#plenty of us think he needs a pet so why not the cursed option

[rewrittenwrongs]

It came to me in a vision

[totemsp2blog]

Jonathan Frakes Asks Me Things

And, in an exercise in oversharing, I answer every single thing...

I don't own a car, but I've certainly been shopping with family, but we're usually good at relocating our vehicle. There have been times I had been waiting for someone to me up from the shops, and I have to figure out where they'll park or pick me up from.

Not mountain biking, but I've gone camping plenty of times and took a bike with me. I'd usually ride around the camp grounds, and up the road a little.

I read plenty of comics when I was young. Garfield, peanuts, Asterix, and occasionally whatever was in the papers. So, I wanted to be a cartoonist. Instead, I became burnt out and depressed and do nothing... though, I guess this is something.

We don't really tip in this country, thanks to decent minimum wages, and it's typically optional and reserved for 'good service'

Not very lately, and not me personally. During a unit inspection, the real estate discovered my bathroom tap was very adjustable, so they called that in and got it replaced with one I can't turn around to fill large vessels easily. Shame, but I understand that it wasn't meant to rotate.

Not very, and I usually pretend to. I'm agnostic, thanks to an attempted Christian upbringing which resulted in me wandering out of the service to explore the church grounds most of the time. I once worked with a very nice and very religious guy, who once asked if he could tell me 'Jesus loves me' which is very thoughtful in a few ways. On one hand, he understands the walk of 'Jesus, man!' is not for everyone and had the decency to ask before pushing it upon me. On the other hand, I won't pass down an opportunity for free 'love and compassion', no matter where it comes from. You gotta take what you can get, y'know? Either way, and personally, I love with my heart, and use my head for everything else.

Probably not a lot... I MEAN, WHAT IS YOUR OFFER? A MILLION? TENS OF? Also, do I get to pick? because if it was my local memorial park, I would have to get situated in the one building they have, or in the corner opposite of the busiest roads/highways in town, although... they did say night... actually that's not much better. Not in this town. So, I hope I get to pick, or the option is not one in the middle of town.

I don't know, I rent so I would have to ask if I can get the right number of hooks needed. Otherwise, I could hang... stuff off of it. very handy! Though I sure hope the deer shed those horns and wasn't... a part of it when the trophy was made.

No, and I thought I couldn't have one, but apparently the real estate's pet rules aren't legally enforceable, so I could... but that's money. I could settle for getting a bird feeder though...

Not really. I usually avoid high sugar (GI) content foods... it's a sometimes thing. Sugar is... not good for you. Raw (low GI) sugar, and zero sugar soda is my safe zone, but some would say they're probably not much better.

Again, I don't undertake superstitions. When we speak of a curse or something cursed, it's usually inconceivably unlucky, or uncomfortably bizarre... but that doesn't 'go as hard' so r/cursedshitorwhatever I'm not a redditor. In terms of 'the power' of a curse, it's usually aligned with a peculiar series of circumstances of pattern recognition. You probably have an idea of the kind of people that run this effect. Where everything they hop onto ultimately went under. They might not be cursed... they just might have a history of poor management, but kept adding things to their LinkedIn so they still get hired. The reason I'm not superstitious is there's usually a reason for everything... even if there's no reason stated, those are usually just too obfuscated to understand. ...now this is becoming too obfuscated to understand. Moving on...

I don't think I've had my hearing tested ever, that I can remember. My hearing is fine, but auditory hypersensitivity (autism) can cause anxiety when there's a lot of commotion, which is why I usually wear Active Noise cancelling headphones/earbuds most of the time when I'm out. I kinda became reliant on them.

Not soon, but If I do, I'm taking my ANC headphones with me.

I did see a tall guy in the supermarket the other day... otherwise, there was an old friend of mine I studied with in my game dev course. He was cool, and massively tall, he could play baskety ball. Somehow, we drifted out of contact. I could guess why but I won't get into it. Either way... I miss him.

I prefer overcast days, where I don't have to worry about getting fried by the sun.

What are you asking me with this? I don't understand... The only thing I can think of is... Aunty Donna did this sketch about real estate agents, essentially bringing them into the light and proving that they are defined as: massive cunts. Owing to the fact that they went out of their way to ruin a perfectly improved fully adjustable bathroom sink tap, they may be onto something! They then proceeded to run with this concept, making an entire episode of their new tv series about it. While I do not understand the question in the slightest, I'm happy to take the opportunity to speak absolute truths about real estate agents... Actually, the one that helped me get my current unit, his wisdom was undoubtably key to getting into this place. He was pretty cool, and the fact that we kept running into him exploring units that day... I knew something was going to work out that day.

I could be more careful, I reckon. In that I ough to known where each one is a little better, but it doesn't come up often.

*sigh*... okay.

Let's get dive into that.

The reason why you computer feels like it has a mind of it's own...

First and foremost.

Your current computer will never have a mind of it's own.

If it seems like it does, well... this may sound harsh but it's probably your fault.

But not entirely... I means you didn't know any better, and I can understand that. I've also been at fault for things I didn't know any better about.

y'see, unless you're downloading open source software with no profit motive, a program you searched for on the internet that you may go to install, may ask to install something extra because it's their sponsor. You always have the option to decline this. The problem is, you're probably clicking through this and just hit accept to proceed... on something you didn't mean to.

It's not going to install something malicious typically, it's just bloat you can easily uninstall off your PC typically.

But trust me, it could be a lot worse. Such as a hacker obtaining access to your PC to do nafarious deeds... but this isn't your PC's fault.

What I'm autisting about here is, Computers are designed in a way that everything they do is the result of human input.

If it actually had a mind of it's own... you would have Artifical Inteligence... REAL AI, not that procedual generative stuff that's all the rage currently.

General, Human level, intelegence.... like say...

Oh look, it's Jonathan Frakes!

I have. The one in Melbourne is located on the east end of Little Bourke street, between Swanson st and Exibition st. I haven't been there often, but one time I got a nice little cake from there.

There used to be one located in Caribbean Gardens (not that Caribbean). I went there a long time ago. I think there was absolutly software pirates selling stuff there but I didn't get anything like that, only a third party gamecube controller that I ended up wearing out by mashing the buttons too much (Paper Mario TYD will do that... as will Metroid Prime). Funny considering Nintendo's Australian offices were essentially next door. They closed up buisness in 2020 for obvious reasons, and never reopened. But it looks like something new has taken it's place?

Yeah, you know the ones on the highway/freeway where they have an accompanying inbound/outbound service station each with their own identical McDonalds AND KFC in the same building? That's two seperate McDonalds AND KFC for each side of the freeway. I wonder if one is better than the other, or if the staff alternate between the two. Probably. Basically anywhere you're effectively venturing out further than your usual circle of existance (aka, metro melbourne), there will be a service station, or two next to eachother, and they have their own seperate Hungry Jacks... or if you're me, and feel lucky... a Red Rooster!

It depends... during the time I worked, I've taken orders to people, but I've never... taken people's orders. I was a labourer, not meant to interface with the people directly, but it being a children's play place, there's not much to order. I once prepared fairy bread. That was the one and only food item they had me prepare. Otherwise I cleaned up puke and shit, and politely told kids to not climb all over the jumping castle.

Successful resturants? Yeah I've certainly seen enough american themed resturants go under... usually because they're trash. As for successful themed resturant chains? Seems to be more common. Though honestly they're more franchises. Idk, it was weird for a moment finding out the neat sushi train resturant I found in Melboune central, also has a location at the shops closer to me. And vice versa. I didn't expect the korean fried chicken place that popped up in my town to have another in the aforementioned closer shop. And then there's schnitz, which has just exploded in locations and popularity. When one shopping centre I used to go to started their redevelopment, I basically called that it would have a schnitz. You can probably tell what their theme is.

If it comes up? sure! But i'd probably draw a little guy there instead. now, that said... I once accedently imprinted my shoeprint at one place while I was working there during it's construction. Fun fact, it's the same play place I mentioned earlier. Mind you, I think they smoothed it over after I trod on it so I don't think my mark has been retained.

This was honestly pretty fun. Thanks, Jonathan Frakes!

[bonnymori]

01 | 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫... 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭?!

chapter 01 / chapter 02 / chapter 03

Word count: 1250+

Synopsis: During a particularly boring afternoon, a muscly man with a purple worm around his shoulders has made his way onto your house- literally, smashing through your window- and, subconciously, onto your life.

Contents/Warnings: (1) Fushiguro Toji x gn!Reader, theres also Gojo cat as your cat!! (2) Reader finds Toji's worm cute; i'm sorry if you don't just skip that part (3) There's some cursing but I promise next chapter won't

A/N: I have a lot of drafts and this is the most normal looking I've got... so let's post it first ehehehhsjhd- Also, I'm remaking the structure of the posts (Megumi's one-shot is updated with the very same visual as this!), hope it looks less unorganized! Thank you for reading <3

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To think you'd let such a stranger barge into your apartment- actually, you would never imagine such a comeup. But here are we.

Right in front of you there is a man. Raven locks, black shirt, white baggy pants - is that a purple... gut, intestine thing around his chest? - and a pair of imacculate ballet shoes on his feet. The dude is knocked out cold, it seems that he barely made it through your window, only to come head first against your floor tiles. Now you have drops of blood all over the floor and counter- and, a bleeding man.

You can't tell which task will be more grueling to solve.

Because you have a working brain, of course the man comes first. No matter if your window is broken, and a handfull of glass shards adorn your countertops. And now you've accidentally stepped upon one- just then you realise the man's back must be feeling like a bed of thors- or shards, over being dragged through the floor.

So you throw his arms - which you notice, has a few cuts here and there - over your shoulders, and picks him up in a one-person carry; barely, his torso is against yours and legs are dangling on the floor, this guy must weigh the double you do. It feels like you're carrying a fridge.

From your peripheral, you can see Satoru paddle to the kitchen's doorframe, probably wondering if you were preparing a meal for him or whatever.

"I'll be back in a moment, Ru." He meows a reply, dragging his mountain of fluff back to your couch- you're certain he's taking your spot, while it's still warm.

Thankfully, it doesn't take long for you to reach the bathroom, dropping the man leisurely upon your fluffy mat. Beside all the cuts, the man has already a plentiful share of permanent scars, and none are of your business, you don't care. It's like cleaning and stitching up a old doll full of tears, by the way you're able to maneuver his limbs; you're glad he's still unconscious.

But the thing around his shoulders is not.

In a blink of eye, it jumps from his shoulder to yours, attaching itself to your back and nestling upon your shoulder. When you glance down at it, it feels like a weird looking parrot.

"Hi?" You ask, it looks back at you. "Are you like, his pet or something?" It doesn't talk, just gazes at you through half lidded eyes; so you give up on short talking it, not knowing what you expected yourself. "Let's go finish my movie then!"

You join Satoru on the couch, the cat rapidly making room on your comfortable lap; and the man forgotten, snoring soundly on your bathroom.

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A sequel and half movie later, you hear a loud thud coming from the kitchen. Even though you're aware there's a strange in your house- the sudden sound still naturaly jolts you out of your seat.

"UGH- Goddamn it-" Next comes a colorful list of slurs; a sigh makes way out of your mouth.

You round the corner, pointing a accusing finger to the strange man, who's laying on your floor again. "No cussing on my house."

"Why didn't you even clean this floor, it's loaded with glass shards."

"I wanted to finish my movie afternoon before doing so. Besides, what made you smash through there," You point to the ruined window. "to here." Then, to the kitchen floor. And finally, motioning to your whole apartment.

That was a interesting question, he expected a "Who are you?" or "I'm calling the cops!" call.

"I don't need to explain you shit."

"Think of it as an retribution, since I patched you up, answer my question."

"No."

"That, or you'll pay for my window."

A sigh. "Fine. I was being chased."

"You're a criminal, then?" You questioned.

"Yes." A devilish grin made its way to his face, showing canines and stretching the small scar on the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, just don't get me involved then."

Toji is familiar to that sort of outcome. Sometimes people man up, people weaker than him. But he knows he's intimidating, and he absolutely loves to play with the attitude of those who challenge him.

Forgetting the shart carving on the sole of his feet, he walks up to you efortlessly, towering over your frame.

"Well, are you not scared to have a criminal inside your house?"

"No, I'm not defenseless. And, you're bleeding. Again."

"Shit." Toji sits down close to the wall where it's safe, twisting his leg to bring the injured foot up to his face. He easily plucks the reddened shart between thick digits, and throws it far away from him.

Meanwhile, you bring your first-aid kit up to him, setting it down near.

"Here, use this."

"..."

"I'll do it for you then." You wasted no time, reaching for the line and thread. Once everything was stitched, you wrap a bandage around his foot, then pats it finished. "What's your name?"

"Fushiguro Toji."

"I'm L/N Y/N, lost all your bite huh?" You tease.

Casually ignored. "Why do you have a first-aid kit? Most people don't have it on their houses."

"I practice muay thai, it's useful both for me and you."

"Right. Have you seen my worm?"

"Well, make yourself at home, until your feet gets better. And yeah, your worm jumped at me like those surprise music boxes, and now it's on the couch with my cat. It's been watching movies with us."

He was beyond curious, because the worm didn't have a thinking mind nor knew what even meant to watch something. Toji limped to the doorframe, eyes widening once he spotted the worm wrapped snuggly around your very fluffy cat.

"That's some cute shit."

"The worm is gross."

"I think it looks cute."

"You're batshit crazy."

You stretched your limbs. "Whatever, let's waste some more time watching TV."

Toji sat down - mind you, taking a handful of space you were not content with - once you picked up "both" animals to make room. He thinks you're weird, seeing the fact you didn't question what the hell was that giant-purple-moving worm, and for letting in a random guy inside your house. You do fight a martial art, though, but most people wouldn't have such confidence on him - a dude build like a truck.

There's some survival show playing in the background, yet he's beyond bored watching it, so he settles in questioning your questionable manners.

"How are you so chill about everything?"

"Oh well," You seemed focused on the show, surprisement showing itself once you turn to him. "I see these things in a daily basis, so it's really no big deal after a while."

"Curses?"

"Yep."

"You-"

"I'm going to clean the kitchen. Also, I ask you once the skies darken, to leave my house."

"..."

"Is there a problem?"

"I got no hideout out there."

"Suuure you don't." You sighed. "Alright, the couch is your best option; if I hear rumbles at night, or if you steal me or something, I'll be the one chasing you."

"Right, have fun cleaning the blood stained kitchen."

"The audacity." You left with a smirk, shaking your head.

Although you're weird, so far, you're also the most interesting individual Toji has come up to par with; something in this house prickles at his skin to stay. Plus, the fluffy cat laying on his lap is very cute aswell.

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[batsandbugs]

Daminette December

A/N: Okay so this one spiraled out of control a little bit, but I’m so happy with how it turned out! Marinette and Damian back to being chaotic little shits, Marinette being understanding, and Damian going a little too far but finding the one person who doesn’t mind. Let me know what y’all think. Thanks @daminette-december2019-2020​

Daminette December Day 15 – Cats

If you had told Marinette back in May that by Christmas she would be living in the most crime-infested city in America going to college, working at a pet store that was most likely a front for the Russian mob, and trying to unravel a 300-year-old curse on said crime-infested-city…

… she would have believed you.

After all, it wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her.

But back to the pet store.

There she was a week before Christmas living in a shoebox apartment, drowning in fabric and notions, with a magical box filled with tiny gods who loved to squabble and give conflicting vague advice. They were supposed to work on how to break the giant magical curse laid out across the city, but Marinette had gotten hired at the local pet store down the street because if she spent one more minute sequestered inside trying to decipher the handwriting of centuries-old monks, without a break, she would scream.

Plus, the animals were ridiculously cute and the current owner obviously had no clue how to take care of them – which is how she concluded the store was a money-laundering front. The owner, a Mr. Petriov, had known her for all of three days before leaving her to manage the shop by herself. That hadn’t changed much in the month she had worked here, but at least the animals were in better shape now and she had a slightly larger budget for the endless amount of coffee she drank.

Marinette swept the back of the room, trying to make sure it was as clean as she could get it. Despite her best efforts at trying to cheer the place up, the plastic Christmas decorations and lively music did little to distract from the poor living conditions of the animals. Marinette wished there was some way to help, but she was rather limited in her options in a foreign city and Plagg’s suggestions of stealing all the animals and burning the place down was not a viable one.

No matter how much Marinette wanted to sometimes.

The store bell rang.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” she called. She finished sweeping the last of the room, before putting the broom away, and coming out to the main part of the store. “Hi there, I’m Marinette, how can I-”

“Did you know that Gotham Department of Health and Safety Regulations, Section 45: Animals and Livestock, subsection C.1: Living conditions, states that cages for cats must be 30 inches in width, 28 inches in length, 30 inches in height, and 30 inches on the diagonal? And that yours do not match those specifications?” There in the center of the store stood a man about her age. He was dressed head to toe in black, with a long, expensive, looking coat billowed out behind him. His voice was posh and smooth, and his tone could cut glass. He looked around the store in thinly veiled disgust.

Marinette vaguely recognized him. He’d been in the store about two weeks ago. He hadn’t said anything when she asked if he needed help. He just went around to all the cages watching the animals through the bars. She had gone about her normal routine, and then he left a little while later. The only reason she remembered him at all was he was wearing the same designer coat with wool Marinette’s hands itched to get a hold of.  

“I- I did not. Although, this is not my store.” The man glared at her, and had Marinette not been used to a lifetime of truly piercing glares from Chloe, she might have crumbled underneath it. “I’ve only been working here for a month and let me tell you it’s better than it was before.”

“These conditions are intolerable.”

Marinette usually kept a cool façade with the few customers who came in here, but this man was obviously looking for a fight; not that she didn’t completely agree with him.

“I’m well aware, but I’m doing the best with what I have here, especially since my boss doesn’t care.” One of the cats mewled loudly, and Marinette sighed. She knew exactly who that was. Walking over to one of the cages she opened it up. A tiny grey cat with tipped black ears and paws jumped into her arms. Marinette had named him Macaroon since Mr. Petriov hadn’t bothered to give any of them names.

“Sorry,” she said. “Macaroon likes attention, and he’s good with people so I bring him out when others come in to pet them.” The man came over and let the cat sniff his hand before scratching under the his chin.

“He looks well taken care of,” he complimented, although he still scowled. Marinette couldn’t help but think he would be much more handsome if he smiled.  

“As I said, I try my best. I take them all out of their cages so they can stretch their legs, and not just the dogs either. But that’s whenever I’m not cleaning, or prepping food, or taking care of the paperwork.” Or at home trying to figure out how to banish a city-wide curse, Marinette thought to herself.

The man hummed. “Look, you seem… nice.” He said the word in such a way that implied he didn’t believe the concept existed. “So, I’ll let you know ahead of time, but this store is going to get raided tomorrow. It’s a-”

“Front for the Russian Mob?” Marinette finished. The man seemed taken aback and immediately glared at her again. “Yeah, I figured that out within a few days of working here. I just had no clue as to who to go to about it. Who’s going to help a tiny French girl about a corrupt business in a city known for corruption?” She raised an eyebrow at the man who seemed taken aback by her abruptness.

“Fair point. So why are you working here then? If you know it’s corrupt.”

Marinette sighed; it was true she had plenty else to be doing, school was over for the semester sure, but there was always magic to learn, or sites to go check out to see if they were connected to the curse, or she could have gone home for the break and visited her parents, but…

If she did any of that, no one would be here to look out for the animals. And just because she couldn’t actively be a hero, didn’t mean she was going to turn up her back on those who needed her, even if they were of the four-legged variety.

She looked back at the handsome man; how could she explain any of that to him.

… not that she should.

Because that would be bad.

She didn’t know him at all.

Even if he was ridiculously good looking.

Fuck. 

She did not have the time to get caught up in anything else, especially not a crush.

So instead, she went with a mostly true answer. “Just because the people running the store are bad, doesn’t mean the animals are. I would come by here on my way from school and would want to let the poor things out of their cages. So, when I finally had enough time, I applied for a job.” The look on the man’s face was a cross between surprise and understanding. “And you’d want to do something else too if the last three months all you did was stare at miles of hand-sewn hems and contemplate if death would be kinder.”

Marinette bet the man would deny it if pointed out, but the side of his mouth turned up at her comment.

“Understandable.”

“My question is,” she asked, stroking Macaroon who was happily purring away in her arms. “Why would you tell the person working at the Russian mob front that you’re going to have the store raided the next day? Doesn’t that seem a little counter-productive?” Not that Marinette was in any way complaining, she had been waiting for an opportunity like this for weeks.

“It depends on whether you tell your boss or not.”

“Hell no.”

Finally, the man’s face morphed from a resting scowl into a self-satisfied smirk.

Oh no, he’s even hotter like that, Marinette thought.  

“Then I think telling was exactly the right idea. You’ll need to give a statement to the department doing the raid, but you won’t be in trouble for anything that went down here.”

Marinette nodded, and then remembered something. “Would pictures help?”

“Pictures?”

“I’ve been taking pictures of all the documents that come through the front desk. The legitimate ones and the less legitimate ones. It’s only about a month’s worth of stuff, but I have it on a flash drive.”

The man’s smirk grew a bit more. “Yes, I do believe that would be useful.”

Marinette smiled, finally glad this place would get shut down, but then she looked at Macaroon so snuggly in her arms, and all the other lovely creatures throughout the store came to mind. “And the animals, will they be okay?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t allow anything to happen to them. They’ll all be going to reputable shelters or good homes through the Wayne Foundation.”

Marinette readjusted Macaroon in her arms. “That’s good. So, should I bring the flash drive when I give my statement or-”

“I can take it,” he said quickly. “I mean,” he cleared his throat. “You can give it to me, and I can hand it off to the… proper authorities.” The glint in his eye spelled trouble. Marinette thought it was completely unfair how attractive she found it.  

“It’s in my apartment. My shift is only another hour, but….” She thought about her mess of an apartment covered in yards of fabric, questionable ancient artifacts, and the tiny floating talking gods. “It’s a bit of a mess, how about we meet elsewhere?”

“Yes,” the man responded quickly. He looked down at Macaroon and stroked the cat’s back, a light blush playing out over his cheeks. “Of course, that would be acceptable.”

“Coffee then?” asked Marinette, glad to have a little longer to chat with him.

“Sounds good. Inman Perk at 7th and Forge Street?”

“I love that place. I’m Marinette by the way, I think I said that.”

The man smirked again, “You did, but it’s nice to hear it. I’m Damian, Damian Wayne.”

“I’d shake your hand Damian, but my arms are a little full.” She readjusted Macaroon, moving over to his cage placing the content cat back inside. Marinette smiled, happy to know this would be the last night the animals would have to sleep in these too-small cages. She turned back to Damian and offered her hand.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, Mr. Wayne,” she said with a grin.

He clasped his hand with hers, and she delighted at the chill it sent up her spine. “Not nearly as much as I am with you, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette paused for a moment, “I don’t think I ever gave you my last name?”

Damian paused, his face of a person caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “I may, perhaps, have done a slight background check on you before I decided to confront you today.” He retreated his hands and clasped them behind his back. “Uh, I- I apologize if that comes off a little…” he trailed off.

“Invasive, creepy, overbearing?”

Damian’s face fell. “Yes.”

Marinette tried hard to hold in her smirk. “Or protective, concerned, over-invested? I’ve had friends like that before.” Thinking particularly of Kagami, or her own actions towards Adrian during those early years. “It’s a little much, but not so bad especially when confronting someone who may be part of the Russian mob.”

Damian’s face went from contrite to an all-out grinning smirk. “You? Part of the mob? A little hard to believe.”

“Oh, you never know”’ she teased back. “I think I could pull it off, no one ever expects the tiny French girl.”

A bark from the back of the store interrupted their flirting, soon all of the dogs were barking, and Marinette realized the time.

“I’ve got to get them all taken out and fed. I’ll be finished in about an hour, I’ll grab the stuff from my apartment and meet you at… 8:30?”

Damian nodded. “Of course, see you there.” And with that he turned on his heel and walked out of the store, his long coat billowing like a cape behind him. Marinette watched him disappear from view and waited a second before she punched the air. She couldn’t wait. She kneeled back down at the cage and scratched Macaroon’s chin.

“Thanks for being such a good luck charm.” The cat purred back happily. Marinette headed off to finish what she needed to get done, wondering what the heck she was going to wear.

Permanent Tag List 

@loveswifi​ @fusser90​ @animegirlweeb​ @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere​ @your-resident-chicken-nugget​ @nathleigh​ @moonlitceleste​   @m3owww

[delimeful]

not always what they seem (2)

warnings: inappropriate jokes, remus being remus, mild panic attack, fear, miscommunication

long overdue commission for @legendsgates​! thank you for your patience and support 💚

Chapter 1

-

Janus watched the giant creatures around them devolve into more of that buzzing, clicking language as Remus waved his arm around enthusiastically in response to them.

“What are you-- Stop that,” the emo kid hissed, his whole body going tense, and Janus leaned back slightly just in time to avoid getting caught in the half-tackle that Remus was subjected to. “What if they just asked who wants to be first to be dissected, huh?”

“Oooh, kinky,” Remus cackled from where the kid had pinned his wrists to the floor. “Do you think they’ll probe me first?”

Janus rolled his eyes, and then stiffened as a shadow fell over them. “Kid—!”

He could see the moment the red alien’s hand made contact, the kid’s face immediately draining of all color as those strange talons wrapped around him and started to lift.

Almost instantly, Remus surged to his feet, grabbing the kid’s arm before he could be lifted out of range. The hold was so tight it almost looked painful, but the kid clung back desperately. He looked smaller than ever without the bulky hoodie around him, his frame barely concealed by a worn, slightly oversized band shirt.

Remus’s face twisted into a snarl. “Hey, hands to yourself, you shitty Mothra rip-off!”

Janus quickly rose to his feet as well, looking up past the kid’s terrified gaze to see the alien had paused, it’s strange antenna protrusions twitching. The facial features didn’t give him much to work with, so he attempted to see what the creature was seeing, contextless: the kid tackling Remus for big showy arm movements, Remus coming after him. Was it trying to seperate them like a pet owner with a pair of squabbling dogs?

He shifted forwards, setting a hand on Remus’ shoulder and expertly drawing all attention to himself. Remus glanced at him and then reluctantly cut off his litany of extremely descriptive curses, though his grip on the kid didn’t falter. Janus tilted his head back to carefully lock eyes with the alien.

“No. Stop,” he spoke with a stern emphasis. “Put him down.”

He reached up to grab the kid’s arm as well, tugging lightly, and then repeated himself slowly.

“Double D, buddy, I’d bet all three of my balls that they don’t understand English,” Remus said, “no matter how slow you say it.”

Janus didn’t break eye contact with the giant, moving to point at the kid and then the floor of their enclosure emphatically. “That doesn’t mean we can’t communicate with them.”

At the perfect moment to dramatically accentuate his point, the alien seemed to concede, lowering the kid down until his feet were touching the floor. The guy tore out of the oversized grip as soon as it loosened, nearly tumbling head over heels. Janus caught him by the arm, and Remus took the opportunity to jump forwards and click his teeth menacingly at the giant hand. The alien recoiled immediately, looking much like an elephant shying away from a mouse.

“I volunteer to get probed and this is how you fucks repay me? Just grabbing kids all willy-nilly? Have some respect!”

