: Shiro, Mephisto, Belial, Ukobach Tags: #There was only one bed #which may have been by design #omg they were curfew mates #adult language #nudity #violence #banter #humour #alcohol #mature #Suggestiveness #no out-right smut #But the Thought is there #and a little #erotic aesphyxiation #never killed anyone #oh wait it did actually #Not this time though #dubious consent #or however you call relocating an unconscious naked person for your amusement but without actually feeling them up #well maybe a little #but with a towel

Enjoy~

“What do you mean, I can't go home?!” Shiro yelled at the unmoved face of the butler.

“Curfew, sir. It's past 9 pm.”

Fuck. That was right- there had been a surge in demon activity lately, and as a counter-measure, the Order had issued a strict no-going-out-after-dark policy. “Oh come on- I'm a professional! Any demon encountering me is in more danger than I am.”

“Even unarmed?” A smug, slightly lilting voice inquired behind his back. Shiro balled his fists, surpressing the urge to use them on the face that voice belonged to.

The same face and voice that had informed him a couple weeks earlier he was no longer allowed to bring firearms to Order meetings. Not since he'd emptied almost an entire magazine into the back of Mephisto's chair after the Osaka incident. Insufficient informants his ass. As if that mission hadn't been payback for the whoopie cushion the week before. As if a round of bullets would even kill the bastard. Wimps.

“Could neither of you have informed me sooner?! I was only sticking around because captain naggy pants over here-” he threw out his entire arm to gesture; “-insisted it would be bad form to leave with all the high-ups still here.”

“Bitte do not yell at my butler- it's not hisch fault you don't know how to use a watch.”

Shiro again considered the use of his fists, but instead opted for a look of Promise over his shoulder at the grinning demon getting up from behind the fancy desk.

“Oh relax, Shiro. I can juscht teleport you home.” “Oh nononono- There will be no. Poofing.” He switched from fists to pointing, and waved a warning finger at Mephisto's raised eyebrows.

“May I ask warum nicht?”

“Because you just had to serve prosecco at your stupid meeting and you have the poorest alcohol tolerance in the world. And a sweet tooth.” The eyebrows shot down, along with the corners of his mouth in an affronted expression.

“I had three glasses!” “Yes, and I can see you swaying from where I stand.”

Not to mention the increased use of German. Shiro folded his arms.

“Last time you looked like that and poofed me somewhere, I ended up in the middle of a rice field because you had sake on your brain.”

Mephisto made a dismissive motion with one hand. With the other he pretended not to grip the edge of the desk for balance.

“I'll juscht concentrate very hard on your apartment, it'll be fine.”

“Oh hell no- I don't wanna end up half inside my shower cabin, or inside a wall. I'm staying here. You have like five hundred rooms anyway.”

He turned around. “Yo Belial, point me to a guest room, would ya.”

No response. The butler looked even stiffer than usual, but bounced his eyes back and forth between the two men as if following a tennis match.

Shiro growled. “What?”

Finally, Belial mustered the courage to speak. “I'm afraid there are currently none available, sir.”

“...What.”

He shot a venomous look at Mephisto, who avoided his gaze and uncharacteristically fumbled with the buttons on his vest.

“I may have... clearedthelaschtonetomakeroomfurmeinecollectionofPokémoncards.”

Of course.

“So make a new one!”

Wrong move. Never order Mephisto around. The somewhat apologetic pout was gone in an instant and replaced by silken lechery.

“Oh now Shiro, you don't want me to use my magic while drunk, do you~?”

“...Seriously.”

“You know, there is another option...” The green eyes briefly slid sideways, returning to the exorcist's face to serve up a very clear and satisfied Suggestion.

Funny, how those three glasses of pink bubbly suddenly seemed to have left his system. Even funnier how there suddenly was a direct, open door from his office to his bedroom.

“...You wish.” Shiro planted his feet firmly on the ground. “Allow me to decline that offer with a resounding Fuck No.”

Mephisto rolled his eyes. “Oh please- I'll likely won't even use it tonight. There's a Voltron marathon on channel 12.”

“Ever heard of the phrase 'tying the cat to the bacon', because that's what me sleeping in your bed would be.”

“You overestimate this cat's interescht in your bacon.”

Waddayaknow. Little bubbly left in there after all. But apparently not so much that he couldn't poof himself into a shimmering baby blue chamber robe.

“Bullshit.” Shiro scoffed. “I've seen you checking out my bacon since the moment it turned legal and probably a good bit before that.”

“Very well.” The demon shrugged, and assumed a leisurely walk towards the pillow nest in front of the tv, with the obvious intent to install himself there for the rest of the night. “You're welcome to find yourself the softest spot of floor, then.”

Shiro sauntered after him, a smirk creeping up on his lips. “Actually, I have a better idea.” The moment Mephisto's satin-clad butt would have touched the pink bean bag, Shiro yoinked it from under him, causing the bony structure to make sudden, harsh contact with the marble tiles.

“Ow! What in-”

“Bed aqcuired. Goodnight.” Bean bag under one arm, Shiro marched off.

Mephisto crawled out of the surrounding pillows, rubbing his back with one hand and carrying murderous intent in his eyes.

“Give that BACK, the show's starting in 2 minutes!”

“If you're so confident about your magic, why don't you make me.”

Wrong move again, yes. But too delectable to pass up on. Shiro grinned, tossing the bean bag back and forth between his hands.

