#so YEAH AVERY YOU ARE REALLY COOL

[yes-asil]

Been playing Sky for a little while and Avery, a friend I made in the game, helped me out so much.

Had to draw us in memory of unlocking Piggyback mode and flying endlessly through Valley for fun!

[tortoise-teapot]

i've decided that there's no way avery is ever going to set physical foot in forever fade prison. he was a circle mage who fought tooth and nail for his freedom, he is never entering a cage again. he wouldn't be able to function through the panic attacks anyway

but it's not the end for them!!! avery's a dreamer he spends half his day in the Fade anyway. if anyone can break in to fade prison every night it's him (with some help from the vhenan)

but where i'm at is... what does avery telling solas 'hey you are the love of my life and i will marry you right now if you let me. but like i can't go to forever prison. i'll see you tonight tho?' LOOK like. in that moment he doesn't know even IF he'd be able to visit in dreams. so like how do you even SAY THAT lmaoo "heyyyy honey, so here's the thing..." doesn't seem to cut it hdhdkd

i played with avery physically joining solas but those daydreams ALWAYS ended with avery taking a swan dive off the edge of the black city eventually and no thank you that is not the story i want to tell

[wendichester]

Can I ask for a small imagine/oneshot/drabble of Dean listening to his autistic s/o ramble about their special interest in animals and his s/o genuinely gets so excited that Dean is actually listening to her because in the past her ex-boyfriends always dismissed her rambled or told her to stop because it annoyed them :(

ೀ⋆｡˚ funfact,

summary. dean could listen to you talk for hours. literally

pairing. dean winchester x autistic!reader

wordcount. 427

notes. thank you so much for requesting this lovie! hope you like it 🩷

Dean never thought listening could feel like a privilege.

But then, there’s you. Sitting cross-legged on the motel bed, eyes shining, hands moving wildly as you talk about animal behaviors like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. To you, it is the most fascinating thing in the world. And to Dean—well, watching you light up like this is becoming one of his favorite things.

"And did you know octopuses can change color not just for camouflage but to express emotions? Like, scientists think they might use it as a form of language!" You pause just long enough to catch your breath before diving right back in. "And crows? Crows are insane! They can recognize human faces, solve puzzles, and even hold grudges! Imagine pissing off a crow and having an entire murder after you for life. That’s so cool."

Dean grins, chin resting on his hand as he watches you. "You got a hit list of crows somewhere I should know about?"

You giggle, rocking slightly as you continue. "Not yet, but if I did, you’d be safe. Probably."

He chuckles, shaking his head. He doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t zone out. He just listens. And you notice.

Somewhere between explaining the difference between jaguar and leopard rosettes, it hits you—he’s still looking at you. Still engaged. Actually listening. Not faking it. Not zoning out. Not shifting uncomfortably like he’s waiting for you to shut up.

Your voice falters. "You... you’re not bored?"

Dean frowns like the thought is ridiculous. "What? No. Why would I be bored?"

You hesitate, fingers twisting in the blanket. "Most people don’t... like it when I ramble. My exes used to tell me to stop. Said it was annoying."

Dean’s expression darkens, jaw tightening. "Yeah? Well, your exes sound like idiots."

Your breath hitches.

He softens immediately, reaching for your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. "Sweetheart, you get so excited about this stuff. It’s adorable. And, I mean, you actually know your shit. I’ve learned more about animals in the last ten minutes than I have my whole damn life."

Your face warms. "Really?"

Dean squeezes your hand. "Really. Now, tell me more about those killer crows. Kinda feel like we should be watching our backs."

A beaming smile spreads across your face, and you dive right back in—because he wants to hear. Because he listens. Because for the first time in forever, you don’t feel like you’re too much.

And Dean? Dean just leans back, watching you, thinking he’d listen to you talk forever if you’d let him.

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[demie90s]

Hello can you do USC x R. R plays to win she doesn’t play to have a nice time. What happens when somebody sits a hard screen on juju. Someone’s got to step in to stop her.

Play to Win

USC WBB x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: I don’t play for fun. I play to win. So when someone sets a dirty screen on Juju? I don’t think—I react.

Warnings: Protective behavior, on-court aggression, ride-or-die teammate energy, intense emotions

Word count~0.6k

I don’t care about handshakes, highlight reels, or who brought their whole damn family to the game. I care about locking in, doing damage, and walking off the court with a W.

So when someone threw a blind screen into Juju—shoulder straight into her chest, no warning, no ball, just spite—it felt like the whole gym paused.

She hit the floor hard. Her body folded in a way I didn’t like. Not slow. Not careful. And everybody just froze.

Refs? Nothing.

Bench? Quiet.

Crowd? Gasped.

And the other team? Just kept moving like Juju didn’t have ribs.

Nah. That didn’t sit right.

I started walking before I even processed it. The game was still live, but I didn’t care. I stormed straight up to the girl who hit her—jersey bunched in my fists before anyone could blink.

“You think that was basketball?” I said, teeth clenched. My voice was low, tight, and on edge. I could feel heat crawling up my spine, chest tight like I was ready to snap. “You think that was cute?”

She didn’t say anything—just smirked, shrugging like it wasn’t her problem. Juju was still on the floor, hand on her side, and all I could think was: Why didn’t anyone else move first?

And yeah—I saw Rayah sprinting over, Avery calling time out with her whole body, Aaliyah trying to get the ref’s attention, Kiki holding back Dom, who had already thrown her towel halfway across the bench. But that was after. That was after I got loud.

Because in that moment? It was me standing in front of her like the whole court belonged to us.

“Do it again,” I said. “Try it again. I dare you.”

Ref finally blew the whistle. Late. Like two plays too late. Coach was yelling now. Our whole bench up. The other team pretending like they didn’t know what the screen was.

Dom ran out in her slides, yelling, “YOU TOUCHED THE WRONG ONE!”

Kiki behind her, grabbing the back of her jersey. “Dom, please—don’t make us viral.”

Rayah and Avery got to Juju first, pulling her up slow, eyes wide like they couldn’t believe it. Aaliyah looked me dead in the face and whispered, “Breathe.”

And I tried. I really did.

But my jaw was locked, my vision was sharp, and I couldn’t stop staring at the girl who hit her like she was prey. Timeout was called. Bench cleared. I sat down still fuming, chest heaving, fists clenched.

Coach walked over, didn’t say much—just tapped my shoulder and said, “I get it. But be smart. They want you to lose your cool.”

I looked her dead in the eye and said, “I didn’t lose my cool. I protected my team.”

After the game, we won by ten. Juju finished with ice wrapped around her ribs, barely talking. I sat next to her on the bus, arms crossed, still too mad to speak.

But when reporters got hold of the clip and asked about the scuffle?

I stepped up to the mic. Didn’t smile. Didn’t hesitate.

“She got hit for no reason. The ball wasn’t in play. Nobody screened. They tried to take her out, and y’all expected me to clap?”

Flashes went off. I leaned in.

“I don’t play to have a nice time. I play to win. And winning means everybody walks out on their feet. You touch Juju like that again? Don’t ask me to apologize for the reaction. Ask why y’all let it slide in the first place.”

Dom posted the clip on Instagram that night with the caption: Don’t play with us. This ain’t club ball.

Rayah reposted it with “Ride or ride harder.” Kiki just added a fire emoji.

Juju didn’t say much. But she turned to me before we got off the bus, looked me in the eye, and said, “I got you next time.”

I nodded. “Hope not.”

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[luveline]

i feel like the kbd girls would be absolutely over the moon about blue toilet water, steve’s little home improvement promotes him to coolest dad ever, and sweet bethie wants to invite her friend over to show off their cool blue toilet water

(i just remember thinking that was like the coolest thing ever as a kid)

Steve doesn’t hide his smile. “Girls, it’s not gonna be as exciting as you think it is.” 

Avery, Beth, and Dove sit in a line on the bathroom floor, watching. 

“It’s gonna be blue, dad,” Avery says. “That’s exciting.” 

“Sort of weird having you all watch me clean the toilet.” He’d bleached and scrubbed and bleached again, and now he’s wiped down the tank and removed the lid, he’s peeling open the blister pack for the blue cistern tablets. 

“Gross,” Bethie says with a wrinkled nose. 

“It is kind of gross, but that’s why I clean it so much. Okay, are you guys ready? I’m gonna drop it in.” 

They all stand at once to crowd him. Steve tosses a tablet into the cistern and grins as the water turns blue immediately. His fingers are stained with it. He replaces the lid and rinses his fingers before he forgets. 

“Okay. Ready?” 

They all agree in their ways. Avery slaps her hands together and nods, Bethie says, “Yeah!” and Dove attempts to climb his leg like a sloth up a tree trunk. 

“Wait!” Bethie says, tapping Steve’s stomach and running out of the bathroom. Her feet thud across the landing and into your room. 

She drags you into the bathroom by the hand. “Okay, now you can, dad!” 

Steve meets your eyes. “You ready? This is about to change our lives.” 

You look around the upstairs bathroom in surprise. “Woah, what happened in here? It looks like a hotel. Did you scrub the grout? Incredible.” 

“Mom!” Avery yanks you by your shirt to the toilet. Too many people in one place, you smush in next to Steve and he gives you a flirty smile on instinct. “Dad, please do it. I can’t wait anymore.” 

“It’s really gonna let you guys down.” Steve stands at full height and reaches for the flush. 

He presses it. Blue water floods the bowl and, despite the girls having seen exactly how he managed it, they all gasp. Dove giggles wildly against his leg before she reaches her hand toward the water, fingers a hairs width from the bowl when you catch her and drag her up into your arms. 

“Oh no no no,” you say sweetly, turning her to see everyone, “we can’t do that, can we? We don’t put our hands in the toilet.” 

“Wow,” Beth says. “Wow. Dad, it’s magic. Now we can have blue pee.” 

“That’s not how that works, bug.” Steve takes Beth by the shoulders for a quick squeeze, then touches Avery’s, trying to get them to move on. 

“It’s really cool, I love it. Can we have other colours?” Avery asks. Dove squeals in your arms to be put down, but you’re tickling her sides in an attempt to appease her. 

“I’ve only seen blue ones,” Steve says, reluctant to let her down. 

Avery looks exactly like him as she frowns. “Oh.” 

“Can I ask Francesca to come?” Beth asks suddenly, nudging Avery out of the way to look up at him. “Please, dad, can she come look? It’s amazing.” 

“Oh, honey, I think Francesca’s probably seen it before. But we can still ask her tomorrow if she wants to come over, okay? When the rest of the house is clean, not just the bathroom.” 

“Fat chance,” you interject quickly, snorting. 

“Excuse me?” Steve asks. 

You laugh again and dive away as he pokes your side. “Get away from me, freak. I almost dropped my baby.” 

“I can clean this whole house top to bottom in a day. I could do it in my sleep,” Steve says. 

“Sure thing, honey.” 

Avery pokes you in the stomach. “Not nice, mom.” 

“Not nice, mom,” Steve parrots, grinning. “Wow, look at that. This blue toilet water brought us all together.” 

[ecstasturns]

inspo writers if you’re experiencing writer’s block

we all get tired of writing and struggle to find inspiration. when Pinterest and tik tok stop working, where else do you go? well I have to say there’s nowhere better to get inspiration than from the talented, hard-working people on this very app. so here’s a carefully crafted list of writers I’ve found really helpful when it comes to upping my pen drive.

@mattluvr I’m a mattlluvr-luvr because every single piece of writing is amazing. I can never get bored on her account. polly, seriously let me give you head.

@waitforyrlove first of all, the AESTHETICS of this account. but no, the quality of the fanfics are undeniable. ik she’s currently on a hiatus but I had to mention it. go binge rn if you can’t write.

@sturnsrecord matilda is my favourite writer oat. also her theme rn is really great if you’re reading at night for some inspiration. istg sometimes i have dreams based off her writing.

@bernardsbendystraws i swear every time i need to get my motivation back i read through rose’s blurbs and fics. the genuine talent shines through on her page. there’s nothing she can’t write.

@ifwdominicfike please please please we need to make sure this queen never leaves. some nights I don’t think I would have survived if it weren’t for her works. avery is also just so sweet so leave her a nice message after binging.

@luvs4matt i actually have a dilf!matt blurb in the drafts based off her version of the au. cherry you are such an inspiration to me, and if anyone is reading this looking for daddy Matt motivation…

@delilahsturniolo bro. delilah is the fucking cutest. and I love her album marathon to pieces. also wanna say I love the theme. I have definitely scrolled through her account for inspiration.

@mattybsgroupie personally, I’d suck and fuck maria. anyway, yeah if you want some examples of well-structured smut that manages to be original and still interesting GO TO HER.

@55sturn star has the coolest aus. they are all structured so nicely and I’m star’s no.1 little sister. she’s also very open to giving advice so send her your questions.

@hysteria-things a sturniolo token writer. I’m literally haleigh and Chris’ love child. her masterlist is my home. and I’m willing to share so if you are bored or losing interest in wtv you’re writing, go read.

@darksturnz sol is so fucking cool, i mean just look at her account. she has the best takes and I am very fucking loyal to artist!chris. something in her writing is unique and it’s so easy to read while being entertaining.