The kid muttered something, half-lost under his panicked breaths, and Remus turned to look at him. “What was that, short stack?”

“Virgil,” he repeated irritably. “It’s Virgil, not ‘kid’, definitely not ‘short stack’. I’m twenty years old, for fuck’s sake.”

Janus and Remus shared a glance over the newly-named Virgil’s head, and that was enough to set the man off into another fit of cackling laughter.

---

Roman watched, enthralled, as the little creature bedecked in green threw its head back and made a hair-raising clamor.

Intriguingly enough, the other two didn’t seem to react too strongly to such a loud outburst. The yellow one turned its face to the side as its tiny features pinched into an expression that Roman couldn’t quite decode, and the shaky purple one’s pale face seemed to shift color as it made an emphatic hand gesture of some sort. Patton would be taking plenty of notes later.

The motions, the expressions, they were all intentional and full of meaning, just like the pointing and sounds Yellow had made when Roman had tried to separate Purple from the group. He still didn’t quite grasp why the other specimens had responded so strongly; Purple had clearly been attacking, though thankfully no serious harm had occurred thanks to Roman swiftly jumping into action.

“This is incredible,” Logan murmured from beside him, and Roman couldn’t help but agree.

“There’s so much to analyze here,” he mumbled. “Any small animal would flee from a predator’s grasp, but they recognized that we’re sapient, and Yellow even approached instead to mediate!”

“Yellow?” Patton asked, a bit of teasing in his voice. “I thought your nicknames were always a bit wordier?”

“I can’t properly nickname someone unless I have their self-presentation and personality, Pat!” Roman defended. “It’s more of a… designation. After all, I can’t very well ask their names, can I?”

“I mean, we could certainly try!” Patton suggested with an optimistic lilt to his voice. “I’m not a linguist for nothing, y’know!”

“It might take some time to communicate intent, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Patton.” Logan’s ears flicked at the pleading look the Nihl sent him. “Still, I’ll admit there’s… no harm in a first attempt.”

Roman unsubtly chittered a laugh at his coworker’s expense, and Patton brightened immediately.

“Glad that you agree it’s… wordth a try!”

---

Janus was drawn away from the amusing argument going on between his fellow captives (the topic being how old one had to be to be an actual ‘for-realsies’ adult, federal law be damned) by two of the aliens simultaneously making odd, dragged out noises almost like stuttering groans.

“They sound like fucking zombies,” Virgil muttered from where he’d appeared at Janus’s shoulder. He’d snapped back to watching the three with blatant paranoia the moment they were loud enough to catch his notice.

The kid wasn’t subtle at all, but it wasn’t like he was wrong to be on guard. They were still abducted, regardless of how fantastical or impossible their captors seemed. Seeing how significant the size difference was, they’d have to work on escaping through… more cunning means.

Janus carefully held his position as the three giants crowded around the enclosure again, ignoring the way Virgil reached out to grip the back of his hoodie, either for comfort or in preparation to pull Janus from danger. This time, the three chattered amongst themselves for a long moment before going quiet and turning to the multiple-armed one.

Automatically, the humans mirrored the gesture, and the recipient of their attention met their gazes carefully one by one before placing a rigid, vertical hand under their chin and holding it there.

“Patton,” the alien said, slow and clear. It looked at them expectantly, and then repeated the phrase. “Patton.”

It was definitely some kind of word, that was clear enough. When not caught up in the rapid-fire chittering nature of the alien language, it was much easier to decipher.

“Patton?” Virgil muttered, and then squeaked when the alien stared at him with sudden intensity, hands flicking up and down erratically. Except for, Janus noted, the one still under its chin.

“Patton,” it said again, and then lowered the hand. Next to it, the insect-like one put a much bonier hand under its own angular chin.

“Roman,” it said, with a few subtle clicks that probably couldn’t be replicated by human mouths. Janus nodded, the pieces clicking into place. “Roman.”

Sure enough, next to make the hand gesture was the last alien, who introduced itself with a note of rippling bass overlapping with something like Logan. It was probably a bit mangled as he echoed it back, but different vocal chords made things difficult.

“You communing with them, Dee?” Remus asked from where he was crowding over his other shoulder. “That’s no sign language I’ve ever used. You speak alien and you’re not even going to share with the class?”

Janus elbowed him off, and then stepped forwards, and placed his own hand under his chin vertically, studying the ripple of reaction that got from the aliens.

“Dee,” he said, choosing to use his nickname as he had with the other humans.

The aliens immediately dissolved into excited chattering, which Janus patiently waited out. His fellow earthlings were similarly surprised.

“Wait, they’re doing introductions right now?” Virgil’s head whipped back and forth rapidly. Remus was gleefully attempting to mimic the weird, echoey quality of the voice of ‘Logan’ and getting concerningly close.

The one with all the arms-- Patton, it was Patton, he needed to remember if he wanted to make any progress at all here-- let out a string of syllables, slowed down but still nonsensical to them, and reached out.

Virgil jumped back and Remus started forwards, but Janus cut off all movement with a quickly snapped “Stop!”

Including the alien’s motion. He resisted the urge to smile at the success, instead looking up at Patton and tilting his head slightly. “What is it?”

Patton didn’t understand his words, but the questioning tone seemed to carry over, and after a beat, they moved their hand forward again just slightly before pausing, as though asking permission.

Janus weighed his options for a moment, before stepping forward. Virgil, who was still latched onto the back of him, came along with only a single sound of half-panicked protest. Patton correctly assumed that this was Janus giving his assent, and moved their hand closer, much slower this time.

With delicate, careful motions, they pushed Janus’s left hand out from under his chin, and then carefully curled a finger around his right arm, tugging that one up instead. Janus realized his mistake after a moment, and placed the right hand under his chin instead. Patton withdrew with a bright hum.

“What is happening,” Virgil hissed, and Janus glanced over his shoulder at him. The color had drained from his face, and his hand was white-knuckled where it was holding onto Janus’s borrowed outfit.

“I was mirroring their… introductory gesture, I suppose, and it seems that the meaning changes if I don’t use the correct hand. In this case, my right one,” he explained. “They’re going to want to know your name. Do you want me to assist?”    

Before he could answer, Remus was bouncing forwards, placing a hand under his own chin to gain the aliens’ attention.

“Call me I-Am-A-Buttface,” he half-shouted, grinning wildly.

---

“Did… did anyone else catch that one’s name?”

Roman watched as ‘D’ reached over and tugged the other tiny alien back by the collar roughly before they could speak again, astonished by how the other only let out what might be a cackle at the rough handling.

Not more astonished than he’d been by the alien catching on so quickly, though. Logan had been rendered completely speechless for a record amount of time, and Patton was still happily waving his hands back and forth at the success.

D visibly let out a long breath, and turned back to them, placing the correct hand under their chin this time. “D,” they repeated, and then switched things up.

They pulled the rambunctious one closer and placed their hand under that one’s chin, too. “Remus.”

“Are they-- introducing the other one as well?” Roman asked, and none of them could answer. ‘Remus’ didn’t seem to object, though they continued to speak in that rounded language. “That’s certainly a bit... unorthodox.”

D looked over at the only unnamed alien, the angry one that was standing at D’s shoulder, and after a moment, they jerked their head strangely. D seemed to understand, and held a hand palm-up in that one’s direction.

The unnamed alien put their hand in the proper introductory position, and had a few false starts before finally getting their name out. “Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Patton echoed excitedly. “That’s Virgil! Virgil, D, and Remus!”  

“Stars above,” Logan said faintly, “they really are just people but smaller.”

Roman couldn’t help but agree with the astounded sentiment. It hadn’t really sunk in before, but knowing the personal names of individual members of the unfamiliar species… “This could have been a disaster. Why were they labeled as primitive? Did the recorders even actually observe the planet they’re from? This seems a little hard to miss!”

“Easy, Roman,” Patton reached over to run a couple of gentle hands over his agitated wings. “You’re scaring the little guys.”

Sure enough, when he looked over, he could see all three of the tiny aliens were staring at him. He clicked an apology, and then echoed it in Common. “My apologies, small friends.”

“I agree with you, though… We can’t treat them as anything less, not like the tests would have us do. I’m not sure what our next step should be,” Patton admitted, and they turned as one to look at Logan. The Glanrim had a recognizably enthusiastic glint to his eyes.

“We’ll have to present our case to the Council. If we want them to believe us, we’ll need sufficient evidence that our specimens are sentient, sapient, and deserving of the standard rights,” he told them, tail swishing. “Our next step is to obtain that proof, through whatever means we can.”

Roman and Patton shared a glance before nodding in agreement. They turned towards the aliens with determination, and then stopped completely short.

“We’re… going to have to find some method of communicating our intentions,” Logan said, tapping his fingers on his shoulder in thought. “I believe the lack of such communication is what caused Virgil to behave so timidly in the first place.”

“Yeah, just reaching in and grabbing them probably isn’t a good idea,” Roman admitted. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Well, this can be a test in itself. Assuming that they can discuss amongst themselves what tests each of us did on the first run-through…”

---

Janus stared blankly at the three hands that had been set down along the floor of their enclosure, palms-up, each corresponding to one of the aliens. He turned to look at Virgil and Remus, just to ascertain that he was seeing the same thing they were.

Remus tilted his head to a painful-looking angle, and then nodded to himself. “It’s just like those choose-your-own-adventure books, except with huge aliens that we don’t know the intentions of! Fun!”  

“Oh, so they’re insane? They’re out of their skulls?” Virgil asked, his voice upping an octave in disbelief. “They really think we’re going to just literally put our lives in their hands, after they abducted and tormented us?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to have to do,” Janus muttered, and held his hands up when Virgil turned to him with a glare. “Just listen for a moment. What are they doing right now?”

“Trying to trick us,” Virgil shot back immediately.

“Getting handsy!” Remus offered.

Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. “No and definitely no. They’re offering us a choice,” he clarified, “because we’ve done something to shift their opinions of us.”

“Some choice,” Virgil muttered. Janus pointed at him, making him jerk back slightly.

“Exactly. What do you think they’re going to do if we refuse to engage with them at all?”

“... Grab us anyways?”

Janus nodded, casting another look over at the waiting aliens. “If that happens, we’ve relinquished any and all control over the situation, no matter how small. Instead, we need to take advantage of this while we can. We’ll be putting our lives in their hands regardless, so it’s best to act strategically here.”

“Well, I know what I want.” Remus sidled a step away from them and towards the aliens. “Dibs on the hot one.”

“The what one?” Virgil gaped, and Remus ignored him in favor of getting a running start and then throwing himself directly onto Logan’s hand. Unsurprisingly, Logan seemed unsure how to react to a human sprawling over him like Rose from Titanic. Janus was too professional to slap a hand onto his forehead, but the urge was there. He grabbed Virgil’s shoulder when the kid started towards them.

“Forget it. He’s made his choice, and he doesn’t seem like the type to be swayed by common sense,” Janus said, rolling eyes and choosing very emphatically to not question his fellow human’s apparent qualifiers for someone being considered ‘hot’. “You need to make a decision of your own.”

Virgil shook him off, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “This is crazy. All of it. Forever. You know that, right?”

“I’m aware,” Janus replied, voice dry. Virgil shot him another look, and then seemed to actually consider the options, though grumpily. With his shoulders still up around his ears, he looked vaguely like a very angry turtle. Janus kept this observation to himself.

“Remus called the one with all the arms-- uh, Patton? He called them boring and said all they did was talk at him,” he finally offered, glancing over at the alien.

Janus nodded, keeping his own feelings on the matter off his face. “You want that one, then?”

“What?” Virgil looked at him, confused. “No, I mean you should go with them. You’ll probably have an easier time figuring out what they want from Patton.”

Janus paused, thrown off. “Hold on, that-- that leaves you with Roman. I… don’t think you’ll have the best time, considering.”

“And you will?” Virgil took Janus’s silence as the admittance it was, and nodded to himself. “I can do it. I’m tougher than you think. And anyways, if I let you go with him, he’d probably try to swipe my hoodie. Not happening.”

Janus huffed with exasperation, and Virgil gave him the closest expression he’d gotten to a smile yet before shoving his shoulder slightly and stomping up to Roman’s hand. The alien looked just as unhappy as Virgil about the decision.

---

“Well, that was an… interesting selection process,” Logan said, lifting up his hand slightly and finding that Remus seemed content to be toted around.

It was more than he could say about his own matchup. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” he grumbled as ‘Virgil’ continued to stand there, tiny arms bundled around themself, tiny eyes staring up at Roman aggressively.

The little creature didn’t seem intent on even touching Roman, let alone actually being picked up and taken anywhere. Roman looked over to where D was seating themself on the edge of Patton’s hand like a king upon their throne, and then back to Virgil, who didn’t move.

Maybe they expected Roman to do all the heavy lifting? He carefully lifted his hand, curling it around Virgil’s tiny frame, and received a vicious hiss for his efforts. He recoiled, antennae flattening. He hadn’t even known these creatures could hiss!

“You alright, kiddo?” Patton appeared next to him, one hand hovering as a safety net for D. Roman pasted on a smile immediately.

“Of course! Just working out methods of transport with… Virgil. They seem a bit less charismatic than D when it comes to conveying intent, unfortunately.” The tiny creature continued to stare at him, gaze only dipping away to meet D’s briefly.

Patton studied Virgil for a moment, gaze moving between their hunched form and Roman’s fidgeting hands. “They might be a little touch shy. The transport containers are still usable, if you need them!”

“Ah, that’s right! Patton, you’re a genius.” Roman exchanged good luck hums with the Nihl and waited until he departed to grab the transport container and present it to Virgil. “Is this what you want to use, you picky creature?”  

As though to spite him, Virgil’s skin shifted to a paler shade, and they went so far as to step back slightly. Roman allowed himself a few frustrated clickswears, and then stopped as he noticed the creature stumble slightly.

“Virgil…?” he attempted the alien’s name, but there was no response beyond their rapid air intake increasing. They didn’t look so good.

Feeling oddly off-balance, he quickly stowed the transport container away, and kept his hands out of sight to give the poor guy some more space. “Easy, easy. Please for the love of all that is good, don’t die of shock on me.”

Virgil didn’t seem to improve at first, but after a moment, they started muttering to themself, and slowly but surely, began to return to baseline. Roman felt as though years had been taken off his lifespan.

“Alright, if you feel so strongly about it, there’s no reason I can’t improvise and simply work from here,” he rambled, moving a seat and a tray of tools to the side of the wide-low enclosure. “Logan wasn’t kidding when he called you easily startled, was he?”

Virgil eyed the tray with wide eyes, and when Roman picked up the thermometer, they skittered back out of easy reach, arms lifted in what must have been a defensive gesture. Like a frightened Arkbit, but less fluffy, and Roman had to actually try to coax them over rather than just holding them still for the process.

“It’s just a thermometer! It won’t prick you or anything, on my honor,” Roman swore, and when that didn’t do the trick, he used the device on himself instead. “See, I just place it against my skin for a few moments, and… there! A perfectly healthy me!”

He extended the sensor end of the thermometer in Virgil’s direction, but didn’t advance. “C’mon, just give it a shot. We’re going to need your baseline in case you get sick, and it’ll make it easier to get the others’ temps if you can tell them I’m not going to electrocute them or anything.”

Virgil dithered for a long moment, but Roman’s patience was rewarded when the alien finally stalked closer and smacked his hand against the sensor like a challenge. Luckily, it was precise enough to work accurately even with such a small specimen, and soon enough Roman has a temperature.

“Huh… you’re warmer than me and Patton, that’s for sure,” Roman mumbled. “Logan probably already has all sorts of classification theories about you guys, but I think it’s at least safe to say you’re mammalian.”

Virgil tilted their head slightly at him, and Roman shook his head. “We’ll have more to talk about once we actually manage to make a breakthrough on language. For now,” he held up a small scale, normally used for weighing precise chemical measurements, “back to the boring stuff!”

The tiny alien made a strange drawn out noise, and placed their hands over their face, but they didn’t get all tense and breathy again, and that was progress in Roman’s book.

So long as they kept making progress, things would probably turn out okay.

[apocalypseornaw]

Always be Yours-15

Word Count: 5,048

Story Summary: follows Dean and the Reader through season 9 into season 10

Chapter Summary: In the midst of the battles happening in heaven and hell Jody calls for help when a case involving a teenage girl and a nest of vamps falls into her lap

Warnings: Cursing, violence, the usual

After discovering Metatron had in fact ordered the kill on Kevin along with dozens of angels that dared to oppose him and seeing Cas’ reaction to the mark on Dean, you were eager to work a normal case. One away from matters of heaven or hell that might have a chance of helping Dean to focus on something besides the pull that the mark was trying to dig its claws into his psyche with.

You were half asleep when you heard a phone ringing so you blindly reached out for the side table and wrapped your hand around the nuisance “Agent Collins?” you answered and heard a familiar laugh on the other end “Y/N, it’s me” “Jody?” you shook Dean gently as you sat up “What’s going on?” she explained that a case had quite literally fallen into her lap and that she needed some help. Dean nodded and leaned up to speak into the phone “Give us enough time to wake Sam and grab our gear and we’ll hit the road” “Thanks you two” she replied before hanging up. 

You looked over at Dean who gave you a sly smile “Well sweetheart when you say you want to find a case you just manifest that shit don’t ya?” you shrugged “I’m good like that” and couldn’t help but laugh when he grabbed you by the hips to pull you over on top of him “And yet you want an asshole like me” you popped his chest playfully and shook your head “Don’t make me kick your ass Dean. We don’t have the time considering we told Jody we’d wake Sam up then hit the road” He was staring at where the buttons on your nightshirt had come loose and licked his lips slowly “Can I at least get a raincheck on that ass kicking then?” you rolled your eyes and leaned down to leave a quick kiss on his lips “Of course” 

------

When Dean pulled into the Sioux Falls sheriffs departments parking lot you spotted Jody standing next to her patrol car. You smiled as soon as you climbed out the impala “You three are a sight” she greeted with a smile of her own.

“How’s the shoulder?” Sam asked, causing you and Dean to exchange a guilty look. She laughed “Only aches when it rains. How have all of you been?” “Peachy” “Touch and go” Dean and Sam replied so she cut her eyes at you. You shrugged “Good days and bad”

She nodded “I know the feeling” “So what you got for us?” Dean asked, steering the conversation towards the case at hand. She stepped over and unlocked her trunk so you peeked inside to see the decapitated body. “Can I?” you asked motioning towards it and she nodded “Feel free” you leaned in far enough to push the upper lip back and check the gum line. The moment you pushed down a fang slid into view “Yup. That’s a vamp all right”

You straightened up then looked back at Jody as she slammed the trunk. “I don’t know Sammy, Y/N..looks like Jody might not need our help anymore” Dean teased and Sam added “Oh they grow up too fast don’t they?” you let a small smile slip onto your face at seeing the two of them like that again. Jody shook her head “Joke all you want, there’s more where this came from” “More?” you questioned so she nodded “My men brought in a runaway last night. There’s no i.d. On her, nothing on her actually except for a bus ticket out of Nebraska. Total Jane Doe she won’t even give me her name. Girl’s basically feral. She’s got zero manners, didn’t even thank me for saving her...anyhow this thing went to plenty of trouble to get at her. And to hear him tell it the others will want her at least as bad as he did”

“Sounds like a nest” Sam offered and you nodded as Dean agreed. “Nest?” Jody echoed then added “guessing that’s not half as cute and cozy as it sounds?” “Afraid not” you replied with a shrug.

------

You leaned against the wall close enough to intervene if need be while Sam checked the girl to ensure she wasn’t a vamp under the pretense of getting a dna swab. She looked between the three of you before scoffing “Wilson, Fisher and Monroe? If you three are feds then I’m Taylor Swift” you cocked your head to the side as you waited for her to elaborate and she did just that “That wasn’t a dental i.d. That was a fang check. You’re hunters”

You looked towards Sam then towards Dean who shrugged “And you’re alive because hunters trained the sheriff. I think the first words out of your mouth should be a thank you” She looked down without saying a word so you asked “Well who were you to that vamp? Hmm what’s so special about you to make him go through the trouble?” “Is there a nest?” Dean asked and the girl turned her head just far enough that you saw what appeared to be scars from fang punctures. Sam followed your line of vision and when she noticed the two of you looking she immediately turned to cover that side of her neck the best she could.

Before you could point the scars out to Dean Jody opened the door. “Sorry to interrupt but we got a match on her DNA” you nodded then looked back at the girl before following Dean and Sam out.

------

Jody handed each of you a missing child flyer “Annie Jones. Reported missing outside of Kenosha in ‘06. Raised by an elderly grandparent, no living kin” she lowered her voice before asking “You think the vamps are the ones who took her?” Dean spoke up first “Eight years is a long time for a human to live with vampires without getting killed or turned” Jody sighed “You’re the experts but there was something familiar about the way this vamp talked to her” “Jody’s right Dean. She has scars on her neck, feeding scars” you said and Sam nodded in agreement “They’re layered scars, as if they’ve been built on for years”

“So she’s a blood slave” Dean reasoned and at Jody’s confused look explained “We’ve seen it before, vampires keeping people as pets. Human feedbags” “Sometimes the slaves stay loyal to the captors” Sam added. “So.. this girl’s not talking because she’s got a case of vampiric Stockholm syndrome?”  Jody questioned so you shrugged “She’s protecting the nest. We’ve got to get her to tell us where they are. If they’d try to kill their blood bag no telling how many others they’ve slaughtered” You followed Dean and Sam back into the room Annie was sitting in.

------

Dean pulled out a chair across from Annie and glanced at you, asking if you were gonna sit down. You shook your head so he sat down then Sam sat next to him. Jody was standing by the door so you stayed on your feet as well.

“We get it, you feel like you owe a debt. They took you and raised you” Dean started so you added “Loyalty is a very powerful thing Annie” she glared up at you “My name is Alex” “No it’s not sweetie. Your name is Annie Jones”

“Those vampires stole you. They’re monsters Annie” Dean tried but she snapped “Alex!” “They didn’t love you Annie. They loved your blood, they fed on you!” you spoke but she raised her chin defiantly “I fed them. My choice. My brothers brought me food when I was hungry so when they struck out on a hunt, I fed them. They’re my family” jesus christ this poor girl was really traumatized. 

You cut your eyes at Sam as he started to speak “Ok, you care about them but Alex there’s a reason you decided to run away” “It was time to move on and get out on my own” Dean nodded “How do you think that decision is gonna sit with the rest of the nest? One of them already pursued you, you think when the rest of them find out that you left that they’re just gonna shrug and cut their losses?” “Alex, you lived with them for years. They’ve tasted your blood. They have your scent down cold. How far can you run and for how long?” you asked softly and saw tears start to form in her eyes.

“You didn’t think this out, did you?” Dean asked and she finally met his eyes so he continued “What would happen, who might get hurt. Your uh brother for one” “His name’s Cody” Alex said then looked over at Jody “And she killed him” “Because of a choice you made” you reminded her getting her anger off Jody. Dean motioned around “These are the consequences”

“You got two options. Them or you” Sam offered so you added “We can help you. We can keep you safe but you have to help us” “Where’s the nest?” Dean pushed. Alex shook her head “I can’t. After what happened..mama finds me, she’ll kill me” You looked over at Jody who looked just as torn for this girl as you felt.

------

With no other option Sam decided to use Alex’s bus ticket as a means to try to track where she’d come from. You stood next to the desk he was sitting at looking over his shoulder at the computer screen. Dean walked back over with a cup of coffee and bumped your arm holding it out. You took it from his hand and took a few sips while he asked Jody “Mills, you ok?”

Jody had been in deep thought until then but she finally said “No wonder she didn’t thank me. That creep was her brother” you handed the coffee back to Dean after drinking enough of it then Jody nodded “I’m fine, just thinking about the name. Alex and Annie..they’re so close already why change it?” “Maybe a connection to mama?” you considered and she shrugged “Maybe”

Sam looked up from the screen “Well we know from her ticket that Alex hopped a bus out of O’Neill Nebraska right?” “Uh huh” Jody said so he motioned to the screen “Obviously it’d be better to go in with a firm location but the town ain’t that big. They’re no caves or other natural hiding places” Dean looked at the map “All right, so we go in canvass it cold” Sam held up a small list “I’ve got a list of possible nest locations. Uh there’s an empty fire station, four or five derelict homes. Nothing we couldn’t hit in a day” “Ok” you said grabbing your jacket off the back of Sam’s chair and slipping it back on.

Dean looked in the room Alex was sitting in then back at Jody “You sure you’re all right to babysit by yourself?” Jody shrugged “Oh well, girl’s a flight risk. Not exactly friendly but I think I can handle babysitting detail” Sam glanced around before saying “Station’s been made. It might be worth heading up wind for a while. I mean vamps are trackers” “Well I’ve got an old family cabin outside of town” she suggested so you replied “That’ll work”

Jody sighed “Shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. Me being gone for a day” “Maybe you uh sure you don’t want backup?” Dean asked and Jody shook her head “You want me to enlist my men in a protection detail against vampires? Frank’s still in the dark about what hit him last night, that guy still has nightmares about the barn episode of walking dead. They’re good cops, they’re just not ready for this”  “Jody in your late night reading did you come across anything about dead man’s blood?” Sam asked and when she shook her head he explained “It takes vamps down like a horse tranq” She crossed her arms with an appreciative look “I would not say no to some of that..I mean not that I’ll need it. You three are gonna get the jump on these vamps and be back here before they even realize their kin’s missing right?” Dean and Sam shot her a smile so you asked once more before following them out “Sure you don’t want help keeping an eye on her?” she winked “Go with your boys Y/N” you smiled and said “We’ll be back before you know it” before heading out after Sam and Dean.

------

Once you reached O’Neill the task at hand was to check each possible nest location. The first few places were a bust but when you went to check the last house on the list it seemed like you’d hit paydirt. Evidence of multiple people squatting there was left behind in the house. “This is a foreclosure isn’t it?” Dean asked as you pushed a mattress to the side with your foot “Yeah just like the rest” he nodded “Well, somebody’s been squatting here”

Sam shined his flashlight towards one of the windows “Blackout windows” you shined across to the other windows and they were all blacked out. A loud buzzing noise started so you glanced towards the guys who nodded. Dean took the lead with you in the middle and Sam close behind you. 

The three of you followed the noise around to the back of the house where a man well vamp was feeding a body into a woodchipper. Dean motioned at you and Sam to take other sides so if he ran then walked up behind him “HEY! YOU NEED A HAND WITH THAT?” you gripped your machete tighter when the vamp turned the woodchipper off and turned to face Dean. You saw Sam out the corner of your eye pick up a shovel and whistled to get the vamp’s attention and when he turned Sam connected solidly knocking him out. 

Sam looked back at you so you nodded towards the vamp “Sammy you’re like a solid foot taller than me, I ain’t picking him up” Dean cracked a smile “Well you heard the woman Sam!”  You followed the two of them back into the house and stood to the side while they tied the vamp up.

------

Only a few minutes passed before he started coming around so you sat on the table with Sam while Dean stepped in front of him “You go out with the family, bring home a nice dinner. How do you get stuck doing the dishes?” The vamp glared at Dean as he said “We all have our roles to play” “Yours being destroy the evidence yeah?” Sam offered so you held up the wallets Sam had found “Nice job on that asshat. Let’s see we got Ralph Hedges, Stacy Kepler. Any particular reason you targeted them?” he looked up at you “Yeah. Hunger” then chuckled.