“Unless of course, you feel a bit nervous about your aim while I'm standing right in front of your precious figurine collection.”

A hesitation. Mephisto wavered. Little bubbly left in there after all. ...Dare he? He dared. Shiro stuck out his tongue.

Terrible move. The demon's eyes narrowed, and out of nowhere a yellow rubber ball with red stars flew off a shelf, bounced off the floor and hit Shiro square under the chin. He instantly dropped the bean bag to clasp both hands over his mouth with a pained groan.

“Told you there's nothing wrong with my aim.” A poof, and the bean bag was back in its rightful place: under Mephisto, who took his merry time wiggling himself into the most comfortable position.

“Stop being a crybaby and let me take you home, or enjoy the floor.”

Shiro lowered his hands and scowled at the back of Mephisto's head, and that oh so annoying flippant hand motion illustrating this fight was clearly over and he was the victor. As it should be.

When met with a display that level of self-assured superiority, one can only respond in either of two ways. Admit you lost... Or get petty.

“...Fine, swew you.” Fuck. Difficult to sound convincingly stubborn when his tongue wouldn't work.

“Thewe's bound to be a couch somewhewe. Hey Belial, help me out here, would you.” Finally. “Where's the nearest bed-like structure?”

“Belial, do absolutely not help him.” Asshole didn't even look up, just tapped at the remote.

Belial froze, looking extremely unhappy about being involved in their dispute.

“...Dude, seriously, you're a butler. Helping guests is just as much your job as pampering his childish ass.”

“...” Merely a gaze of concern at his master, and an apologetic look in Shiro's direction, pressing his lips tightly together.

Shiro growled. “Fuckin' bootlicker.”

-Some 25 minutes later-

Mephisto's bedroom doors were thrown open, and a dishevelled Shiro unsteadily leaned against the doorway.

“Back so soon?” Mephisto grinned over his shoulder, a drinking straw clasped tightly between his fangs, but his glee evaporated and he took it out when he caught a better look at the exorcist's state. “What happened?”

Shiro tottered in, bits and pieces falling out of his torn clothes, and rubbing the various cuts on his cheek with the back of his equally mangled hand.

“Wound up in kitchen. Dark. Accidentally knocked over a bowl. Side dish or sum'thin. Ukobach did not appreciate. Told him to calm down. Rain of pasta. You wouldn't believe how sharp uncooked penne can be.”

“Tragic.” The grin returned. “Try not to bleed on any fabrics if you're going to take refuge in here.”

Heartwarming. Shiro was too worn out to dig up some choice insults, but addressed Mephisto with the foulest look he could still muster.

The demon chuckled. “...Or perhaps, just let me send you home?”

Silence. There was probably no alcohol in the glittery cinema soda cup, but who was to say for sure. Also, leaving the mansion somehow felt like a greater defeat than staying in Mephisto's room. Like he hasn't just lost the battle, but was too afraid to even remain on the battlefield.

The demon kept his eyes fixated at the colourful robots on the tv screen, but his ears were perked up attentively, waiting for Shiro's response. When that failed to happen, he closed his eyes and gave another nudge-

“...Or use what might arguably be the best bed in the world~”

Bait? Definitely. But also a lifeline. Shiro bit.

“You mean that bed you do God knows what in? Yuck, no thanks.”

Dramatic sigh for effect before deigning to look him in the eye. “Have you met me? My bed is clean, I assure you.”

Shiro smirked. Such a diva. And a dweeb. “Yeah alright, you probably only ever hump anime pillows anyway.”

The corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Justify your choice however you like, Shiro-pon.”

Boxers and t-shirt wouldn't be too bacon-y for the cat, right? Not while there were still mechas on tv to distract it, at least. Shiro began peeling off his tattered clothes, until Mephisto's ears twitched at the click of his belt unbuckling and he turned sharply towards the exorcist.

“...Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?”

Shiro kicked off his pants and flipped back the blankets. “Using your goddamn bed. Happy now?”

“Absolutely not. Get out.”

What. Shiro stared at the piqued face in disbelief.

“...Are you for real? What the fuck is it now?! In the bed, not in the bed, get in, go away-”

“Oh, you're welcome to sleep in my bed.” Mephisto squinted eyes slid up and down over Shiro's post pasta-fight body and the dirty clothes on the floor in a most disapproving manner. “AFTER you take a shower.”

Shiro's shoulders dropped. “...Really now?”

“Like I said.” He decidly turned back to the screen. “I like my bed clean.”

Shiro had no doubt the demon could sense the middle finger aimed at his back, but there were no bouncing balls or other items interfering with his gesture while he strode into the bathroom and yanked a towel out of the closet.

Frankly, it was not exactly a terrible ordeal to use Mephisto's shower. If he hadn't been that tired, be might have opted to wait for the bath to fill up instead- he eyed the pool-sized structure with a mixture of envy and disgust. Filthy rich bastard.

Filthy rich bastard with a royally equipped shower cabin, though. Shiro turned the knob and waited for the water from the various shower heads to heat up, when a voice from the bedroom yelled over the sound of the streams: “You better not use my expensive shower gel!”

Shiro sighed. “Which one?! They all seem expensive!” They probably were.

“...The gold and pink bottle. Do not touch it.”

Definitely touching it, he picked it up and turned it around in his hand. “Oh lord save me, you know how much I'd like to smell like- vanilla tenderness?? ...Is that how you lure in prey?”

“I'll have you know the ladies love it.”

Shiro snickered. “Oh, I don't doubt that. On them.”