@vanteguccir layout? check. skill? check. personality? check. lele checks all the boxes. her ability to write coherent storylines is something i look up to. if you want long, varied fics, her blog is the place you need to be.

@strnilolover has got to be the most supportive person ever. you can count on her to hype you up but also to write like Shakespeare with a keyboard and a viagra. do i need to say more?

[st6rly]

hiiiiiii!!! hello!!!!!!!! could i perhaps request moze with the prompt BLUE HYACINTH + cicatrize + kalopsia, maybeeeee? please and thank you!!

(i must admit, the moze hype got to me. i haven't even played up to his part in the story, i have just been bewitched by fanart and character analyses. so. yeah!)

❛ fevered 　⸻　 moze.

prompt : 　 you may just be idealistic, but you’ll always hold out hope for a future with them, no matter how long it’s been. moze secretly—foolishly—thinks the same.　 ╱ 　 word count : 　 270

content : 　 gn!reader. sick!reader. mentions of fever. reader is half-delirious. the pov is really odd in this im sorry.

notes : 　 for the stellaronhvnter valentine's event. network members only.

The room smelled of medicine and fever. Deft hands wrung out the damp cloth, cool water seeping into the crevices of his fingers. Moze looked over at your shivering form. Blankets tucked up to your chin and a thin sheen of perspiration along your skin, you sniffled. He wrinkled his nose at the sickly sound, a furrow in the space between his brows. 

“Mo…” You turned and shifted under the sheets. 

He sighed, laying the cloth back against your fevered skin. “Stop trying to speak.” He paused. “I’m here.”

“Who said I was calling out for you?” you croaked out, a grin along your dry and chapped lips, voice carrying too much rasp than usual. “What if I wanted ‘more water,’ hmm?” 

A small scowl marred his otherwise—in your opinion; you’ve said many times—perfect face. He sat down on the edge of the bed, stiff and ready to bolt, a dog too used to serving. 

“Idiot.” The mutter was breathy and much too soft for the actual word. 

The grin on your face turned dopy, a little lopsided to match the dazed glaze in your eyes. 

“You’re so pretty,” you chuckled, the words slurred with an edge of sleep. 

Those purple eyes only blinked back. Tentative, he placed a bare hand beside yours and watched you squeeze it. Your unmarred skin against his. Moze huffed, a small light to his eye that hadn’t been there previously. 

“Sleep already,” he said, the monotone lilt to his voice cushioned by the faintest hint of affection and endearment. “You need to rest.” 

“Stay?” you murmured, eyes already falling shut. 

“Yeah. M’not going anywhere.”

extra : 　 MOZE FANS ( aka me & the five other people in this clerb /j ) ARE EATING WELL HEHEHEHEHE THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AVERY !! <33 instant prompt that came to mind was abt sickness + hurt/comfort LMFAOO short bc IM RUSHING CALC WHILE DOING THIS MY BAD

cicatrize : heal by forming scar tissue

kalopsia : the delusion of things being more beautiful than they are.

© ST6RLY ﹕ all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, use for asmr role-play, feed into ai, or claim any of my writing as yours.

[mia-ugly]

In honour of Good Omens Season 2

HAVE A SLOW SHOW FICLET with thanks to @weatheredlaw for the amazing graphic ❤️❤️❤️ how we doing fam

It’s a kid on set that first tells him. 

Not really a kid, but anyone less than thirty seems a kid to him these days (ugh, that’s a loathsome thought.) Jiyana’s a queer and pink-haired punk type, rainbow pin on their jacket, trans-pride flag tattooed on their inner wrist. The first time he met them, the whole wirey confident glittery thing made his gut clench with - what was it - joy and gratitude but also envy? Maybe? (because what must it be like to be that young and that certain of yourself? What must it be like to have the whole world open in front of you? Not that there still isn’t a lot of shit to deal with, and in Merry Old fucking England there is More Shit than Otherwise, but. Still. It’s something Crowley thinks about. Sometimes. When he hasn’t had enough sleep or when he’s had too much of it.)

The kid came up to him Day One to mumble about “being a big fan” and once they wore a Warlock t-shirt to an afterparty (“Vintage!” they said cheerily, and Crowley wanted to swallow his own face at the thought of something from the 2010s being considered vintage, good Christ.)

Anyway, Jiyana tells him first.

“Congrats on the new season!” They’re beside him in the makeup trailer. Crowley doesn’t realise they’re talking to him, assumes they’re wearing AirPods or something, until George gives him a nudge with the powder puff.

“Er, yeah, cheers.” It’s too early to talk to anyone this perky. Then his exhausted, coffee-less brain takes a moment to catch up with his exhausted, coffee-less mouth. “Er, wait, what?”

“Warlock. Heard it’s coming back. Did I tell you I wrote a paper on it in, like, Grade 10? So cool, the GSA at my highschool used to have watch parties, I can’t wait to see what they do with your -“

“Wait -“ Warlock? It’s been bloody years. “Where’d you hear this?”

The kid starts to list off some sites or social media whatsits that Crowley has never heard of, so he just nods and pretends to understand, the same way he does when Az’s niece tries to explain some show called “Jojo’s Big Adventure” or something. Validate, validate, empathise. Just like Pepper taught him.

It’s probably nothing right? A rumour.

But it’s a rumour Az has heard too.

When Crowley gets home that night (they’ve rented a house in Buckinghamshire, even though the studio’s not two hours from their cottage) Az is on him immediately. Heard about it from his sister apparently, who got the news from one of the kids.

“Isn’t that exciting?” His face is all lit up and his hair is wet, bathrobe snugly belted around his waist. The house has an indoor pool, and there are little indents on Avery’s nose where his extremely attractive and sexy swimming-goggles must have been resting.

Crowley presses his lips to each mark.

“Not that we’ve been going hungry or wanting for work –” Az continues.

“You work too bloody much,” Crowley murmurs into his cheekbone.

“But I do love those characters. The whole thing wrapped up so nicely though – what more is there to tell?  I wonder what the arc could possibly be.”

“I wonder what you’ve got on under this robe –”

“Anthony!” Az laughs in fake protest, tilting his head back so that Crowley can get his mouth on his throat. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Az tastes like chlorine, and maybe Crowley should join him in the shower after this. After a day in the studio, he could probably use it.

“Would you really want to do a series again?” Crowley asks after he’s finally let his husband go, turned to hang up his coat and thrown his bag on the nearest chair. “Awful lot of commitment. And you’ve that whole run at the Globe coming up, don’t rehearsals start in the spring?”

“We’ll have to see if Helen can mind the goats again while we’re in London.” Az has wandered into the kitchen, turned on the kettle. Crowley looks at the back of his neck (Crowley always looks at the back of his neck. Sometimes he dreams about it.) “If she’s free. I called her this morning to check in, Elmyra’s eating, so her anxiety must be getting better.”

“Cool, yeah,” Crowley says, casual and nonchalant and no big deal. As if Elmyra isn’t his favourite of the bunch and he doesn’t have a song that he made up and no one knows that he sings just to her. As if he didn’t hand feed her all night once because she wasn’t sleeping or eating and neither was he because he was so afraid this tiny rescue goat was going to starve to death, anyway whatever, super cool, who cares. “Is it weird that no one’s reached out to us, though? Do you think?”

“About the goats? Helen has my number –”

“No love, the Warlock thing.”

Az blinks at him, flutters his pretty blond lashes in an attractive, aggrieved sort of way. “You mean you haven’t heard from Beez?”

“I haven’t heard from anyone.”

“Oh.” Az thinks it over. “Well. Neither have I, actually. Do you – is that odd?”

“Maybe they’ve recast us with younger models.”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“Gotta up the sex appeal of the whole thing. Jawlines. Cheekbones. Sexy results.”

“I –” Az goes a bit pink. Glances at Crowley and then away. “Fail to see how they could improve upon perfection.”

Crowley looks at his husband’s bathrobe and the slight scattering of silver chest hair and his hand on his tea cup and fuck off, his neck. His neck, his neck, who gives a shit about Warlock actually?

 “Come over here and say that to my mouth.”

Avery smiles, and sighs, and he does.

ONE YEAR LATER:

Crowley opens the email from Beez.

He fuckin' closes it.

[sam24]

Metal Arm Cupid

Summary: Bucky didn't know what to expect in the 21st century. But he definitely didn't expect cute girls to barge into meeting rooms and beat people up.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

*****

Bucky made no attempt to stifle his yawn as he pretended to listen to the debrief (that was looking more like an argument to him) that was going on way too long for his liking, earning a sharp glare from Steve, but Bucky could tell that deep down, Steve wanted to hightail outta there too.

“Stop taking all the credit, Josh. I was the one who stabbed him. You just sat there and watched like an obese cow.”

Josh (Bucky thought his name was Jack until now) scoffed. “That’s Agent 16 to you, Avery.”

“It’s actually Avril, you little-”

“Agents, you better stop this instantly.” Fury narrowed his eyes at the bickering partners.

“Stop embarrassing me in front of the Avengers, Evelyn, and let me do the talking. Clearly you can’t because of those oversized donkey teeth of yours.” Josh paid no heed to Fury.

The girl (Avril?) gasped and her hand instinctively flew to cover her mouth. “Why you-”

“Okay, that’s enough.” A dangerously calm voice rang through the room.

All eyes flew towards Natasha, you looked like she was going to murder the next person who opened their mouth.

“This is why I don’t go on missions with sensitive baby agents.” She muttered in Russian.

Bucky cracked a smile.

“How come no one listens to me?” Fury grumbled.

“Probably because you aren’t a trained assassin with 20 different weapons hidden on your body, and I bet you also don’t know 5 different ways to kill someone with an oven mitt.” Clint whispered in Fury’s ear.

“It doesn’t matter who stabbed who, it matters what happened in the end. And in the end, I was the one you saved your ungrateful asses, so you can stop arguing like toddlers now.” Natasha growled.

Her eyes narrowed specifically at Josh.

Nobody spoke. Probably because no sane person wanted a bullet from Natasha’s gun in their head.

“You seriously couldn’t have done that 20 minutes ago?”

Of course, though, Tony Stark was far from sane.

“Shut up, Tony.” At least 5 different people said at the same time.

Josh cleared his throat, recovering from his mini paralysis stroke.

“No offense, but-”

Before Josh could get himself killed, loud voices outside of the door made everyone turn.

Honestly, they all probably would’ve turned even to watch a fly so they could ignore Josh’s excuses.

“Miss, I can���t let you-”

“I really don’t care, so move. Now.”

Bruce immediately sat up. “Is that Ace?”

“Oh, thank god.” Tony let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “I’m so bored right now, maybe she’ll make this actually interesting.”

Even though Bucky’s stay at the compound started recently, he had heard plenty of stories about you, the infamous ‘Ace’. To what he’d heard, you worked at the lab with Bruce and Tony, like a daughter to them both. You were an ‘intellectual sage’ (described by Barton), hence the nickname, Ace.

“I said, MOVE!”

“Banner, what is the meaning of this?” Fury ordered.

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows and completely ignored him. “What in the world is she doing?”

“Banner!”

“I SAID MOVE, DAMNIT.” A loud thud followed closely and the door was flung open so hard it practically ripped off of its hinges.

“Lord have mercy.” Bruce buried his face into his hands as you barged into the room, pulling along a terrified looking girl behind you.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised with interest as he took in your purple highlights, Converse High-Tops, and Gravity Falls shirt peeking out from under your lab coat.

“Look, missy, in case you haven’t noticed, this is a private meeting. I’m going to give you 5 seconds to leave before I have you escorted out instantly.” Fury demanded.

“Yeah, that’s cool, Patchy the Pirate, just give me a minute.” You weren’t even looking at Fury as you scanned the room.

“Ha! Patchy the Pirate! Laura’s gonna love this!” Clint smacked his hand on the table and leaned his chair back (and almost fell backwards if Steve didn’t catch it, but that’s not the point).

Fury looked like he was seriously contemplating life as you still didn’t spare him a glance, and your narrowed hawk eyes landed on someone behind Bucky.

He followed your gaze to meet Josh, who had raised two fingers in the air cockily to greet you and the girl behind you.

“Josh, you mother fucker.”

And before Steve could say ‘language!’ (yes, Bucky had caught on pretty quickly after Tony would say it every other sentence), you had crossed the room in what felt like just two strides and socked Josh right in the jaw.

The room erupted in chaos.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Steve was up on his feet in a millisecond, his Captain America side taking over.

“That’s it, honey! Do it again!” Tony cheered.

“Is this some kind of Midgardian greeting that I have not yet been informed of?”

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on in my own meeting!”

“That was the best thing I’ve seen in my whole life.” Avril grinned.

Natasha didn’t say anything, but her face clearly said ‘girl, me too’.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” Sam chuckled from next to Bucky.

“Same.” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“Whoa hold up, did you just agree with me??”

“Shut up, pigeon brain.”

“Excu-”

The only thing that stopped Sam and Bucky’s cat fight was another punch to Josh’s precious face, this time right in the nose.

Bruce tried to reason with you from across the whole ass room, practically shouting over all the commotion as Steve tried to pull you away from Josh.

“Ace, sweetheart, why don’t you talk it out instead of going straight to violence? Doesn’t that sound like a better idea?”

“Sounds great, Bruce, but that’s not an option anymore!” You shouted back over your shoulder.