Dean stepped up to partially block the vamp’s view of you then glanced around “And so the family’s what? Out taking a nice after dinner stroll?” The vamp shrugged “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be back real soon” you watched Dean with an infatuation you knew you shouldn’t have been feeling at the moment when he walked over to the vamp and grabbed him by the hair at the nape of his neck forcing him to meet his eyes “What I asked was where are they?”

The vamp started laughing in response. You raised an eyebrow at him “Please tell me we didn’t find the short straw in the family. Did they leave you behind because you’re a liability?” He looked up at you and winked despite his current predicament being trapped by three hunters “Come a little closer sweetheart and find out” you went to stand up to do just that but Sam’s hand on your arm stopped you. 

Dean punched the vamp hard in the stomach “You don’t wanna tell us what we want to know? No skin off my back. Cause you see, a blood sucking,body-chipping vamp that’s bad enough. But vamps that kidnap kids? Well I’m going to enjoy putting you down” the vamp spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor at Dean’s feet “Of course, I knew this was about Alexis..I warned mama that girl would screw up everything for us one day.” “Mama? As in one vamp turned all of you?” Sam asked. The vamp shrugged again “Well, all of us but little sis. She was uh..too good to turn” he chuckled humorlessly “Mama couldn’t bring herself to,no matter what we said. No matter how bad Alexis got”

“Bad?” you questioned standing up next to Dean. The vamp looked between the three of you “Let me guess none of you ever had a teenage sister?” at being met with silence he clarified “Dragging her heels, whining, near constant about everything but more and more about the blood. Like she’s somehow above it, Like she’s better than us cause she don’t feed on people”

“She is better than you dumbass” Dean challenged. The vamp scoffed “Her moping? That teenage crisis of conscience crap? It’s annoying as hell but it’s just an act. When the chips are down she’ll always choose us over humans” he laughed again before asking “How do you think we stayed off your radar all these years? Pretty, young lost looking thing like her? Irresistible, especially to the kind of man few would miss. I mean sure we’d hunt sometime for sport but it’s a lot easier and safer to get delivery”

“She’s your lure?” you asked and he smiled “Best a vamp could ask for and you better believe you don’t get that good at it unless you enjoy it. In her own sweet way that girl’s as bloodthirsty as any vampire” you felt your stomach drop when you realized where the rest of the nest was headed “Dean..Jody”

 ------

When Jody didn’t answer yours nor Dean’s calls Sam called the local p.d. to run the victim’s names. Turned out they both worked at the bus station Alex had left out of. “So they killed them for Alex’s location?” you asked Sam who nodded. Dean’s phone started ringing and you breathed a slight sigh of relief to see Jody’s name light up across the screen.

You only caught Dean’s end but when he hung up Sam asked “We moving?” Dean nodded “I’ll meet you two outside” you started to walk out behind Sam but glanced back at Dean “Be quick” he nodded so you headed out behind Sam.

------

With Dean behind the wheel the drive from O’Neill to Sioux Falls went by quickly but it still took too long. The sun was already up when you pulled up to the cabin and when you spotted Jody’s still form you were out of baby before Dean was able to put her in park.

You slid to your knees next to her “Jody! C’mon!” you quickly checked her over and cursed in relief to find no fang marks. You slowly helped her to her feet “C’mon I got ya” Sam and Dean moved to help as well. “Where’s Alex?” She asked so you replied “You tell us” She shook her head “They came and I tried to stop them” “And you got knocked out, happens to the best of us” Dean assured her once she was standing on her own.

“Just lucky you’re alive” Sam added. “Think they went back to the nest?” Dean suggested so you nodded “Of course they would. Why wouldn’t they?” “Question is what are they gonna do when they find their brother dead?” Sam said and you shrugged “Then we go back”

“Ok, I’m coming” Jody announced. You weren’t going to argue with her but Sam stopped her with a hand on her shoulder “You’re hurt” Dean reminded but she shook her head “I’m coming” “We can handle the nest on our own” Sam assured her so she looked towards you “I don’t give a fuck about the nest. That girl was under my protection.” You cut your eyes at Dean who argued “That girl can’t be trusted. She’s a lure. She’s a honey trap. She’s been feeding people to those vamps!”

Jody stood her ground “I don’t care. Whatever she did, she did because they made her” “Oh and that’s a reason?” Dean asked so you spoke up “She’s a kid Dean. If we can save her, we should try” Dean looked a bit put off at you arguing on Alex’s behalf “Baby, she’s a kid that’s been playing vampire murder since before she was in braces. You know better!”

“At best her loyalties are screwed” Sam argued and Dean quickly added “She’s been baiting the hook for an entire nest for eight years Y/N. You know yourself she’s got more blood on her hands than most monsters we kill” “Are you saying she’s on your list?” Jody asked so you quietly said “Not yet but Jody I want to side with you I really do but with hunting monsters comes harsh truths. If it comes down to Alex or Sam, Alex or Dean, Alex or You? I’m killing her. No second thought”

Sam held his hand up to stop any further talking so he could ask “What is this really about? You barely know the girl?” You met Jody’s eyes and begged “Give me one reason I should risk my neck for her Jody. Please I don’t want to go gunning for a kid but I need to know why you think she’s saveable” Jody met your gaze head on “She screamed for me Y/N. She was terrified” you held her gaze then slowly nodded “Ok. Get in the car and I promise you unless it comes down to one of us or her Alex will be safe” she patted your shoulder “Thank you”

Dean turned his eyes back towards you “Y/N do you know what you’re doing?” you nodded towards the impala “I trust Jody and I know you trust me. If it comes to our lives or hers we choose us but if we can save that kid, shouldn’t we?” he shook his head then said “Ok” “Ok” you agreed and leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips before heading to climb into the backseat next to Jody.

------

Dean stopped a ways from the nest so all of you could gear up. You and Jody slipped through the woods to check that they were indeed there. When you walked back up to the impala Dean handed you a machete and Sam handed Jody one. “So, We’re walking right into it” Sam scoffed, handing out syringes of dead man’s blood. Dean shrugged “We’ve faced worse odds.”

Jody started to walk off but Dean called her “Jody! This is a raid. Tread lightly and stay close. Priority is clearing the nest. Alex comes second you got it?” Jody cut her eyes at you but when you glanced away she simply said “Got it” Dean nodded “Y/N sweetheart you go with Sam, Jody you’re with me” you bumped Sam’s shoulder “Let’s do this”

------ 

You moved close to Sam as the two of you cleared the first room then the next. Dean looked around the corner so Sam shrugged. When you found stairs Dean nodded up towards them so Sam nodded then glanced back at you. You nodded then slowly followed him up.

Dean went one direction at the top of the stairs and motioned for you and Sam to go the other direction. You walked into a room behind Sam and you both froze when you heard a shotgun. “Drop the blades” you glanced at Sam before throwing your machete down. “Now let’s find the other one” you glared at the vamp who was holding you and Sam at gunpoint “You’re really gonna regret this” he shoved the barrel hard into your side “Move”

You slowly walked into the hall and called Dean’s name. When he looked up you could see the anger in his eyes. “Drop it” the vamp warned so Dean let his machete fall to the floor, his eyes never leaving yours.

You spotted another vamp coming behind him and shouted “Dean!” but couldn’t get the rest out before you felt something hit you behind the head and the world went dark.

------

You woke up tied back to back with Sam in two chairs. You immediately jerked at your restraints but the vamp shoved a gun into your face “Uh uh little lady” you glared up at him then glanced over your shoulder at Sam “You good?” he nodded but the vamp smacked you across the face for talking “You know it’s a hell of a thing to come home to. Your brother lying dead on the floor” and slammed the butt of the gun into Sam’s stomach to emphasize his point “You son of a bitch” you bit off and Sam groaned “Don’t” 

The vamp looked at you “We had no idea it was a Winchester that had killed him. So which one of these fellas was it?” When you didn’t answer he pointed the gun at Sam’s head “WHICH ONE TOOK OFF MY BROTHER’S HEAD?”   “It was me asshole” you lied knowing you’d catch the fallout but not willing to take the chance of them killing Sam or Dean. The vamp smiled “Love a woman with some kick to her” then chunked the gun to his brother who was standing over Dean.

He then walked over and grabbed a couple buckets and some tubing off the counter “This was a pretty good home to us before the three of you ruined it. Now we have to hit the road, find a new one and when we hit the road we like to pack a lunch” he held up the needles and you glanced over your shoulder at Sam. They planned to bleed the two of you and what? Shoot Dean? Fucking great.

------

You could feel yourself getting dizzier with every beat of your heart. You glanced down to see the bucket sitting next to you quickly filling with your blood as the one next to Sam was filling with his. “Dean” you called weakly when the vamp at Sam’s face said “These two are tapped. Prep the other”

When the vamp leant down to turn Dean over he drove a vial of dead man’s blood into his heart. The one crouched in front of you stood to attack and managed to get a solid hit in on Dean knocking him backwards across the table. You and Sam weakly pulled at your restraints but it was no use. You’d lost too much blood.

You’d never felt more helpless than watching Dean fight with a vamp and not be able to do anything. You could only see portions of the fight considering you were facing the opposite direction. You could hear Dean’s grunts as he struggled against the vamp and found yourself flinching at every blow you heard being passed. When you heard Dean say “Look at me..LOOK AT ME BITCH” you let out a ragged breath when the sound of a head hitting the ground quickly followed.

You let your head droop back against Sam as Dean quickly worked to free him and stop the flow of blood then was at your side. “Are you ok Y/N?” you nodded as he tore your restraints then helped you and Sam both stand up. “We gotta get to Jody”

------

By the time the three of you made it down the stairs Jody was beheading the mama vamp. You slowly lowered yourself to sit down on the stairs next to Sam’s legs. “Alex? You ok sweetie?” you asked softly and she shook her head “No, but I think I will be”

------

After a trip to the hospital, giving Alex the cure for vampirism and squaring her and Jody away at the cabin, you and the boys headed home to Lebanon.

You ended up falling asleep across the backseat and woke up when Dean leaned in to gently shake you once you were back at the bunker.  “Wake up sleeping beauty, we’re home” you smiled at him as he helped you to stand out next to the car. He eyed the bandage on your neck where the needle had been “Sure you’re ok?” you glanced towards his right arm where the mark was hidden beneath his jacket “Are you?”

He sighed “This about what Sam said?” you shook your head “I don’t cast no blame in taking pleasure in doing our job, I just want to make sure it was Dean enjoying it and not the mark”  “They knocked me out and almost bled my little brother and the woman I love dry. Mark or no mark I would’ve enjoyed that kill” you smiled and let him pull you into his arms “Well in that case want to head to bed with the woman you love? cause she’s still a little drug out” “Gladly” he replied leaving a gentle kiss on your lips before the two of you headed inside.

Tags: @facadeformyrealblog @akshi8278 @brilovesdeanwinchester

[blueheartedmayor]

Interview your muse!

Tagged by: @knights-blood​

Tagging: @snake-eyes-11 (any of your muses! :D), @smxrterthanyou, @venusexstillhaven​, @splitsuit, @springlxcks​ (Spring, but any could work :D ), and it’s also free to steal~

Don’t feel pressured to do it!!

“Why do I have to do this?”

WHAT IS YOUR NAME? : “Dante.”

WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?: “... Damien Dante Brooks.”

DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT?: “In a rather stuffy traditional manner, I was named after both my grandfathers. Why neither of my parents could acknowledge how ridiculous my full name sounded is beyond me.”

ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN?: “Single.”

HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS?: “Inability to stay dead, travel through shadows, creation of ghostly copies; all things that were a consequence of the ‘curse’ I am stuck with. I am a seer, though I am somewhat out of practice. On a more practical manner, I have the ‘wonderful’ ability of being one of the only so-called ‘brain cells’ amongst the ‘egos’.”

WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR?: “Presently? Purple, but Wilford insists it’s ‘violet’.”

HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR?: “Black.

HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS?: “... Not anymore.”

OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS?: “No. A pet was considered ‘undignified’ in my family. I am not looking for a pet, but animals do not seem to mind my presence. King, who had been terrified of me, has started approaching more as a squirrel. I think he is building the courage to perch on my shoulder.”

THAT’S COOL I GUESS, NOW TELL ME SOMETHING THAT YOU’RE BAD AT: “Without making matters too dour... Sports that require high energy. I was able to run for short bursts due to having to run from trouble, but I never had the energy to sufficiently take part in sporting competitions.”

DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING?: “Reading.”

EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE?: “Plenty. I actively avoid doing so these days.”

EVER….KILLED ANYONE BEFORE?: “Yes.”

NAME YOUR WORST HABITS: “To keep with regular, mundane problems... Controlling my temper - which I am working on - keeping a distance from others, and not allowing myself proper breaks when I know I need to rest.”

DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL?: “I used to. Look where that got me.”

DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL?: “It has been over a century since I was attending an educational facility. I wish I could return. Times were must better, despite the state of the world.”

WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF?: “Losing myself.”

WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR?: “A suit with a plain shirt. The tie is optional. I have been asked to try more ‘casual’ attire.”

DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE?: “I used to. I am unsure if that ability is even something I can do anymore. Even if that wasn’t a concern, I expect it would be unreciprocated.”

HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE?: “Two come to mind. Wilford, and Oogie. I keep my distance from most others, as mentioned earlier.”

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE?: “Not interested.”

FAVOURITE DRINK?: “Tea, I suppose.”

WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE?: “I have no preference, so long as there is a quiet space.”

ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE?: “I don’t think I’m capable of such a thing at present.”

WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN?: “I am not a keen swimmer, but I would say the ocean. I... Prefer to stay away from lakes.”

CAMPING OR INDOORS?: “Indoors. Camping might be a wonderful experience, but there are too many unreliable factors. Besides, I am sure a camping experience can be recreated indoors.” 

[leejeongz]

ateez falling out of love with their s/o

❤️thanks for requesting, my love, hope you enjoy it❤️

😘please understand this is not a reflection of the members’ real personalities at all and is simply made up for “entertainment”. don’t misunderstand😘

THIS IS VVV ANGSTY (half the gifs don’t even fit bc some of them have never been caught NOT smiling 😖)

hongjoong:

hongjoong knew something wasn’t right when he found himself wanting to be in the studio or at practice more than he wanted to be with you. he tried to push it aside at first, not wanting to hurt you. in the process of doing so, he was just hurting himself. he tried to distance himself from you as much as possible, kind of hoping you’d get the message but knowing it wasn’t right to do so. he wouldn’t seek advice from anyone, he wouldn’t even tell anyone what he was going through, he’d just suffer. one day it got to him a little too much. he decided to write some lyrics, expressing his true feelings at the time, no intention of ever making into a real song, just an outlet for him. you visited the studio later, after he said that he was there. he was not, but you were used to this behaviour by now. you picked up his laptop to take home when suddenly the screen lit up. you read what was on the screen and immediately started crying. you knew it came from the heart, his heart, and because of that you broke down. you didn’t mention anything when you got to the dorms, you were trying to suppress the tears. he was there, but he didn’t talk to you. a single tear escaped and that’s when he finally spoke, seeing his laptop in your arms and putting two and two together. “i didn’t mean for you to find out this way. i didn’t mean for you to find out at all. it sounds bad, i was doing it for you... but now i realise that i shouldn’t have” he said with guilt in his voice. “i’m sorry, y/n”

seonghwa:

he hated himself. you’d changed recently, your values had changed, your opinions, everything. now every time he looked at you, all he saw was your imperfections. he thought you were ugly now, inside and out and, although he’d never tell you, that’s all he could think when he was around you. he wasn’t attracted to you anymore, your personality or you physically. the idea of touching you wasn’t pleasant to him anymore. he really did hate himself for thinking this. this wasn’t like him at all, he always thought of you imperfections as idiosyncrasies. he lay awake at night thinking about if he knew what he was thinking, how sad you’d be, and that’s why he never said he didn’t love you anymore. he didn’t ever want you to feel like it was your fault. you had a hard week at work, all you wanted was a cuddle from your boyfriend, but when he backed away from your little smooch, you knew he didn’t want to cuddle. normally he could force it, this time he couldn’t. you asked him what was wrong. he felt possessed, the words wouldn’t stop coming out of his mouth and he stood up from the sofa “i’m not attracted to you, i dislike you, you’re not mine, i’m not yours...” he continued as you sat and cried. it’s like all of the pent up anger he had towards himself was presenting itself, but to the wrong person. “i don’t love you y/n, not at all”. with that he stopped and sat besides you. “i’m sorry, y/n, i’m really sorry”. you sat in silence together for a while. “i think i should go” he huffed, his thoughts became angry again, he thought it was best to leave before he said something personal.

yunho:

you’d argued a lot recently. he was tired of apologising. you were the stubborn one and he loved that at first, he thought it was kinda hot, but now he just wished, just once, you’d admit you were wrong. the last few arguments, he found him apologising days after the main argument. he didn’t want to work things out anymore. this upset you, but there was no way you were apologising. maybe you had both fallen out of love, yunho knew he definitely had. you’d argued for one last time, you didn’t know it, but you had. you brought up how rude he’d been to your sibling for not saying hi to them when he came over, he didn’t even know they were home why would he say hi if they weren’t at home, he thought. you went to your room and pulled out your phone, waiting for him to come back and apologise like always, knowing it could be days. he was sat in your living room. he had no motivation to apologise, there was no incentive, to him there was no relationship left to save. you came out of your room, surprised to see him sat on your sofa. “do you have something to say to me?” you prodded at his shoulder as your stood over him. “yeah i do actually” he started “i think we should break up” he said sternly. you’d never seen him like this before “seriously?” you had to clarify. “we” he pointed between the two of you “were not a great match, it was only a matter of time before you noticed it too, i thought i’d save you the hassle”. with that he got up and left. that’s not exactly how he wanted to tell you, but at least it was over.

yeosang:

yeosang often found himself thinking about you. thinking about how happy you and him used to be together, looking through photos of your first few dates. he loved your family, they loved him. you got on well with his family, the first s/o his parents had ever approved of. you were too good to lose after all this time, so falling out of love for you wasn’t an option. he knew that’s what was happening though, however much he tried to deny it. he’d find himself visiting places he knew were significant in your relationship a few times a week, reminiscing on what used to be. he sat on the bench that you both ate ice cream on last year during summer, it didn’t feel like hug anymore, just a hard wooden bench, with no sentiment. he hadn’t visited you in a while, you guys still texted, but it’s easy to lie over text. his phone rang while he sat on the bench. it was you. seeing the heart next to your name sent a sharp pain to his chest. he picked up “come to the bench, we need to talk”. when you arrived, he shuffled up and let you sit down. he stared at the lake, not looking at you once. “i’m not sure-“ he stopped and swallowed audibly “i’m not sure i still feel the same about us” he confessed. he’s not sure if the words came out right, but they were out. “i’m sorry”. he stood up and left. you gathered you were over, but didn’t even get the chance to ask why. yeosang knew he’d left you hurt, with so many questions, but hearing your voice breaking while crying was too much for him to handle at the time, he had to get away.

san:

he never asked you how your day was anymore, he never asked about your family, not even about your pet. it was always him him him. he recently got asked to do a stage with an idol you’d never even heard of before. you asked him who it was, he didn’t seem to know either. he’d been practicing so much, the lack of his presence felt justified, he was just practicing you thought. you watched his stage with the other idol. it was sexy, sparks were flying between the two of them. you hadn’t experienced anything like that with your boyfriend in months. he had more chemistry with an idol he had barely ever spoken to than he did with you. that’s when you knew he didn’t love you anymore. your face dropped as you continued to watch, san no longer saw a smile on your face, just sadness. he didn’t question it, he didn’t even recognise it. you forcefully handed his phone back to him and you got up to walk away. he stood from his crouched position, he thought knew what was going on now. “it was just a stage, it’s not that deep y/n” he laughed, thinking you were jealous. “it is that deep though, isn’t it?” you asked with a harsh tone. you felt your left cheek suddenly become wet. “you don’t love me anymore, san... and that okay.” you inhaled and exhaled, trying to not cry more “it happens sometimes”. you left the room. san didn’t even realise what was happening himself, he had fallen out of love with you, and he didn’t even know it. after that conversation, he attempted to talk to you many times, trying to explain himself. you didn’t want to see him, to you it was over, you can’t be in a relationship without love.

mingi:

mingi no longer looked forward to seeing you. when you visited him, he no longer had an infectious smile plastered across his face, instead he greeted you with an emotionalises “hey, cupcake”. even the pet name didn’t mean anything anymore. you asked numerous times what was wrong, not suspecting a thing. he replied with the same thing numerous times, “i’m fine, just stressed.” he really did want to tell you, but he couldn’t find the right words. he never wanted you to think it was your fault or that you weren’t good enough for him, if anything, he thought you were out of his league. he’d ask the members for advice and would take it all into consideration before taking you out for a meal one day and confessing. he sat opposite you, staring at you while you looked at the menu. you’d been to the restaurant plenty of times and always ordered the same thing, time for a change you thought. when you asked mingi what you should get, the only thing he could get out of his mouth was your usual order. you awed, he remembered. he cursed to himself, fiddling with the napkin in front of him, he’s making this whole thing a lot harder. before you could even order, he started. “y/n, i think i need to tell you something”. he looked at you with sad eyes and took your hands in his. “this, us, it’s not right. it’s not right for me”. he noticed you tearing up. “you’ve done nothing but be a great gf/bf, please don’t think this is your fault”. he let go of your hands. “i think it’s best if we stop seeing each other, i’m really sorry y/n”. with that he stood up and walked out, leaving you at the table you always sat at with nothing but his messed up napkin opposite you.

wooyoung:

you had suspected wooyoung wasn’t feeling the relationship anymore a long time ago, but you pushed it to the back of your mind. you didn’t want to believe it. you pair never used to argue, now it was once a day. wooyoung was around you less that usual, and when he was, he was a lot less bubbly and happy and more down in the dumps. your heart broke at the sight but you didn’t know what you could do to make it better. wooyoung knew you knew too, but he didn’t want to say anything just in case you didn’t feel the same way and he’d hurt you. that’s when you started to distance yourself too, when he stopped being himself around you, you stopped being yourself around him. he thought things would change. you hadn’t fallen out of love, but you were trying to so it would hurt less. a few months went by, he still didn’t feel happy with you. after one particularly bad fight, you decided to surprise him with plane tickets to australia. he looked at you with sorry eyes. he felt guilty you’d spent so much money on him, so optimistic of you, he thought, but he knew a trip wouldn’t even begin to fix things. “what is it?” you asked, you thought he’d be more happy than this. “take a friend” he whispered. “you deserve to be happy and have a good time with someone who makes you happy for real”. he smiled a little and nodded. “i know you think you’ll be happy with me, but trust me you won’t. these tickets should be for two people who love each other, not for two people who are forcing love between each other.” he heads towards the window to get some air. “thank you, but i’m sorry y/n, i’m sorry you ever had to be involved in this, you deserve better”.

jongho:

he’d always been taught to put himself first, regardless of other people’s feelings. jongho used to think this was a good motto to live by, until it came to you, he put your feelings before anyone’s, even his own. this why was he couldn’t tell you that he didn’t love you anymore. he wasn’t sure when he started faking it, but it was definitely a gradual thing and it was definitely a while ago now. living like this wasn’t healthy, he knew that better than anyone, but anything to keep you happy. he’d often go to bed at night, thinking of the ways he used to make you happy before. he’d practice talking to you in the mirror so it didn’t look to be fake. but you knew. you’d known for a long time. it hurt you so much but you didn’t want to let him go. you knew it wasn’t fair and that you were being selfish, you told yourself every night, but his attention was irreplaceable. he came to your house one day, roses in his hand, a big fake smile slapped on his face. you opened the door, you looked tired. “give it up” you said letting him in. the sleepless nights had caught up with you, taking over your words. “i know this whole facade isn’t real, i know you don’t love me” you started to cry. “i’m sorry” he whimpered, leaving the flowers at your door and walking down your path at a fast pace. he hated you for letting him do this for so long, but he knew he would do the same thing in your position. he thought he’d feel better once you knew too, he didn’t. he felt horrible. you loved him, why didn’t he love you too?

gifs aren’t mine

[mari-beau]

The Right Thing

FANDOM: LOST IN SPACE (2018)

GENRE: Romance, Drama, (a little) Humor

TIMELINE: Between Season 1 & Season 2

CHARACTERS: Don, Judy, Debbie

PAIRING: Don/Judy

RATING: PG/T (References to adult situations; nothing graphic)

WORDS: 1681

SUMMARY: Ever since meeting the Robinsons, Don West has found himself struggling to do the right thing. Judy, in particular puts his conscience to the test. (Sort of an explanation for the shift in Don/Judy dynamic between season one and season two)

Author’s Note:  The reboot series is so satisfying that I never thought I'd feel the need to write fanfiction for it. But alas, I did find myself greatly missing Don & Judy's banter in season two. Honestly, they could've left it at friendly teasing and I would've loved it. Anyway, my brain felt the need to explain why it disappeared between seasons.

...

Don West’s com beeped just as he was elbow deep in the coolant system, making him start and hit his head on the edge of the metal panel. He cursed as Judy Robinson’s voice crackled over the device. 

/Don, I need your help with something./

The pain made him wince as he rubbed at the back of his head, but he pressed a button on his wrist com.  “What is it, doc?”

/Um… some sort of malfunction… in my room./

Don closed his eyes, took a deep, steadying breath, glared at the patched system that was barely holding it together, and replied. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

/Thanks./

“Robinsons… gonna work me to death,” he told Debbie. The chicken cocked her head, obviously not falling for his griping. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”

He picked up the pet hen he’d never intended to be anything more than a future meal and made his way through the jupiter that had become his home over the past few months. Debbie didn’t even squirm when he carried her now. He thought she rather liked it. But when he set her down in his room and told her to be good while he helped Judy, she gave him a scathing chicken glare.

“It won’t be long,” he said. “I promise.”

She clucked and showed him her feathered backside as she went for her food dish. 

“Don’t be jealous. There’s plenty of Don West to go around.”

/Don, where are you?/ Judy’s voice rang out more clearly over his com this time. There was a bit of an edge to it that had him in a partial jog as he hurried to her room.

Her door was closed. He frowned, raised his hand to press the chime but it slid open before he could press the button. Judy’s attractive face appeared, her big dark eyes skimming over him and then glancing up and down the hall.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

“I-” Before he could finish pointing out that it had only been two minutes, the young doctor grabbed the front of his t-shirt and yanked him into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Judy…” He drawled her name in warning, wrapping his hand around her wrist, but she kept her fingers twisted up in his shirt and yanked on it, hard, pulling him down and crashing her lips against his. 

Her kisses were electric. Just like her. Vibrant, scintillating. Irresistible. They had a tantalizing exuberance that he only remembered last experiencing when he was in his early twenties, over a decade ago. Son of a-

He broke off the kiss, tried to ignore the bewildered hurt in her eyes as he placed his hands on her shoulders to push her away. 

“What’s wrong?” Her chin lifted in that stubborn bravado way of hers. “Did I interrupt something important? I thought you were just tinkering with-”

“That’s... uh… That’s not it.” 

She raised her eyebrows, those perfect, kissable lips of hers pursing. 