“You bet they do~” The smug retort came drifting from under the door.

Shiro shook his head.

“Are you sure they can't sue you for false advertising, cuz there is nothing vanilla nor tender about you.”

“How would you know?”

...Walked straight into that one.

“...Care to find out~?”

“Eat my ass.”

“Maybe after you washed it.”

Shiro didn't know it was possible to choke on your own tongue while standing. Thank God or whomever that the demon couldn't see how red his face was- though judging by the giggling noises, the shower wasn't enough to drown out his coughing fit.

“Really, you are so wonderfully talented at putting your own foot in your mouth, Shiro~”

“Keep it up and I'll put my foot in your mouth!” He scowled, stepping into the shower while Mephisto burst out in a full-blown laughing fit, fuck knows why. Shiro shrugged it off. This was probably one of those better-off-not-knowing times.

Ah, such a wonderful story~ Heroism, friendship, impossible odds, fantastic machinery... The show had ended and Mephisto zapped away from the commercial break to search for something more interesting. Hm, not much, this late. He shook his cup, the decorative re-useable plastic ice cubes rattling about. All out of drinks. Snacks too. Maybe switch to other entertainment. Come to think of it...

He turned towards the bathroom door. He could hear the water still going. How long had he been in there by now? Five episodes? Seven?

“...As much as I appreciate cleanliness, don't you think you're overdoing it just a scooch?”

No response.

“Don't go telling me you dropped the soap and need help finding it.”

Still nothing. No change in sound whatsoever. Not even one of Deliberately Ignoring You. Odd.

Mephisto rose from his pillow nest and knocked on the bathroom door.

“...Shiro?”

Nothing but the running water. And a strange, light ...grating sound? He opened the door.

“I'd suggest you make yourself decent, but given how much water you're using as well as your general behaviour today that is word obviously not in your dic-”

Oh. Oh dear.

Semi-sitting on the floor of the shower cabin, slouched into a corner, was one sleeping exorcist. Mildy snoring.

Mephisto cocked his head. Strangely adorable, but also annoying. He briefly studied the naked, scratched-up figure. Not a bad look, not at all~ But too easy.

He sighed, and peeled one of his sleeves back to turn off the water. Honestly, rude. He should ask Belial to take care of it. On the other hand... being this troublesome warranted some payback. Payback that would take some effort, but be so much more satisfying than just turning on the cold water right now. Especially since Shiro was known to have a habit of getting violent when woken up suddenly. He didn't fancy risking a cold shower as well. Plus, the mere idea of the face Shiro would make when- He snickered. Yes, a much a more rewarding idea. He snapped his fingers.

“Hmmnnggh...” Shiro rolled over, the filtered light making him vaguely aware that it was morning. He hadn't slept this well in ages, and wasn't planning on letting it end just yet. He pulled the sheets along with him. Comfy. His bed wasn't usually this comfy. Smelled different, too. Did he use a new a laundry detergent? Nope, nope- do not get tricked into thinking just yet. That would wake him. Back to sleep. Savour it.

He pulled the sheets a little more, intent on going full burrito mode. Hm. A little stuck. He groaned at the incooperative blanket, and gave a better yank.

“Don't hog all the covers, please.”

A more effective waking method than a needle in his butt. Shiro shrieked -much to his embarassment- and bolted out of bed. A bed, he now realized, was indeed not of his usual comfort level. In several ways. His embarassment rose even higher when he met the incredibly satisfied eyes of the creature inhabiting the bed. Mephisto's face was about sixty percent teeth as he soaked up the image of the severely shocked man, who was still coming to terms with the fact that no, this was not still part of a nightmare, he was, in fact, awake.

And naked.

Upon that realization, Shiro's brain short-cirquited so completely he did not even attempt to cover himself up. Instead, he just froze, blinking fervently as if hoping the next time he opened his eyes, the lecherous monster, half-dressed in an untied silk gown and lying there as if posing for his portrait as a Roman emperor, would somehow have disappeared.

It took a couple minutes -or hours, by Shiro's reckoning- for the demon to get his fill of this view and bestow the smallest amount of mercy upon him.

“As much as I'd love to hang up a story about tequila, I'm afraid you just fell asleep in the shower. So I dried you off and placed you in here.”

Shiro rebooted.

“You... dried me off??”

“Wouldn't want my best exorcist to catch a cold- or soak my sheets.”

Lanes reopened, the backed-up thought traffic in Shiro's head now started honking impatiently to gain first access to his mouth.

“And you- I- but- it didn't- occur to you- that you could have just WOKEN ME UP?!”

“Frankly I hoped you would wake while I was toweling you off, hovering six feet off the floor... But as usual, you were disappointing.”

Mephisto managed to shrug leaning on one elbow, resting his jaw in his hand. He did not quite manage to look genuinely disappointed.

“You really should work on your comedic timing.”

Shiro's face was bright red, but no longer with embarassment. He was seething, fists and jaw clenched, his white bed hair sticking up as steam rising from his forehead.

“I. am not. your entertainment.”

Mephisto grinned. “Aww, no need to throw in the towel just yet~” His eyes glanced down. “You've got such potential, Shiro...”

WHACK. Instead of a towel, Shiro chose to throw in a pillow. And his full weight and strength to press it over Mephisto's face.