“Look, champ, it’s not right to randomly punch people like that!” Steve was still trying to pry you away from Josh.

“Look, Pops,” You mocked. “It’s also not right to cheat on your girlfriend with some random chick you ran into at a bar!”

Everything stopped.

Except Josh’s struggling from your grasp.

“He cheated on you?” Tony broke the silence, looking like he was going to blast Josh into outer space. “Wait, when were you guys even together? And why in the goddamn world would you date that guy?”

“Not me, dimwit, her.” You point your free hand that was not gripped on Josh’s collar at the girl behind you, looking ready to sprint out of there when all eyes landed on her.

“Just leave it, ma moitié, it’s not worth it.” She said quietly, her words coated in a thick french accent.

Bucky recognized her as the nice agent who gave him a coffee last week after Sam ‘accidentally’ knocked over Bucky’s.

“Just leave it? Absolutely not, hun!”

“Listen to her, Ace.” Bruce pleaded.

“No! This sleazy bastard cheated on my best friend! No fucking way! Literally, who the hell would cheat on a cute french girl?”

“Ace, violence isn’t the right way to-”

“Excuse me?” Josh’s voice rang out, sounding like someone was holding his nose closed shut. “Can someone get me an ice pack?”

You whipped around towards him.

“You. Want. An. Ice pack.” You restated, shooting daggers- no, 7 inch sharp kitchen knives at him.

“My nose hurts.” Josh rolled his eyes. “Y’know, after you turned all Crazy Psycho Lady on me and broke it.”

“You know what?” Your smile dripped with bitterness and sarcasm. “How about I punch it again so it’ll go numb and it won’t hurt anymore?”

You reached your arm backwards to land another punch, but Steve rushed to grab you again, and the chaos resumed.

Tony was instructing you to “kick Steve in the balls and resume beating the shit out of Josh”, while Bruce was very strongly vetoing the idea.

Sam and Clint, meanwhile, were placing bets on how much the medical bill was gonna be.

Suddenly, Bruce rushed over to Bucky.

“Look, man, you gotta help me.”

Bucky looked at Bruce with wide eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah! If you tell her to stop, she would in a heartbeat!”

“Why?” Bucky knew where this was going.

“Because of your metal arm!”

Bucky’s heart sank. Of course you were scared of it. Everyone was. They thought it made him a monster.

So did he.

Even though he was so, so grateful to Shuri for trying to help him feel like a new person with a new arm that wasn’t associated with HYDRA, that bloody ruthless murderer that they made him into never seemed to leave.

He would always be him.

No matter how hard he tried, the memories followed him like a lost puppy, attacking at night when he was trying to sleep.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never shake off the imprint HYDRA had left on him.

No matter how hard he tried or how much Steve told him otherwise, Bucky was still a monster.

A cruel, cold-hearted, evil monster who killed the innocent.

Who killed innocent men, women, and children who didn’t deserve to be killed.

He was the one who deserved to be killed.

“She’s absolutely obsessed with it!”

Bucky choked on his spit.

“Wha-w-what?”

“She adores it.” Bruce rushed. “She says it’s, and I quote, the most beautiful and extraordinary thing to ever be made in history.”

Okay, so apparently Bucky did not know where that was going.

“Still not convinced?” Bruce groaned. “She thinks it’s the most amazing thing in the galaxy. She says it’s the ‘peak of engineering’. You can ask Tony if you still don’t believe me.”

Tony wasn’t extremely fond of Bucky, and neither was Bucky of him, so he decided to take Bruce’s word for it, no matter how much it shocked him.

She likes my arm?

Just because she likes your arm doesn’t mean she likes you, idiot.

“Uh, okay? So, um, what do I do?”

“Tell her to stop!” Bruce lightly shoved Bucky forward when he slowly got up out of his seat.

Bucky hesitantly took a step forward, his mind still trying to process everything.

Bucky maneuvered around Steve, tapping you - who was still out to get it for Josh- on the shoulder after a moment of hesitation.

“Bruce, I already told you, it’s too late-” You spun out of Steve’s grip, but your mouth dropped open when you realized it was not Bruce.

You stared at Bucky with wide eyes. But not out of fear.

Out of adoration.

He was struck with a sudden flash of nostalgia of how his mom looked at him when he gave her a card for Mother’s Day when he was 6.

"Oh, Jamie, I love it.” She had said as she read it with a soft smile.

And that same smile was on your face. “Um, hi there.”

He smiled back.

But not one of those fake smiles he put on to make Steve happy. An actual genuine smile.

And it felt good.

You smoothed out your coat, taking in a breath. “Can I help you?”

Steve stared at the two of you, a grin spreading onto his face.

“I’m not surprised. Those psychos are perfect for each other.” Josh rolled his eyes.

Neither of you heard him.

“Hi, I’m Bucky.”

“She knows.” Tony groaned.

“Shut up, Tony.” Your eyes never left Bucky’s. “Hi Bucky.”

He saw your eyes light up as they made their way to look at his metal arm.

Bruce cleared his throat loudly.

“So, um, Ace. The arm has been giving me a bit of trouble recently. I was wondering if you could maybe take a look at it?” Bucky glanced at Bruce before looking back at you.

“He means now.” Bruce added.

You looked like you were going to faint out of excitement.

“Y-yeah, of course.”

Bruce let out a loud sigh of relief.

“Um, actually.” Bucky started.

Bruce’s head shot up and started mouthing something to Bucky - probably something along the lines of ‘No! Get her out of here before she kills him!’- but he was busy looking at you.

“Maybe you wanna grab a coffee first?”

[michaelceraifhewasagirl]

I accidentally assaulted Clarisse

NEW SERIES ALERT

summary: A new girl at camp, but…. She’s different..

warnings: minimal swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ow. “Ow” is a onomatopoeia, I think, but it didn’t matter if I was grammatically correct, because I had just hit Clarisse La Rue in the head with a rubber axe during practice with the Stoll brothers, and she was now sitting on the ground in a fetal position, holding her head in agony, and staring at me with anger in her eyes.

“Oh my God” I muttered under my breath, as I slowly backed away. “Avery, come back, she’s, she’s not going to hurt you!” Connor Stoll pleaded, but then Clarisse began to get off of the grass and I sprinted towards the strawberry fields. I looked around frantically, trying to see if Clarisse was still following me, but then I caught a glimpse of Beckendorf scolding Clarisse, and I visibly relaxed. 

Okay, quick Backstory: two days ago I nearly got killed by a big bear-wolf thing. A goat-child told me that my mom fucked a Greek God and I’m the offspring. If that makes sense. I thought my mom was Hindu, can multiple Gods exist at once? Anyways, the goat guy brought me back to this cool camp and I got to talk to a horse man and a LITERAL GREEK GOD but he was an asshole so I don’t really care about him to be honest. Fast forward to now, this is my first day training, and I somehow managed to injure 5 people, including myself. 

I was sitting down under a tree, trying to catch my breathe after running a fricking marathon trying to not get stabbed by Clarisse, when I noticed one of the Stoll brothers coming up to me, Connor, was it? “Hey, Avery,” he greeted 

“My name is Aikaterini”

“…Can I call ya’ Avery?”

“No”

“Fair enough,” he nodded, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah” I responded “She’s just… She’s terrifying” and Connor chuckled.

“She’s not that scary, give her a chance, she’s tolerable” he said, and gave me his hand to take to get up off of the dirt, and I took it and dusted off my pants when I was off my butt, “She wants to kill me” I retorted and Connor grimaced. “Stay outta trouble, okay? And be careful”, I nodded and he offered a hand on my shoulder as comfort before heading off somewhere to scold an Ares kid, or kill a small child, one of the two.

I awkwardly walked to the Hermes cabin, in which I was staying in, since my father hadn’t claimed me as yet. I hope he does. I heard a lot of undetermined kids get stuck at the Hermes cabin because their bitch-ass parents didn’t claim them. Anyways, I was like, an Inch away from the cabin, before the boat goy came up to me, wait, no that didn’t sound right, anyways, he came up to me, “Chiron needs to talk to you” he said and he practically dragged me by my arm towards a big building “Who’s Chiro- woah! Okay, so I guess I don’t get to say no”

We arrived inside the building and I paled at the sight of the old horse guy. “Aikaterini Balakrishnan, how are you? Getting along well with the rest of camp?” I could tell that he was trying to make conversation, but I couldn’t focus when there was a 7-foot centaur standing infront of me “I… uh… yeah” was what I managed to choke out before glancing around the room, and noticing that the asshole of a Greek God was sitting at the table, with a irritable look on his face and I rolled my eyes.

The centaur sat down on his hind legs and offered me a seat at the table, where I noticed that they were playing a card game “You’re playing Pinochle.” Chiron raised an eyebrow “Why, yes, do you know how to play?” “Yeah, my mom taught me, well, actually, she taught me Bezique, but I taught myself how to play Pinchole” Chiron nodded in approval “You know how to play Bezique as well, that is quite impressive for a girl your age” I blushed in embarrassment, “Yeah, I guess, why did you call me in here?” “Ah,” he put down his pack of cards and looked at me.

“Do you know what tomorrow is?” He asked

“Friday” I responded confidently

“Yes!” He clapped his hands excitedly and I squinted my eyes “Huh?” Mr. D groaned and stepped out of the room, and Chiron waved him away “Don’t take him on. Tomorrow is Friday! Which means we are playing capture the flag!” He explained and I pursed my lips “You guys actually do things in this place besides trying to impale people or set people on fire?” And Chiron grimaced, “Now now, girl, what happened yesterday with Sanya was a mistake, she was just trying to make a sword and her hair caught on fire, it was a, what is it you children say now-a-days? No biggie” I raised my eyebrows “So why don’t you go find a group to be apart of, huh? Get out there, make some friends, I heard you were training with the Stoll brothers, cheeky bastards, aren’t they?” I furrowed my eyebrows “No, no, they aren’t cheeky, they seem really nice” I said and Chiron chuckles, “That is until they steal a family heirloom from you” “Why would they steal from me?” Chiron seemed suprised I didn’t know about these things, “Aikaterini, their father is Hermes, the God of thievery” “I thought he was the God of messengers?”

Chiron looked at me with a thoughtful look on his face, “Has your mother not thought you anything about your roots?” “Not really, I’m Hindu, I grew up believing in Hindu Gods, now, I don’t know what I believe.” If my mother knew that, that Greek Gods are real, and not just fiction, then why would she grow me up with a religion?” “I am sure your mother had her reasons, that of which, I do not know, but you will come to find out anyways, now, I’d like you to meet some people, if that’s okay with you,” I nodded. Chiron called the goat boy, in which I learnt his name, being Grover, into the room, “Yes?” “It would be appreciated if you could kindly locate our respective leaders, those being one for Team Blue and another for Team Red." Grover nodded and came back into the room shortly with a two girls, a pretty one, with long box braids, and then Clarisse.

“Ladies, we have a new camper joining us, I’m sure you have seen her around, I am going to be making a public announcement soon, tomorrow, before the tournament, but for now, you can introduce yourself to her, and maybe recruit her to your team,” Chiron smiled and I looked at them and awkwardly waved, “Hi, uhm, hi Clarisse, sorry for hitting you, uhm, at- at the uh, the axe throwing thing, sorry” I swallowed nervously “My name is Aikaterini, it’s long, I know, you can call me, Kat, or whatever” my voice cracked and I made a mental note to hit myself in the head with a bat later.

“Hi, I’m Annabeth, I’m blue team leader” “You’re not joining the red team”

“Clarisse.” Chiron butted in, “Atleast see what she can do before you make a decision, now go on, bond, I want to finish this game of Pinochle.” We left the building and Annabeth made conversation “So, do you have any special training? Or any training at all?” “Uhm, I can do kumon?” Annabeth looked at me, a puzzled look rested on her face “What is that?” “It’s like… maths” and Clarisse snorted, Annabeth glared at her, “I mean, physical combat. Do you know any form of self defence?” “I, I can dance?” Clarisse butted in “Yeah, no, Annabeth, you can have her on your team.” I looked down in embarrassment, God, I wanna go home. “What kind of dance can you do? Ballet?” “Kuchipudi,” “Okay, I don’t know what that is, how hard do you have to train for that?” “Not as hard as ballet, probably, but if you saw me do it you would be terrified” “You can’t be any scarier than any monster I’ve ever fought, if you put the same energy that you put into dancing into training, then you’ll be a pro in no time” 

I smiled at her, she was nice, unlike Clarisse, who was walking away, I didn’t mind though, being on the blue team seemed like the better choice. I guess we’ll see how the tournament goes tomorrow, but for now, I’m going see if I’m any good at hand-to-hand combat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ hey guise 😁 I hope you enjoyed the first part of this Pjo fandom seriesssss 💗💗 nones of the characters in this stories except my oc’s (Aikaterini Balakrishnan) that were used in the story so far are mine. I wanted to add a Desi character to this story because they don’t get enough recognition 💗💗 Please lmk what you think about this in the comments and lmk what else you would liek to see in this series 💗 idrk where I’m going with this but I am not gonna let this story go to waste, I’ll try to get it done but I got school and stuff so 😪😪 thanks for reading 💗

[soft-persephone]

No Good For You: (After All This Time)

Avery (Laz Alonso) x Fem!Reader

MDNI // M // WC: 8.4k // warnings: lying, emotional abuse, phycological abuse, GASLIGHTING, mentions of blood, light violence // masterlist

AN:// Daniel Kaluuya is Louis Denton idk why. That’s who it is to me. And this is the closest to DDE I’ll ever be. Enjoy!