“We shouldn’t…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn’t used to refusing female attention. And more than that, he liked Judy. A lot. “I mean you’re…”

She silenced him with a glare. But he knew better anyway than to tell her she was only 19, too young, not an adult. Because she was one of the most responsible, wise, compassionate, badass people he’d ever met. Hell, she was more of an adult than him. He also should know better than to point out that her parents wouldn’t approve, would probably kill him. Because Judy herself would kill him for making such an intimation, that she wasn’t capable of making decisions for herself, that she didn’t consider every situation thoroughly before choosing a course of action. He knew better, and yet… 

“Coward.” She caught his gaze. And damn, she was beautiful when she was fierce. And Judy Robinson was always fierce. “You’re afraid of getting close to anyone. But whether you like it or not, this family cares about you. And you care about us. And you care about me.” She stepped in closer, her breasts -which he tried desperately not to think about- brushed against his chest. “And you like kissing me.”

She pulled him down into another kiss. He opened his mouth to her, unable to resist the intrepid probing of her lips, her tongue. And she was delicious. Not just sweet, but complex. Judy Robinson was so complex, so interesting. So… so… Oh, god, so good. 

Her hands had flattened against his stomach, were roaming up to his shoulders. She had skilled doctor’s hands, and so many parts of him wanted to discover just how skilled they were at tasks besides medicine. They slid back down his chest, fingernails scraping through the soft fabric of his t-shirt, raising goosebumps across his skin, making him groan into her mouth that continued to devour him. His own hands gripped her hips reflexively. She had such a feminine, athletic body, strong and beautiful, and pleasing to the touch. So strong.

She’d backed him against the cot, pushed him to sit on it, giving his tingling mouth a break. Oh, hell, he was aroused. He needed to put a stop to this before things really- Damn! 

Judy was up in his lap, straddling his legs, moving in for more devastating kissing, kissing that would doubtless lead to more than kissing, which he couldn’t allow. She was 19 and the Robinsons’ daughter. He liked them. He liked her. He turned his head, thwarted her hungry mouth, but only momentarily, for she kissed and nipped along his jawline instead.

She was certainly a woman who went after what she wanted. Only, he couldn’t give it to her.

He grabbed her shoulders and held her away from him… Well, partly away from him. There were still portions of their bodies in dangerously close proximity. She made a frustrated noise, and gave him her biggest pleading puppy dog eyes. But they weren’t going to work this time. Because the right thing to do was to stop this, stop her randomly calling him for secret rendezvous, pulling him into vacant corners for stolen kisses, looking at him like she might just be-

“You’re a smart young woman, Judy,” he said. “I mean, I have my moments of genius...”

He winked at her, making her smile. She stroked the nape of his neck, affection warming her features. He ignored how much he liked her gentler attention, because he had a point to get across. 

“But you’re way smarter than me, doc. You must know that the only reason you want me is because I’m the only option here.” 

Her soft, dangerously affectionate look hardened and he knew he was one small prod away from waking her stubborn temper. But it had to be done. 

“It’s probably been awhile for you. Hell, it’s been awhile for me, too. But you can do better than me, princess. And when you get out of here, get to where you’re going in life, there will be some fancy pants egghead waiting for you.”

“Just… Just shut up, Don. You don’t know what you’re talking about!” There was a pink hue coloring the gorgeous brown skin of her face. Her lips screwed up, a line forming between her brows. Her thinking face. She took a deep breath, met his gaze directly. Her eyes were always almost unbearably intense, showing all of her passion and intelligence. She wet her lips, surprising him with the nervous gesture.

“I’m not desperate for physical companionship. I genuinely like you, Don West. And if you can’t believe that…” Her eyes shimmered, but she was still wearing her tough face. “I’m sad for you.”

She removed herself from his lap, and it was a loss that made the bottom drop out of his stomach. She walked towards the door, not looking at him, an obvious dismissal.

It was for the best. It was.

“Oh, and Don…” He paused, so close that the scent of her, somehow fresh despite months of recycled air, filled his head. Her warm, dark eyes met his. “You would’ve been my first…”

“Fi-irst?” He nearly choked on the question, felt his mouth go dry. But felt his uncertainty fade ever so slightly. He had done the right thing, putting a stop to this… whatever it was between the young doctor and himself.

Wait. Was her mouth twitching?

“I didn’t mean like that,” she said. Then all amusement fled her. “I’ve just never felt…”

She closed her eyes, huffed, her cheeks turning pink again. He couldn’t blame her, he was feeling heat creep up his own neck and face. Their interactions always had been primarily light-hearted teasing and fiery exchanges. Deep discussions of feelings was not on his favorite things list, either.

“I think I could fall in love with you,” she said, her eyes finally daring to find his. She was so beautiful. Why did she have to be so beautiful, inside and out? So brave and strong and noble. So stubborn and mouthy. So Robinson.

“Oh, princess. I already love you.” The words were hard to get out, hard to say, and they emerged in a whisper he could barely hear himself. “But I love all of you stupid Robinsons. And I won’t do anything to hurt any of you.”

He jabbed the door control with his thumb. He needed to get out of there, away from her, the summer-breeze scent of her hair and skin, the consuming depth of her warm dark eyes, the pull of her kissable lips and smart mouth… 

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she said. He turned to give her a bittersweet smile, finding her standing tall with her arms crossed in front of her chest, that adorable set to her jaw. A warrior through-and-through. “I’m tougher than you think. Even if things didn’t work out...”

“I know you’re tough, Judy. You’ll get over me in no time. But I can’t lose the Robinsons.”

Don West walked out the door. 

He’d done the right thing.

END. .... A/N: I actually hate criticisms of fictional (or real) relationships based on age differences. If they are two adults, then age is not what matters, not as much as compatibility, respect, etc. But at the same time, I would've been okay with Don & Judy just being friends, and wish TPTB had kept that teasing banter of theirs! My brain felt like putting a romantic-based reason for their shift in interaction in there. Maybe just to have fun with them, Judy as an aggressive partner (once she makes up her mind she wants him) and Don having to pull back because of his growing attachment to the whole clan.

[hazzastylesfanfics]

Part 2/?

still testing the waters with this but i think it’s starting to shape into something i like?

idk

i’ll do longer parts if people are interested!

lemme know :-)

I curse whoever decided that glass doors were a good idea and weigh my options. I could fully ignore him. It’s not like I’d made eye contact with him. Twice. I could also act like an actual adult and go to the door. Opening 10 minutes early wouldn’t be the end of the world.

I finally move my body cemented in place towards the door. He flashes that damned smile at me causing me to trip and drop my keys. Even on my best days I can barely hold my shit together. I give him a little wave, place the keys into the lock, turn, and crack the door.

“We’re not open yet,” I blurt out. Apparently my lips decided to not consult my brain before speaking. Of course he knows we’re not open, Grey. The front door is literally locked. Idiot.

The corner of his mouth rises into a smirk. “I was passing by and wanted to stop in for another small coffee.”

“At 5:45 in the morning?” He can’t be serious. I’m not falling for the “just passing by” trick.

“Yeah, I try to go on a run every morning.”

I realize how stupid I look then, shielding myself with the door and a blank expression on my face. So he’s not stalking me. Plenty of people run through the Pearl in the mornings, apparently he is one of them. I really need to get my head straight.

“Right. Sorry, uh come on in.” I pull the door open wide enough for him to walk by me. True to his word, he’s in running gear. I notice his arms are glistening slightly. God, look at those arms. A ship inked onto his left bicep catches my eye. Does this guy have a nautical thing going or something?

He slides by just close enough for me to get a smell of his aftershave. He smells incredible. This is a joke. Not only does this guy look unfairly enticing after a run, but he even smells good. I shake my head in an attempt to chase away the dirty thoughts running through it.

“Er, I haven’t brewed drip yet so it’ll be a minute or so. Is that okay?” I hurry behind the counter as he stops at the register.

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“Cool, cool,” I mumble.

I feel his eyes burning into my back as I grind the espresso beans and toss them into a filter. I press brew above the empty container and watch a steady stream of coffee pour into the open top.

“What’s your name?” He asks conversationally. I turn to face him. He’s casually leaning on the front counter, fidgeting with the merchandise sitting on it.

“It’s Grey.”

With amusement in his eyes, he meets mine. “Like the color?”

If I had a dollar for every person who’s asked me that over the years I would have enough to legally declare grey was no longer a color.

“Yeah, I guess.” I scrunch up my nose for a moment. “It’s more like my parents partied too much and smoked a lot of weed and thought Grey was a perfectly suitable name for a human being.”

That earns me a laugh from him. “I like it. Very moody.” He winks.

“Thanks.” I look down at my twiddling thumbs. “Uh, what’s yours?”

“Harry,” he says.

“Like what’s on your head?” The words escape before I can stop them. I can feel my ears redden at my idiotic joke. He chuckles softly.

“Something like that. It’s fairly boring if you ask me.”

“No booze and drugs involved?” We both laugh. The beep of the brewer behind me indicates it’s finished. “You said a small, right?”

“Whatever you’d like to give me,” he says coyly.

I give my head a little shake. I fill a 12-ounce cup to the top, remembering he likes no room, and snap the lid on. I spin around and nearly drop his coffee in the process. He’s leaning as far forward as he can on the counter, arms extended in front of him with his hands clasped. My eyes trail along the curves of his arms for a second, fantasizing about them pinning me down to this very counter and-

“So what are you doing when you get off?”

“Get off?” He matches my puzzled expression. “Oh! You mean work.” I mentally kick myself. Get your head out of the damn gutter, Grey. “I’ll probably just go home and take a nap. That’s usually what I do on the days I open.”

“Not much of a morning person?” He takes a sip of his coffee. I can’t help but watch his lips wrap around the lid. My thoughts wander to his lips to what else he could wrap them around.

“I despise mornings,” I agree. “Days shouldn’t start before 10 a.m. if you ask me.”

“Sounds like you’re in the right line of work then.” He smiles. How am I just noticing the deep dimples that indent his face when does? They paint the perfect illusion of youth.

“I’m good at it.” I shrug. “It’s an easy job anyway. Tips are good.”

“Speaking of, how much do I owe you?” He reaches for his wallet.

“It’s on the house.” I smile.

“If it’s because I came before you opened then I can wait until the register is ready or whatever,” he reasons.

“No, no it really is fine.” I glance at the clock on the iPad. “We’re open now anyway.”

“I insist.”

“It’s a dollar seventy-five; I think we’ll be alright.”

“Let me pay you back tonight then?” He peaks over the top of his coffee as he takes another sip, looking hopeful. “Drinks?”

“Uh-” I bite my lip. Did this guy really walk in here with the intention of asking me out or is fate throwing me a sympathy bone? “I can probably do that, yeah. What time?”

His expression relaxes. “Whenever works for you. I can pick you up at your place or you can swing by mine? Do you live around here?”

“My apartment isn’t far from here. There are some bars within walking distance of it if you just wanted to meet me at mine?”

“Sure, just send me the address.” He pulls his phone out and hands it to me across the counter. I take it and type my phone number in, adding it to his contacts. Grey, (like the color), I add.

“Here you are.” I hold his phone out to him. Our hands brush momentarily and every nerve in my body ignites. They’re soft. His hands are really soft. “You better not ghost me.” I laugh.

His eyebrows shoot up and a look of exaggerated shock takes over his features. “I would never.” He laughs along with me. “Do I look like the type of lad to do that?”

The door opens and two of my morning regulars walk in before I can answer. He glances over his shoulder and then back to me.

“Looks like that’s my cue.” I smile apologetically.

“See you tonight.” His eyes twinkle like two stars I could get lost in.

As he’s leaving I notice a five-dollar bill in the tip jar.

“I look terrible in absolutely everything, oh my god!! Why do I even own half of this shit!” I fall facedown on my bed next to Lana.

“Shut up, babe you’ve looked hot in everything you’ve put on,” she assures.

“You’re a fucking liar and you know it.” I sigh. “It’s easy for you to say considering you look good in everything you wear.”

“Not true.” She stands and walks to my wardrobe. “What about this?” Lana pulls out a midi, light grey silk dress.

I sit up. “Don’t you think a slip dress is a bit...much?” I scrunch my nose up. “I don’t even know if this is a date.”

The texts Harry and I exchanged throughout the day were short and simple. He never explicitly said the word “date” nor did he really flirt much. It made me feel anxious.

“You said yourself you didn’t want this to be a date,” she responds.

“That’s not what I meant. I just- You know how it is.”

She sighs. “Sometimes Grey? I really don’t. C’mon, this gorgeous guy is clearly into you and you’re gonna play these stupid games with him? He could actually be a decent guy, ya know. Can we also talk about the fact that he’s fucking British? How often do you find that in Portland?”

“Not interested.” I take the dress from her hand and hold it up to my body, observing it in the mirror on my wardrobe door. It really is a pretty dress. I’ve only worn it a handful of times but it’s done wonders for me every time I have. I could toss a white tee over it and knot it to tone it down a bit. Sandals would also help. I undress and let the silk fall over my body. I forgot how it hugged what little curves I have just enough to hint at them.

Lana’s eyes narrowed in approval. “That. You have to wear that. Remind me why I’ve never borrowed it again?”

“Because you were gifted with an ass and I wasn’t?” Envy consumes me. Lana had this perfectly curvy body that genetics would never allow me to have. She constantly switches between hating it and loving it.

“Oh right, that.” She frowns. “So you’re really not gonna give this Harry guy a chance?”

I pull a white tee out from my drawer and pull it over my head. After fussing with the knot for a minute, I settle on one I like. “What do I even do with my hair?” I ignore her question and walk down the hall toward my bathroom.

She follows and perches on the edge of the bathtub. My tiny bathroom barely fits us comfortably. “Grey, seriously. Maybe it’s time to open yourself up again.”

I pause with my hands holding up my hair in a simple, low messy bun. I pull a few strands of my bangs out to frame my face. Not liking what I see, I drop it in frustration and run my fingers through my loose brown curls. Maybe I could just wear it naturally. Except I hadn’t washed it from my shift this morning and it smelled of coffee. I sighed. Naps are great until I sleep the day away. Back to the bun it is.

“I like the bun,” Lana comments.

“Is my makeup too like-”

“Come fuck me makeup?” She finishes for me.

I laugh lightly. “Not exactly how I would have put it but, sure.”

“You look hot, babe. If I was Harry I would most definitely have that dress on the floor by the end of the night.”

I bite my tongue through my teeth and smile. “That’s the goal.”

We walk back to my room so I can find shoes and my purse. I check my phone for the time and see I’ve missed a call and two texts from Harry.

Sorry if you’re not ready. I’m a bit early.

Then, 10 minutes later.

Should I come up or wait for you down here?

“Oh shit, he’s early.” I dash around my room looking for my ID and grab a bundle of cash from the vase I keep my tips in. Lana is laying on my bed absentmindedly petting Charlie. She’s curled up on my pillow - her favorite place. “You can stick around as long as you want but I can’t guarantee what will be happening in here later.” I smile devilishly.

“Thanks for that, Grey,” she replies sarcastically. “I’ll head out after you two are gone. Sure you don’t want me to tag along as backup?”

“Yeah and have you flirt with him the entire night? I’ll pass.” I fluff my hair once more in the mirror and make sure my lipstick is in place.

“I’m just saying, I would give the boy a chance so maybe you should too.”

“Right, uh-huh.” I’m already halfway to the front door.

“Be safe!” I hear as the door clicks shut behind me.

[hookedontaronfics]

Honky Dancer series - Chapter 2

Chapter title: Contracts and options Read the previous installment here: Chapter 1 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Slight cursing A/N: I hope you love the drama in this chapter as much as I loved writing it! More mature themes will develop, so be warned! Enjoy! X

My alarm went off far too early because I had spent most of the night tossing and turning with both nerves and excitement over my audition. I felt I had done well and made an impression; I knew I had worked my butt off, not only during the audition itself but also just to get there in the first place. I was tired enough to stop at Notes Coffee Roasters and pick up an iced latte, figuring I could spare the calories, on my way to my 6 a.m. aerobics class. I truly loved teaching but if there was one class I would gladly give up it would be aerobics; who in their right mind wanted to get up before the sun did just to sweat for 45 minutes? I was never awake enough for the cheeriness of my suburban football-mom students.

I’m pretty sure I sipped half of my latte down in one pull and groaned against the subsequent brain freeze as I opened up the studio. It took everything in me to summon up the energy to get through aerobics without shouting my instructions in a bitchy manner, and I was positively exhausted by the time I made it through conditioning, beginning basics, intermediate amateur, and one of my personal favorites, toddler tap. I mean, there was very little actual tapping going on, but the students always made up for it in the cuteness factor.

I eagerly checked my phone when I went on break but I hadn’t received the call I’d been hoping for. Mads and I quickly walked to our favorite lunch hideout, a place called Hemsley + Hemsley inside the Selfridges. I ordered my go-to cold-pressed green juice and we decided to share the orange-blossom-infused yogurt and honey-filled chestnut crepe.

“Any news?” Madison asked me as we tucked into our food and juices.

“Not yet. It’s killing me,” I admitted.

“So tell me, how did it go? You’ve got to fill me in!” she grinned. I told her all about the process and how I’d made some friends and hoped we all got in together before she asked me point blank if I’d run into anyone famous while at Paramount. My face flushed but before I could tell her about Taron my phone rang.

“It’s them!” I hissed at Mads in excitement, before picking up the call. “Hello?” I said, probably sounding way too eager.

“Hello love,” an incredibly familiar voice said on the other end, and I fairly choked on my pressed juice.

“Hi, hey,” I said, trying to recover. “Um … What do I owe this pleasure?” I asked awkwardly, and Taron just chuckled on the other end.

“I wanted to personally deliver the news myself that you’ve been selected as one of our dancers. So congratulations, love. I hope you’re very pleased, as I am,” he said with a grin in his voice.

Holy shit, I mouthed to Mads as she squealed in her seat, unaware of who exactly I was talking to.

“I ...yes, of course I’m incredibly excited,” I laughed after I managed to recover my composure. “I just wouldn’t have expected Paramount to make you their errand boy,” I teased. Mads gave me a funny look, desperate to know what was happening.

This earned a hearty laugh from Taron on the other end. “I asked to deliver the news personally,” he grinned. “You are, after all, my favorite dancer.”

“That’s entirely too kind of you to say,” I said, taken aback.

“Well I did sit through 40 solos just for the privilege to watch you dance so I feel I have a right to make that assessment,” he said lightly.

“Oh my God, I don’t deserve for you to think that,” I replied.

“Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?” he said gently before clearing his throat. “So you can stop by the studios at your convenience today to fill out the contract and hopefully that will be amenable.”

“Good, of course,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m done with work.”

“Perfect. See you then,” he said nonchalantly. I wasn’t sure whether he actually meant that or it was just a standard thing to have said, but we took our good-byes and I sat there in dumbfounded silence until Mads couldn’t take it anymore.

“What is all of this?” she asked, making a circular motion in the air around my face, which was probably as red as a robin’s breast.

“I was getting to that part,” I laughed, hiding my face behind my hands for a second. “I ran into the film’s lead, Taron, when I was at auditions yesterday. Well, he actually opened a door into me, and I fell and it was spectacularly embarrassing,” I admitted with a laugh. “But somehow that possessed him to watch us all dance… Out of pity? I don’t know,” I shrugged as the incredulous look just grew on Madison’s face the more I rambled. “So anyway, he just called me to tell me I was cast as a dancer so... I’m in!” I squealed at that.

“Taron didn’t watch your ass dance out of sympathy, are you crazy?” Madison giggled. “He’s probably fancying you,” she said with a smirk, and I shook my head.

“No no no, we’re not even going there. Me, dancer. Him, actor. That’s like different species and different species don’t mix,” I laughed, as Madison threw an orange slice at me.

“You are so daft!” she laughed. “How can you not see when a boy likes you? You with your gorgeous strawberry-blonde locks and blue eyes and freckles. It’s disgusting, really. I just look like the boring brown blah ugly duckling next to you,” she said a bit wistfully, chin in her hand.

“Oh come on, Mads, you’re gorgeous. And it’s not like I exactly know how to pick ’em, considering Zayn and all,” I sighed, referring to my ex.

“Yes well, the world isn’t full of Zayns. He’s extra special,” she said, stabbing a bit of crepe with extra gusto and poking it in her mouth.

“If by extra special you mean extra wanker, then yeah,” I said, shaking my head as we both just giggled.

“Well I’m sure Taron’s not like that at all,” she said. “It’s not like I haven’t watched every YouTube interview out there,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “He seems incredibly sweet to people,” she pointed out. Leave it to my best friend to be obsessed with him; I had tried my hardest to convince her to audition with me but she said her skills outside of ballet were rusty at best and she would be just be embarrassing herself. I appreciated her teasing me about it though; I couldn’t deny Taron was handsome, though I didn’t exactly download every picture to my phone.

“He’s very nice, I can already tell that. And maybe he even thinks I’m pretty, sure. But we’re only co-cast members, you know, and I’ll just be in the background. He’s really the star. Besides, he doesn’t even know me. Not like we had a chat or anything. He had to call me by my bib number first, after all,” I laughed.

“Just never say never, Juliette. Life can surprise you,” Madison grinned at me. But I had already had plenty of surprises in my life, and I was ready to be done with that. We finished our lunch and made it back for afternoon classes; thankfully I only had two more to get through before I could head over to Paramount. I was absolutely knackered by the time I packed up my dance bag and pulled sweats on over my leotard and tights. I waved to Madison as I passed her classroom and she gave me a thumbs up before I headed to the tube station, responding to a few texts from my ex and feeling once again annoyed at his lack of responsibility. You see, I had to stay in contact with him because we both had one shared thing in common: A certain precocious 7-year-old daughter named Clara.

<You promised me you’d be able to watch her while I’m in rehearsals. I really need you to step up. This isn’t negotiable and mummy can’t watch her all the time either.> I texted back, sighing slightly to myself.

I knew relying on Zayn had been a bad idea to begin with, as he’d never proven himself mature enough to handle being a father in any regular capacity. He’d do well for a couple months and then fall off the map again, drinking and losing his job and couch-surfing with friends. But for Clara to not know her father had made me feel like a terrible person, so every time he came around promising that he’d cleaned up I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I hardly knew what it was to not be disappointed in a man any more.

<I know, and I will. It’s just for tonight, Letty, we have these tickets…>

<Yeah and those excuses don’t cut it, Zayn. It’s always excuses. Your daughter is more important than some show. She needs a father so I can stop explaining at school why this completely bright student has behavioral issues. But you would know that if you were involved.> I rubbed my temple, annoyed and too exhausted to have this fight all over again.

<You’re absolutely right, actually. I’ll cancel the plans and try to sell the tickets. Sorry to bother you.> He texted back, and I groaned slightly. Of course now I felt like the asshole, and it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy time with my daughter.

<I appreciate the offer, I do. But you should go. Just drop Clara off with my mum and I’ll get her on my way home. But I need you to pick her up first thing in the morning for school and don’t be late this time.>

<You’re an absolute saint, Letty> He sent back, making me cringe at the pet name he had given me that now left a bad taste in my mouth. I sighed and texted my mum a head’s up about the change in plans, grateful for everything she had done for me and Clara over the years. I don’t know what I would have done without her help, to be sure. Being a single mum had proven incredibly challenging and I wasn’t sure how I would have been able to afford child care and rent on my meager paychecks. I probably would have had to give up dance but my mum knew how important that dream had always been for me. I had more stability now then when I was performing, but that didn’t mean the challenge to give Clara a stable life didn’t remain.

I was lost in thought by the time I arrived at Paramount, but I tried to put all of that aside so I could focus on the task at hand. I’d also received a steady stream of excited texts from Leah, Pietre, Dennis and Markus; all five of us had made it onto the cast and it felt like a bit of a celebration. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going but helpful signs had been posted about on the walls, so I followed the giant black arrows through the maze of halls until I arrived at a lobby, where a couple other dancers were sat waiting.

“Juliette!” someone called my name. I spied Markus against the wall, waving at me and I happily jogged over to sit next to him as he moved his bag out of the way. “I saved you a seat,” he said, flashing me a grin of exceptionally perfect, white teeth. While we chatted about our mutual love of ballet and our tragic falls from grace [Markus, too, had experienced a career-ending injury] as principals, I noticed up-close that his eyes were a lovely shade of pale grey. I’d never quite seen eyes like that before, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit mesmerized by both his gaze and his instant charm. It was nice to feel like someone was on my level and could understand what I’d fought through to get here. Other dancers came and went, and when Markus was finally called back to the office I texted Madison furiously about him, unashamedly giggly about it.

<Does someone have a bit of a crush or what?> Madison teased me lightly.

<You don’t get it, he’s rather dishy and so charming and suave. And he gets me.> I wrote back.

<Yeah and what about Taron?> Mads asked.

<What about him? He’s nice to me, nothing more.>

<Yeah sure. But don’t give me any more of that “He’s an actor and would NEVER notice a dancer like me” bullshit because I’m not buying it.>

<Besides, if Taron’s here I haven’t seen him. And what am I supposed to do anyway, hang them up next to each other side-by-side and compare their traits?>

<Just don’t be blind to what could be good for you, that’s all.>

<AND Clara. Don’t forget, this is a packaged deal.> I wrote back, smiling as my mum sent me a sweet Snapchat of my daughter playing piano. She finished the song and, beaming into the camera, smiled, waved and announced that she was going to be as good as Elton some day, which made me laugh softly. I’m glad my mum and I had passed down our impeccable taste in music already to my daughter; it was so much better than the trash punk her father listened to.

I happened to look up just then and saw Taron leaning into the lobby from the doorway, clearly searching for someone, and his face brightened as soon as he spotted me. He strode in and despite the obvious gasps of recognition from the other dancers there, he beelined straight for me. I was both flattered and embarrassed about that fact, all too aware of the jealous expressions tossed my way.

“You made it!” Taron grinned at me, as if he’d been worried I would have decided against this whole thing.

“Of course,” I laughed, adjusting in my seat at the same time he surprised me with a hug so I nearly knocked my head into his teeth. “Shit, sorry,” I apologized but he must have found my awkwardness amusing because he laughed and shrugged it off.

“Continuing that klutzy streak I see?” he teased, raising a characteristic eyebrow at me.

“Always,” I said with a laugh. “Truly don’t know how I stay employed at the dance studio, to be honest,” I continued the rolling joke.

“Oh, do you teach?” he asked, earnestly curious in me.

“Yeah, mostly young kids,” I smiled at that. “I really do love it, getting to inspire the next generation of dancers.”

“I can see that,” he studied me for a moment, and I had to look away from the intensity of his green eyes. “You always seem so passionate about it, I can’t imagine that not translating to every area of your life.”

I was about to respond but just then Markus returned and somehow seemed to have a double-take when he noticed Taron sitting in his vacated seat next to me. He came over to me and, right in front of Taron, told me he looked forward to dancing alongside me and then point-blank asked me if I wanted to get drinks with him some time. I felt absolutely flustered at his offer and managed to stammer out a ‘yes, sure, love to’ before Markus leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Cheerio,” he smiled to me, flicking the tip of my nose lightly before sweeping out of the room.

“Well that was a production, wasn’t it,” Taron remarked, the buzz of something low in his voice.

“Mmm, dancers are dramatic,” I tried to laugh, but Taron was no longer smiling.