-Epilogue-

Oof. Goodness. Mephisto remained lying down, running a system check on his body. Everything was still there and working, it seemed, but he really should not have let Shiro have his little revenge for quite so long. He had to admit he underestimated the man's strength and how long it would take for his body to pass out from lack of oxygen. Too sidetracked by certain pleasant side-effects, perhaps. He should be more careful about that- Shiro probably hadn't noticed, or he might have indeed woken up with certain parts missing. Or at least damaged. Something still seemed wrong, though. Cold. He sat upright on the mattress. But not in his bed. Or bed chamber.

He blinked. Then shivered. As one tends to do when one wakes up soaking wet, outside. Because someone had dragged the entire mattress, demon included, out to the balcony. In the rain.

“...Oh REAL mature, Shiro!”

He teleported indoors, into a warm, fluffy bath gown, and stared at his expensive mattress through the glass doors of his bedroom. Blasted exorcist. Still...

He summoned his phone, flipped it open, and smiled at his new background picture. Dozens of carefully arranged plushies, and in the middle-

“...Best toy I ever had.”

~The end~

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Curfew: Not at all Corona-inspired~ But isolation makes no sense from an exorcism point of view. However, most demons in canon prefer the dark, so when there's an increase in numbers/reported attacks, a curfew is a logical counter-measure to protect the population. And since exorcists aren't supposed to work alone (*casts stern look at Shiro*), only teams on mission would have permission to walk around at night.

Poor alcohol tolerance & increased German: I strongly headcanon Mephisto's host body is in fact that of the original Faust, and it reverting back to its mother tongue when its language cortex is compromised somehow. I also strongly headcanon all strong demons having an insanely fast metabolism, going by the way Mephisto & Amaimon are always snacking yet skeletal, and this got in fact sort of confirmed by the recent manga chapter where Shiro complains about it in regards to baby Rin. So Mephisto gets drunk easily, but it also wears off rather quickly, unless he keeps drinking.

Don't drink and do magic/ rice fields: For more information, read The End of the Beginning by Superior Dimwit, arc 2: Inferno, chapter 39.

Tying the cat to the bacon: this is a literal translation of a Dutch expression. I cannot justify how exactly Shiro got to know about it, but I sure as fuck can justify its use here. It just fits too well.

Yellow rubber ball with red stars: Also known as a Dragon Ball, of course.

Ukobach: I know he hasn't shown up in the manga (yet), but this is one of those very rare times (maybe the only time) where I think the anime changed something for the better, and there is a good chance Kato is the one who told them the name in the first place, since it's an actual known demon. Either way, Mephisto should totally have some mad monkey five-star chef, in my opinion.

The thing about feet you're better off (not) knowing: Words can have interesting double meanings in other languages. For more information, read chapter 17 of Between the End and the Beginning, once more by Superior Dimwit. Technically, you could argue that the majority of mankind has a foot fetish.

Dropping the soap: I trust everyone to know this one. If not, google it at your own risk.

Violent awakenings: Based on Shiro punching little Shura in the face when she kissed his forehead while he was napping.

Pleasant side-effects of lack of oxygen can include popping a boner and light-headed euphoria. Especially when there's a naked exorcist on top of you. Shiro was right: false advertising indeed.

Plushies & pictures: Y'all remember Rin waking up in Mephisto's bed after going full demon mode in the manga? Although he may have sent his butler to pick up the kid and had the common decency to not him in there naked as he did with Shiro in this fic, there were a number of plushies surrounding Rin when he woke up. All facing up and some placed on top of him. Meaning that they didn't accidentally rolled their way there as he tossed and turned in his sleep- someone definitely placed them there. Cute for now, blackmail for later. Always handy.

[bubblywrites]

Running From A Name Chapter 8

Its been five years. Alma and Bruno are all grown up! Its the year 1999, but it is still some time before Bruno’s 19th birthday.

“Arms above your head.”

Bruno obeyed the prison guard’s orders. The guard ran her hands down his body: starting from his shoulders down to his upper thighs. Satisfied with her search, the guard allowed Bruno to pass through.

“Wait one moment.” A male guard said.

“Is something wrong?” Bruno asked.

“Another man is currently visiting Polpo. You’ll have to wait until he gets out.”

Bruno raised an eyebrow. Polpo did not notify him that he would be seeing someone before him today. It couldn’t have been Fugo. Bruno ordered him to meet him at Libeccio’s later today to discuss the information he would be receiving from this summons from Polpo. He also had some other business to discuss with him as well. I wonder who it could be. Bruno thought. His question was answered when the door to Polpo’s cell unlocked with its usual loud, unhinging sound. A man who towered over him stalked through the door. He had a powerful muscular build and wore a long, black lapless coat that crossed his bare chest in the shape of an x. He also had on black and white striped pants. But his most notable feature were his eyes. The whites of his eyes were jet black-similar to Polpo’s, but his pupils were scarlet. A scarlet that burned with rage. The man chilled the air around him.

After his body check, he marched past Bruno without looking at him. Bruno stared at his retreating figure for a moment. Polpo must have said or done something to invoke the man's anger. Bruno considered the affairs of other members of Passione none of his concern. He brushed off his thoughts about the mysterious man and entered the cell. The dark hallway became illuminated with green lights. Bruno’s steps echoed through the hall. He stood in front of the wide glass that separated him and Polpo’s room. Polpo sipped his wine, the fat on his neck rolling as he swallowed. He lowered his glass and greeted Bruno. “How are you Buccellati? Would you like some wine? It's a good year.” Polpo said, offering him an empty glass.

“No thank you. I’m fine.”