“Personal items in here.” You slowly put your stuff in the little plastic box.

“Seat four.” The guard looked at you funny, silently exposing how perplexed he was of your visit. The question and look everyone in your life gave you.

“How do you know this man?”

You stared for a moment. Frozen.

He was so big.

How? When?

Sure he was never short. He wasn’t scrawny either, but this large massive man who looked off into the distance with an anger-fueled disappointment, looking nothing like the boy with the prettiest brown eyes and most charming smile you’d known.

But the way he slumped in the seat and how his eyebrows furrowed across his head, that was a look you were familiar with.

You sat down, looking at his head. His hair was cut so low, but his curls wouldn’t look right on his head. Not now.

Something in your heart pulled, missing his boyish grin and too big for his head ears that matched.

In a way, he grew into the big head of his.

He grabbed the phone with a huff, barely looking at you. “Do I know you?”

You slowly held the plastic phone to your ear.

“Surprise.” You weakly croaked, your voice unexpectedly cracking, making you feel raw and exposed. It was supposed to be nice. Sort of. A little mockery of an almost fond but distant memory. An ode to the relationship you once had. He was behind a big thick glass, but the small rush of fear of messing up something in front of him still pulled at the strings of your entire being, threatening to send you into a frantic spiral.

He slammed his hand on the glass a little too harshly, making a guard shout, but he ignored it. His eyes grew wide, the pupils reflecting the light, starting to sparkle in the pools of dark brown that surrounded them. His eyebrows shot up and his bottom lip stuck out in an almost pout.

He said your name.

It was a plea, a prayer, a greeting, and a promise all wrapped into one.

You methodically placed your thumb in the glass where his palm resided. Fighting the itch under your skin, the crawling of your nerves and the lurch at your stomach, all the things that created a crashing wave of desire to touch him.

His hand pushed against the glass harder as if it would make it disappear, but his eyes were still on you studying your face, unaware of what his hand was doing and urging you to look at him.

But you couldn’t.

Not now.

It was too much.

Plus, you already had your look.

“A lot of people know you're here.” Was all you said. You lifted your finger, slowly tracing the outline of his hand, imagining the warmth of it.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m sure word traveled fast.” A confirmation of your warning.

His face started to revert to an expression you couldn’t read. It was a face that filled you with fear. A face that haunts your nightmares.

“I made a phone call for you.” You sucked in a shaky breath before letting it out.

He blinked repeatedly. His eyes flutter over your face.

“You didn’t have— thank you.”

You huffed.

Well, now you were the one who was stunned.

You examined how his face softened. How it pleaded with you, confided in you. His cool demeanor shifted to something of soft reverence, a casual devotion of. . . a fondness for you.

You wouldn’t call it love.

“I go to therapy.” You licked your lips. Starting to tell him what you really wanted to say.

You ignored his face. You never knew what was real with him if he meant it or if he was up to something. Because even in jail, and more vulnerable than he has been in his entire life, you’re sure he’d find a way to use you. To suck you dry for what’s worth of your life and carry around what’s left, owning you and leading you around like he did everything else.

Like you’ve let him do before.

You pushed away the evil little voice in your head that sounded too much like him.

What once was a voice of your youth turned into a voice of a man you didn’t know that well, but the fear was the same. The underlying terror still raced through your veins.

You closed your eyes. Fighting it.

“I started to go for the nightmares.” You said it matter of factly. Your voice soft. You didn’t have to explain when. He knew it was sometime after.

“That’s good.” The warmth of his voice washed over you, deep, rich, and comforting as always.

You absentmindedly licked your lips.

“I thought that was my only problem. That if I got to the bottom of those,” you looked him in the eye, but now it was him who was avoiding eye contact with you. His hand focused in yours. “But I-“ you stuttered. When had you comfortably placed your palm on the glass? When did you start to crave his affection?

“I was wrong.” You focused in his face, willing yourself to hold strong to what was real and not the world he was creating. The world he wanted to suck you back into.

Him.

“It’s you.” You said it softly like you loved him because maybe some part of you did, but that might not have been real, so you have to work hard to ignore those feelings, even if they overwhelmed every other sensation in your body, mind, and soul.

“Your voice stayed in the back of my head. The lying, gaslighting, and manipulating,” you paused, waiting for him to look at you, pleading him. Because you need to see his face when you say this. You need to. It was the whole point. The only reason you found the courage to come. “It almost broke me.”

“You’re not broken.” He turned towards you slowly. His face taught and haughty. He was always taller than you, but now he looked larger than life. Like something you could never beat. “And I didn’t break you.” He leaned in. His eyes were cruel and leering.

“I tried to free you.” He spat, “because you like it. You liked the blood, you liked the violence, you liked the money.”

You liked me.

He didn’t say it.

But you both knew he didn’t have to.

“Because it’s our blood?” You sneared at him. “Don’t start that bullshit with me. Not now. Not after all this time. I can make another phone call just as easy as I made the first one.” You threatened. “You pick.”

He smiled, leaning back in his seat.

“Look at you,” he praised. “Guess something I taught you stuck.”

Your heart skipped a beat, almost rising in your throat. Your stomach fluttered but you just as equally started to feel sick, but neither physical reactions of protest stopped the rising heat in your body as he bit his lip as his warm words washed over you, filling you with a desire, however unwanted it may be.

“You really have changed.” He continued. His eyes scan over you as if he could confirm it, as if he could see every memory, thought, and day you’ve had without him up until now. “But you haven’t changed in the way you think you have.”

“Sounds funny when you're the one stuck in here.”

“But I look so good on you,” he ignored you, his voice dropping into something low, filled with honey, decadent and rich, “everything you are.” He licked his lips, “is because of me. Yeah you go to therapy to deal with all that dark shit, but you don’t see all the good I caused you.”

“You d—“

“Let. Me. Finish.” His eyes seared with a heated anger.

You swallowed but otherwise didn’t say anything. Backing down, but refusing to cower in front of him.

He sat there. Silently watching you, waiting for you to break, but you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction.

He let out a breath. As if he was happy you didn’t break. His face going back to something sweet and sticky with adoration.

“Look how you carry yourself, huh?” He waited for you to say something, but you only bit your lip. Your face was set in something neutral, but slightly apathetic.

You looked a little hollowed out, your eyes too big, and slightly tired, but the nightmares were the cause of that. They eluded you for so long, but with the news of him in jail caused them to come back.

“You can come here, look at me while I’m on my knees and put your foot on my neck. You can smell anyone’s bullshit from a mile away and you got more money than anyone else, at whatever fuck ass job you ended up in.”

You ignored him, thining your lips.

“You can handle buisness because of me, take care of yourself because of me. . . He put his forhead in the glass with a sigh, “and now, you’re the one taking care of me.”

“I think it’s time for me to go.”

A lie.

You both new that if it was a revisit visit, you’d have been gone ages ago.

But you did your part, and you said your piece.

But it was far from over.

You left before you could regret it.

-

Your crossed your arms with a shiver.

You wore a skirt and a sweater. It was good enough when the sun was up, but you did not expect it to get this cold once the sun started going down, and you did not know you were going to be outside at this hour.

You huffed. The white cloud of your breath made you feel worse. A slow shred of panic started to rise underneath your skin.

The email told you to come at this building at 6:30 and here you were. For some reason the door was locked.

Who does that? Who makes a meeting at a closed building? And when you called the number on the application, nothing.

A guy was walking towards you. A key in hand.

Is this a dorm?

You’ve never been on this side of campus, so you don’t really know. However, you didn’t particularly care at this moment either.

He was so pretty. His short curly hair looked so soft. He was tall, brown skin, there was barely any light around, but somehow his eyes seemed to sparkle. He grinned at you, drawing your attention towards his lips. Thick and so soft. You also wanted to touch them and for them to touch you.

“Hi.” His mouth twisted into a cheerful smirk.

“Hey.” You said small giving a polite smile, before looking back and forth in the direction of the sidewalk. Where was the for you were supposed to meet?

For some reason that made the stranger laugh.

“Are you not here for the job?”

“Wha?” You turned back towards him in suprise. “Sorry,” you cringed at the situation, but also your self, “I just thought you were some guy.”

“Some guy,” he scoffed with a smile, brushing his own shoulder, “well I thought I looked fly this morning. I guess I’ll dress to impress next time.”

“My bad.” You excused, “I’m just cold.”

“Some way to treat the man responsible for getting you the job you so desperately need. A guy willing to help you out of the kindness of his heart.” He ignored you, unlocking the door.

You huffed in relief after following him inside.

The dorm room common area was warm. The tips of your fingers tingle a little too harshly as they warm up.

You paused with a thought.

“What makes you think I’m desperate for this job?”

“Look at you,” he waved his hands downward at you, “look at the weather? You could have emailed and we could have rescheduled.”

“It’s not my fault you scheduled this meeting at a building that locks it doors after five and your,” you looked at your watch, “five minuets late.”

“But you were what, 15 minuets early?” The change in his tone was off putting. Like he was mocking you somehow, but his smile and demeanor held no other evidence.

He took a step towards you, and you took one back to keep the distance, but he only took another step, crowding your space, lowering his face only a few inches above yours.

“You were 15 minutes early, not accounting for the walk here. I was late, and you still stayed. And it’s freezing cold outside.” His voice was low and icy. It sent a chill down your spine. His mouth curling into a barely concealed snarl.

“Can we start the interview?” You tilted your face away from his, silently begging for him to stop. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him.

“In Progress.” he turned on his heels.

You followed, pursing your lips.

“That's my roommate over there. Don't mind him.

He led you to his room. Something in the back of your brain was screaming at you. The whole thing starting to feel wrong.

He plopped down at the seat of the shared desk in the room.

You looked over to his roommate in a chair in the corner. He gave you a small nod and a wave, going back to whatever he was doing.

He didn’t seem all that comfortable in the little chair. His bed was flat against the wall and the space it normally lay on, held a white sheet on the wall, with a camera in front of it.

“You bring the stuff?”

You brought your backpack around from your shoulder to your front. Pulling Out your license, social security card and all the usual askings from a job. He scanned each one, sending it form the printer to the computer and stored the files away. You casually looked around as he documented each one.

On the desk were blank plastic cards, some had words, some didn’t. Various sets of different states were on them with different places for a photo, a stack of little blue squares were next to it blank in the center where a ssn would go.

The makeshift photo set up started to make a little more sense.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristled and not from the cold.

You turned toward him with your mouth open, but you stopped. What would say? What could you say?

“Here,” he interrupted you from your spiraling thoughts, handing you back your papers, “don’t touch anything.” He chided after.

He didn’t seem to notice your reaction, or maybe he didn’t care, more concerned with you leaving it all alone.

You put your papers back in your bag, thinning your lips to hide your dismay.

“When do I start? Where will I be working?”

This got you a winning smile. Why? You remained unsure.

“Give me your phone.”

You handed it over with a huff.

“There,” he handed it back to you, “you have my number. When I call, answer, and we’ll get started. After that, we take it from there.”

“This isn’t professional on any level.” It was a statement.

“Look, we all have our side hustles,” he gestured around the room, “but that has nothing to do with this work study program, aight?”

You nodded.

“I guess, I’ll wait for that call then.” You put your bag on your shoulder, ready to walk out the door.”

“Uh-uh,” he stood, putting his hands in your shoulder to stop you, “where are you going?”

“Home.” You squinted in confusion.

“Not like that, you're not.” He walked over to his roommate's closet and pulled out a hoodie and some sweatpants, throwing them at you, “here, put these on.”

You held them with a frown.

“But these aren’t yours.” You complained, “these belong to—“

“Maurice doesn’t mind sharing.”

You looked over to Maurice for reassurance that it was okay. He slowly nodded. His mouth opened to say something but after quickly looking at his roommate, he stopped.

You huffed with disapproval as you pulled the pants on over your skirt. And quickly shimmied into the hoodie.

The instantaneous sensation of warmth dissuaded any thoughts of doubt in your mind.

Maurice wasn’t as tall as his roommate, so they weren’t ridiculously baggy on you. That made you feel a little better. You quickly walked around. Peering into different corners and nooks of the room.

Thinking you were just being nosey, He put his hands on your shoulders, gently but firmly ushering you out the room.

“I was looking for a mirror.” You smacked your teeth and defended yourself.

He took your back pack and slung it on his shoulder. You didn’t necessarily let it go, so it wasn’t an easy process, but he more than forcefully tugged it out your hands, standing up straight. There was no other opportunity for you to snatch it back as he stood over you.

“What are you doing?” You groaned, at your breaking point.

“I’m walking you to your dorm. It’s dark outside and it’s a long walk.”

You blinked.

“Lead the way.” He ordered, and you reluctantly obeyed.

The walk wasn’t so bad.

You could gratefully cross your arms as you walked. Shielding yourself as much as you can from your new. . . Boss, you suppose he is now. A stranger in a new budding professional relationship he was ruining at every turn.