“Tell me about it, love, I’m an actor. I get being dramatic but that was something else,” he replied, giving me a slight chill down my back, but I had absolutely no time to react because my name was called then.

“I should … get in there,” I said softly, as Taron rearranged his expression and put a smile on his face. If I hadn’t been so focused on him I might have lost the nuance of that.

“Of course you should,” he replied with a nod. I got up and walked into the office, Taron’s steely gaze following after me. I did my best to focus on the contract terms and everything that would be required of me as I signed form after nondisclosure form, but something had just happened back there that I was having trouble deciphering. I figured I should probably run it by Mads because she seemed to have a knack for understanding people. I was still distracted by the time I finished the paperwork and was handed a stack of information and rehearsal schedules, and so when I exited the lobby and turned the corner I ran straight into Taron, managing to drop my stack of papers all over the hallway floor.

“Jesus Churchill Jones, what are you doing here?” I asked in surprise, as Taron crouched down and picked up my papers for me.

“I thought I’d walk you out, if that was alright?” he asked. “I know you were weirded out earlier and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, if a little miffed,” I shrugged as we started walking back through the labyrinth of halls toward the exit, Taron still carrying my papers. I realized that I was just inherently trusting Taron to lead the way, figuring he already knew the place like the back of his hand.

“It just seemed a bit possessive to me, the way that dancer acted toward you,” Taron tried to explain.

“Possessive? How?” I laughed lightly at that. “Markus and I got on quite well before you showed up.”

“But that’s exactly it. He shouldn’t have felt threatened by me at all. I’ve just seen it before,” he said, his eyes trained on the floor. But then he reached out for my hand and stopped me, turning me to face him. “I’m saying this completely as a friend, just be careful with him.” There was something so deeply vulnerable in the way that Taron was looking at me that I felt I had to take what he said seriously. I couldn’t detect any ulterior motives there, so I filed the warning away in my mind and half-wondered if Taron could sense my weakness for men who seemed so polished on the outside but could secretly be snakes.

“I’ll be careful,” I said, as much to make Taron feel better as to remind myself. We continued walking, as I asked how things were going with him. He filled me in on everything he had to accomplish as filming neared, learning the piano, working new arrangements of the music, and all of the pre-production work that had to happen. It really kind of amazed me how dedicated he was to the project, and even more so how highly he spoke of Elton himself.

“Well, I should stop boring you,” Taron chuckled as we arrived at the exit doors, but I shook my head.

“You’re absolutely not a bore. I’m sure I could listen to you talk about it for hours on end,” I smiled genuinely at that.

“If we both weren’t so busy, maybe I’d ask a certain dancer to have dinner with me some time so then I could truly bore her for hours,” he said with a wink, his demeanor completely changed from earlier. He was at once adorably flirtatious with me, and I couldn’t help but swoon slightly.

“Maybe she might just say she’d love to,” I grinned back. He fished a pen out of his pocket and scrawled his phone number across the top of the stack of papers before handing them to me.

“We’ll plan it… eventually,” he grinned before giving me the “call me” gesture and making me laugh.

I took my leave, Taron holding the door for me as the perfect gentleman he was and waving to me long after I’d hurried down the street. I felt my heart warring inside of me a bit, and I had no idea what I was supposed to think. With these thoughts burning into my soul, I took the train across London to pick up my sweet daughter. At least I still had that to look forward to, I thought as I made sure to transfer Taron’s number into my phone before I forgot or misplaced it.

<Hey, it’s me, your favorite dancer!> I sent a quick text, just so he had my number as well and definitely not expecting the immediate reply I got back.

<And saved. If you send me a pic I’ll add it to your profile.> My stomach suddenly lit on fire with nerves at that, for no bloody reason at all. I had all of my contacts with photos, so it only made sense that Taron might as well. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the request but the idea of sending him my face made me feel some kind of way. I swiped through my pictures, most of them stupid selfies, but I finally decided on the professional headshot I’d had taken for the audition. I felt it showed the best of me, and I looked half-decent enough, dare I say pretty. The photographer had at least had the sense to focus on one of my best features; my blue eyes stood out like sapphires.

Taron immediately sent me back one of his own, a decidedly more personal shot but he looked gorgeous none-the-less. I attached the photo to his profile and then stashed my phone for a moment, needing to focus on my daughter as I hopped off the train at my stop and dashed for my mum’s house. I let myself in and found them in the kitchen, my daughter drawing a picture that she immediately abandoned as soon as she saw me.

“Mummy’s here!” she squealed, running into my waiting arms and hugging me tightly. “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, my darling,” I said, running my fingers through her tangled bright red curls; where she got that color was beyond me, but I loved it. “How was school?” I asked.

“A bit of a bore, really. Teacher says I’m too smart for my class,” she added importantly.

“Hmm, well, hopefully you didn’t sass her too much,” I sighed, giving my mum a knowing glance.

“I didn’t!” she said, putting her little hands on her hips.

“I’ll have to have a talk with your school when I can fit it in about moving you a grade, but otherwise I guess you’ll just have to pretend to not be bored, Clara-bean,” I said with a laugh. “Don’t want all the other students to think you’re a know-it-all.”

“They already think that, mum,” she said dramatically, to which my mum shook her head.

“Perhaps you ought to put her in the performing arts academy instead,” she pointed out as I bit my thumb in thought.

“You’ve got a fair point, mum,” I smiled. “Thanks for watching her, again. I’d say I owe you but at this point the debt is quite unpayable.”

“Oh hush now, Juliette. I will never turn down time with my grand,” she said, giving Clara a hug and helping her clean up her mess on the kitchen table while I took a chance to use the toilet.

<Mads… I’ve got to phone you as soon as I get Clara down to sleep tonight!> I fired off a quick text.

<Oohh did something happen?> she asked immediately.

<You could say that. Things have got a fair bit confusing.> She sent back a couple emojis and question marks and I sighed. <It’s too long to type out. Just have your phone on you.>

<Forget phoning me, I’ll bring the wine. 8:30 okay?>

<God I love you. See you then.> I finished my business in the toilet and made sure my daughter had all of her things before we took the tube back to our home. I made dinner, we took Troy out for his evening walk, and soon I was getting my daughter bathed and brushed and ready for bed. I read her a small story and tucked her in, kissing her forehead sweetly as she hugged her plushie unicorn to her. I couldn’t help wishing that I wasn’t the only one bidding her sweet dreams and turning off the light; what I wouldn’t give to have a man in the picture who wanted to be there for us both. But that felt as much a fantasy as the unicorns I’d just finished reading about.

I checked my phone and had a couple missed texts from Markus, just sweet messages making sure I’d made it in for the night. I texted back in affirmation and wondered if Taron had totally missed the mark; I hadn’t gotten any weird vibe from Markus until I ended up between them both.

I had just gotten the dishes cleaned up and put away when Mads rang. I popped open the door and let her in; she was carrying three bottles of wine, which made me laugh. There was no way we were going to drink that much; we both had early classes to teach in the morning. Still, I retrieved a bottle opener and glasses and we popped each of them open, having a sip and agreeing that the moscato was the best option.

“So tell me!” she said, sitting cross-legged on the couch and sipping her wine as I did my best to retell the whole scenario, her eyes growing wide and then wider after I told her I now had Taron’s number too.

“They had a mental cockfight over you,” Madison giggled over her glass of wine.

“What? You’re insane, no. No… right?” I said. “No…that’s crazy,” I added for good measure. 

“To be fair, it sounds like this Markus started it,” she smirked. “But Taron totally dished.”

“Ugh, English please,” I sighed.

“They both like you and tried to outdo each other,” she rolled her eyes. “I can practically see the puffed-up chests now.”

“Stop,” I laughed, throwing a cork at her and making her squeal. “That is not how it went down. Taron was trying to warn me, as a friend.”

“As a future person who wants to get in your pants,” she smirked, waggling her eyebrows at me.

“Mads, you’re making me mental!” I said, tossing the rest of my wine back and nearly choking as the liquor hit my throat. “It wasn’t like that with him. You didn’t see the way he was trying to look out for me.”

“In all seriousness, babes, I think you should really consider your options here.”

“My options. You say that like I have them, like I could just choose,” I said with a huff.

“Well they both asked you out, didn’t they?” she grinned, not remotely fazed by my tone. “See who impresses you more. That’s what I would do.”

“Date two guys at once?” I laughed, shaking my head. “Isn’t that a bit scandalous? I don’t wish to shame my mum.”

“It’s only dating if you call it that,” she smirked lightly.

“Oh Mads, you’re devious, aren’t you,” I said, shaking my head.

“Just live a little, Juliette. You’ve been banging on about how awful Zayn is for 6 years now. You might as well try and move on.” I couldn’t deny that she had a point there. Maybe the distraction would be a good thing.

“And what about Clara?” I asked softly. “I have to consider her.”

“She will be fine. Kids are resilient and adaptable, far more than we are. And as far as Markus or Taron are concerned, cross that bridge when it comes, you know? Just start from the beginning. Go to drinks, go to dinner. Have some fun. The good Queen herself knows you need it.”

We talked and drank some more, far more than we should have, and Madison ended up crashing on my couch because she was too wine-sick to get herself home. But I truly didn’t mind; it wasn’t our first and wouldn’t be our last late-night chat, and Clara considered her an auntie. I gently pulled a blanket around her snoozing form and made sure she was comfortable before shutting the lights off, a small headache beginning to throb. I got myself ready and changed into jammies before crawling in under the covers, bumping my phone slightly and causing the screen to illuminate. I had a text from Taron waiting, his face smiling out at me. I quickly opened it, my heart beating a tiny bit faster as I tried to focus my drunken, exhausted eyes enough to read the text.

<Get ready to dance, love. It’s going to be a wild ride. Sweet dreams.>

“Holy. Shit,” I breathed out loud, closing my eyes and totally unable to process what he meant. But oh, was I thrilled. A part of me felt more alive and excited than I had in probably ten years, when boys still meant adventure and romance and sex and love and sunsets on the beach and drinking too much and making out in the backseat and all of those magical things I felt I had given up on. To feel that breathless anticipation again made my world shift on its axis. The problem, of course, was that I wasn’t exactly sure who had caused that shift.

Find out who Juliette might choose in Chapter 3 Here!

[rainycl0udss]

Chapter 3;

The morning after party

//When can I say "I love you"?//

Written Chapter!

Word count; 1780

Moons POV

I lay peacefully in my bed, sleeping.

That was untill I heard one of the most annoying sounds of all time.

My alarm.

Don't get me wrong, I love the song Euphoria but I wish I didn't have to wake up right now.

I turn my head to the noice and pick up my phone so I can turn of the sound of my alarm playing.

I check my phone on social media and I check my mails aswell.

I look at the time, it's 8:35 am.

Way to early for my liking but I don't really have a choice. I've got plenty of things to do today. I'll probably have to go grocery shopping too. I don't think Mimi is going to be in the right state of mind to do it today.

With a sigh I get out of my bed and walk to the kitchen.

Just like I  had suspected, nobody else is awake yet. They're probably going to be sleeping till noon.

I walk to the fridge and take out some banana milk, cheese and eggs. I'll probably make an omelette with some cheese, drink some banana milk and call it breakfast.

After preparing my meal and eating it it's already 09:48 am.

That's not as late as I thought it would be.

I have to be in the studio around noon, so I've got plenty of time to get ready.

I clean my dishes and decide I'll take a shower to clean myself. Something that is definitely needed because my hair smells like liquor.

I walk back to my bedroom and grab a black jeans and a grey hoodie. I also take some fresh underwear and head to the bathroom.

There is one positive about waking up before everyone else and that is,

The bathroom is not occupied.

I undress, step in the shower and start washing my hair.

I'm not really a morning person, I like to sleep in and I probably would never leave my bed if that was an option. Sadly it's not. I'm also normally not a person who showers in the morning. Normally I shower before I go to sleep. I like it better that way. That way my hair can dry naturally at night and I'll feel fresh in the morning. Obviously I had no time for a shower yesterday night. I was way to tired to do anything else but sleep.

I'm curious if the others remember anything about last night. I have a feeling Mimi probably doesn't. She never does.

Jae, that's debatable. She normally remembers everything, but she normally isn't that drunk so I guess we shall see.

For some reason Yun will probably remember everything, even tho that girl can get so drunk she almost dies, she'll always remember everything. It's kinda scary really.

Jae and Mimi, mostly Mimi, complain that she doesn't remember anything and that Yun should be happy she could remember.

Yun always responds with "It's more of a curse then a blessing, sometimes I wish I didn't remember."

I think I understand what she means, in that perspective I'm the same as Yun.

I can drink as much as I want, I'll remember everything. But I don't drink much so it's never a problem.

Ones I'm done showering I change in my clothes and head back to my room.

My hair is still wet so I decide to wear a beanie.

I look at the clock and see it's 10:27 am.

There is still no sign that my friends are waking up anytime soon.

I put on my boots and take my jacket. I take my keys and my bag and leave for the car.

I guess it's time for me to go grocery shopping.

Ones in the grocery I buy whatever I think we'll be needing. I'm normally not the one to do it, but it needs to be done.

Ones I'm back home I see that Jae is awake.

"Good morning." I say while unpacking the groceries.

"Hey Moon. Do you know where the painkillers are?" Jae asks me in a quiet voice.

She's definitely hungover.

"I think in the cabinet next to instant noodles." I exclam while still unpacking.

I hear her open the cabinet and take a painkiller.

"I found them, thanks." She says after taking a painkiller.

"You seem pretty hungover Jae." I state to her.

"I AM pretty hungover. This fucking sucks." She huffes.

"You shouldn't have drunk as much as you did. Then you wouldn't be in this position." I claim.

"Shut up will you. I know I shouldn't have but you know how it goes..." She argues back.

Honestly, I don't know. I'm pretty good at holding my liquor so it's never really been a problem for me.

"Whatever floats your boat Jae." I chuckle.

"How long have you been awake?" She asked me while she goes to sit down.

I look at the clock and see it's 11:36 am.

"About three hours now. I'm guessing you just woke up." I reply.

"Why the fuck would you wake up that early?" Jae exclames

"Because unlike some people I actually have things to do today and wanted to get it done." I articulate.

Jae just rolls with her eyes.

"I made y'all some breakfast btw, it's more like brunch right now but whatever. It's in the fridge." I announce to Jae.

I get up from the table to walk to my room but I get interrupted by Jae.

"You made us breakfast? That's a first." She interjects.

"It's not a first you bitch, I always make y'all breakfast when you're hungover." I remark.

Without waiting for her to respond I walk to my room.

I grab my bag and put all my work in it.

I walk back to the kitchen to see Jae eat the food I made for her.

She's watching her kdrama while eating.

I go to the cabinet and grab a pot of instant noodles and a banana milk out the fridge. I put them both in my bag and walk to the front door of the apartment.

"Where are you going?" I hear Jae ask me before I could leave.

"To the studio." I answer without looking up.

"It's not even school today." She nags.

"That doesn't mean I can't work for school. Besides, now I'm behind on schedule because of yesterday." I persist.

"Are you leaving already?" I hear a different voice say.

I turn around and look at both Yun and Jae.

"I have to get my work done guys." I sigh.

It's not like it's fun for me to leave them alone all the time. They're my friends and I care about them. But I also care about my future.

"Can't you go to the studio around 1 pm?"

Yun begs me.

I take a deep breath.

I guess I can do that.

I sigh but place my bag on the floor and walk back to the table and sit down.

"I'll stay till 12:30 pm alright." I confirm.

Yun smiles at me.

"Good to hear." She smiles.

"So how are you?" I ask after a short silence.

"I'm oke. I guess." She mumbles while stuffing her face with bacon.

"I honestly don't remember much." Jae confesses.

I'm not surprised about that.

"I fucking wish I didn't remember anything. It was so embarrassing." Yun grumbles.

"I only remember that Mimi started puking and that you were grinding against some guy." Jae laughs.

"Euw, Don't remind me of Mimi puking. You know I hate puke." She recalls disgusted.

"Who was the guy?" I hint in a joking matter.

"Just some guy I made out with, he wasn't my soulmate." She whines.

I just shake my head an laugh a little.

This is typical behavior for her. Same goes for Mimi. Always going around and have one night stands with random guys from clubs. The only rule we have is to not go to his home. Luckily that didn't happen yesterday.

"I really hoped I would have found my soulmate." Jae whimpers.

"Same here, I'll probably just die alone." Yun dramatically states.

"I actually enjoyed myself for and hour are so." I suddenly confess to them.

The both turn their heads to me at the same time and just stare at me.

"Can you both stop staring at me please, it's unsettling." I accuse.

"You enjoyed yourself? At a party? Do I even know you?" Yun jokes while she punches my arm.

"Then what did you do? Because I didn't see you dance even ones." Jae questions.

"I talked to a someone. Her name was Areum. She was very nice. She also helped me find Soo-Yun." I inform them.

"I'm glad you actually enjoyed yourself. Maybe you'll come with us again." Yun smiles at me.

She trying to hint me to go with them again. Oh hell nah.

"I don't think so, but good try." I laugh and pet her on the shoulder.

"But I'm leaving now." I inform them.

I get up and walk to the front door.

"Don't come home to late!" Jae yells.

I pick my bag from the ground and open the door.

"I won't, tell Mi-Hi that her food is in the fridge!" I yell before I close the door.

I decided that I'll go on foot. The studio isn't so far from our apartment it's only a 20 minute walk. I plug in my headphones and start blasting Dimple from BTS.

God I love that song.

Ones I get to the studio I start looking for my ID to show them I have promision to use the studio.

When I look in my wallet for my ID I found an familiar looking card.

It's the card that Ari unnie gave me.

I put it in my pocket and walk in the building.

I show them my ID and walk to my studio.

I poof myself in my seat and pull the card out of my pocket.

Coffee shop Blooming.

It look aesthetically pleasing.

I'll definitely go there this week. I would really like to talk to Ari unnie again. She was very nice.

I put it back in the pocket of my jeans and start to work on my final project of this semester.

I have alot to catching up to do. Definitely now that I'm leaving in a few weeks to Busan for Hanas birthday.

I can't afford to waist time.

I sigh one last time before I take of my headphones and plug them in my computer. I'm in work mode ones again.

This is going to be a long day.

<<Previous// //Next>>

🏷️Tags;

[darkobsidianquill]

Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness.

Chapter Twelve.

The next morning after breakfast Harry headed for the kitchens with Ron and Hermione in tow. He was slightly surprised that neither of them knew where the Hogwarts kitchens were, or how to gain access to them; especially considering all the nonsense that Hermione had been going on about all year with the bloody house elves. Not that Harry had really been paying it any attention.

He actually hesitated in taking her in there since he was sure the sight of the room full of house elves, slaving over stoves and the like would result in some annoyingly long lecture about human rights and the evils of magical enslavement, but he really didn't have much choice. Sirius's letter had said to bring a lot of food, and the kitchen was obviously the best place to get it.

Harry had actually put some legitimate effort into ignoring Hermione's idiotic campaign to free the house elves all term, and as such, had also ignored the house elves themselves. This was why it was an honest surprise when he saw Winky, Mr. Crouch's house elf, in the corner in an obvious state of inebriation, holding a bottle of butter beer.

The other house elves were scampering about, quickly collecting food for the three Gryffindors, and Dobby was speaking excitedly with Hermione, but Harry's eyes were trained on the sick-looking little elf.

He had first seen her in the top box they sat at during the Quidditch World Cup. She was there to hold a seat for Mr. Crouch, but he had never showed up. And then after the mayhem with the Death Eaters and the dark mark in the sky, she had been found with Harry's wand, and accused of having cast the spell herself.

Mr. Crouch had fired her on the spot, and had seemed visibly furious with her. The whole thing had been terribly confusing at the time.

And now, she was working in the kitchens of Hogwarts? Or... well, not working so much as getting wasted, but she was still here.

Harry wondered if she knew anything about Crouch impersonating Moody...

"You ready, mate?"

Harry blinked and turned back to his two friends who were waiting for him expectantly. Ron was holding out a wrapped bundle of food from the house elves.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, taking on an excited, carefree mask as he took the bundle and shrunk it with his wand before sticking it into his bag.

The trio left the castle and began to make their way down the path towards Hogsmeade.

They busied themselves with window shopping for the morning. Harry spent some time in the local bookstore, but was extremely unimpressed by their selection. There wasn't a single 'questionable' book in the whole store.

He spotted a shadier looking little shop that several of the Slytherin students came in and out of, but he couldn't shake Ron or Hermione long enough to go check it out.

There was a small grocer in town that Harry had never had a need to visit before, but he slipped inside now and found a selection of magically preserved food that would last a few weeks. The food from the kitchens would help feel Sirius now, but from the desperate wording of his godfather's pleas, Harry could only assume that getting regular food was a problem for the man. The food he brought from Hogwarts wouldn't last more than a day or two, but the food he bought would last him quite a bit longer.

Hermione praised him on his planning and smart thinking but Harry just shrugged it off. It seemed like common sense to him.

He shrunk his purchases and added them to his bag.

At one thirty the trio headed down past Dervish and Banges towards the meeting spot described in Sirius's letter. As they neared it, Harry spotted a very familiar looking large black dog. The smile that spread across his face was authentic for once and he hurried his pace.

"Hey Snuffles," Harry said as he came up to his 'dogfather's' side and reached down to pet his messy matted fur.

Sirius was holding a collection of newspapers in his mouth and made an amused coughing sort of noise around them before turning away and making his way past the stile.

The trio climbed over and followed him out of town and towards the mountains on the outskirts of town.

The terrain grew rockier and rockier and harder to traverse, but Sirius just kept going. It took nearly a half hour before they came to a stop, and by that time, Hermione and Ron were distinctly out of breath. Even Harry felt his endurance reaching a limit, and was relieved when he saw the opening to a cave, and Sirius disappearing inside.

The trio entered and found Buckbeak the hippogriff inside, tied to a rock. The three bowed and waited until the half-eagle, half-horse beast had bowed back, showing his acceptance of them.

Ron and Hermione rushed over to pet him, but Harry turned his attention on Sirius, who had just finished transforming back into a human.

He was wearing the same gray robes that he had been a year prior. His hair was longer than it had been when he had fire-called hair in the fall, and it was matted and dirty. Sirius looked thinner, and clearly worn and exhausted.

"Are you out of your mind?" Harry asked.

"Excuse me?" Sirius responded, with a note of surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

"Performing my duty as godfather."

"You're going to get caught!" Harry exclaimed.

"You three, and Dumbledore are the only ones aware of my animagus form. The villagers are coming to know me as a lovable stray. I can't take too much food though, or they'll start to notice."

Harry huffed and shook his head in mild exasperation. He slipped his bag off his shoulders, removed all of the food and began to unshrink it.

Sirius's eyebrows rose into his forehead, with apparent surprise at Harry's use of a fifth year charm – why, Harry couldn't imagine. He really didn't understand why shrinking things wasn't covered sooner. It's not like it was a hard spell, and it would have been damn useful to know in years prior, since he could have kept his trunk hidden away from his uncle...

The surprise at Harry's spellwork was lost as Sirius registered the mountain of food, and his stomach made a loud growling noise.

"Chicken!" the man gasped, hoarsely, with a relieved thrill in his tone.

"There's a bunch of preserved food in here too. It'll last you a couple weeks, I hope. Picked them up in the local food market," Harry said, pointing at the jars and boxes of varying nutritional options he had purchased. "Are you planning to stick around Hogsmeade?"

Sirius nodded as he began to tear into a chicken leg with much the same fury that his dog form would. "I wanted to be on the spot. What with your last letter... and other things, considered... Things are looking a bit too fishy lately. I wanted to stay close."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What other things, exactly?"

Sirius nodded his head towards a few yellowing newspapers on the cave floor a few feet away. Harry walked over and spread them out. There were two, but it was the first one that really caught his attention.

Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch

The second said, Ministry Witch Still Missing – Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved.

Harry picked up the one about Crouch and began reading.

"What's the deal with Crouch?" Ron asked as he came to stand behind Harry and look over his shoulder.

"He hasn't shown up to work since November, apparently," Sirius said before taking another bite of chicken.

"Yeah... he didn't show up to judge the last task, either," Ron said, looking thoughtful. "My brother is his personal assistant and had to fill in for him."

Harry continued to skim the paper, and a few lines jumped out at him: hasn't been seen in public since November... house appears deserted... St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment... Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness...

"My brother did say that Crouch is suffering from overwork," Ron added.

"He did look rather ill when I saw him the night my name came out of the cup," Harry added absently. He figured that Crouch must have been using his illness as an excuse to cover for his absence while he impersonated Moody. He still had no idea why he was doing that though.

"Hey, Sirius?"

"Yeah, pup?"

"Do you know much about him? Crouch, I mean? What were his loyalties in the last war?"

"Oh I know quite a bit about him. And his loyalties were definitely with the light. He headed off quite the crusade against You-Know-Who and his followers. He was the one who sent me off to Azkaban – without a trial."

"What!" Ron and Hermione gasped together.

"Without a trial!" Harry exclaimed. "You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not," said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shook their heads.

"He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," Sirius said. "He's a great wizard, Crouch is, powerfully magical – and power-hungry. Definitely never a Voldemort supporter, though. Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side.

"Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning – I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers – powers to kill, rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without a trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you – plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened..." Sirius smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's son was caught?" gasped Hermione.

"Yes," Sirius said, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak before tearing into a loaf of bread. "Nasty shock to old Crouch, discovering that lil' Barty was a Death Eater."

Harry nearly choked. "What?"

Sirius blinked at Harry with confusion. "What, what?"

"What was Crouch's son's name?" Harry asked, shaking himself out of his moment of surprise.

"Bartemius Crouch Jr. But everyone called him Barty, from what I understand."

"Barty..." Harry breathed.

"Ringing some bells, pup?" Sirius asked, sitting up straighter.

"Er..." Harry faltered, "I'm not sure really. What happened with Crouch's son, anyway? Was he really a Death Eater?"

"I can't say for sure, but he was definitely seen with some people who I would guarantee were. As for what happened to him, Crouch tossed him into Azkaban."

Hermione gasped. "His own son!"

Sirius nodded, and he didn't look remotely amused now. "I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though... they all went quiet in the end... except when they shrieked in their sleep..."

For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them.

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry asked as his mind began working away furiously.

"No," Sirius said, dully. "No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

Harry paused. "He died? Are you sure?"

Sirius looked at Harry with a bit of confusion for a moment. "I'm sure, all right. He certainly wasn't the only one to die in Azkaban. Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, and they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw old Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up a flask of pumpkin juice and drained it.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic... next, his son dead, his wife dead, and the family named dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic towards the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

A silence descended upon the cave while the group processed Sirius's words, and Sirius continued to eat.

Theories and possible scenarios were flying through Harry's mind while he sat in the thick quiet. A man named 'Barty' was helping Voldemort. It was his job to try and set up Harry's capture.

Bartemius Crouch was the one who had pushed to have the tournament reinstated. He was one of the people running the darn thing, and had loads of contact with the cup. He could have easily had the opportunity to put Harry's name into the goblet of fire.

But Bartemius Crouch Sr. actively fought against the Death Eaters and Voldemort, and he most certainly wasn't the man that Harry had seen with Voldemort, in his visions. Which meant that Barty Crouch was not dead.

So Crouch Sr. and his wife had gone into Azkaban to visit their dying son. Crouch Sr. had left 'practically carrying' his wife. Barty had died, and the dementors had buried him. There had to be a body left behind, and Crouch's wife was reported dead shortly after Barty died.