“More for myself then.” Polpo responded. He emptied his cup in one gulp. He set the glass down and stared at Bruno as if he were examining him. “You're favoring your left arm? What happened to it?”

Bruno clutched his arm. “It got hurt in a scuffle the other day. Nothing too damaging. Anyway, why did you call me here?”

Polpo rested his head on his hand, tapping his finger on his cheek. “Some of my men have been indicted. Ones that were supposed to be under the protection of a politician on our payroll.” He huffed, annoyed.

“So you want me to speak with him?”

Polpo nodded. “Find out why he defied the organization. Then kill him.” Bruno disposed of multiple politicians that did not hold up the ends of their bargains with Passione. If politicians didn’t create policies or bend the rules for the organization, they were killed. There was no mercy for them.

“Understood.” Bruno said. Polpo waved him away with a cheeky smile. Bruno internally smacked his teeth.

Bruno exited the prison and headed for Libeccio’s. As he walked the streets, shopkeepers greeted him, restaurant owners asked him to eat lunch with them, and civilians waved at him. After Capra got promoted to capo two years ago, Polpo gave him his former territory. With it, Bruno quickly earned the trust of the people and Polpo, which allowed him to make a name for himself within the syndicate.

He pulled the door to the restaurant open, the bell chiming. A waiter took one look at him and hurried to service him. Bruno lifted his hand and asked, “Is Fugo here yet?”.

“Yes, Mr. Fugo is waiting for you in your usual area.”

“Thank you.” Bruno dismissed the man with a polite smile and wave. He made his way to go sit with Fugo.

“Buccellati. How are you?” Fugo asked.

“I’m fine Fugo.” Bruno pulled out a chair and sat down. He scanned the menu while engaging in light conversation with Fugo. The two of them never discussed work without their meals on the table.

“Mr. Buccellati. May I take your order.” The same male waiter from earlier asked, filling his glass with mineral water.

The man was not the bubbly server he was expecting. The one who refused to let anyone else wait his table when she was on shift. “I’ll have the spaghetti alle vongole, please. That will be all.”

The waiter bowed and left to deliver his order. Bruno’s eyes trailed after him and into the seating area. He searched the restaurant for a sign of Alma. I guess she isn’t working today. He thought.

“Is there something wrong Buccellati?”

Bruno pulled himself from his thoughts, returning his attention to Fugo. “No, everything is fine.” Fugo eyed him with suspicion, but dropped it. Bruno and Alma had a strict rule: never act like friends when he is with members of the gang or working. However, they had slip ups every so often. Their mistakes weren’t noticeable to the average person, but they could not escape Fugo’s perceptiveness. Fugo perched an eyebrow at him and Alma’s restrained grins, forced down jokes, and lingering glances. Bruno assumed Fugo pieced together the connection between him and Alma, but would not ask about it until he felt the need to.

“What were the orders you got from Polpo?” Fugo asked.

“One of the politicians working for the organization has gotten some of Polpo’s men arrested. We’ve been ordered to find out why and kill him.” Bruno said.

“Why would a politician want to betray the organization? It’s-”

“a surefire way to get a hit put out on you.” Bruno interrupted. “I was thinking the same thing, but there has to be a reason. I wanted to know the reasons for why you think he would.”

Fugo placed his thumb and forefinger on his chin. “I doubt it’s because he suddenly wanted to do honest work. Passione pays too well for that. That man is too corrupt to even consider losing a paycheck. Either the government is cracking down on him or he found a better money outlet.”

Bruno nodded at his answer. “We’ll question him tomorrow. For now, I want you to look into the issues the baker is having with that thug.”

“Understood.” Fugo said.

The waiter brought Bruno his food. He enjoyed casual banter with Fugo as he ate his meal. On he and Fugo’s way out of the restaurant, Bruno took a small, red puzzle piece out of his pocket. He tossed it on the table. Maybe she will come in later today.

Bruno parted ways with Fugo and went to the hospital keeping his father. During his walk, an art shop appeared in the corner of his eye. He gazed at the quirky little store for a few seconds. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped inside. The store clerk welcomed him. “Hello sir. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I do need some help. Do you have any-I believe charcoal pencils? I have a friend who works on a lot of black and white art projects.”

“We do.” The store clerk said, motioning for Bruno to follow her. She led Bruno to a random aisle that had a overwhelming ink smell. The smell was strong enough to make Bruno slightly lightheaded.

“Sorry for the smell. We had a couple of ink bottles spill.” She grabbed the pencils and brought them to the checkout desk. Bruno glimpsed at the pink dahlias near the checkout.

“Are those flowers for sale?” He asked.

“Yes, they are. Would you like for me to grab some for you?”

“I would appreciate it, thank you.”

She plucked a bundle of the flowers from the shelf. The clerk rang them up along with the charcoal pencils. She bagged the items and handed them to Bruno. He waved goodbye to the clerk before leaving the store to continue his walk to the hospital.

Bruno knocked on the door to his father’s room. There was no answer. His knuckles were about to beat against the door again, but he stopped at the childish giggles from behind the door. Tilting his head, Bruno cracked it open. His eyes glowed with joy. He didn’t need to leave the puzzle piece on the table. Alma’s beautiful snorts mixed with the deep rumble of his father’s laughter. The sound bounced off the walls in glorious harmony. Isabella cuddled next to his father, rambling about some random topic.