He walked too closely to you, refusing to start a walking pace faster or slower than yours, if you sped up, he sped up, if you slowed down, he slowed down. When you needed to stop and tie your shoe, he patiently waited for you to finish without complaint.

Despite his amicable walking behavior, you wish conversation with him was just as easy.

“I’m Avery,” he introduced, “by the way.” He quickly added after when you only nodded.

“I know what your name is. It was on the application and on the job board with the phone number, it’s in your email, and you told me on the phone call for what’s supposed to be an interview.”

“But you hadn’t said it.” His tone accusatory, making the air feel all that colder.

“Maybe if you set clearer professional boundaries, then you wouldn’t have to be doing this now.” You shrugged.

“I was going to introduce myself.” His voice was clipped and even, but it didn’t hide the scowl that almost appeared on his face “You interrupted me.”

“I really didn’t.” You laughed, more out of a sick amusement for striking a nerve with him. Glad to be getting on his nerves as much as he had been getting on yours.

“I was,” he stepped in front of you, not letting this go, “I said Hi, and I was going to do the whole dance,” he held up a finger, “I’m Avery with the student ran work study program,” he held up another finger, “you were going to introduce yourself, and everything would have went like normal.” Saying his side and apparently satisfied he turned on his heels and started walking.

You rolled your eyes and followed him.

“But it’s your fault it didn’t go that way.” He blamed, apparently not done.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now.”

“Of course it’s your fault,” he said it casually, almost a little too matter of fact for your liking, “instead I saw you were freezing cold and had to get you inside as soon as possible. . . It threw me off”

“Well I’m sorry for ruining a standard interview procedure by patiently freeezinf my ass off and expecting you to show up on time.”

“You should be.”

With more persuasion then what should of been needed, you sent him away. Insisting you didn’t need anyone to walk you to your actual dorm room. That if you somehow died from the front door outside to your own dorm room door, he could watch it on the news with everyone else.

Later on, he called and you answered.

You picked the time and place, this time around.

The common area in the library, at 11:00 you originally instead on an earlier time, but Avery likes to argue over everything. You settled for 11:00 just to get him to shut up.

“Some meeting place this is.” He had a paper cup in his hand, shaking it by your ear to get your attention. A few people turned towards him with frowns and glares, but he didn’t pay them any attention.

“Will you lower your voice,” you smacked his hand that held the cup to your ear away, keeping your voice low, “this is a library.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“For somone who complained about meeting earlier, you look wide awake and well rested to me. You don’t look like someone who just woke up and hates mornings.” You said tersely.

“Who said I hated waking up early?” . He took a seat next to you, “I just have things I need to do early in the morning. Things that I don’t cancel for anyone.”

“Fine.” Was all you said in response to that, not really caring.

“So let’s get straight to business,” he pulled up his back pack into his lap, pulling out a neat crisp envelope, “this is yours,” he started to explain.

You opened the envelope, taking a peek at it as he talked to you.

“So, I don’t have anything for you as soon as expected, so it’s gonna be a little while,” he explained further.

It was $500.

You swallowed, deciding to listen to him, unsure of how to react, but the relief that washed over you was there. You could finally get your books without figuring out how to pay for them. All of them. All at one time. . That way what money you did have left could go to whatever else you may need without worry.

“So here’s a, down payment or a type of deposit, to hold you over, until I can get you a real job,” he explained further.

He looked better in the daytime. His hair looking even softer. His face glowy, but you still couldn’t get over his eyes. You were equally enamored with the way his mouth moved as he talked, but what came out of it annoyed you too many times to count, ruining your infatuation with them, but you’d happily settle for looking into his eyes as he talked.

“So is that enough?” His eyes were on you as he talked, but they also darted to some random kid who zoomed by on a skateboard. You weren’t as shocked because you were always here and that guy did that at this exact time of day everyday.

If someone talked too loud or moved too closely, his eyes would absentmindedly follow them.

“Yeah it’s enough to buy my books with, so I’m not too worried about the rest of things later. I can wait. I’m good with any job.”

He stopped talking after you responded. His eyes lock with yours. The casual mirth in them seemed to dim into something serious that didn’t match his smile.

“Will you stop looking at me like that?” He accused.

You scrunch your face in confusion, but otherwise, you didn’t look away.

“Like what? What are you talking about?”

He looked aghast, almost offended. But he didn’t say anything about how he felt, licking his lips before pulling another semi-serious face.

“I’m looking you in the eye because that’s how conversations work? People tend to make eye contact with whoever’s speaking with them.” You waved your hands up as you explained, thoroughly confused by his confrontational energy.

He huffed. Not responding, he pulled another envelope out his bag and handed it to you.

“You need more than just book money.”

He stood up, fully frowning, but refusing to look at you.

“Just wait for me to give you another call. Aight?”

And he left, not waiting for your reply.

You looked into the envelope. $800.

What the fuck were you going to do with $800? Why is he just handing you so much cash?

You put both of them in your bag with a huff.

As irritating as he was, he was considerate. You hoped this wasn’t the money he had been paid to run this program. Something in you just knows how he doesn’t feel too nice about debts and people that owe him anything.

The last thing you ever wanted to do was owe Avery anything.

You got another call about another way too late meeting.

7pm.

You were irritated, but you showed up.

“There she is.”

Avery was wearing a suit, or maybe it was tux, or maybe, a fancier suit.

It was hard to tell.

Whatever it was, he looked nice.

You were back in his and Maurice’s dorm room.

“Here,” he wasted no time. he handed you a stuffed garment bsg, “put one of these on. I got a lot of different sizes, so one should fit.”

“I’m working now?!”

“The early bird gets the worm, right?”

“It’s not early.” You muttered.

You looked around before opening your mouth, but before you could ask he was already pointing, “Bathroom’s inside. That corner over there.”

You gave him a tight lipped nod. More out of being shocked and confused than irritated, usually because of him, an occurrence you were both used to at this point.”

Dim light aside, the bathroom was fine. Not the disaster you feared it would be.

Freakishly annoying behavior aside, Avery was neat.

The dress was black, very simple, but you wore it well. It looked fancier on you.

“This one fits.” You moved to put on the heels he told you to bring.

“Wait wait wait wait,” he stopped you, “that one fits perfect, but you need to size down one. It’ll look even better.”

You stood up straight. “What kind of job is this again?”

“Easy,” he held up his hands, “it’s not my call okay. I just know you need to size down.”

You sighed, going back in the bathroom.

It was too tight.

You didn’t like it. It exposed to much, it threatened to roll up your thighs, but you tested it, taking a few steps back and forth. Your breast felt too smushed together and kind of hurt.

But what really upset you was the exposed panty lines.

You’d have to take them off. . . And you don’t want to, but you had to.

So you stalked, pacing around in the bathroom for no reason.

With one final sigh, you opened the door.

“Can you hand me my bag real quick?”

“Why? Just put the dress in and come out.”

“Hand me my bag! Just throw it over!”

“We’re going to be late if you keep this up! If you have it on, just get out the bathroom and put the damn shoes on!”

“Hand! Me! My! Bag!”

He smacked his lips.

Scowling, he threw your bag towards you.

“You’re an asshole.” You said sweetly before closing the door.

You walked out.

“That was fast.”

“I never said it would take long. I just said hand me my bag,” you rolled your eyes, “ you made a big fucking deal out of it, so,” you ended the sentence open endedly, putting on your shoes with one hand.

He paused for a moment, looking at you.

“You changed your hair.” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, attempting to hide the pout on his face.

You averted your gaze, blinking a few times to hide how fast you looked away from him.

“I wanted to. I like looking nice.” You attempted to sound stern, to say it with some sort of attitude but you lost it half way, more thrown off by his sudden change in mood.

“Let’s go.” He gestured toward the door with his head, grabbing your coat for you to put your arms through.

He led you to a car already waiting for you both outside.

There was a man in the car, making your freeze, but Avery paid you no mind, forcefully pushing you forward into the car.

“Im Louis Denton, nice to meet you.” he politely introduced himself, holding out a hand for you to shake.

You took his hand reluctantly, but not too much so, you didn;t want to be too rude. His demeanor not holding any alterior motives from what you could sunrise off of an initial meeting.

“I’m sure you have more than a few questions, but I’d be more than happy to answer them before you get started on your job tonight.”

They were brothers, not by blood, but that didn’t stop them from being so close.

Louis was very obviously so not like Avery. He was. . .calm, even headed. You assumed he was the type of guy who never raised his voice, not even if he was angry. Something about him and the way he explained everything, persuaded you to stay.

He was darker,than Avery, his undertones cooler. Much Shorter, and less athletically built, but he had a presence about him. He carried himself just as highly, but he was cooler about it. He didn’t run as hot.

You still weren’t happy about it, but you stayed.

“This is your new boyfriend.” he handed you the photo. You thumbed over it, now uneasy about it all over again. It all felt too real too soon.

“Look,” Louis, leveled with you, “ we aren't expecting you to sleep with this guy, but if it gets to that point, I promise you we’ll be there to stop him. We won’t let him do anything to you that you don't want to do. That’s not what we need your help with.”

“But you still need to show him a good time.” Avery interrupted. “He needs to believe that you want this and you’re into him or everything falls a part.”

“She seems like a smart and capable girl. She can figure that part out on her own.”

Avery glared at his bother, but ultimately relented, letting it go.

You took your coat off, the car hot.

“I just have to get him to this hotel?” you flipped through the papers that held the address.

“And this hotel room, the person at the desk already knows what’s up, so you just have to pretend to get the room.”

You nodded biting your lip.

“You’ll be fine.” Avery attempted to comfort you, but something about it seemed off and distant. His tone sounding a little too harshly. “This guy already likes you. You're his type. Your looks do half of the work for you, and you have some things in common with him, so try to hone in on what those are, and everything after that should come naturally to you.”

The car stopped.

Not wanting to drag this out any longer, you made to leave out of the car. Avery grabbed your arm pulling you back.

“Leave your coat.”

“Leave my coat? No!” you jerk your arm back towards yourself. “Why would I leave my coat?! Its fucking freezing outside!”

He looked to the ceiling, rolling his eyes so dramatically, you had the fight to fight the urge to slap him while his guard was down.

“Will you please, do as I say for once without arguing with me?” He pleaded, earnest.

‘I just want to know why it's so important I leave my coat!” you yelled continuing to argue because being vague doesn’t do anything to deter you to do what he says.

“Leave the fucking coat!” He yelled.

“Why!”

“It makes you vulnerable!! He’ll think you’re cuter because of it!”

You blinked. Stunned.

‘You make” you started lowly, his words confusing you to the very core of your being, “no fucking sense.”

He scowled, about to say another thing, probably something just as stupid as before , but you interrupted him.

‘You never make sense, and its so fucking annoying. I’m so tired of all your fucking mood swings, your weird attitude, your lies, “ you went on and on, at some point you don’t even know what’s coming out of your mouth. Just everything he’s put you through and made you feel comes out. The euphoria of it overwhelms you, consumes you. In your sudden fervor of frustration, anguish, and nerves until it’s all out and your were huffing with the exertion of it, “I'm so sick of all of it.”

His nostrils flared, his face pulled taut in anger. He twisted his mouth open, ready to unleash some form of hell onto you, most likey to say something even stupider than he has the entire night so far, but he didn’t get the chance.

“Hey,” Louis said your name in an even tone, causing you both to turn toward him, “leave the coat.”

Your face fell, almost in to a pout,

Frowning, you exited the car into cold.

This guy wasn’t so bad. The stranger you needed to lure in somewhere for some reason.

He had tan brown skin and a kind smile. It didn't go with his striking face and jet black hair. Thick as it fanned across his face onto his shoulders in a wavy raven halo.

He was even nice to be around.

“Your’re even cuter in person!” he popped in front of you with a grin from ear to ear.

“Where’s your coat?” he laughed, the sound of it reverberating around in your brain. The echoes of it resounded like the aftershocks of a bell, ringing in your mind.

“I was too excited to meet you. I accidently left it at home.”

“Well, we need to fix that.” he held out his arm, waiting for you,” you stood, almost forgetting what you were here to do. You wrapped your arm in his, letting him lead you to his car.

“We can get you a coat, and so much more!” He mused, looking down at you,“let’s have some fun.”

It took you a while to figure out that this guy likes to impress girls with money. That maybe his one and only move had been buying things, showing off shiny fancy things and cars, and going places.

You've, declined his offer, for five separate spontaneous vacations in the first hour of meeting him, convinced he’ll change your mind, and at some point you'll either end the night or start an entirely different day in another country.

“You picked out a long baby blue pea coat. The cut of the coat was unique and the color made you happy. The warmth it provided made you even happier. 100% cashmere, Mr rich stranger insisted.

He’s told you his name, but you keep forgetting.

You stopped to look at something in the window for one second. No longer and no less.

The sparkle of some random diamond twinkled in your eye.

“Did you want those? What is it?” it was like he had a sixth sense for when you wanted something.

“Oh, nothing, I–”

“-- ah-ah-ah,” he grabbed your hand, practically dragging you into the jewelry store, “I saw you. There's something in here you want, and we won’t leave until you get it.”

“I. . .didn’t” you insisted, pouting.