Would Crouch Sr. actually have left his wife in Azkaban and snuck his son out? Crouch Sr. could have given Barty polyjuice potion to look like his wife, in order to sneak his son out of Azkaban, but polyjuice only lasts an hour, so that wouldn't have kept his wife looking like his son for very long

… Unless he killed his wife right after giving her the potion. The body doesn't revert if it's dead.

Bloody hell...

But what had he done with Barty since then? Kept him hidden somehow? Would Crouch Sr. really be helping his son, if his son was helping Voldemort? Perhaps Sr. was under the Imperius when he put Harry's name into the cup. And now he was missing because... he was dead? Or being held captive?

Harry didn't know. There were any number of different possible explanations.

But one thing was for sure. The Bartemius Crouch that Harry kept seeing on the map where Alastor Moody was supposed to be, was not the man Harry had thought he was. He wasn't Crouch Sr., he was Barty!

"You alright there, Harry?" Sirius's voice broke through the thick fog of contemplation and Harry blinked.

"Huh? Oh yea... just thinking."

"Well, pup, we probably ought to discuss what you saw going on between Snape and Karkaroff," Sirius said, taking on a rather serious look to his face.

Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry with confusion in their eyes.

"What is he talking about, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Oh! I totally forgot to tell you two," Harry exclaimed, acting as if he honestly had just forgotten, and not that he had intentionally hidden it.

"I er... saw Snape and Karkaroff having an interestingly heated conversation a number of months ago. I was under my invisibility cloak, so neither knew I was there... I saw the two of them on the Map and got suspicious, so I went down into the dungeons to spy on them."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Harry, will you ever stop being so suspicious of Professor Snape? Do you honestly think that Dumbledore would –"

"He's a Death Eater," Harry said, cutting her off.

Ron's eyes went wide, but Hermione's face shifted instantly to disbelief. "He is not, Harry! That's ridiculous!"

"He is, Hermione! Or at least, he was. He's got the dark mark on his left forearm. So does Karkaroff. That's why they were talking. Apparently it's been getting clearer over the last few months and Karkaroff freaked out. He's scared. From the conversation I overheard, it sounds like Karkaroff is pretty convinced that Voldemort won't be particularly pleased with him. Said something about Dumbledore protecting Snape, but not having anyone to protect him."

Hermione's jaw had dropped and she was staring at Harry with stunned shock.

"You saw it?" she gasped. "Are you sure!"

"Well... I saw it on Karkaroff's arm. He was holding up his sleeve and shoving his arm in Snape's face. But from what Snape said, it was obvious that he had a mark too."

"But you didn't actually see the dark mark on Snape's arm?" Hermione said, pointedly.

"Blimey, Hermione!" Ron groaned. "Come off it already! Why do you keep defending him!"

"I just don't understand why Professor Snape would have saved Harry's life in first year, if he was really a Death Eater. If he was really loyal to You-Know-Who, he would have just let Harry die!"

"Yeah, well like Harry said, Dumbledore protects Snape, right? If Snape let Harry die, Dumbledore probably wouldn't keep protecting him, now would he?" Ron said, as he folded his arms over his chest, indignantly.

"Perhaps, but Professor Dumbledore wouldn't trust Professor Snape if he was really loyal to You-Know-Who! Now would he?"

"Dumbledore doesn't know everything. He didn't know that You-Know-Who was on the back of Quirrell's head our whole first year, did he?"

I don't know... did he? Harry grumbled sarcastically, internally as he secretly scowled. Sometimes he really wondered...

"What do you think, Sirius?" Harry said to try and put an end to Ron and Hermione's pointless bickering.

"I think they've both got a point," Sirius said, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid he was," Sirius added and Ron grinned. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names. "Rosier and Wilkes – they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges – they're a married couple – they're in Azkaban. Avery – from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse – he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never properly accused of being a Death Eater – not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

Hermione was frowning. "Alright, lets say for a moment that Professor Snape was a Death Eater... he would have had to done something that earned him Professor Dumbledore's trust if he got a teaching position here. Dumbledore would never allow someone who was actually loyal to You-Know-Who teach here!"

Sirius shrugged and set down his pumpkin juice. He lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Harry.

"Well, got any other interesting news to inform me of? I hear your performance in the tournament was spectacular."

"Oh... yeah, I guess," Harry said ducking his head and shrugging.

"Oh! Oh, Harry! You have to tell him!" Hermione said suddenly and Harry looked at her with total confusion.

"Tell him what?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, tell me what?" Sirius echoed.

"About your transformation, Harry!" Hermione said with exasperation.

"Oh! That," said Harry.

"Transformation?" Sirius asked with a confused furrowed brow, looking between the two of them.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and huffed slightly before continuing. "Er, yeah... so I've been keeping a big secret from everyone."

"What sort of secret?"

"Well, for a bit under a year I've actually been secretly trying to learn to be... an animagus," Harry admitted with a sheepish smile.

"You've what!" Sirius gasped.

"Yeah, so I sort of... did it."

"Did what?" Sirius asked in confusion.

"The transformation. I did it."

"What! That's impossible! Less than a year? And you're only fourteen!"

"Yeah, well I guess when I put my mind to something I can actually be a fast learner sometimes. Plus I had some real strong incentive there in the end because I realized my form would be useful in the second task."

"You're an animagus?" Sirius asked just to make sure he was really understanding everything.

Harry grinned and shrugged. "Yeah. Guess so."

"Bloody hell! And you said your form was helpful in the task? What is it?"

"Er... yeah, well that's sort of the biggest reason why I kept it a secret. I mean... I didn't even tell Ron or Hermione I was doing it because I was afraid how they would react when they found out what my form was."

Sirius frowned and looked at Hermione and Ron. Hermione was giving Harry an encouraging smile, but Ron was little a bit ill.

"Well, let's here it pup. It won't change a thing. Just get it out."

Harry heaved a sigh and squared his shoulders. He actually was a bit nervous about telling Sirius about his snake form. It wasn't really his animagus form, but this was his story and he had to stick to it for consistency. Despite all the changes Harry had gone through, Sirius was still somewhat important to him.

"Alright... well, I'm a snake," Harry said quickly.

Sirius blinked. "A snake?"

"Yeah, a sea snake to be specific. A Sea Krait."

"You turn into a snake?" Sirius asked again.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, a snake."

"A great, ruddy, huge snake," Ron put in now, still looking a bit pale with the subject matter.

"Is that so?" Sirius asked, looking from Ron back to Harry for confirmation.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Can I see?" Sirius asked.

Harry had been afraid of this question. He still wondered if an actual animagus would be able to tell that the transformation Harry was undertaking wasn't an animagus transformation, but something else entirely.

He took in a deep breath and nodded his head. He got down onto his knees, like he had when he demonstrated for Hermione and Ron and focused his mind and his magic on performing the transformation. A moment later, he was laying flat on the cold ground, looking up at the stunned face of Sirius Black.

"I told you he was huge," Ron said.

"That he is," Sirius muttered before blinking and then looking down at Harry with a slowly spreading grin. "Merlin, Harry... this is... this is just... incredible!" Sirius threw his head back and laughed before looking back down at Harry again. Harry slithered around a bit, coiling his body into a pile and raising his head and first few feet of his body up off the ground so that his head was at eye level with Sirius who was sitting on the ground.

Harry hissed out a laugh, and Sirius's chuckled lightened as he looked at Harry with interest. Ron was looking pale again from the sound.

"Isn't it amazing?" Hermione chipped in and Sirius began to nod his head emphatically.

"Yes, Hermione. It is. Harry, this is truly a remarkable achievement. I really don't care what your form turned out to be. Being able to perform the animagus transformation after less than a year of training, and at age fourteen is just amazing."

Harry nodded his head and quickly transformed back into his human form.

He grinned and ducked his head sheepishly. "You really think so?" he said, trying to play up the modest card.

"I really do," Sirius said with a proud smile. "Well now we've got to get you a Marauder's name!"

Harry blinked at Sirius. This hadn't actually occurred to him, so he really hadn't given a nickname any sort of thought.

"That sounds like fun," Ron said. "Your form is a dog and you're Padfoot. Professor Lupin is a werewolf and he's Moony. And Harry's dad was a stag and he was Prongs, right?"

It didn't go unnoticed that Wormtail was neglected from the list.

"Right," said Sirius.

"So... something to do with a snake..." Ron said slowly as he screwed up his face in concentration. "Scales? Forked tongue..."

"They're legless lizards, so Legless?" Hermione said, shrugging. "Or Fangs? Oh – Venom?"

"Do you have venom!" Ron paled considerably.

Harry chuckled. "Actually, I do," Harry said smirking. "Hmm... Fangs and Venom both have potential, but Hagrid's dog is named Fang, so that's sort of taken. Don't know how I feel about Legless, but it's not too bad either."

"How about Stripes? You've got that white and black stripe thing going on," Ron offered.

"Hmm," Sirius hummed, "Okay, so we've got Scales, Legless, Venom, and Stripes, or Stripe? What do you think, pup? It'll be your nickname?"

Harry paused and ran the different options over in his head for a minute. "Er... I guess Stripe works for me," Harry said, shrugging. It didn't scream 'snake' to him, so if anyone outside of their group ever heard the nickname, it wouldn't be too suspicious.

"Alright, pup. Stripe it is," Sirius said with a proud grin. "The newest Marauder. Merlin, kid, I still can't believe you really did it. And on your own too. Wow..."

Harry ducked his head. He felt the tiniest bit of upset in his gut for lying to Sirius about this, but it wasn't something he could really do anything about so he violently shoved it away in his mind. "Thanks," he mumbled in forced shyness.

"Anyway," Sirius said, shifting his attention away from Harry and onto Ron. "On to other matters before we call it a day. You say your brother is Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," said Ron doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy though. Percy loves Crouch."

Sirus heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.

"What's the time?"

Harry had his wand out with quick, practiced ease in the blink of an eye and cast a tempus. "It's half past three," he said.

"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen..." He looked particularly hard at Harry. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of the school to see me, alright? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

Harry almost snorted at this, but took on a slightly cowed look and nodded his head as he toed at the ground.

Considering that Barty Crouch was currently impersonating his defense teacher, he was probably in a lot more danger in the school, than out. But he wasn't about to go telling Sirius, or anyone about his suspicions regarding Crouch.

"Alright Sirius," he said with a weak smile.

"Good. I'll feel a lot better when this ruddy tournament is over. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. "I'll walk to the edge of the village with you," Sirius said, "see if I can scrounge another paper."

He transformed into the great black dog before they left the cave, and they walked back down the mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of them to pat him on the head, before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back into Hogsmeade and up towards Hogwarts.

– –

AN: ** several passages from previous chapter were taken from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

– –

Harry was exceedingly frustrated that he wasn't able to get down to the Chamber that night, but Ron and Hermione had pounced on him as soon as they were back at the school about not having told them about Snape and Karkaroff. It was difficult, but Harry continued to play it off as having just slipped his mind. They didn't seem entirely convinced, but he didn't honestly care. They'd get over it.

Sunday Harry managed to give them the slip and went down into the chamber, and back into Slytherin's study. His companion joined him in his mind and directed Harry to Slytherin's desk and told him to feel along the bottom of the desk and hiss out a parsel release spell. Once accomplished, a thin book fell down onto the floor from its place, stuck to the underside of the desk.

It looked incredibly delicate, and Harry feared that the ancient parchment would crumble under the pressure of his fingers. He set the book onto the desk with incredible gentleness and fingered the cover gingerly.

He opened it to the first page and instantly realized that the damn book was not in English.

"Okay... so what language is this?" Harry asked his companion with mild frustration. It didn't even look familiar.

It is... Elbirin... Old Aldric...

Harry blinked. "That, unfortunately, means absolutely nothing to me."

Old Aldric was the language... of the British Elves... prior to the Tartessian War... and the Celtic takeover in Britain.

Harry looked back down at the book with greater curiosity. Elves!

"I take it, that you aren't talking about house elves?"

House elves... are the punished... perverted descendants of those... who defied... the elven high council...

That didn't actually explain anything to Harry – if anything, it brought more curiosities, but he expected as much from his companion, and didn't bother to press the subject. He did wonder if he had stayed awake in more of his History of Magic classes, if Professor Binns ever talked about any of this in between his endless rantings on goblin rebellions. He certainly had no recollection of anything called the Tartessian War, or any discussions on an ancient elven race in Britain.

"Alright... so this is in an ancient elvish language. Is there a way I can translate it? Or would the house elves know it?"

It is... lost... to the punished ones... There is a book... on the language... go to the far corner... by the mirror...

Harry did as he was directed and was gradually led to an almost horrifyingly large book on the Old Aldric language. He thumbed through the enormous old tome with widened eyes.

'Phonology' was the first section. In it, it described the consonants, then vowels and something called 'vowel harmony'. Next the 'Phonotactics', accent, and linking?

Next section was called 'Morphology'. It covered roots, affixes, word formation on derivation and compounding, and then the book got into the nouns and adjectives, propositions, pronouns, verbs, tenses and conjugation...

Harry felt utterly overwhelmed. Was he going to have to learn an entire bloody language just to translate this book?

He sighed and let his head fall onto the desk in front of him. He was not looking forward to this.

He picked up the enormous book on Old Aldric and began reading the first chapter. After an hour, he left the chamber with a headache and the language book in his bag. He wasn't willing to take the other one out of the chamber with him, since it was far too old and fragile looking. He would have to do his translation work only in the chamber, but he could still read up on the language while in the common room.

– –

The rest of the week dragged on. Harry was anxious for Defense and the opportunity to continue his investigation into 'Moody', and if he was being honest with himself, he had a deep, powerful desire to do something utterly reckless, pertaining to the man. He was still in the process of talking himself out of it though. Despite what he wanted to do, and what he needed to do, he had to wait because he didn't actually have Defense until Thursdays, and couldn't come up with a good excuse to approach Moody out of the blue.

Monday was Herbology, which was boring, but bearable; and then Care of Magical Creatures, which was anything but boring, and only occasionally bearable. After lunch, however, was Divination, which was never bearable at all. They were working on Shell Scrying at the moment, which Harry found utterly idiotic.

The idea was that you hold a sea shell up to your ear and the 'sounds of the ocean' that you heard from it would eventually turn into little voices from sea spirits or some such nonsense, that would whisper prophetic things to you.

The whole exercise just grated on Harry's nerves, and made him wonder that much more about this mystery prophecy that had set the dark lord against him, and utterly fucked up his entire life.

Tuesday was History of Magic – boring – and then Potions after lunch. Harry's performance in Potions class had improved steadily over the term. He had a pretty firm grasp on ingredient interaction, and proper preparation now – or at least a good grasp on how to look it up and cross-reference things correctly. Something which Snape had never actually explained to them, but had somehow expected them to just magically know.

Because of his improved performance, and his tendency to actually know the answers to every question Snape threw at him – thanks mostly to his companion, who stayed in Harry's aware mind almost every potions lesson – Snape had significantly cut back on how often he actually called on Harry in class. This suited Harry just fine, and that trend continued as they brewed a Cough Away potion.

Wednesdays Harry only had a single class – Charms – and spent the rest of the day down in the chamber, slowly working on the translation of the book. He was at least relieved that the ancient, crumbling tomb was thin. It was only about fifty pages long from what he could tell, so at least he wouldn't have to spend an eternity to translate some enormous 800-page book to get to his answers. Translating fifty pages he could deal with. At least... he hoped so.

His work was slow and tedious. He had a new bound notebook of parchment specifically just for translating the book, and was slowly making his way through translating the early pages. From what he could tell so far, it seemed like a log of some historical events in the ancient elven race's history. Nothing that seemed to apply to Voldemort's so called 'task'.

Late into the evening, Harry's stomach reminded him that he had been down there for an extremely long time, and he finally climbed back out of the chamber and made a quick detour to the kitchens before heading up to the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione's curiosity was becoming more and more annoying with each passing day, and this evening, it unfortunately hit an all time peak. The second he entered the common room, she set in on him, asking him where he'd been all day and what he had been doing. She dragged him out of the common room and into a nearby empty classroom so that they could speak privately, but this only irritated Harry further since it denoted the expectation, on Hermione's part, that Harry would be telling her what he'd been up to.

Harry had been using the excuse that he had been jogging around the lake to get into better form, and then practicing various hexes by aiming at trees and into the water. Today, she had apparently gone out to the lake to look for him and seen that he was not there.

"Harry, I just want to know where you were!" she moaned in frustration after several minutes of annoying bickering. "Why won't you just tell me? What are you hiding from us Harry! We're your friends! You know you can trust us!"

"Do I? Do I really know that?" Harry shot back, finally growing too irritated to maintain a friendly mask, or make any more excuses.

"What do you mean?" Hermione said, flinching back as if she had just been slapped.

"Tell me, Hermione – what reasons have I got to trust either you or Ron?"

"Harry! You know you can trust us! We're you're friends!"

"Yeah, were you my friends last November after my name got pulled out of that blasted cup?"

"How many times do I have to apologize for that, Harry! I'm sorry! I was an idiot! I swear I won't ever abandon you again like that!"

"And I'm just supposed to trust that, am I?"

"Yes!"

"The way I look at it is I can trust that you guys will be there for me; base all my plans on having you two there, to rely on if I end up in a pinch, and then end up getting utterly screwed if either of you bail on me again, or aren't there when things go south. Or I can just plan for it all on my own and be prepared to handle whatever comes at me on my own. Personally, I prefer to be prepared to handle things without the need of any assistance, because chances are, when the shit hits the fan, I'm not going to have any assistance."

"Harry..." Hermione whimpered as her lip quivered. "But we can help you! You don't have to tackle the whole world alone!"

"You can't help me in the third task, Hermione. No one can. I'm going to be going into whatever deathly task they come up with, all alone."

"But Harry..."

"No, Hermione. I'm done with this conversation. What I do and where I go everyday is my business. Now BACK OFF!"

Harry spun away from her and stormed out of the classroom, down the corridor, and back into the common room before storming up the stairs towards the boy's dorm.

He was sick of them. All of them. Merlin he needed to get the hell away from the school for a while.

[obaewankenope]

IT’S DONE! OMG IT’S DONE! IT’S 6.8K AND IT’S  D O N E

Summary:

“An owl, cat, or toad—what the fuck?” Crowley complains and Aziraphale smacks him on the arm for cursing.

“Crowley! Language!” the angel gasps, plucking the letter from the demons hand to read it himself. “Well—that is—it’s a little restrictive, I’ll admit,” he says, frowning a little at the list and specifications. “But if those are the only options—”

“Then we’ll make new options,” Crowley declares and Harry—enjoying the rebelliousness of his uncle Crowley immensely—nods vigorously.

If you don’t wanna read it on AO3 then click the read more and you can read it here :)

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Harry’s letter is unsurprising for Crowley and Aziraphale for several reasons: number one) Harry has performed minor feats of magic ever since he began living with them above Aziraphale’s shop[1]. Number two) there are a select number of books in Aziraphale’s shop that are, to put it delicately, not for the mundane[2]. These books have been found and read by Harry with no damaging side-effects except when one specific chapter gave Harry the idea that levitation was a neat idea and thus must be performed at all times[3]. And, lastly, number three) several instances of poorly-disguised wizards appearing in the shop and trying to abscond with Harry only to be thwarted either by Harry himself, Aziraphale miracling them somewhere rather Unpleasant—he still refuses to tell Crowley where—or Crowley himself transforming into a rather terrifying serpent and constricting them to the point of unconsciousness before sending them to a cow field that is particularly pungent-smelling[4].

The requirements for his education, however, leave something to be desired.

“An owl, cat, or toad—what the fuck?” Crowley complains and Aziraphale smacks him on the arm for cursing.

“Crowley! Language!” the angel gasps, plucking the letter from the demons hand to read it himself. “Well—that is—it’s a little restrictive, I’ll admit,” he says, frowning a little at the list and specifications. “But if those are the only options—”

“Then we’ll make new options,” Crowley declares and Harry—enjoying the rebelliousness of his uncle Crowley immensely—nods vigorously.

“It’d be awesome if I could take a dog!” Harry exclaims and Crowley is a little put out since he was considering a snake, but this is Harry and if he wants a dog, then a dog he shall have[5]. “I could take it to class with me!”

Aziraphale laughs lightly. “I don’t think they would allow you to take your dog to class, Harry,” he says, quite reasonably.

“Why not?” Challenges Crowley. “The dog’d[6] be his familiar wouldn’t it? Stands to reason they’d have to let the kids have their animals with them whenever they want.”

Harry beams at this and Aziraphale gives Crowley a Frowny Look—the kind that says “you are being deliberately oppositional now and I know it so stop it”—that makes Crowley smile brightly at him.

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale begrudgingly agrees, letting himself smile a little at the prospect of the type of mischief a boy and his dog can get up to in a classroom. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

Diagon Alley is, in a word, disastrous. Crowley and Aziraphale bracket themselves around Harry like parentheses[7] and act as a tidal wall to break the waves of people milling about the—well-diagonal alley full of wizarding shops and wizarding people.

“Why does he even need a wand? Kid’s got plenty of magic, can just point and click his fingers like we do, can’t he?” Crowley asks for what is probably the dozenth time—it is in fact, the fourteenth time and Aziraphale has been counting—as they reach the wandmakers shop. “Pointless waste of wood if you ask me.”

“Yes, but we’re not asking you,” Aziraphale snips, as he pushes the door to the shop open. “Harry requires a wand to focus his magic, unlike us, now hush. We’re supposed to be normal.”

“Normal, pfft!” Crowley saunters in behind Aziraphale and Harry, shrugging derisively at Aziraphale when the angel gives him a sharp look. “We’re in a shop selling wands, angel. Not exactly normal.”

“I—well—yes but, more normal than—than us,” Aziraphale admits quietly, frowning at Crowley who just smirks at him. “Stop being annoying, Crowley. Now is not the time.”

“Oh I disagree, angel,” Crowley looks around the shop. “Being annoying is a full-time gig.”

Aziraphale ignores the demon, focusing instead on Harry and not giving Crowley what-for in a verbal manner. The shop is rather dusty and dark, obviously in need of a good cleaning, but Aziraphale can recognise the signs of someone who deeply loves their craft in the way the boxes, although dusty, are in perfect condition. This Ollivander fellow is obviously capable, then.

“Ah, Harry Potter.”

And incredibly creepy.

Both angel and demon step up beside Harry, protective and perfectly capable of being creepy and intimidating themselves if needed—though Crowley is skipping both and going for a more terrifying vibe. The old man—wizard—wandmaker steps into view from behind a drab curtain and reveals a head of hair that would rival Albert’s for chaotic[8].

“Yes! Hello there! You must be the—uh—the proprietor of this establishment!” Aziraphale says, pasting on a polite smile that is a little too false and only a little bit obviously fake for that reason. “We’ve come to enquire about a—well—a wand for our nephew here!”

The wandmaker stares at Aziraphale and Crowley stood on either side of Harry—a happy, healthy-looking, completely okay with the protectiveness of them both Harry—and makes a decision.

“Very well, I have a selection for you to choose from.”

Aziraphale relaxes with a floosh of breath but Crowley, ever the paranoid sort, remains alert and wary until they procure a wand for Harry—paying for it with the money the wizarding world has created on its own, a strange currency but Crowley is good with numbers so not a problem really—and escape the wand shop with only a minor bit of weird creepy talk from the wandmaker[9].

The rest of the shops are easy—although they do go to Gringotts in order to enquire about Harry’s family vault—and they are in and out of Diagon Alley by teatime. As a result, they—and by ‘they’ I mean, ‘Aziraphale and Harry’—declare that they really want food and angel cake and thus all of them end up in a little café near to the pub that acts as the entry point to Diagon Alley in London.

All-in-all, it is an enjoyable trip that gives Harry a taste of what the magical world-proper is like. It whets his appetite even more and by the time September rolls around, the eleven-year-old wizard is bouncing around the bookshop and flat like a bouncy ball that’s been flung with considerable strength. He won’t admit it, but Crowley is partly relieved Harry is attending a boarding school for most of the year, but the larger part of him that has grown ruthlessly attached to the child is sad and forlorn.

Thus, it is no surprise that Crowley—having caved and gotten Harry a dog that was a simple mongrel mix but may also, possibly, have had a little bit more wolf in it than is typical—travels to Hogwarts and assumes the position of Care of Magical Creatures at the school in order to keep an eye on his nephew.

It is also no surprise that Aziraphale also heads to Hogwarts to watch over both Harry and Crowley and pretend that he is offering positive guidance to a child with a Great Future for the benefit of heaven[10]. The Sorting Feast is, as a result of this, incredibly amusing for Harry when he recognises both of his uncles have somehow figured out a way to be at Hogwarts even though neither of them are wizards[11].

Harry is pleased to note that he is placed in the same house as his parents—although he doesn’t remember them, having the association of being in the same Hogwarts house as them is comforting for the orphaned child regardless of the fact that he may have been better suited for any of the other houses[12]. Both Aziraphale and Crowley notice the way Albus I’m-so-smart-and-sneaky Dumbledore is pleased by Harry’s sorting and, while they don’t begrudge Harry the connection to his parents, are Displeased by Dumbledore’s shitty attitude.

By the end of Harry’s first night at Hogwarts, Crowley and Aziraphale have firmly cemented in the minds of their fellow staff that they are: “very strange but in a sweet way” (Aziraphale), “very probably evil wizards intent on killing us all” (Crowley), and, lastly, “very much in love but denying it” (both). All of the guesses are somewhat right, though neither Crowley or Aziraphale have any intention of Clearing Things Up since they both enjoy a bit of chaos—even if Aziraphale pretends otherwise, Crowley knows him too well to think the angel would ever pass up a chance at messing with people.

Of their fellow staff members, three are Problematic For Various Reasons. The first is, naturally, Albus Dumbledore; headmaster and stupid prick who leaves orphans with racist, xenophobic, nasty people. The second is Severus Snape; potions master and a Generally Unpleasant Person who Crowley feels would get along well with Hastur and Ligur. Last but not least is Quirinus Quirrell; defence against the dark arts—“the dark arts? How pretentious is that, angel?” Crowley mocks when he hears about it—and absolute chicken who is afraid of his own shadow.

Although Quirrell doesn’t strike them as the type to be dangerous, the DADA professor is far too timid to be of Any Real Use and—as Crowley mentions to Aziraphale under his breath after meeting him—there’s something “strange about his smell; no it’s not the garlic, I know what garlic smells like!”.

Dog-the-mongrel-with-a-bit-of-wolf-in-her[13] has had a ball of a time with Hogwarts but, generally, is seldom seen in the castle. Like most of the pets the students have, she wanders the grounds and enjoys the freedom of Scottish geography in the way any canine with a bit more wolf than most enjoys it; by hunting poor little rabbits and terrorising any cat that crosses her path.

Harry makes friends quickly, befriending a young witch called Hermione Granger—“a lovely name, Hermione! It means ‘princess of Hermes’ you know?” Aziraphale exclaims, smiling brightly at the bushy-haired girl when Harry introduces her to him—with ease after mentioning how his “uncle Aziraphale owns a bookshop in London”, and a young wizard by the name of Ronald “Ron” Weasley—“oh, he has red hair like you, Crowley dear!” Aziraphale grins at the dark look Crowley gives him but both of them are polite enough even when ‘Ron’ gawps at them for being “Harry Potter’s uncles!”[14].