He skimmed Alma's body. She wore a coral, cropped hoodie that showed off the elegant curves of her waist and back. Her black leggings hugged her thighs in a way that Bruno liked more than he should have. He forced his eyes to not travel up any further. Alma turned her head towards the door. Her goofy smile widened upon seeing him. Bruno couldn’t stop the grin forming on his face in return.

“Come out of the shadows you creep.” Alma said. Bruno laughed as he walked towards the bed. His father tipped his head to him while Isabella stood up on the bed. She wrapped her tiny arms around his middle. She glanced up at him, her vibrant red eyes shining at him with youthful innocence. Her eyes were like an angel’s compared to the demonic red ones he saw earlier today. Bruno rubbed the top of her head. “Where are your brothers?”

“Soccer practice.” She answered, letting him go to return to his father’s side. He faced Alma. Her features only matured over time, making her grow into a beautiful woman.

“I don’t think you can creep in broad daylight.” Bruno said.

“You would find a way.”

“Everyday, more of Angelo is rubbing off on you.”

Alma put her hand on her stomach and pushed her tongue out like she was vomiting. “Never compare me to him.”

Bruno placed a hand on her shoulder. “That’s an action he would do.”

Bruno’s father threw his head back in laughter. He choked out through his snickers, “I’ve never met Angelo, but you two talk about him a lot. He seems to be a very interesting boy.”

Bruno spoke up. “He is. But since he went to college, the restaurant has been very quiet.”

“You mean peaceful. He still works there, just not as often. It’s mostly to help out if anything. But I do miss hearing him and Marco argue.” Alma said. Bruno had to admit he also missed their daily bickering. At times, it was the highlight of his meals at the restaurant.

“From the sounds of it, he would make an interesting best man at you and Alma’s wedding.” Bruno’s father stated, playfully.

Isabella perked up. “There's gonna be a wedding? Can I be the flower girl?”

Bruno and Alma’s cheeks burst into flames.

“I-w-we are not getting married. We're not even dating. We’re just friends.” Alma nudged him with her elbow. “Back me up here Bruno.”

Bruno shook himself out of his daze. “Y-yes. We do n-not have that kind of relationship.” Bruno stammered. Did he struggle to tear his eyes away from Alma's body sometimes? Yes, he did. Did he stare at her lips too long for comfort? Once. But he left it at that, a physical attraction. Alma was meant to be just a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

Isabella pouted. His father patted her head and whispered something to her. She giggled into her hands and whispered back to him. Bruno was tempted to ask what his father told her, but he decided against it. He could live without the embarrassment. Bruno stuck the flowers he bought into a vase on the table next to the bed. He passed the rest of the bag's contents to Alma. She peered inside of it and gasped. “How did you know I wanted these?”

“You’ve been dropping hints for the past week.”

“No I haven’t.”

Bruno gave her a knowing look. “Just the other day, you were flipping through your sketchbook saying, “If only I had charcoal pencils to shade this drawing.”

Alma scratched behind of her ear. “I was hoping you would pick up the hints months down the line for my birthday. Not for today.”

“Consider it an early gift.” Bruno turned to his father. “Anyway, how are you feeling?”

“I am feeling better these days. Nothing to worry about.” His father answered. The doctors told Bruno his father was very lucky to survive his complications after all these years. Bruno was not religious, but he thanked whatever God was out there for allowing his father to live this long. He sat in the chair adjacent to the bed and grasped his father’s hands. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I have to live long enough to see you happy. And maybe, see my first grandchild.” His father’s eyes flashed to Alma.

Alma covered her face with her hands. Bruno’s face started to match the color of Isabella’s eyes. He fumbled with his words. “Hopefully. Bu-but not like-with, nevermind.” Bruno rose from his chair. He, Alma, and Isabella waved goodbye to his father as they left the room.

Bruno’s keys jingled as he unlocked the door to his house. As it creaked open, lavender incense flooded his nostrils. He breathed deep and let the sweet scent calm him. “You clean the place Alma?”

“Yeah. I figured you probably forgot again. But conveniently, you never leave much of a mess.” She and Isabella stepped inside the house and removed their shoes. He followed in after them. Bruno’s home was fairly plain. He had gray silk couches, a television, white walls, and hardwood mahogany flooring. His father’s torn fishing net was the only thing that hung on the walls. But when he gave Alma his spare key, he soon noticed the growing collection of decorative furniture, paintings hanging on the walls, and a different incense scent always burning. However, the occasional drawing on the wall from Isabella he could go without.

He dropped onto the couch with Alma plopping down next to him. Bruno grabbed the remote and asked Isabella, “Do you have something you wanna watch?”

She stopped playing with the stuffed animal on the floor. “Nickelodeon.” Bruno clicked sixty three on the remote. A cartoon about a blonde boy with a strange shaped head popped onto the screen. Isabella crossed her legs and was absorbed into the television. Bruno picked up the laptop on his coffee table. He flipped it open and scrolled through the two open tabs. One contained details about available apartments and the other was about the University of Naples’ art program. “So you really are determined to move out of Mr. Calamaro’s place?” He asked Alma.

“I am. The only issue is trying to figure out how I am going to raise the rascals while I go to school. Miguel is old enough to watch over Emilio and Isabella, so I don’t have to rely on Sophia all the time. But they’re getting older, so school is getting more expensive. I can try to work more hours at the restaurant during summer and push more art commissions. Maybe I’ll get more commissions when I go to college.”

“I told you not to str-”

“Don’t finish that sentence. I told you how I felt about you and Marco paying for my stuff.” She interjected, holding up a finger.