“You're adorable.” he smiled, “please, it’s all I want from you. Please.” he begged, smiling.

You tried to hold back a smile but failed.

“I’m not adorable.” was what you said first, “and fine. I’ll find smething, if you wnt me to have it so bad.”

“Of course.” but you both know he was lying.

“I like these.” you pointed at a pair of diamond earrings.”

“Are you sure?” the sales woman asked. You wee thrown off by the question, scrunching your face.

“I think something more dramatic would suit you, one sec” she walked away and came back with a similar pair that was much much bigger.’

You swallowed intimidated by the size.

“Yes!” Your date exclaimed next to you, those would be so perfect. You must get them.

“Let me try them on first.”

And you did, and then you accidentally found a necklace you liked, then he insisted on getting one that he liked on you to go with it. And then he declared you needed a bracelet to match.

As you walked out the store you had several bags, filled with empty boxes, jewelry cleaner and more diamonds on your body than you could dream of.

The idea of wearing all this money in such flashy way made you feel slightly queasy.

“Where should we go next?”

“Well, . .”

You sold them this story of a hotel youve always wanted to go to. Something about the music, the fancy restaurant nearby, the live band being one of your most favorite musical ensembles. Something wistful and dreamlike.

His eyes widened at the middle of your lie, buying it completely.

“Then we shall go there!” he happily declared taking your arm in his towards his car.

It was all so fast.

Drinking, eating, and enjoying the music. He was so easy to be happy with. You wanted to believe the lie for his sake. The thought of deceiving him now felt too harsh. He didn’t deserve it.

You both laughed as you missed the place to scan the keycard. You weren't that drunk, just so. . .something else. You weren’t sure. You both spilled into the door with a fit of giggles. Your bags from all the shopping had already been brought up.

“Grab him.”

“Whu- what's going on?”

Louis stood in front of you.

“Sit.” was all he said.

You sat on the bed a little confused.

You watched as Avery threw the man on the floor. A sick grin on his face.

“Not happy to see me, Raime. Thought we were friends.”

“Please, I'm sorry. Just let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh Raime, buddy.” Avery took off his suit jacket, throwing it on the bed. He rolled up his shirt sleeves, “I don’t want nothing to do with her. Its just you and me.”

Quicker than you could process, he had hit raime in the face. The sound was a wet dull thud. You sucked in a breath. You fisted the sheets in your hand to keep them from shaking to badly, everything in you was screaming, but you kept your mouth shut.

‘Hey,” Louis stepped in front of you, obscuring your vision. “Put in your banking information. Dont pay attention to that.”

His steady calm tone was unwavering. What you once felt as a comfort now sent an eerie chill down your spine.

“Uhm, okay.” you took the phone with shaky hands, you silently typed in your numbers, the sound of Avery’s fist hitting Raime resounded on the walls of the room. Raime’s cries of pain grew more dull with each one. His screams morphed into low desperate groans of protest.

“You know what you have to do if you want me to stop.” Avery huffed before spitting on him. He wiped his mouth, smearing the blood on his hands onto his face.

‘Fuck.” he swore to himself. He blinked for a moment, looking at his hands, and then the blood on his shirt.

He swore again.

He looked at you, inhaling sharply with a sniff, his face blank. The glow in his eye transitioned into something cruel, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Hurry that shit up. This is an easy one.”

Avery nodded at him, breaking eye contact with you.

“You,” Louis poitned inyour face, “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”

The thud of Avery’s fist started to make Raime sound wet, sometimes accompanied by a crack or even weirder sharper thud.

Your tongue felt too thick in your mouth.

“Breathe.” Louis pulled out a pack of gum, offering you some.

You shook your head, taking in a shaky breath in your mouth before letting it out.

‘That's right,” Louis encouraged you, “just like that, in and out, keep looking at me. Don’t look at them.”

You weren't calm, but you felt like you could finally breathe again. However, your hands wouldn't stop shaking.

“You're a smart girl. You don’t need me to tell you not to look.”

“Please.” Raime’s voice ws barely a whisper. Low and broken as he gargled it out before coughing up a patch of blood.

“You know what you have to do to make it stop.” Avery sniffed harshly.

“Fine, please, anything please.” Raime weekly held up his hands.

Avery fished a phone out of his pocket, throwing it into Raime’s chest.

He stood over him, staring him down as he struggled to grab a hold of it.

The room was full of nothing but Raime's groans and Avery’s huffs from exertion .

You stole a quick glance at Avery as he was silent.

Splatters of blood rested on his brow, the smear of it on his cheek from earlier. His shirt surprisingly, wasn’t that bloody, but nothing could hide the amount of it left on his hands.

“Will you do me another favor?”Louis asked, taking your attention away from him.

You rose your eyebrows at his question.

“Do what you can to calm him down.” He handed you $500.

You took it, unsure and confused.

“You did good.” He patted you in the shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”

And with that he left.

Avery was now slumped in a chair. The phone now back in his hand.

His eyes were shut, but he didn’t seem relieved or glad that it was over, or happy to have gotten whatever it was he wanted in any way.

You stood up, not really sure what your next move was.

Two men pushed by you grabbing Raime nand dragging him out.

You went into the bathroom to grab a washcloth. You dowsed it in hot water. It stung your hands, setting your hand ablaze as the prickly sensation tingled along your skin. You blinked, you could feel it and it hurt, but for some reason, you didn’t move it.

Avery sniffed, making a loud obnoxious and quite disgusting sound you’ve hated hearing You were tired of hearing it, but in this rare moment you thanked him for it. It brought you to your senses.

You turned the water off, wiping away the phantom tears that wouldn’t fall from your eyes. No matter how much you wanted to cry, the tears refused to fall.

By the time you made it out the bathroom, all the evidence of what just happened was gone. The only shadow of that horrific hazy dream you wanted to push far into the depths of your mind, was covering Avery’s hands, it was smeared across his face.

You swallowed as you approached him. Still sitting in the chair. He was glaring into space at nothing and no one in particular, his gaze hard and frightening.

Tentatively, you brought the cloth to his face, careful not to burn him.

He flitched away from your touch, making you jump just as abruptly. His gaze slowly transitioned into something more familiar to you, something more annoying than violent to you.

You breathed through your nose in relief.

A sensation of happiness threatening to run through you. Through the cloud of anguish and confusion you were feeling.

He was still there.

“What are you doing?” He scolded you.

“Just . . . Let me do this.” You pleaded earnestly. Too tired to fight.

You wiped the blood off his face, it was starting to stick, but it eventually came off, taking more than a few tries, but after it was gone, it was like new lines of it appeared, were you making it worse?

The more you wiped, the more blood seemed to appear on his face.

You made a small squeaking sound, but it didn’t seem to set him off. He didn’t say something snarky or irritating. His expression was something soft. His eyes slowly dart around your face like you weren’t breaking down more and more as the seconds went by. Like you weren’t experiencing a raw terror through every sensation of your body.

He brought a hand to your face, slowly caressing your cheek, leaving trails of something cold, dark and sticky on your face, making you freeze.

“Breathe.” Was all he said, but it didn’t sound so calm and soothing like when his brother said it, it sounded sweet and sinister, his voice dripped in honey, disguising its venomous intent.

Your throat felt a little tighter.

“It’s gone,” he moved his head from side to side, proving it to you.

You brought a hand to his head a little too harshly, almost slapping him as you did. He winced with a tisk, but didn’t complain about it.

You moved his face around some more for your own conscience.

Once you were finally satisfied, you found your ability to breath easily again, without anyone’s help.

You let your hand stay there.

Tracing one of his eyebrows with your thumb.

Then you had a thought.

Taking your chance, you put your hand in his hair. Caressing it, massaging it through your fingers, once you were satisfied, you slowly scratched his scalp with your nails, rubbing his head in circular motions.

He closed his eyes with a hum.

Something nagged at you when he did.

“Your eyes sparkle.”

You said it out loud like you weren’t talking to him. Soft and low like you were talking to yourself. You didn’t look at him directly when he sharply opened his eyes once more. They were wide as he blinked in confusion.

“What’s so special about these earrings?” He changed the subject. Thumbing at the diamonds and covering with them with blood.

“They remind me of a pair a woman had on, in this old movie my mother loved to watch when I growing up.” You looked at your hands, fiddling with the washcloth.

He took it from you, silently demanding your attention.

“I only smiled at them because they reminded me of her.”

“Well they look good on you. You should wear more diamonds.”

“Too many people died for a useless pair of earrings.” You bit back. Not sure why the diamonds made you angry.

“And even more people have died for the next pair I’m gonna get you.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Am I laughing?” He glared up at you, wiping the blood off his hands without looking. “Come here, you got somethin’ on your face.”

“I am here.”

“No,” he grabbed your arm, pulling you into his lap, hard, “your not.”

He laughed as you scrambled off of his chest, sitting up as quickly as you can to put distance between you.

Somehow you were still snug against him, straddling his lap, he slid his hands along your body, resting his palms on your ass. He squeezed it though your dress, his nails digging harshly into your skin.

You dug your nails into his shoulders in response with a surprised yelp. He only licked his lips as he watched your face change.

“Stop.” You cried.

He immediately let go, letting his hands rest on your hips to keep you steady. Perhaps from falling over and breaking your neck.

“Have you. . . Done this before?” You suddenly asked.

He moved a stray hair from your eyes, letting his hand linger on your face. He swiped the pad of his finger up and down from on cheek to. You blinked in confusion before you realized he was wiping a tear from your eyes.

“First time.” Was all he said.

“This blood.” He picked up the stray towel. Wiping harshly at your face, a steep contrast from his attitude before, from the sweetness in his tone and the gentleness in his gaze, “is on your hands as much as it is on mine.”

You sucked in a breath. Almost falling with it.

“N-no it’s not,” you stuttered, “y-you did that. Not me.”

“But you led him here,” he leaned in whispering in your ear, letting his lips grace softly at your neck as he continued, “you lied to him.”

“No. . .I—

“What did you think was going to happen after you brought him here, huh?” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer into him. Your throat feels tight and your chest heaved. He nuzzled his nose along your neck, letting his words fan across your skin, “I don’t go to your school,” he kissed your neck.

You swallowed, gasping as he did. A wave of an undefinable emotion washed over you, or perhaps it only felt so because you didn’t want to acknowledge them for what they were, what they are.

You squeezed at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to cling onto reality.

“I don’t fucking know, Maurice,” his words grew sloppier as he mouthed slowly up your neck, dragging his lips on your delicate skin, “you knew I was lying.”

“No, I didn’t.” That you could say firmly. That you knew.

“Look who’s lying now.” His lips felt too hot on your cheek. Each kiss on your skin felt like it left a mark , burning you. You tried to move off him, having enough, but you couldn’t, his arms too snuggly around you. His hold on you too tight.

“No.” You shook your head.

“You took the money.” He grinned, resting his forehead on yours. His breath smelled like mint and whiskey. “You could have acted on every part of yourself that said this wasn’t right. You could have listened to every thought of doubt that crossed your mind.”

“It’s- it’s not me. It wasn’t me.”

“You’re a part of this.” He said definitely, “this is your mess too.”

It felt like your heart stopped. You put a hand to your chest trying to breath.

“Avery.” You choked, desperate for him to get help.

He inhaled and exhaled loudly, grabbing your hands, squeezing so tightly you winced.

“Just, breathe.” He scolded. “You're fine.” He inhaled, then exhaled.

It wasn’t long until your mind caught the pattern. Your body’s natural inclination to survive overrode the emotions warring inside of you.

On your last exhale, he parted his lips, leaning towards your face to touch yours with is. You tilted your head as much as you could, pulling away.

“Let me kiss you.” he pant.

You shook your head.

“I’m not a bad person.” You trembled.

“Of course your not a bad person.” he tisked. “I’m not a bad person.”

“You are a bad person.”

“If I’m a bad person,”He leaned in to kiss you, “You are too.”

[darkredsugarcookie]

The Tower - Chapter 3 // Bucky Barnes

author's note: hey hunny bunnies so I'm actually so excited now that we're getting into the swing of things! eek! Per usual, you can find all the warnings for the entire series in the prologue & I just posted a masterlist! if anyone wants to be added to the taglist, just comment and let me know! <3

Taglist: @cats-chaotic-mind @sleepysongbirdsings @averyjoyysworld

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, really slow burn at this rate im sorry

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Dad said, leaning against the counter as we sat at the kitchen island eating breakfast. I glanced at Avery beside me, who shrugged. “We have a charity gala in two weeks.”

I took a bite of my scrambled eggs. “You need us to watch Morgan?” 

“The opposite, actually,” Mom said, resting her arm on Dad’s shoulder. “The organization specified that this was family attendance. Family members above the age of fifteen are required to attend. So Avery, you’ll be going with your dad, and Cassandra, you’re coming with us.” 

“Won’t it just be a punch of political old men talking to each other for hours?” Avery asked. 

“Mostly,” Dad said.

Mom smacked his arm, glaring at him a moment before she turned back to me. “Not necessarily. This is an opportunity for you guys to see and understand how we work with the authority in the city.”

“Dad says the authority in the city is stupid,” I replied. 

Dad closed his eyes and sighed. “We’re going to spend one night pretending that we don’t think that.”

“Okay…” I said with a sigh, glancing at Avery, who was trying not to laugh.