He regularly visits both of them outside of class, towing Hermione and Ron along with him and it reassures both angel and demon to see their de facto son with peers his own age that know about magic and can Understand Him That Way. In London it had been much harder considering they enrolled him in a nearby primary school and had to keep explaining to Harry that regular people—non-magical and non-immortal in this case—don’t understand Harry for his magic and while the children will like it, their parents will—to put it mildly—‘freak the fuck out’[15].

Halloween is, in a word, disastrous. The day starts off like any other day, though the students are more hyped up for the feast later on than on other days. Crowley finds that he’s a surprisingly decent teacher—especially when he ropes in one Rubeus Hagrid as an assistant for practical and theoretical lessons combined[16]—and has no problem exposing the children to creatures that could easily kill them if they’re not careful[17]. It endears him to most of the students if not, naturally, to their parents—or members of staff who think him Unprofessional or Whatever Other Rubbish They Harp On About Him In The Staffroom for actually enjoying the teaching and engaging with his students creatively[18].

By the time lunch comes around on Halloween, there are rumours galore about this and that and Crowley—being the demon he is—helps seed some of his own for the sake of it. It’s quite pleasant, come to think of it, and instantly Crowley knows that it cannot last. Halloween is a day of change, of thinning things and stranger happenings and he’s never known a single Halloween day to go well for him. Not since 1702.

It is for that reason that Crowley is the first to react when Quirrell comes barging through the doors of the Great Hall looking paler than the DADA professor ever has—a feat indeed for the pasty professor who seldom leaves his classroom save for meals—and proclaims “TROLLLLLLLLLLL! TROLLLL IN THE DUNGEOONNNNNNN! Thought you ought to know” and dead-faints in the middle of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

He’s up and over the staff table—legs doing the usual thing they do when he ignores physics and How Legs Work Entirely—and half-way down the gap between the tables before the first scream leaves a students’ throat.

“Not to worry!” He bellows cheerfully, passing the unconscious Quirrell and giving the professor a sly kick in the process. “I’ll handle it! Haven’t had me a fight with a troll in centuries, ha!”

“Crowley don’t you dare!” Aziraphale shouts after him, rising from the staff table, but the demon ignores him with glib glee to head for the troll and beat it senseless—or whatever else he’s going to do to it, no one in the Great Hall rightly knows.

But the sight of the Care of Magical Creatures professor gleefully heading towards the dungeon does a more spectacular job of dissolving the fear and tension Quirrell’s words had elicited in the whole hall. Aziraphale stood glaring at the doors adds a measure of amusement to the whole affair that has Dumbledore trying to save face by declaring that the “feast shall continue but no students are permitted to leave the hall until Professor Crowley returns” before he, McGonagall and Snape all leave.

Aziraphale is curious about where they’re going but, considering that Harry is still in the Great Hall, he remains himself and gives Harry a reassuring smile. Both of them know Crowley will fair better than the troll—no matter what size it is—since he’s a demon and turns into a snake, but they worry regardless.

“Harry, your uncle is mental,” Ron says to Harry who nods and grins.

“He’s a demon, says it’s in his nature,” Harry replies and Ron just shrugs and takes another bite of the chicken drumstick in his hand.

“Fair enuff.”

When Crowley returns to the Great Hall, he’s got a few scratches and his sunglasses are hanging off one ear revealing his eyes, but he’s grinning widely and saunters up to Harry to throw an arm over his shoulder.

“That was brilliant, that was, right laugh!” Crowley declares, enjoying the wide-eyed, awe-filled stares he’s getting from the Gryffindors surrounding Harry. “Never had to tell a Troll to Troll-off before!”

“Crowley you utter fool!” Aziraphale exclaims from behind him, hands coming up to grasp at the edges of the demon’s robes. “Look at the state of you! You didn’t even clean yourself up—have to always make an entrance.”

“You love it, angel,” Crowley says, grinning at Aziraphale who huffs out a little smile of his own.

“Honestly, must I do everything myself?” The angel questions sarcastically, snapping his fingers and Crowley’s robes are miraculously clean and neat, his hair less ruffled, and the scratches healed. The only thing Aziraphale doesn’t fix are Crowley’s sunglasses, which he plucks off instead and pockets in his own robes. “You have such lovely eyes, Crowley, I do wish you wouldn’t hide them away all the time.”

This leaves Crowley wordless long enough for Harry to giggle along with half the table at his shocked expression levelled at the angel. It’s an amusing expression, to be fair.

“Right,” Crowley croaks, clearing his throat and looking away from Aziraphale to give Harry a Look. “Enough of that, you,” he says to Harry who continues to giggle before he and Aziraphale head back to the staff table for the rest of the feast.

By the time Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape return, the feast is again in full swing, Crowley is lounging in Dumbledore’s thro- chair and Aziraphale is sat in McGonagall’s seat nattering away to the demon with a soft smile on his face[19].

Neither of them seem willing to give up their chosen seats for the night and thus Dumbledore is consigned to sitting next to Snape where there is a strained correspondence of Looks and Words while McGonagall enjoys sitting in Aziraphale’s usual seat next to Hagrid and having a lively discussion with the assistant CoMC professor.

Christmas holidays begin with the same sort of fanfare the Christmas season always brings out in people: absolute chaos. Students running around the castle searching for misplaced items, professors all-but pulling their hair out over essays that have to be handed in still, and a librarian on the war path for every unreturned book in the Hogwarts library.

Harry loves every second of it—even if he could do without the essays.

It is, by group consensus, agreed that they shall return to London for the duration of the holiday period, though Harry is allowed to visit his friends as they both are heading home—although Hermione is reluctant as she cannot access the Hogwarts library from home, until Aziraphale mentions his bookshop and how she can study there if she wishes to, then she is single-handedly planning her Christmas holidays for her family to include as much time at the bookshop as possible. Crowley only has one stipulation; he meets their families first[20].

The meeting is short and sweet, mostly owing to Aziraphale’s determined approach to it all, but Crowley and Molly Weasley come to a terse agreement where neither will ruin the other because Harry Likes Them And It Would Upset Harry[21]. Harry enjoys his time at the Weasley home—“it’s called The Burrow, how cool is that?”—but admits that he loves being with his uncles more than with his friend’s family because—“you love me for me, not because of my name”—and that doesn’t make Crowley or Aziraphale burst into tears; except that it does.

Crowley blames it on allergies to Christmas pudding and Aziraphale hits him with a spatula for saying such a cruel thing about pudding. Harry’s laughter makes their Christmas all the more enjoyable but by the time the new term arrives, the three of them are happy to make their way back to Hogwarts for the rest of the school year.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron end up in detention with Draco Malfoy after attempting to have a duel with the young boy. They are caught by Crowley and McGonagall—had it been only Crowley they’d have gotten away with it, but McGonagall is a stickler and thus they were stickled—and their detention is a stint in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid looking for unicorns. It is, at this point, that Harry discovers a new Fascination that he shares with Hermione and Ron but won’t tell his uncles just yet.

“Not until I’m sure, I don’t want them to think I’m stupid” Harry says to his friends after they return to the tower and settle on one of the couches near the still burning fire. It’s past midnight but it is a weekend and thus they needn’t be up godawful early for classes. Both Hermione and Ron frown at Harry for his stubborn refusal to talk about his scar, the cloaked figure in the forest, and the general number of suspicions he has about Things with his uncles.

“As if they’d think you’re stupid, Harry, they bloody adore you mate” Ron replies, shaking his head at his friend. “Seriously, they’re mental about you.”

Hermione agrees. “Ron’s right Harry, you should tell them”. The look she gives him is very much one she has learnt from Aziraphale and conveys the perfect amount of you-are-being-stupid as well as you’re-lucky-I-love-you that Harry smiles a little.

“Maybe,” Harry hedges, before he distracts them both with talk of their latest essay for potions.

Aziraphale and Crowley are content—mostly—to wait until Harry comes to them and shares his Fascination with them since he’s always done that before. They trust that Harry will come to them if he’s in danger however, they both forget that, although they’ve had Harry for three years now, nine years of his life were spent not trusting adults to Act Particularly Adult and, as such, Harry sometimes lets old habits rule his actions.

Earlier on in the year, Dog-the-mongrel had tried to scare a particularly smug-looking tabby cat only to get the shock of her life when said tabby cat transformed into an unimpressed witch with a pointed hat and even pointier words for her and her owner. At that point, Crowley had introduced Dog-the-mongrel to Hagrid and Fang which had been, overall, the Best Idea Ever. Harry gained a new friend in Hagrid and Fang gained a protective companion that made going into the Forbidden Forest an absolute breeze considering she seemed more terrifying than anything in the forest itself[22].

Summer begins and classes start to wrap up as exams are set up and students begin to stress about revising and passing and failing and which subjects they want to continue with and so on. Crowley tells his classes that anyone who doesn’t kill whatever creature and can at least write their own name is allowed to continue with Care of Magical Creatures. This results in him being buried under a pile of seriously stressed out fifth years who have been panicking over studying for all their classes on top of the suddenly heavy workload CoMC has given then since Crowley took over[23].

Aziraphale takes great pleasure in being able to loan out books laden in charms and spells designed to protect them from students destroying them but with the exam-season, he’s a little frazzled around the edges when certain students test these charms and spells to their limits. Crowley wisely doesn’t irritate the angel for a few days, preferring instead to let Aziraphale focus on not accidentally smiting any of the students who return books that are a little worse for wear[24].

Four days into June, Harry, Ron, and Hermione undertake a truly idiotic task of trying to get the Philosopher’s Stone before a certain evil professor can. They mistakenly think it is Snape who is after the stone when it is, in fact, the snivelling coward Quirrell, but at least they did some pretty good logical thinking to reach their initial conclusions. Ron is side-lined by a giant chess set where he gets walloped by a stone Queen. Hermione outlasts Ron by one more test but can’t get past the rest as it is a One Person Only kind of deal—and also they’re tests that Crowley and Aziraphale designed and Harry knows the Answers but he won’t tell Hermione since she needs to Warn Someone[25].

“But Dumbledore isn’t at the school!” Hermione exclaims, upset and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Forget Dumbledore,” he instructs, holding Hermione by the shoulders to keep her focused on him. “Tell my uncles. They’ll be in the library; uncle Crowley always bothers uncle Zira there because uncle Zira basically lives there.” Harry gives Hermione a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Just tell them. And get Ron some help too.”

Crowley and Aziraphale appear in time to stop Quirrell from trying to kill Harry, though their appearance is a less dramatic than that of Dog-the-mongrel who bursts through a literally wall of fire to savage Quirrell’s legs with the ferocity of a dog intent on protecting its master.

This doesn’t stop both demon and angel from attacking Quirrell, they simply don’t bother to get in Dog-the-mongrel’s way and leave her to Quirrell’s rather tasty and meaty calves. Aziraphale summons a weapon of celestial being—not The Flaming Sword but rather a small Flaming Dagger that is just as effective even if its reach is shorter—to jab at Quirrell with while Crowley goes the traditional route and slams a fist into the side of the DADA professor’s jaw.

This coincidentally reveals the distorted face on the back of Quirrell’s head when his turban is knocked off by the force of Crowley’s punch. Thusly, Aziraphale has a brand-new target for his Flaming Dagger and gleefully slashes at the face of the-once-Lord-Voldemort.

The possessed professor lashes out with wandless magic, disrupting Crowley and Aziraphale long enough to wrap his fingers around Harry’s neck, only to cry out in pain when the fingers begin to sizzle and burn from the contact.

“Oi! Get off him!” Crowley shouts, grabbing the shoulder of Possessed Professor and dragging him away from Harry, accidentally unfurling his wings from his back with the force he has to exert. The wings flare behind him, four instead of two because this isn’t just Crowley-being-a-demon, this is Crowley-who-was-an-Archangel-and-is-Angry and this Crowley will not let someone hurt a kid.

Especially Harry.

Aziraphale takes the opportunity presented by Crowley pulling Possessed Professor away from their adopted son and confusing him with four wings mysteriously sprouting from Crowley’s back, to slam the Flaming Dagger into the chest of Possessed Professor. This elicits a pained shriek from Quirrell and the face on the back of his head—obviously owing to the fact that the face is evil and Quirrell evil-by-association-via-possession—and both Crowley and Aziraphale watch in honest surprise as smokey-dust flakes off of Quirrell’s body, both from the back of his head and his hands.

Before their eyes—and Dog-the-mongrel who has released her hold on Quirrell’s leg now that it’s sort of collapsing in on itself—Harry, Crowley, and Aziraphale watch Quirrell disintegrate until there’s nothing more than a pile of dust and a vaguely face-shaped smoke shadow shouting obscenities at them which Crowley rolls his eyes at and snaps his fingers[26].

The smoke shadow is promptly removed from their vicinity, sent to some random forest in Romania where it can stay for however long it likes so long as it doesn’t come near Harry, just in time for Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Severus Snape to burst through the wall of flames, wands drawn.

“What happened?” McGonagall questions, striding over to Harry worriedly, even though she keeps her wand up and has a suspicious expression on her face as she survey Crowley and Aziraphale.

“Harry stopped the now deceased Quirrell from stealing a priceless artefact,” Crowley drawls, rocking on his feet and giving McGonagall a smile. It’s the kind of smile he gives people to try and be appeasing but it’s really just annoying. “You can thank him later, he needs some sleep and fixing up from fighting with a plant earlier.”

“Also flying keys that attacked me,” Harry pipes up, helpfully, and Crowley nods.

“And those.”

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are in any mood to explain to the three professors what the fuck just happened—Harry is shaking, the shock hitting after the adrenaline has fled his system, and he is their priority thank you very much—so they simple freeze time and abscond with him to their living space inside the library to get some much-needed rest.

They also, possibly, sit Harry down and have a very Detailed Discussion about how he can come to them with anything; “yes, even if it’s stupid and pointless” Crowley has to reassure Harry that he’s not in trouble but that they’d rather he actually tell them Before The Bad Stuff Happens.

Albus Dumbledore shows up at the door an hour later, supremely unimpressed with their Shenanigans and—in the way that Dumbledore does best—demands an explanation.

Crowley, instead of explaining, happily informs Dumbledore that the only reason neither he nor Aziraphale have murdered the stupid fucking idiot is because “it’d cause way too much paperwork” for their “respective offices” and to “get the fuck out and leave Harry alone”.

Crowley may also tell Dumbledore in no uncertain terms that Harry is staying with them for good and that no wizard is a match for them and also:

“If you think I’m letting him go back to that nasty cow of an aunt of his then you’re absolutely fucking bonkers! He’s staying with us and you’ll have to kill me to take him,” Crowley says and it’s no joke, it’s not an exaggeration. It’s a Fact.

It is a Proclamation.

Heaven couldn’t kill Crowley. Hell couldn’t kill him. Like fuck will a wizard with awful fucking dress-sense manage what those two places cannot. Like. Fuck.

“You will also—I’m afraid—have to go through me,” Aziraphale declares, coming to stand beside Crowley in their little living space where Harry has a room to himself if he ever needs it—like now. “And I’m not a fan of fighting really. But I will! For Harry.”

Dumbledore stares at the both and he’s trying to read their minds but they’re over six thousand years old and no human can possibly understand that sort of scale of existence. He can’t even fathom how they think let alone what they are, and it’s a vexed, put out Dumbledore that leaves them alone twenty minutes later after agreeing to their ‘demands’.

Madam Pomfrey isn’t nearly as easy to deal with when she learns they absconded with her patient. It took Crowley an hour and a half of relentless grilling by the healer—and then a hands-on demonstration of his skill—before she begrudgingly accepted that Harry was Perfectly Okay and Crowley knew what he was doing[27].

The end of year feast is entertaining because Gryffindor wins and Harry is hoisted up by the Weasley twins who are cheering loudly for him. Hermione and Ron are hoisted up as well since they managed to get their house the windfall of points needed to steamroller over Slytherin. Crowley secretly thinks Dumbledore did the points during the feast just to be Dramatic, but he can’t be too mad about it when Harry gives him the biggest smile he’s ever seen on the kids face since that day he took him away from Number Four.

Harry returns to London via the Hogwarts Express while Aziraphale and Crowley just teleport over—though they utilise Crowley’s Bentley for the teleportation as it’s not exactly difficult for him to take a vehicle containing their belongings and themselves as a vessel for transport—to the station and pick him up the moment he’s peeled himself away from the Weasley family and the Granger family.

Together they return to the bookshop and enjoy the summer in London until a large-eyed, very dedicated House-Elf shows up and tries to ruin it all. But that is a story for another time.

.

[1] His first feat had been magicking himself a plate of rather delicious pink wafers (these are tasty bis- cook- we call them biscuits okay, Americans, accept it) from the cupboard because he was engrossed in watching a documentary about sharks on TV and was hungry at the same time. Aziraphale witnessed the resulting appearance of the delicious snacks and went about miracling himself some as well. Both of them had discovered an entire channel of documentaries and, unfortunately for Crowley, they loved watching them at all times.

[2] Mundane as human without magical abilities and, also, mundane as people who are a little Too Dull to imagine any of the contents of the books as possible even with magical abilities. Harry—being not at all mundane—found the books fascinating.

[3] Crowley found the situation to be hilarious considering the chaos Harry caused up to the point where the child decided to levitate himself up to the skylight and sit on the edging of it precariously with a snack. At that point, Crowley conceded that Aziraphale was right and Harry had to Stop Levitating This Instant. Harry, needless to say, was Not Pleased with this development. He did, however, do as requested and limited his levitating to only a few feet rather than a few hundred.

[4] Naturally, it goes without saying, that Crowley and Aziraphale both modify the memories of these individuals to ensure they don’t return. This, also, allows them information on who keeps sending these people. It is for this reason—and many others—that neither demon nor angel are particularly impressed with one Albus—six-dozen-middle-names-Dumbledore.

[5]Dogs, generally, are not something Crowley particularly likes. They tend to always chew on his trousers and his shoes whenever he leaves them around. However, although he isn’t their greatest fan, Crowley has never left a dog alone or in a bad situation. He has, then, at various points in his life, rescued several hundred canines that he has rehomed with families or individuals who will appreciate them as they ought to be appreciated. This is a fact about Crowley that Aziraphale knows in the Abstract but Crowley will Never Willingly Admit.

[6] This is actually “the dog would be” but Crowley is lazy with pronunciation at times, preferring to squash words and letters together until half of them are missing.

[7] Yes, that is a pun, what of it?

[8] Albert Einstein was a personal friend of Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s at one point or another in time. They both considered his later hairstyle to be, in a word, crazy but the style suited the physicist perfectly; it does not suit Garrick Ollivander.

[9] “The wand chooses the wizard, mister Potter!” Crowley had really wanted to ask how a piece of wood does that when choosing implies sentience and awareness of there being a choice, but the wandmaker distracted him with talk of how the wand Harry now possesses is a twin of the one that gave him the lightning scar on his forehead. The demon has Plans to return to Ollivander’s at a later date to pester the wandmaker but he refuses to take Harry in there ever again. Garrick Ollivander is too creepy for Crowley’s tastes and Harry is not to be exposed to too-creepy-even-for-uncle-Crowley things.

[10] Aziraphale, rather conveniently, replaces a rather unhappy, irritable, librarian who longed for retirement but trusted no one to be able to care for her precious books until she met Aziraphale and met a kindred book-loving-to-the-point-of-violence soul and accepted her generous retirement package from Hogwarts.

[11] They existed long before magic was a thing for humanity and will, hopefully, exist long after humanity also. As such, Harry only calls them wizards when it is necessary. Otherwise, they are ‘angel’ and ‘demon’ respectively.

[12] The Sorting Hat, at one point, all but begs Harry to consider the other houses but, unfortunately for it, it had answered Harry’s question of which houses his parents had been in and—thusly—ruined its own chances of having a bright child in the Smart house, a sly child in the Sly house, a loyal child in the Loyal house, and ended up with a child-who-is-all-of-those-things-and-more-because-children-should-not-be-pidgeon-holed-at-eleven into the Brave house.

[13] Dog-the-mongrel is not to be confused with just Dog who happens to also be a hellhound. This is Harry Potter, not Adam Young, and Harry is the Saviour of the magical world of Britain—because they cannot save themselves apparently—not the antichrist as is the case with Adam Young.

[14] One child that Harry does not make friends with is Draco Malfoy. The Malfoy boy is rude to Ron at just the wrong moment and, although Harry has been raised by Crowley and Aziraphale, this act by Draco results in Harry rejecting Draco’s offer of friendship while publicly scolding the other eleven-year-old for being rude and derisive for no reason other than “for the sake of it”. Ron officially loves Harry after this and is absolutely stoked to be friends with him.

[15] Harry had been most put out by this and had only accepted the necessity of it when the TV miraculously showed a documentary about the witch hunts in Europe and discussed how modern-day witch-hunters still “walk among us”. The irony isn’t lost on Crowley or Aziraphale that they do, in fact, know an actual witch-hunter by the name of Shadwell but they both decided to keep the eccentric man away from Harry at all costs.

[16] Albus Dumbledore had raised a complaint about Crowley’s decision for only as long as he could blink before the demon had told him—rather loudly—to “FUCK RIGHT OFF TELLING ME WHO I CAN HAVE AS MY ASSISTANT YOU COLOUR-CODED DISASTER” and storming out of Dumbledore’s office, taking extra care to cause a lot of chaotic damage to various objects in the magpie nest it was.

[17] Crowley had impressed this upon them all in every class by periodically assuming the form of one of the creatures they were to ‘care’ for and terrorising them with it until he decided They Got The Point and transforming back to his human shape. Oddly enough, the children now looked forward to his lessons and figuring out which of the creatures he was in the group—though none of them tried to figure it out by being rude, mean, or cruel to any of the creatures as they’d received a lot of detentions with the new librarian who was only cheerful until he learned who had sent them to him; then he was Scary.

[18] Crowley is quite certain that if someone told Severus Snape or Minerva McGonagall to approve their lessons with fun in mind, they’d likely explode; the former because he’s a Nasty Nastier and the latter because she is Traditional Teaching Only Thank You Very Much You English Dog. Crowley likes McGonagall for her no-nonsense attitude in life but she could stand to loosen up a little more—let her hair down, hex Snape a few times, chase some birds, that sort of thing.

[19] Quirrell had been left unconscious on the floor between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables as none of the staff or students have any desire to deal with the dramatics of the man.

[20] This is more to do with Ron’s family since they’re magical and if they had half a mind to, they could steal Harry and then he and Aziraphale would have to murder an entire family to get him back because no one is taking their son from them and least of all anyone who apparently thinks the sun shines out of Albus Dumbledore’s fucking arse!

[21] Aziraphale makes no such agreement and is, as such, the much more dangerous party of their little trio family group.

[22] Obviously this isn’t the case, but Crowley had, upon obtaining Dog-the-mongrel for Harry, placed a rather ingenious little demonic miracle on her that made her more terrifying to any mortal creature so that she could better protect Harry. Aziraphale continued to suspect that Dog-the-mongrel was actually a hellhound but Crowley refused to confirm or deny the suspicion—confirming it by doing just that as it happens when Dog-the-mongrel later leaps through a wall of fire to protect Harry from a possessed DADA professor.

[23] Crowley admits to Aziraphale later on that it had been kind of fun but it was really intended to cause a little more chaos for the other members of staff. It did, but Aziraphale isn’t fooled. Crowley is a big old softie when it comes to kids and Aziraphale knows it.

[24] Some of the worst offenders are, as to be expected, the Weasley twins. They seem to be capable of the impossible in regard to what is and is not possible with spells, charms, potions and so on. Aziraphale has an ever-growing list of what the Weasley twins have managed to do to the books they’ve taken out of the library. He has had to issue an ultimatum to them; if they wish to use a book, they cannot take it from the library but instead ask Aziraphale to make a copy of the relevant sections for them to use. Unfortunately for Aziraphale, he was overheard stating this by a group of Ravenclaw’s and now he’s miracling up entire books almost for students to use. It’s a good pastime however and he can include it on his monthly memos to heaven for what miracles he’s performed lately.

[25] Crowley’s test is simple: tell the snake not to eat you. Aziraphale’s is more about logic and books and figuring out which book is the best kind of book to read up about philosophy and philosopher’s stones. Naturally, Hermione would know the answer to Aziraphale’s test but since it is after Crowley’s… well, Harry can refuse to let her go with him since she’d be eaten by a snake that likes to eat people who can’t Talk Snake.

[26] At the same time that Crowley snaps his fingers, his wings curl back within his being and are, once again, no longer visible on the mortal plane. This is a good thing considering what happens next.

[27] Aziraphale, knowing that Crowley was once Raphael and was tricked into Falling by a very dickish brother by the name of Lucifer, smirks at him with that smug look he has when Pomfrey says that. Crowley gives him his best glare but the effect is ruined by the amusement in his serpentine eyes. Eyes he has given up hiding around Hogwarts after he was pestered by a dozen students who were Amazed By Them and thought they were Wicked Cool.

[i-love-you3thousand]

Her Smile

Summary: After Steve lies to protect you, he realizes it wasn’t worth losing your smile.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2,335

Warning(s): Angst, bad writing

A/N: Hey so I wrote this and I was like what if I just posted this on tumblr lol. Then I was like lol lets do that. It’s in steve’s pov idk why I did that but whatever it’s cool. Umm flashback is italisized. Idk if I’ll ever do this again idk we’ll see how this goes. If you like it tell me and maybe I’ll make something like this again. If you dont then like just dont idk whatever have fun.

I didn't expect to see her, not on this night, not at this party. She normally went out of her way to avoid parties. When we first met, she was doing exactly that, out on the balcony of this same building. Not now, though. No, now she lit up the room as she greeted people with a smile I missed more than anything.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from her, afraid that if I did, she would vanish, and I'd never see that smile again. "Tony," I grabbed the arm of the man beside me, pulling him away from his conversation.

"What?" he demanded, following my gaze. "Oh, right," he placed his arm on my shoulder and turned back around, apologizing to the people who no longer held his interest.

Half the team and I had been gone on a mission for two months, and now since we were back with a successful mission report, Tony decided to throw a party in our honor.  I was reluctant to go, and now I wish I had gone with my instincts.

"Y/N?" Someone called her name, and I watched as her eyes lit up and her mouth fell open.

"Wanda!" I could hear her call with the help of my super-soldier hearing. Wanda had been on the mission with us, and she seemed equally as surprised as me to see Y/N here. She ran through the crowd to give Wanda one of her signature hugs. I watched as she and Wanda spun around in glee, and I wished so badly that it was me. I wished that she would greet me with the excitement that she used to, that she would wrap her arms around me and scold me for being gone so long.

But I knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Cap, I'm sorry," Tony broke me out of my thoughts just as I felt a tear gently fall down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away, hoping he didn't notice, though I knew he did. "I completely forgot to tell you."

I finally tore my eyes away from her and gaped at Tony, "Wh- what is she doing here? Why didn't you tell me she was-"

I would have gone on, but he interrupted, "Listen, Steve." I closed my mouth and stared at him, waiting. He sighed before continuing, "She needed help. Didn't have a place to go-"

"So?" I interrupted, my voice getting a little louder than it should have. I had no right to be mad that she was here. This was just as much her house, her family, as it was mine. She should have been the one angry that I was there. Knowing all of this didn't stop me from yelling at Tony, though. "That's what Shield is for! They have plenty of safe houses," people were beginning to stare, and I swear I saw her head spin around. I didn't get to think about it long, though, because, in an attempt to isolate us, Tony pulled me back into the hallway of his tower. The few guests out there scattered when they saw him adorning a stern frown instead of his normal friendly smile.