“Because you need the money. Stop being so stubborn and take it. If you don’t, I’ll just sneak it into your account.”

Alma dropped her hand in her lap and sighed. “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back one day.”

“I don't need you to pay me back. You should also stop stressing yourself over this school. Angelo got in. You can too.”

Alma pushed herself into the sofa. “He may not act like it, but Angelo is actually smart. I’ll cry for a whole week if I don’t get into this school. They have one of the top art programs in the country.”

“And you will get in. Your drawings are amazing.” Bruno moved his arm slowly to close the laptop. The bruise on it still ached. He prayed Alma did not notice. She did. Whereas Polpo observed Bruno’s injuries out of curiosity, Alma did it out of genuine concern. Her features softened as she reached for his arm. She stroked her thumb on his forearm asking, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just a small bruise.”

Alma got up and fetched the first aid kit. She rolled up his sleeve and applied the cool, soothing salve to his bruise. Her delicate fingers wrapped the bandages around his arm with care. Her eyes were downcasted and she said nothing. Bruno hated the slight trembles of her lips, the cracks in her voice, and her worried glances when she treated him. He cupped her chin. “Talk to me.”

She swallowed. “You don’t have to tell me, but I know you're moving up in the organization. That means you’ll be in more danger. I don’t know Fugo that much, but I don’t want him or you getting hurt.”

Bruno swiped his thumb along her chin. “I’ll be alright. Mmkay.” He whispered.

“Mmkay.”

[seaofashes]

Literally 1-4 could work together it doesn't have to be all of them but I just couldn't pick which one. Love your writing.

"Hey Eds." Buck said casually answering his phone.

"I need a favor." Eddie said on the other end of the phone.

"Uh...o-kaaay. What kind of favor we talking?" Buck asked suddenly intrigued. Eddie sighed out a bit annoyed before continuing.

"I need you to come over. It's a bit of a long story but to make it short I need you here in the next like 15 minutes before my parents get here. There in town and I...really don't want to deal with them today." Eddie said talking kinda fast.

"No worries man, I'm on my way." Buck answered.

"Thanks Buck."

"That's what friends are for right?" Buck said as he grinned and started his Jeep, tossing his phone into the seat as they hung up.

"Look if they ask anything-" Eddie started but was cut off.

"We have reservations that can't be cancelled and it's one of the only nights we have off so we can't reschedule date night. Carla is watching Christopher and we are getting ready to leave because we have to be there by 7:15." Buck said casually as Eddie helped him with his tie. Eddie nodded and stepped back to look at his handiwork.

"Try not too screw this up yeah?"

"I'm offended you think so lowly of me." Buck rolled his eyes.

"Actually the opposite, that's the reason I called you. I could have called someone else. Just seriously please don't be a smartass with them Buck, they get on my case enough as is." Eddie huffed as he did his own tie.

"Look I'm only here to establish an alibi...more specifically your alibi Eddie. But don't worry I'll bite my tongue and behave." Buck said as he leaned against the wall and looked at his best friend. Damn did he look good in that suit.

"I know you're always a good lil golden retriever Buck. So just keep it cool for a few minutes, just long enough to get rid of them okay?"

"So I'm wearing a suit just because you need to lie to your parents? And why has everyone just decided that I'm a human golden retriever?" Buck said throwing his hands up pouting.

"That look right there, you look like an adorable little confused puppy. Plus you've got a heart of gold Buckaroo. You're a puppy boy." Eddie laughed, completely ignoring the first question. Buck shook his head and mumbled something to himself as he took something out of Eddie's hair earning an odd look from his friend. Buck just shrugged a shoulder.

Before Eddie could say anything there was a knock at the door. "Be right there!"

Eddie made his way to the door and opened it pretending to be surprised. Aunt Pepa had called Eddie ahead of time to warn him his parents would be headed his way soon.

"Uh...hey. What are you guys doing here?" Eddie asked as he hugged his mother and shook his father's hand.

"Is that any way to greet your parents?" His father grumbled and Eddie sighed inwardly.

"Sweetheart why are you dressed up?" His mother asked taking in his appearance.

"I've got dinner plans tonight." Eddie shrugged and tried to back away as his mother fussed with his hair.

"Oh? And who's the lucky lady?" She asked but his father simply scoffed. "No, you're just trying to get out of dealing with us huh?"

"Hey Eds? We gotta get going soon or we'll be late." Buck called out as he came around the corner and stopped as he looked at his parents. Eddie silently thanked Buck for his timing of coming around the corner.

"W-who is this?" Both parents said at the same time.

"Mom..pop...this is Buck." Eddie said as he motioned for Buck to come over, Buck taking a spot close to Eddie.

"Buck? Kind of a strange name." His father mumbled and Eddie bit the inside of his cheek.

"It's uh...it's actually Evan but everyone calls me Buck." Buck said smoothly as he held out a hand to Eddie's father who reluctantly shook his hand. Eddie's mother smiled politely and glanced between them.

"This is the young man you work with isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Eddie said curtly getting a feeling that this conversation was about to go into a direction he didn't want.

"Isn't that against policies?" His father remarked.

"Actually as long as the captain clears it and feels it won't Impact your ability to do your job no it's not." Buck said with a shrug of his shoulder.

"Eddie I thought you were past this?" The man said ignoring Buck who felt Eddie tense next to him.

"I'm a grown man and I am not having this conversation with you, either of you right now." Eddie said clinching his jaw.