“But it’s a black tie event,” Mom added. “So you girls need to find dresses if you don’t have any. And also maybe learn how to waltz.”

“Who am I waltzing with?” I asked. 

“Probably me,” Avery said. 

“Most likely.” 

“You are both allowed to bring a plus one as they’d like spouses or future spouses to be involved. So give that some thought.” Mom winked at Avery. 

“Can my plus one be my dazzling personality?” I deadpanned.

“As long as it stays out of my way,” Dad replied, sipping from his coffee. “Two weeks!” he called as he walked towards the elevator to go to the lab, coffee mug in one hand, the other dramatically twirling a finger in the air.. “Dresses! Waltzing!” 

Mom shook her head. “Let me know if you guys need help,” she said before following him. 

“That’s exciting,” I said as I climbed down from my seat to put my plate in the sink. “I haven’t been to a gala in forever."

“My last formal event was prom,” Avery replied. 

I laughed. “Okay, but you looked amazing.”

“We both did.”

That night was insanity. Rhys and I had broken up at the last minute so Avery and I decided we were each other’s dates. I had more fun with her that night than I ever would’ve had if I’d gone with Rhys.

“I don’t have classes today,” I said. “Wanna go shopping? Call your boy, we’ll drag him with us.”

“I’m sure he’ll love that,” she said sarcastically, but she was pulling out her phone.

Apparently inviting JJ to shop meant he was suddenly a fashion critic because we’d been trying dresses on for an hour and a half and every single one was met with, “I don’t know,” or “that waistline is too low for you,” or my all time favorite, “are we going for washed out?” 

I’d finally made my decision when both JJ and Avery had agreed that it met the bar. I was sitting on the opposite side of the couch as JJ in the fitting room when Avery walked out. 

The second I saw it I knew this was it. And the fact that JJ Maybank was speechless proved my point. 

It was a dark teal, satin gown with a slit nearly all the way up. It was perfect. “That’s it,” I said. 

“Yeah?” she asked, running her hands down the front of her dress as she looked in the mirror. She looked at JJ who took a deep breath before answering. 

“You’re— It’s gorgeous.”

Hearing him hesitate to give her a compliment was simultaneously adorable and made me want to elbow him, but I didn’t. 

Her cheeks tinged pink and she nodded. Say ‘thank you’, I mouthed. 

“Cool,” she said and I rubbed my forehead, rolling my eyes. Okay, we’ll work on that later. 

“Okay, next!” I gathered my things and carefully picked up my dress. “Let’s get these bought and bagged. There’s a men’s section on the third floor.” 

“There’s a third floor?” JJ asked. 

“There’s a fourth floor too,” I replied. “But I, uh… wouldn’t recommend that one till a little further down the road.”

I patted his shoulder while Avery cursed me out, laughing as I walked away. 

Avery sat at the bar, typing into her laptop while I mixed up a pan of pasta. Was it almost one in the morning? Yes. That shouldn’t stop a pasta craving, in my opinion. I had music playing quietly, the lights were low so it wasn’t too obvious that we were awake.

“This stupid— ugh,” Avery groaned, typing more aggressively. 

“What happened?”

“This website for my quiz keeps crashing.” She shut the laptop and leaned over the bar to steal a cherry tomato. “I’m telling you, Cass. I can’t keep doing this.”

“So don’t.”

“Easy for you to say.”

I shrugged. “If college was dimming my quality of life that drastically, I would. I get it, Aves.”

“You took all the school smart.” 

“You took the blue eyes and painting skills. Imagine my frustration.” She laughed, picking up her phone. I walked to the fridge to grab some parsley when suddenly Avery said, “Oh, hey, Bucky.”

I stood up so fast that I cracked my head against the inside of the fridge. “Fucking bitch,” I hissed. 

“Do I wanna know why she’s cussing out the refrigerator?” Bucky asked. 

“I don’t know,” Avery said, giving me a pointed look. 

I gave her an annoyed one in return. “I’m fine,” I said. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, leaning against the counter. “The usual.” 

“Cass and I bought our dresses for the gala today,” Avery said, swiping through her phone. 

“Oh yeah?” 

You need to pull yourself together immediately. 

“Yeah. Mine is teal, hers is red.” 

“We went to the mall in Manhattan,” I said, trying to lighten the conversation. “That’s where Mom told us to go.” 

“Interesting.” Bucky grabbed a glass and filled it with water, resting against the counter opposite of me. 

“Actually,” Avery started and I could just feel the trouble coming. “Maybe it was more dark red. Like a burgundy? That’s more her color, right, Buck?” 

“Definitely,” he muttered into a glass of water.

“Well, that’s kind of obvious,” I countered. “It’s the color of my hair. It’s my thing.” Change the subject, change the subject. “What I’m not looking for, however, is having to dance.”

“What do you mean?” Avery asked. “You love dancing.”

“At parties,” I corrected, rinsing a spoon in the sink. “I have a feeling congress wouldn’t love me shaking ass in the ballroom.” 

“You never know,” Avery replied, causing me to roll my eyes. 

“You don’t know how to slow dance?” Bucky asked. 

“Not well,” I replied. “Certainly not standard for this sort of thing. Never did it at prom. The slow songs were considered water breaks.” 

Avery snorted. Then I saw the most evil smile take over her face. “Bucky can teach you.”

I stared at her hard. “Avery.”

“What? It’s true. I’ve seen it! And Dad talks all the time about when they would go to dances with girls when they were teenagers.”

I took a breath to keep from jumping over the counter and strangling her. “It’s fine,” I said, shrugging. “I’ll keep to myself and I’ll survive. And if I’m lucky, no one will even ask.”

“You should probably know just in case,” Bucky said. 

Finally, I looked at him. His hair was a little messy— probably from tossing and turning. I watched him shrug and extend his hand. And I was vaguely aware of Avery gathering her things and leaving the kitchen. 

I sighed and carefully took his hand. 

“Try not to overthink it,” he said as he stepped closer and guided my hand that wasn’t in his to his shoulder. Suddenly I was hyperaware of every part of him I could feel— the skin of his palm against mine, where metal met flesh under the fabric of his black t-shirt. It was dizzying and all-consuming. “It’s not supposed to be stiff, or awkward.” 

“Unfortunate that I’m both of those things,” I replied and he cracked the smallest smile. 

His free hand came to my waist and ever so gently helped me to sway to the music. “No, you’re not,” Bucky said. “Nice try, though. Let me lead.” 

I looked up at him, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing. “I’m doing my best,” I joked. 

“I know. Move your feet. You’re doing good, sweetheart, I promise.” He squeezed my waist. “Loosen up a little bit. It’s just me.”

He had no idea how much meaning that actually held. I nodded and eased into him a little bit. I felt myself relax, my hand on his shoulder sliding more towards his neck.

“Okay, maybe I was being a little dramatic,” I admitted quietly. “This isn’t that bad.”

“There you go,” Bucky said, but his voice was lower, softer. Like he wasn’t entirely focused on what he was saying anymore. 

I felt his hand slide to my lower back, guiding me closer. Suddenly my whole world was confined to this kitchen and the way he was holding me.

Part of me was terrified that someone would walk in, but the majority didn’t give a single shit. Not when his fingers were tracing circles where they rested against my waist and I could feel him watching me. 

On a burst of confidence, I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. There were a million things in that look— none of which I could decipher. We were dangerously close. One wrong move… 

The song slowed to a stop and we stopped moving but he was still holding me. “Cass…” he started. “I, uh… I should go to bed.” 

I nodded. “Me too.” 

When he stepped away from me, it was like all warmth left my body, though I was still reeling.

“Bucky,” I said as he stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. “Thank you.”  “Anytime."

The second I heard his bedroom door shut, I probably collapsed against the cabinets and whispered to myself, “What the fuck am I doing?”

[wendichester]

hi💕 would you please write something sweet about (possibly gender neutral) reader having a very young sibling (talking about VERY young. like 6 or 7 years old or younger) that has grown very attached to the boys?

they met on a hunt and decided to stick together, and ever since the little kid can't stop spending time with Dean and Sam, always keeps them company etc.

(bonus idea: one night maybe Sam is looking after the kid since reader left for a hunt, putting them to sleep, and the kid reveals that reader has a thing for Sam.. and always talks about him to their sibling. idk it could be cute)

₊˚⊹ ᰔ bedtime secrets,

summary. kids and their blabbering mouths. no secrets are safe! especially possible crushes.

pairing. sam winchester x gender neutral reader

wordcount. 400

notes. first time writing gender neutral reader, so I hope I was able to do it well! thank you so much for requesting sweets 🩷

Sam tucks the blanket up to your brother's chin, smoothing it out the way he’s seen you do a hundred times. He blinks up at him sleepily, small hands clutching the stuffed rabbit he refuses to sleep without.

“You comfy?” he asks, voice soft.

A slow, drowsy nod. “Mhm.”

Outside, the motel room is quiet—just the occasional hum of passing cars and the faint murmurs of Dean watching TV in the other room. You’re still out on a hunt, and Sam had offered to keep an eye on your sibling for the night. It’s been… nice, honestly. The little kid has been glued to him and Dean ever since you all met, and Sam can’t deny that it’s kind of adorable.

He moves to stand, but before he can, a tiny hand reaches out, grabbing his sleeve.

“Sam?”

He sits back down. “Yeah, kiddo?”

He hesitates, eyes darting toward the door like he’s making sure you’re not about to burst in. Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, he says, “Y’know, they talk about you a lot.”

Sam blinks. “Who does?”

“[Reader],” he whispers, like it’s a top-secret mission. He rolls onto his side, propping his head up with his little hands. “They looove talking about you.”

Sam’s lips twitch. “Oh yeah?”

Another big, dramatic nod. “All the time. Like—like how you’re super tall and smart and really nice and how you always smell good—”

Sam chokes on a laugh. “They said that?”

“Mhm.” His little face scrunches up in thought. “And one time they said your hair looks soft. And one time, they said your hands were really big but in a cool way, not a scary way.”

Sam bites the inside of his cheek, warmth creeping up his neck.

“Oh, and they always get excited when you say their name. Like, always.” The kid yawns, eyes fluttering sleepily. “I think they like you.”

Sam is still recovering from the hands comment, so that one hits hard. He clears his throat, unsure what to do with the ridiculous smile tugging at his lips.

“They say anything about Dean?” he teases, trying to shift the attention off of himself.

The kid shrugs, already halfway to sleep. “Sometimes. But mostly just that he’s loud.”

Sam snorts.

A moment later, his tiny voice murmurs, “You won’t tell them I said that, right?”

Sam chuckles, tucking the blanket up one last time. “It’s our secret.”

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[sturn-baby05]

~ Let’ Go Bruins! ~

Summary: Avery Matthew’s… she’s one of the youngest people to make it onto the Boston Bruins hockey team. And the only girl… she went through hell to have a chance on this team!… a penalty brings her to someone, someone she would never expect.

I’d been stressing this game for weeks, this is the game that makes or breaks the team. Everyone has been extremely hard on me… I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t taking a toll on me. I’m treated completely different from the guys… I’m seen as the weakest link, when in reality I’m one of the strongest players on the team. I can do everything, because I trained in everything. So I could be the best!

As soon as you step out where everyone can see you, people are chanting for you and your team. It’s a magical, surreal moment to experience, for sure. As soon as our game started, my blood was boiling, everything pissed me off.

‘MATTHEWS! OFF THE ICE!’

Coach Sacco yelled at me…

‘The fuck did I do?!’

My tone was incredibly defensive and annoyed.

‘Misconduct… GO!”

With a roll of my eyes, and a huff i skated off the ice. This is bullshit I didn’t do anything wrong!

I sat in the penalty box wishing I would have never been involved in this big game…

*tap, tap, tap*

I turned my head to the tapping on my left. A pretty face captured my attention, Icey blue eyes, brown hair flipped out from under a beanie… and the Bruins logo on his beanie.

‘Just wanted you to know, I think that was fucked up! You didn’t do anything wrong…’

I took my helmet off and turned to face him.

‘THANK YOU! So glad I’m not the only fucking one!’

He looked surprised when my long hair fell out from my helmet… his reaction was cute. His face suddenly clicked in my head… I knew who this guy was!

‘Hey… aren’t you Chris Sturniolo?’

I asked making sure I was right, and not going crazy.

‘Yeah! You know who I am…?’

With a smile, I undid the velcro on my glove, with my teeth, and slid my left sleeve up. Showing off the tattoo I had for him and his brothers.

‘It’s how I keep my sanity…’

I said with my smile still apparent. His face lit up with a glow i couldn’t explain…

‘That’s cool as fuck, actually!’

I slid my sleeve back down, and took my other glove off. I had 10 minutes, fuck it.

‘Thanks! I did it myself one night. Figured fuck, why not?’

There was brief silence between us, but his bright smile said more words than he did.

‘You’re like… really fucking good! I can only imagine how hard you trained to play that good.’

Hearing someone else say that I was a good player… meant more to me than he knew.

‘Thank you Chris! You have no idea how much that means to me… I’m seen as the weakest link cause I’m the only girl on the team. So hearing someone, besides myself… think I play just as good…’

Suddenly… it felt like there was hope left for me in this game.