Once he was sure no one could hear, he said in a very low voice, "Steve, Shield is what she's running from." I opened my mouth to say something, but he continued, "She didn't tell me much, said she found something out that she wasn't supposed to know. It doesn't matter. She's here. Deal with it."

"And how do you expect me to do that?" I glared at him.

"I don't know! Maybe tell her the truth?" he yelled, sarcasm dripping off his tongue, "You did what you had to that night, Steve. We all know that."

I starred down at my shoes, eyes blurring with tears, "You know I can't do that, Tony. It would hurt her too much."

Tony sighed and placed a hand on my shoulder, "Cap, you have to understand that her not being with you is hurting her way more than why she left in the first place."

My head whipped up, "You don't know that."

"She wouldn't have come here if she didn't miss you."

"But you said she came here because of-" he cut me off.

"I know what I said! That's the excuse she gave me," he sighed. "Steve, she's a strong girl, you and I both know that. She doesn't need us to protect her. If she wanted to stay away, she would've," he stared into my eyes, daring me to challenge him. When I didn't, he continued, "Listen, like it or not, she's gonna be staying here a while. You can either tell her what really happened and fix this, or you can pack your bags because she's staying, and I'm not letting her get hurt again." I didn't have a chance to reply before he spun on his heel and walked back into the party, replacing his frown with a smile to hide the conversation we just had.

What he said hurt me, but I deserved it. He was right; me being here was hurting both of us. I knew that I could never tell her the truth, so I decided leaving was the best option. If I stayed, it was only going to hurt her more. Running my fingers through my hair, I turned to do what Tony said and pack my bags.

I raised my hand to press the elevator button, but stopped cold when I heard a voice call behind me, "Steve?"

I cursed my hearing as I heard each one of her footsteps running to catch up to me. Then, once she was behind me, I heard the water droplets as they fell from her face and hit the floor. "Steve, look at me," she demanded, but I couldn't move, my hand still hovering in the air. "Steve!"

I turned but immediately regretted it as I saw her tear-streaked face. She looked exactly like she did the night I told her everything that had happened. My entire body chilled, and it felt like I was under the ice again as I remembered that night.

Dread filled my body as I walked through the tower, looking for the woman who took up 95% of my headspace. The rest of the team was still on the quin-jet, unloading everything from the mission. "FRIDAY, where’s Y/N?" I asked the A-I.

"The kitchen, waiting for you, I believe, Captain," she replied back to me in her robotic voice.

I nodded and made my way to the kitchen. She was sitting at the small island in the kitchen, a small mug in her hands and her head hung low. I stood in the doorway and gently knocked on the wall. Her head immediately snapped up, and she quickly jumped out of her chair and ran towards me.

"Steve," she breathed out as she hugged my body, collapsing in my arms. "What happened?" she pulled back to look me in the eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to look into hers. "You look awful," she raised a hand to cup my dirt and blood covered cheek. My hand gently found hers as I closed my eyes and leaned into her touch. I wished that it could always be like this, that I could always feel her touch on my skin, but I knew that, after tonight, it was very likely she would never want to see me again.

I sighed and pulled her hand from my face, taking a step back. "Y/N, there's something you need to know," I finally looked into her eyes, regretting my decision immediately after as I saw how much love and worry filled they were. I didn't deserve her worry, much less her love.

"You can tell me in the morning, Sweetheart," I flinched at the pet name. "You need rest right now. Besides, I'm not going anywhere," she smiled her beautiful smile that never failed to make my heart melt.

"You may change your mind about that once I tell you," her eyebrows furrowed and I felt my eyes grow glossy with tears.

"I highly doubt that, Steve," her smile faded, and I realized that it might have been the last time I would ever see it.

I simply shook my head before walking her into the living room and sitting her down on the couch beside me. "Steve, please. Whatever happened can wait 'till the morning," she pleaded with me, and I wished that I could wait until the morning. I wished that I could go take this uniform off and lie in bed with her head resting on my chest, that I could wake up to her peacefully resting beside me. It wasn't going to happen, though. Not tonight, and maybe not ever again.

"Y/N, we found your father," I told her, deciding to get it over with.

"You what?" she immediately jumped up, excitement filling her face. "Where is he? Is he here?"

I gestured for her to sit back down, "No, he's not here." I looked into her eyes, waiting for a reaction. When she didn't give me one, I continued, "He- he didn't make it out."

The excitement immediately dissolved from her face."What do you mean, Steve?" she said it in such a serious tone, a tone so rare it didn't even sound like her voice. I couldn't bring myself to answer her question, but she didn't need me to. "How? How did this happen?"

Tears blurred my vision as I thought back to the second mission we've ever failed. "They had starved him, beat him 'til he couldn't walk." I felt the tears I had been holding back finally begin to pour down my face. "We couldn't get him out in time," suddenly I couldn't breathe, the full gravity of the situation finally settling in on my shoulders.

Nothing we could've done would have saved him, but I couldn't tell her that.

"Steve." Her voice brought me back to reality, and I finally looked into her eyes. I had felt gunshots that hurt less. "You're sure he's gone?" Her words confused me, and I stared blankly into her eyes. "My father," she clarified. "You're sure he's gone?"

I looked down, "Yeah, he- he's gone." The words stung as they left my mouth, and I could only imagine how much they hurt her.

Suddenly, she stood up, tears streaming down her face. "I should've gone." She turned to walk away, but I stopped her before she could take a step.

"Y/N, no. You can't blame yourself for this," she looked into my eyes with so much hurt. I could see the guilt in her eyes, and all I wanted was for it to disappear. So, I did the only thing I could think of to take away the guilt I knew was on her shoulders: lie. "It- it was me. We could have left the second we found him. We should have, but we didn't. I gave the order to stay there and get the intel we originally went for. He got caught in the cross-fire."

More tears streamed down her face as she processed everything I had told her. It wasn't all a lie. We found her father and could have left and got him to a hospital, but we all knew he was too far gone. People would have died if we didn't get what we came for, so I told everyone to go on with the mission. If Y/N were there, she would've done the same thing, but I never told her that.

I watched as the guilt in her eyes transformed into hate. It hurt, but I knew how much more it hurt to blame yourself for the death of a loved one. I never wanted Y/N to feel that, and if hating me is what it took, then so be it.

She wiped the tears from her face and turned again to leave. I didn't stop her this time, and I watched as she left the tower. I wanted so bad to call out to her, to apologize, but I didn't. I knew it wouldn't do any good, wouldn't bring her father back.

"Y/N?" I breathed out, suddenly feeling very dizzy. I felt tears run down my face as I stared at her, frozen in place.

"Steve, I'm so sorry." I couldn't move as I stared into her glossy eyes filled with the same guilt I saw all those nights ago. The guilt that I had fought so hard to shelter her from. My mind raced to figure out why, but I didn't have to wait long for her to tell me. "I shouldn't have left. Those things you told me, I knew they weren't true. I- I should've known, but I didn't realize until it was too late. I'm so sorry."

My mind raced, barely processing what she had said. Her crying intensified so much she had to cover her mouth with her hands to stifle her sobs. I couldn't take it. This is exactly why I lied to her. I needed her not to feel this type of pain.

I grabbed her and pulled her into my arms. I held her the same way I used to when she had bad dreams. "I shouldn't have lied. I was trying to protect you," I could barely get the words out through my sobs, which were quickly intensifying.

"I'm so sorry," we said it at the same time, and I realized we had both been waiting months to do so.

She giggled and pulled back to look up at me, "Stop crying, Steve. Everything's okay now."

I nodded, "You forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Sweetheart," she answered as she cupped my face with her hands.

"I love you. So much," I turned to kiss one of her hands.

"I love you, too," she looked into my eyes and smiled the beautiful smile I had waited so long to see.

[granpafrisbee]

Truth or Dare Part 1

Warnings: Cussing                    

Word Count: 3,752 (it’s gonna get longer tho)

Pairing: Bucky x OFC           

Masterlist

Summary: After going to Italy and avoiding any romantic relationships for pretty much all her life Joey comes back to the U.S. to move in with her life-long best friend, Sam Wilson, and his two closest friends from college. Joey’s met Steve but is apprehensive to meet the elusive Bucky, whom she’s always missed despite having visited Sam consistently throughout college. Once she meets him, however, she wonders how she’ll be able to run from love when they share a bathroom.

A/N: Hey, so I'll be updating this most Wednesdays. I'll try my hardest to stay regular. 

I wrote this using an OFC bc I cannot work my brain to replace my name with fucking Y/N and I know I'm not the only one. (I always end up reading it as fucking "yuuhnnumm"). I am fully in love with Zazie Beetz so our OFC is completely based on her except maybe a lil chubbier because why not. Really for the apartment just picture the layout of the New Girl loft.

I always have a confusing time picturing characters in fics so I'm gonna lay it out for y'all. Steve is full nomad, them honey brown locks and the full beard. Joey's hair is natural like Zazie so often wears it. Bucky is just Seb in fall/winter 2017 because I am weak for the I, Tonya press tour look. Sam is Mackie's classic look. The rest of the characters can be left to the imagination.

Also  I mention good music so listen to that if you want. Please let me know if you like this and follow my hot garbage tumblr.

Special thanks to @buckybarnesxoxo for asking to be tagged!

the AO3

Stay Sexy

It’s the bathroom that really impresses Joey. She believed Sam when he said the apartment was nice. On seeing it for the first time when moving in, she discovers that her best friend is distinctly incorrect. A working sink is nice. A proper heater is nice. A nearby laundromat is nice. This loft, this four-bedroomed palace, is exquisite in comparison to her previous abodes. The kitchen has all its necessary appliances. There are a washer and dryer in unit. The walls are thick enough that if Sam was stabbed in his neighboring room, she would maybe hear it. Four bedrooms with their very own closets. All of these have her speechless as she tours around. However, as stated above, it’s the bathroom that is killer. The idea of sharing said room with three men is maybe one of the more foreboding aspects of her new sweet digs, but once she sees the giant clawfoot shower and tub, she is sure the positives will heavily outweigh the negatives.

She immediately slides down into her new porcelain palace. She’s a medium height at 5’6”, and even she has to point her toes to touch the far end of the tub. She sighs comfortably and is already planning an essential oils combination for her first real bath when the door swings open and her fantasy is interrupted by one her new roommates. He’s the one she hasn’t met yet but Sam and Steve have shown her plenty of pictures. His hair looks soft and well-coiffed and he wears a tank top under an unbuttoned striped short sleeve button down. Rather than judgment appearing across his abnormally handsome face, he smiles like there was nothing else he could have expected when entering the bathroom.

“You see I specifically told Steve to get a bathtub that doesn’t come with a human.”

“Oh no, you got it all wrong. I’m actually a ghost here to haunt you but hygienically. Instead of boo, I say floss.” She says without a beat and he nods, very seriously, in response to this.

“You know I’m pretty sure I just carried in a bed to our fourth room that might be more comfortable than the tub, but who am I to judge one’s preferred sleeping arrangements.” His quip is followed by another fantastic smile, and based on the past ten seconds of her life Joey is absolutely sure that this is her kind of human.

She smiles back and extends her hand from the tub. “Joey.”

“Bucky,” He shakes her hand and nods again.

“You guys brought up my bed? I told Samuel to let me handle that shit.”

He laughs and scratches his beard, “Ah just gave me another opportunity to show Sam how much stronger I am than him. And Steve the chance to show up both of us.”

Joey chuckles and silently appreciates how Bucky balanced his dig on Sam with some light self-depreciation of himself. Although it would be unrealistic to pretend that anyone was stronger than Steve. The man is built. “Seriously though, I’ll come help y’all out. I’m not gonna be the useless roommate.” She gets out of the tub and starts out the door.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that, I think Sammy’s got that title covered, Darlin’.” He follows her out and therefore doesn’t see her face cringe at the pet name.

She considers calling him on it when Sam yells from the front door, “I know you’re not in there besmirching me to my very own best friend Barnes,” He enters view sweaty and smiling, “And I especially know she wasn’t participating, because she is my best friend and therefore automatically on my side.” He wraps his arm protectively around her shoulders causing her to shrug away from him with her nose scrunched.

“Consider our friendship on sabbatical until you take a shower, Wilson.” Joey continues backing away.

“Jesus I always knew your personality stank but I guess the inside always comes out huh.” Bucky mirrors Joey’s disgusted face as he walks towards the door.

Sam rolls his eyes, “Not funny.” Although the involuntary “Hah!” Joey lets out at Bucky’s comment seems to contradict his statement. Sam just flips her off.

“Thank you, Doll. You see Sammy, even your best friend thinks I’m right.” Bucky mocks as he heads back outside.

This time Sam sees her face twist in reaction to the nickname. Misinterpreting it he grumbles, “Oh come on there’s no way you can smell me from over there.” He starts to head to his room, presumably for deodorant.

Joey follows Bucky downstairs to help with some more furniture moving. Steve is outside their building, ass in the air, bent over picking something up. “Damn Rogers,” Joey calls out appreciatively, “If I knew I’d be getting a view like that I would have shacked up with you years ago.”

He stands up, holding up an entire bookshelf on his own, further challenging the poor under armor shirt that is being stretched to hell on his giant frame. “Hey killer, thanks for joining us.”

She picks up a lamp and smiles at him, “Well I figured you guys needed the extra muscle.”

His smile is bright against his beard as he walks into the house with the ease of a man who isn't carrying a bookshelf.

The four of them finish loading their sporadic furniture into the loft and the afternoon fades to early evening. An old but amazing and huge high-quality leather sectional provided by Steve’s mom. Sam’s flat screen, whom he’s named Esmeralda, and may or may not have a near sexual attraction to. Bucky’s records and a player that’s older than any of them, plus a big wooden dinner table his Dad handmade. Steve’s varied level of completed canvases and paint stuff. Joey’s shelves and chairs she found on the side of the road her senior year in college. A mix of plates, bowls, and utensils have been loaded into varying drawers and cabinets. As well as cooking instruments, although, beyond Joey’s waffle iron and an old cast iron from Steve, it’s all Sam’s. Everyone’s personal boxes and furniture is piled in their own rooms.

Joey sits on the kitchen island as the boys lean against it, all sipping the cheap beer Joey bought as penance for them carrying her bed in. She takes that moment to appreciate the weird chain of events that got her where she is now. She and Sam have been friends since grade school. They went to different colleges but remained good ol’ buddies throughout. When they graduated Joey traveled around and did an apprenticeship with an Italian glassblower. Sam went to Culinary school, and when he graduated the second time around Joey was offered a job with a world-renowned blower (god she will never get tired of calling her profession that) stateside. After little luck finding a two bedroom inexpensive enough for the two of them, Steve, one of Sam’s old college buddies Joey had met many a time during visits, mentioned his friend's dad owned a couple lofts in the neighborhood they were looking in. Sam toured with Steve and Bucky and the three of them signed the lease that day. Sam called Joey that night and announced he was so confident that he forged her signature. He was insistent that it was the best option they’d find, all Steve is a good guy and fellow artist, and even Bucky is sometimes bearable but don’t tell him that. Steve paints and sketches in his free time and works as a personal trainer to pay the bills. Joey knows he isn’t passionate about it, but with his perfect body and matching attitude, she is sure he is fantastic at his job. Sam is starting at a new restaurant with a name Joey can only pronounce thanks to high school French. A plus for living with Sam is that he brings work home with him. Although Joey had visited Sam plenty over the years and even struck up a solid friendship with Steve, she always seems to have missed Bucky. They had never met but she knew he was a language major with a focus in Eastern Europe and Russia. Sam had told her Bucky translated English books into Russian and vice versa and made more money than he should. Earlier Joey had heard him curse in some sort of Slavic tongue when Sam “accidentally” dropped his end of a coffee table on Bucky’s foot. She also had heard a few stories about Steve and Bucky’s childhood, the rambunctious troublemakers lived up to every tall tale. As the four nursed their beers she felt confident that this was going to be a very important group of people in her life.

“Joey?” Sam snapped her out of her thoughts.

“What?”

“Barnes suggested we get more beer and pizza and invite some friends over. Are you down?” The three men looked at her expectantly.

“I say hell yeah. Who are we calling?” She looked down at her watch and was surprised to see it was only 6:30.

“Well there are the couples, Nat and Wanda and Thor and Bruce,” Steve suggested.

“I told Shuri I’d pay her in alcohol if she set up all the tech shit,” Bucky adds.

Steve nods, “Now that you mention it, we should probably invite Tony, he’s the reason we got this place.”

“Tony means at least Rhodey and probably Pep, Clint is a must, and if we invite Wanda we should call Pietro too.” Sam finishes his beer and scrolls through his messages.

“Brunnhilde and Okoye are in town too.” Joey hops off the counter and recycles the empty bottles collecting on the island.

“Alright you guys decide who to invite, and I’ll go get libations and sustenance,” Bucky grabs his keys.

“With the list we’ve got you’ll need some help, I’ll come with,” Joey volunteers.

Bucky smiles vibrantly and nods towards to Steve, “You okay babysitting Rogers?”

“As long as Killer doesn’t mind your unreasonably picky ass,” Steve’s retort is so quick that Bucky and Sam raise their middle fingers simultaneously at their aggravator.

Joey and Bucky decide to start off to the pizzeria three blocks away and pick up the beer on the walk back. The walk begins in mildly uncomfortable silence.

“So… you’re picky?” Joey asks to spark some sort of conversation.

“Nooo..” Bucky’s defensiveness creates an endearing drawl, “Those two pompous asses just don’t understand that I like my pizza simple. Margherita pizza is a fucking gift. Who am I to screw it up with a bunch of American bullshit?” He gestures widely as he speaks.

“You’re kidding right?”

Bucky’s must have misinterpreted her smile as he quickly responds, “Alright I’ve been judged enough in my life, I know you lived in Italy and-”

“No, no, Bucky!” She grabs his forearm, “Margherita is my favorite! I ate it all the time in Italy, judgment-free.”

“Jesus Christ Doll, where have you been all my life?”

She smiles and they continue a brisk pace to the pizza place. “How did you know I lived in Italy?”

“Ah, I know plenty about you. Sammy talks about you non-stop, has since I met him. Steve even thought he was secretly in love with you until he hung out with you in person.”

This makes Joey raise her brows, “Really? Wow. What, if I may ask, ultimately caused him to accept our relationship as extraordinarily platonic? Was it the sibling-like side hugs? The lack of sexual tension in our banter? The fact that I knew him during his first mustache phase?”

“Are you telling me there was a skinnier mustache than the one we know and mildly tolerate?”

“I’m talking Prince but pubescent. It was so thin models asked his mustache for dieting tips. It was so thin his first girlfriend thought he had an eyelash over his top lip. I mean you would’ve thought he drew it on with a ballpoint pen. In fact, it’s very possible it was. Just because I never saw doesn’t mean he never-”

Bucky is laughing uproariously, “Please, please, you’re killing me. I’m gonna need pictures as soon as possible.”

“No can do. I will recite the epic of the mustache homer-style until the day I die, but any physical evidence shared will prompt an all-out war between Samuel and me. That is just something I can’t afford.”

“Oh now I have to see them. What’s your secret shame, sweetheart? Bangs? Braces? Please tell me it was an emo phase,” As he lists off he starts walking backward, the goofy smile didn't dim once.

“I’ll never share, but trust me when I say if you find something behind my back, I’m sure Steve will be more than willing to share some pictures of your past. Emo phase is a good guess, but if I didn’t know any better I’d say that was a projection, hmm?”

That does a good job of replacing his smile with pursed lips and a quirked eyebrow, contemplating his next move in this battle of embarrassing adolescence. “Steve would never betray me.”

“Don’t be so sure, all men have their weaknesses,” She smiles deviously.

“Oh yeah, you gonna seduce him for a picture of me in eyeliner?”

“First of all, I would seduce Steve for much less so thanks for confirming my emo theories. Secondly, I may not know Steve like you do, but I know him well enough to see that seduction would hardly prove fruitful.” She holds the door open for him and they both bask in the practically orgasmic scent of the pizzeria, “Steve is so suspicious of anyone who wants to sleep with him that he’d see through me. My method would be to trick him to do some sort of high school ‘Where are they now?’ portrait. He’d be so inspired he’d paint your lined eyes and black, I’m guessing, over parted hair in a second.” The line is moving slowly and he admires how she never lowers her volume or hides from strangers eyes.

“Damn, Doll, you’re good.”

“I minored in manipulation.” The store isn’t too packed for Saturday night and Sam Cooke is playing lightly in the background. She’s nodding her head and he’s mouthing along to words and when they both realize this they share a smile at the music.

“So Steve is a suspicious mind in your book?” She chuckles at his reference.

“I’m not the biggest drinker and neither is Steve, so when Sammy went hard when I visited, Steve was always good for a tipsy talk. The poor guy has the same self-esteem he must have had in high school. Unlike us three cool cats Steve will show me pictures of his past self. I know you were there through it all, but just because the outside changes doesn’t mean the inside follows suit. I have seen the most dedicated and gorgeous women throw themselves at him and yet he remains sure that she was ‘just being friendly’. It’s actually impressive.”

“I know what you mean. To be fair though a lot of that is just his college girlfriend. She really did a number on him.” He runs a hand through his hair but doesn’t hide his contempt for whoever she is.

Solemn surprise covers Joey’s features, “I never knew. Never met her on any visits.”

“She wasn’t big on him talking to other girls, probably hid him anytime you came around. Although that isn’t my story to tell, I’m sure the punk will tell you about it sometime.” She follows his eye line down to his shoes. He’s drawing stars with the tip of his shoe, a tic she’s just noticing.

“What about you? You have a girl hiding you away, distracting you during your collegiate years? She the reason our meeting was so unluckily delayed until today?”

He thinks about the answer for a second or two. “Nah, no anchor to this ship. At this point, I’m just convinced Wilson just didn’t tell me you were around because he knew you would like me more than him.”

“Well turns out I like Steve better than both of you.”

He puts his hands up and reassures her, “I don’t need to be first, Sweetheart, just as long as I’m on your radar.” As he lowers his hands the song changes and they simultaneously recognize the song, both begin humming the initial notes. “Penny & The Quarters fan huh?” He asks.

“Nobody, baby, but-” she sings before quickly turning her attention to the cashier, “We’ll have two large Everything Pizzas and one large Margherita.” Facing Bucky again she smiles and drops another line that makes his heart race, “Just for you and me, huh?”

The pizza is out quick, and a trip to the local gas station provides them with more than enough beer. They continue discussing music, Joey is surprised at their similarly irregular taste. He describes his favorite Etta James songs, but can’t forget the Simon and Garfunkel song that he thinks is his first love encapsulated. He lists his top three favorite rappers after ranking contemporary folk bands. She adds in her opinions sporadically, and he apologizes twice for dominating the conversation when they get in the elevator.

She is being honest when she says, “There’s nothing I want to hear more than whatever you’re going to say right this moment.” He thinks that every lyric in every song he’s just listed doesn’t have shit on that sentence.

He’s about to tell her so when an alarming large hand last minute catches the elevator as it closes. The doors open to the Thor and Bruce. The couple is the lynchpin of every good party, from rager to kickback. Thor is the greatest hype man in history but is never hammered, probably because it would take two handles of tequila to get him there. Bruce is much more chill but a secret god at beer pong, not to mention he always has weed. Bucky’s favorite part of their presence always happens when Bruce is particularly high and begins a lecture on some sort of subject no one else understands. He isn’t exactly captivating, especially not to anyone far from sober although his passion is palpable, but Thor will plop down on the couch next to him and watch him like he’s the only thing in the universe (while rubbing Bruce’s neck to keep him from getting too wound up). Bucky loves those guys.

“Looks like we arrived just in time, wouldn’t you say Thor?” Bruce shakes Bucky’s hand and smiles at Joey.

“Of course! I was worried we got too much pizza, but now that you’re here Thor I’m sure you’ll help us with any surplus.” Joey sets the pizzas down before Thor pulls her into a bear hug.

“Joey, you know I never leave a damsel in distress,” Thor agrees as he sets her back on her feet.

Joey’s eyebrow playfully shoots up, “Who are you calling damsel, Odinson?”

“In this case, definitely Sam. I’m surprised he even let you order out.” Bruce answers for his boyfriend.

“My love is right in my insinuation. Never ever have I seen you anywhere near damsel status Joe.” Bucky watches their interaction with curiosity.

The elevator dings and Bucky asks, “This may seem like a dumb question but how do you guys know each other? Just through Sam?”

Joey picks up the pizzas as Thor holds the door open, ”Thor’s siblings and I were all in a group home together as teens. I’ve known this big lug long before he was the Nordic party god we see before us.” Thor laughs and he and Bruce go to greet everyone inside.

“Are you telling me Thor hasn’t always been a blonde beefcake?” Bucky whispers in Joey’s ear as they set the pizza and beer on the counter.

“Sadly no, he’s looked like that since I met him. I just like making that joke because he’s too humble to care.” She makes note that he doesn’t question the foster home part of her story. She wonders just what Sam has told him about her past.

People start to crowd the food and drinks, so Joey and Bucky greet everyone who has arrived. Nat is there sans Wanda, who is at home sick. Bucky knows this means Nat will be leaving early. Pietro made it despite his ill sibling, but he still looks pretty sick of the conversation in front of him. Shuri and Clint are mid-argument about the chicken and the egg when Bucky thanks them for coming. Clint gives him a smile and points to a fake succulent on the table and mumbles, “Got you guys a housewarming present,” before returning his attention to telling Shuri that the Chicken is the obvious choice. Shuri tells Bucky she set up the wifi and the apple tv and Clint doesn’t even register that she’s talking over him. Bucky kisses her cheek and hands her a beer.

Steve is sitting with Bruce and Thor on the couch, all of them engrossed in conversation and pizza. Sam is chopping fresh onion for his pizza when Bucky asks, “These are the few you could bribe to get here?”

“These losers are the only ones without any plans on a Saturday night,” Sam says without looking up.

Clint and Pietro both look up and say a simultaneous, “Hey!” Before turning their attention back to their conversation.

“T’Challa and Nakia are in Paris. Brunnhilde has a gig tonight. Okoye hung up on me when I said pizza and beer. Parker has an exam. Tony named six events he was invited to tonight and would’ve kept going if Steve hadn’t hung up. Pepper and Rhodey are probably plus thing one and two wherever Tony ended up at. Thus, this motley crew is all we got.” Sam sprinkles his diced onion on top of his already spilling slice and when he bites into it his groan stops the conversations surrounding the apartment.

“Lame. Your intestines are not going to be thanking you for that monster you are devouring under the alias of pizza.” Joey makes a face as he continues to stuff his face.

“Like eating just mozzarella and basil is enjoyable at all,” Sam dismisses her and joins the rest of their crew.

“Heathens,” Bucky dramatically admonishes their friends, “You ready Doll?”

This time he catches the tightening of her expression at his comment, ”Born ready.” They both grab a piece of their untouched pizza and taps crusts in cheers.

Part 2

Part 3

Thanks for reading!