"We have talked about this before and we will again, I don't think it's fair to you or this family especially your so-"

"Sir with all due respect, if my father couldn't beat my bisexuality out of me growing up I don't think anyone will change it. For anyone. You can have all the conversations in the world but it won't change who you are as a person. It doesn't change anything about me, it doesn't change anything about Eddie. And it sure as hell doesn't change how great of a father he is to Christopher and I will have you know me and that boy get along beautifully so I don't think it really matters to him." Buck said as he placed a gentle hand on Eddie's shoulder as he spoke calmly. "Now it's great to meet you but it's our only day off and we have dinner reservations at 7:15 so we have to finish getting ready."

"I think it's time for us to go, we'll be at your abuela's but we will be seeing you soon Edmundo." His father said as he grabbed his mother's hand and they left. Eddie sighed as he leaned against the wall.

"Buck-"

"I'd prefer not to talk about it right now okay? Now can I please get out of this suit?" Buck groaned and Eddie couldn't stop the little laugh that escaped him.

"No can do Buck."

"What? Why?" He said confused.

"Because we actually have dinner reservations at 7:15. I'm driving." Eddie said as he walked away to retrieve his wallet and keys leaving Buck standing at the door, mouth open slightly and confusion setting in...was he going on an actual date with Eddie?

Buck sat there swishing the wine in his glass around slightly, he could feel Eddie's eyes on him.

"You're upset.."

"I...no I'm not I just kinda wish you would have told me this was an actual date before hand." Buck said looking up at Eddie.

"I mean I did. I wasn't lying when I told you what we were telling my parents."

"Yeah okay fair point, however I thought I was just being used as an alibi."

"Buck you'd never just be used as an alibi with me, you should know that by now man. But look if this bothers you too much we can go?" Eddie said and he couldn't help the bit of disappointment that crept into his features.

"What! No it's fine, it doesn't bother me Eddie. It's all good, we're good." Buck smiled that beautiful smile Eddie loved so much, and eyes fluttering as he looked across the table at Eddie. "Guess I'm just a bit surprised."

"Well don't be, I really like you okay? And so does Christopher." Eddie said as he took a drink and smiled and Buck's heart nearly exploded. He didn't see Eddie smile like that enough but it took his breath away every time he did.

Eddie went to say something else when his phone rang. "Hello?"

Eddie pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment, a momentary look of horror crossing his face before bringing the phone back to his ear.

"But-" Eddie stopped as he was cut off. "Cap come on nononono I don't need it off, neither of us do. Please call them back and say we're short staffed or something." Eddie pleaded and Buck looked at him, resting his chin on his hand.

"Fine...yeah...see you then." Eddie sighed and hung up as he muttered something in Spanish.

"Soooo..." Buck asked, brows raising a bit.

"They called Bobby." Eddie said miserably.

"Oh? And?"

"We now have tomorrow off, Jackson and Romero are filling in for us. Day after tomorrow Cap wants to talk to us first thing in the morning." Eddie said and Buck groaned.

"Shit.... okay. Okay wait....hang on I have a solution!" Buck said and Eddie's eyes lit up.

"Thank God.." Eddie exclaimed.

"It involves fire."

"Absolutely not?"

"Eds come on!"

"No Buck." Eddie shook his head incredibly. This was the guy he was in love with.

"Okay okay...what if I got stabbed? I'm still on blood thinners. Nothing major but like a shallow one?"

"Evan!" Eddie exclaimed and earned some looks from people at nearby tables.

"I'm joking don't get your panties twisted babe." Buck snorted as he took another drink and laughed a little.

"Hopefully tomorrow goes better than today did with them. Plus we'll have Christopher on our side, I dare them to try something with him there." Eddie said.

"True, he's a great kid man. You're a good Dad." Buck said smiling.

"So are you." Eddie said quietly and Buck dropped the glass in his hand, already profusely apologising to the waitress who came over and cleaned the glass.

"See this is why we can't have nice things Buckley. What am I going to do with you huh?" Eddie joked playfully. Buck smiled sheepishly, his smile faltering as he noticed the blood on his hand.

"Eddie...you still got that first aid kit in the truck?"

"Yeah why?" Eddie asked, not hiding the concern in his voice. Buck held up his hand showing him before grabbing a napkin and putting it to the cut.

Both men got up, Buck heading out to the truck and Eddie paying the bill before meeting Buck outside. The cut wasn't deep and they got the bleeding under control fairly quick but Eddie still kept asking if Buck felt okay.

"Eds I'm okay, it'll heal up in no time."

"I'm still going to worry Buck. Even before you were on thinners I worried. You sure you feel okay?" Eddie asked as he didn't move from where he stood in front of Buck who sat in the passenger seat sideways, legs hanging out the door.

"I'm fine Eddie...could use a kiss to make it better though." Buck mumbled as he glanced up at Eddie who laughed quietly as he leaned in and brushed his lips against Buck's gently, a hand resting on his jaw. Buck leaned forward a bit more deepening the kiss and both smiled as they broke away.

"Just to make it clear...we are dating now right?"

"Yeah Buck, we're most definitely dating now." Eddie said as he pecked Buck's lips again, arms wrapped around him.

"Ready to go home?" Eddie asked gently and Buck nodded as he hugged Eddie a little bit tighter.

"I already am though." Buck whispered in his ear and Eddie smiled.

Yeah...Eddie could definitely get use to this.