‘You’re welcome… you’re definitely not the weakest link. I think you could take anyone of those boys down!’

I grinned at him before my attention got pulled away.

‘Matthews! Back on the ice!’

As I put my gloves back on, I spoke to Chris one more time.

‘I hope you enjoy the game… hoping we get this big win… wish me luck! Later Sturniolo.’

I gave him a half wave as I stepped back out on the ice. My blood was no longer boiling, I wasn’t pissed off at everything… it seemed his words had affected me. “You’re definitely not the weakest link” kept playing through my head, with every move I made. Because he’s right, I’m NOT the weakest link! I’m one tough bitch!

I had the perfect B-line to score the winning goal… but I started second guessing myself. Panic quickly sat in… I looked to my right and saw Chris. He was standing, cheering like his life depended on it.

‘Go Matthews, go!!’

I could read his lips, it sparked a certainty in me. My head snapped forward, and that little spark in me became a full fledged fire. And I… scored the winning goal. My ears rang and the crowd cheered, everything moved in slow motion. The crowd chanting, ‘let’s go bruins, let’s go!’ Blared in my eardrums. The team picked me up, chanting my name. When I came back to reality I knew there was something I needed to do… I went and grabbed the puck from the net.

‘I need a white marker! Who has one?’

I yelled to the crowd. A silver sharpie came flying over the tempered glass, landing on the ice in front of me. I wrote on the puck…

‘712-000-2340. Thanks for the encouraging words Chris, it means more to me then yk. If you ever wanna be friends with a hockey girl… feel free to HMU. -Avery Matthews <3’

I immediately skated over to Chris. I tapped on the glass to get his attention.

‘Hey Sturniolo!… Catch!’

I threw the puck over the tempered glass, he caught it. I watched him read it as a smile appeared on his face. When he looked back up at me, I started slowly skating backwards, and blew him a kiss before turning around.

After all the chaos from the big night, I went to my hotel room and face planted on the king sized bed. My phone went off making me groan, I just wanted peace!

Hey… is this Avery?

My brows furrowed, who the hell is this? And how did this person get my number… another message came through.

This is Chris Sturniolo!

And suddenly it clicked! I had given him my number on the hockey puck…

Hey Chris! Yes this is Avery! I just wanted to say thank you… when you told me i definitely wasn’t the weakest link it lit a fire in me. Gave me the encouragement to keep going, and to score that winning goal tonight.

Our conversation went on for hours. Some how, some way… he ended up at my hotel room.

‘So if you’re from Iowa… how the hell did you end up on Bostons hockey team?’

‘Long story actually… so, I was never a sports girl growing up. We literally only watched one football game a year, ridiculous I know. Anyway, I got into hockey after watching you guys and Nathan in the hockey video. Got heavy into it, and decided I wanted to play! Like professionally. I started training myself and… well somehow I got lucky and ended up on my favorite hockey team!’

‘Favorite hockey team? So you’re telling me, the bruins were your go to… not even your home state hockey team?’

‘Dude the Heartlanders suck ass! The Bruins are WAYYYY better!’

We laughed and had the best time… this was something I didn’t wanna end, something I wish could become a permanent in my life. He was like a shot of espresso in your coffee, like when the shots of Fireball start to kick in and make you feel all giggly, like when you’re with your best friend and can’t look at each other without bursting into laughter. There were so many words that could describe Chris Sturniolo… but I think my favorite one? Was definitely… perfection. He naturally provided this sense of… calm, and comfort.

‘You’re really cool Avery… I like you a lot.’

His words… sleepy and gentle, as we laid in the middle of the king sized bed… leaving no room between each other.

‘Thanks… you’re really cool too Chris. I like you too…’

The tension between us had grown thick… you could cut it with a knife. He made the tension melt away with a passionate kiss. Leaving me breathless…

****************************************************

Hey Sturniolo fandom! I FINALLY finished my hockey story!!! I hope you guys loved it! I loved writing this, it was genuinely so much fun! May write more hockey themed stories 👀 I love you guys!

-Rose

[luveline]

kbd steve and r dealing with two of the girls holding a grudge/fighting and helping them make up 🥹🥹🥹

kbd —mom!reader and dad!steve attempt to get their girls to forgive each other

“I thought they’d just forget,” you whisper. 

Steve looks over your shoulder, hand on your waist, the smell of hot butter bubbling on the stove like an itch in his nose. “Right? Like, they’d sleep and forget. Especially ‘cos they like sharing the bed.” 

Avery and Beth sit as far away from one another as is humanly possible. Beth sits with Dove toward the head of the table, frowning as her little sister climbs onto her legs and tries to comb her hair, while Avery sits by the open kitchen door. She’s pretending to poke at the snail that lives under the stoop, but she’s really on the edge of tears. 

They’re fighting because Avery took one of Beth’s fruit slices yesterday at lunch (warm pastries that all the kids can’t get enough of). When Steve asked her about it, she lied and said Beth actually ate one of her fruit slices, and Beth had been so betrayed she actually got mad. Beth never gets mad. 

Avery couldn’t take the guilt, confessing in tears the night before that she’d lied, and so you and Avery knocked Beth’s door together to apologise. Only Beth didn’t forgive her. 

It’s weird to see them not getting along. Avery and Beth are so sweet to each other usually. It’s odd that they aren’t sharing their breakfast, that they aren’t trying to feed the baby her mushy eggs. You and Steve are used to a more lovey-dovey feeling in the mornings. 

You dip down to sit with Avery when she does eventually start crying. “What’s the matter?” you whisper. 

Steve knows you’ve got the reins on that one, taking a seat by the other disgruntled party. 

“Is she crying?” Beth asks him softly. 

“Yeah, baby.” 

“‘Cos of me?” 

“It’s not like that.” He pulls Dove off of Beth’s lap before the toddler can trample her. Dove frowns at him but decides to allow it, resting in a lump against his chest. He pats her back. “She feels bad that she upset you, and she lied, and she wishes you were feeling better.” 

It must be strange to be young and be terrified that nobody will believe you, even over something as small as a fruit slice. Steve can’t imagine what he’d feel like now having to justify things to his parents. Or maybe it was that Avery’s never done something like that, at least not that Beth could remember. 

“She lied,” Beth stresses. 

“I know. But she did say sorry, honey, and she promised you two of her fruit slices today to make up for it. Maybe we can be friends again?” Steve says. 

If Beth wants to be mad a little while longer, that’s okay, but from the looks of her where she’s looking back and forth between Steve and the open kitchen door, she’s ready to forgive, or make her sister feel better at the very least. 

“It’s nice to forgive someone,” Steve says. “It’s kind. Avery didn’t wanna get in trouble, but she got you in trouble instead, so it’s cool if you’re still grumpy.” 

“I’m not grumpy.” 

Steve gives her an encouraging smile. “I know. It’s up to you, baby. Between you and me though, I think Avery’s super duper sorry.” 

In your lap, Avery sniffles. Dove climbs down off of Steve as Beth slips from her chair, then looks back for Steve. “Will you tell her I’m not mad?” Beth asks him. 

He wriggles his fingers. She takes his hand. 

It’s an unusually cold morning for the season, Steve can see your arms have wrinkled with goosebumps where they’re wrapped tight behind Avery’s back. You’d already given her a scolding for lying last night, and you and Steve are one and done with parenting; you don’t comfort her reluctantly, you just comfort. “It’s okay,” you say under your bread, swaying her from one side to the other. 

“Hey,” Steve says, crouching down to catch your attention. 

“Hello.” You see Beth, and you smile with relief. “Hi.” 

“Beth has something she wants me to tell you, Ave,” he says, nudging her arm gently with his knuckles to catch her attention. She peers up tearily from your arm. “She said she’s not mad anymore, okay? She wants to be friends again.” 

Avery looks at Beth cautiously. “Really?” she asks. It’s hard not to hear how hopeful she sounds. Steve feels extremely sympathetic, and he can’t help thinking she’s cute. She’s such a sweetheart, just like Beth, and Dove, and baby Wren he’s sure will end up the same. Like you. He can’t count how many times you and him have argued over the years, but every time it ends with you being more sorry than you need to be, and usually some of Steve’s guilty tears. 

“Yes,” Beth says, “so please don’t cry anymore.” 

Avery pouts. “You wanna give your sister a hug?” you prompt. 

Avery jumps up and throws herself at Bethie, almost knocking her younger sister down. Steve puts his hand behind them to stop a calamity. “I’m sorry, Bethie,” Avery squeaks, her voice high with upset and scratchy as she squeezes Beth tightly. 

“It’s okay! I’m not mad!” 

“I know!” Avery sniffles. “I’m still sorry. I told dad you ate my slice but you didn’t, I’m sorry.” 

“She’s forgiven you, baby,” you say, patting Avery’s shoulder. “It’s all water under the bridge. Yeah?” 

Beth holds Avery by the arm as they pull away. “Yeah. Water un’ the bridge.” 

“Thank you,” Avery says. “I don’t like when you’re mad.”

You and Steve make similar expressions of love and empathy over their small heads.  

[benwvatt]

for the weekend sleepover ask game: what are your favorite Grey's headcanons?

aaaaahhhh beachy i love chatting with you! <3

i need alex & jackson & april to move in together and be, like a weird group of 3. sort of a grover-percy-annabeth or a katara-sokka-aang in terms of the cheesy couple and their weird best friend who has emotional regulation issues but, like, needs hugs. he just also needs you to be chill so he doesn't feel embarrassed. and when he's sick he also wants japril to watch movies with him and make him chamomile tea

jackson fell first but april fell harder!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

can we please give matthew some actual character development because i would LOVE to see him actually grow & develop. I'm an exchristian and I really loved the episode where matthew & april talked about her not being a virgin because I found it very insightful and lovely.

I am team-matthew's wife never dies and april never marries matthew and he actually gets to grow as a human being. also he gets to be happy.

I always loved April as christian representation because she is a christian but is so kind (and I also headcanon that she has very complex feelings about christianity and the struggle against god. I can see her partly deconstructing.)

I am team-everyone lives AU. teddy and henry were CUTE. so were teddy and alison, and merder (who are not, like, my absolute favorites but I want them to be happy and I want derek to become a better person, not die because he reached for his phone while turning his truck.)

IF SAMUEL HAD LIVED AND JAPRIL COULD HAVE GOTTEN A STORYLINE ABOUT RAISING A DISABLED KID !!!! IT COULD HAVE BEEN GOOD DISABILITY REP!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am also team "Link and Amelia get back together" because I LOVE their romance and am so mad they broke up

I realize not all of these are headcanons. this is just a list of what I want to see. WHATEVER???

nonbinary callie because [gestures at sara ramirez in all their glory]

CALLIE AND ARIZONA SECOND WEDDING TO RENEW THEIR VOWS

also mark & lexie live happily ever ever ever after and they dance at the second wedding <3

okay we both love japril so also

Jackson is really good at crosswords and April is so fucking pissed at him for it

April (with Jackson's consent) yells at Jackson's dad for being terrible and Jackson becomes weird best friends with April's dad. They drink beer and listen to country songs and talk about, like, spirituality and god and soccer games and cherry pie recipes. Jackson learns how to drive a tractor and he meets Jackson, the pig April named after him, which the Kepners refuse to kill because HE IS NAMED A HUMAN NAME.

They also talk about April's embarrassing cute childhood (Jackson has 65353 pictures on his phone) and Jackson ALSO yells at April's family for making her feel embarrassed. Kids with disabilities and braces don't need to be shamed and mocked.

Jackson becomes friends with April's dad because he gets to have a dad (well, aside from Webber, who is also a nice dad figure) who loves him for HIM :'))))))))))))))

it's very healing and wonderful. he totally cries on mr. kepner's flannel shirt.

Jackson keeps his lucky pencil from med school and fucking signs his marriage certificate with it. (Office person voice: Sir, that's not valid. We need BLACK or BLUE PEN.)

JACKSON AND APRIL START A GLOBAL HEALTH NONPROFIT

Can we please have an April-centric storyline about why the US military fucking sucks and she had a nice time with them but was also, uh, IN THE MILITARY

April goes to her med school reunion and is like, "oh? this guy? yeah, whatever, he's super famous. mostly he just makes me tea and hangs out with our kids, I don't think of him as an AVERY"

everyone is super impressed. jackson is silly and goofy and eats hors d'ouevres with her

can we please get a Reed Lives AU because I LOVE REED (mostly because i am gay and i think she has cool hair) and I want to see more of her and April's friendship.

marginally off-topic rant but: the San Francisco episodes where they're doing the board exams and japril has sex in the bathroom? MY HEADCANON - VERY SLIGHT - IS THAT THEY WOULD JUST HAVE SEX ON THE COUNTER, NOT GO INTO THE STALL AND SLAM THE DOOR SHUT

BECAUSE WHY WOULD YOU NEED TO LOCK THE STALL AND HAVE SEX IN THERE IF THE MAIN BATHROOM DOOR IS ALREADY LOCKED?????????

also, april totally takes kickboxing lessons after beating up that guy at the bar (at the boards) and Jackson is just Very Turned On by his cool friend who, like, comes home from kickboxing all SWEATY? and BRUISED? taking off the tape around her hands and peeling off her tank top to get in the shower? it's really hot and he's very confused.