#spent several hours but i eventually figured out the workings needed to get.

[diegogtratty]

**LOWER YOUR VOLUME FOR THIS VIDEO**

edition of sleeping thouhgts

[krirebr]

Still Life 1

Pairing: Alpha Curtis Everett x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Summary: Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad...

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending), past abuse (not Curtis), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, physical scarring, extreme sexism, adult themes, explicit language, All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me this time!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Well, this is for all of you who thought you'd seen the worst angst I could possibly do. Sorry for how much this one's gonna hurt!

Big thanks to @paperweight91 and @bigtreefest who both read so much of this and helped with structuring and world-building. And huge thanks to everyone who showed so much enthusiasm for this idea. I'm so excited to share this story with you!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Nzzzz Nzzzz Nzzzz

Nzzzz Nzzzz Nzzzz

It took a moment for Curtis to pull himself out of sleep enough to realize the incessant noise was his phone vibrating loudly on his nightstand. It took another moment for him to pull himself together enough to answer it. “Hello?” he croaked.

“Morning, Curtis,” a harried voice came through from the other end. “This is Yona from the Omega Welfare Center. I'm so sorry to call so early, but we've had kind of a crazy night here and we're in need of several emergency placements.”

That had him waking up. “What happened?” he asked, seriously, sitting up in bed.

She sighed, all of her exhaustion coming through. “A traditionalist compound a couple hours away got raided by the feds and ATF. They prepared for some omegas, but… There were a lot more. Kids too. It’s been all hands on deck at all five omega centers in the state. We’re over capacity, so we’re just trying to place anyone we can immediately.”

“Shit,” Curtis mumbled to himself. Traditionalist communities popped up on the news every once in a while, populated mostly by alphas on a power trip. But this one sounded bigger than most. He looked at his clock. It was just past five. “I’ve got room for one,” he said. “And I can be there in an hour.”

“Thank you, Curtis. I’ll see you soon.”

Fifty-five minutes later, Curtis was checking in at the center, his second coffee clutched in one hand. He’d been volunteering there as a foster Alpha for about three years. Mostly short-term placements. His longest one was just over a month. He provided safe touch, grounding, and a sense of security to omegas who needed to get back on their feet. He’d help them through heats when necessary, never knotting them, but whatever else they might need. Often, it was just his scent. It made him feel good, to be able to help these omegas, offer a positive alpha experience to omegas who hadn’t had many.

He’d worked with a few different case workers during his time. Yona had been the main one for the past year. He’d never heard her sound like she had that morning.

Even just at the front desk, he could sense how much more chaotic it was here than usual. He could hear babies screaming beyond the office door, endless anxious chatter. The entire building reeked of omegas in distress. It made his nose itch and his skin crawl.

After a few minutes of waiting, Yona came and got him. “How bad is it?” he asked the omega as she hurriedly led him down the hall. 

She showed him into a small meeting room as she answered, “Really, really bad. I’ve never seen anything like it. None of them are talking, but from what we can gather, most of them have spent their entire lives in the compound. No IDs, no papers. Figuring out who they are has been nearly impossible.  And as terrible as it may have been, their whole world was ripped apart in the last twenty-four hours. No one feels like cooperating. We hope you might have better luck as an alpha.”

“You think they'll talk to me?” 

She shakes her head. “Just the Omega we're placing with you. They've all been taught never to trust outsiders, but they've also been raised to see Alphas as the ultimate authority. So, it's worth a shot.”

He nodded, slowly. “What do you need?”

“Just basic identifying information for now. So we can see if she even exists in any sort of governmental system. Then we can go from there.”

“If you don’t have any information, what makes you think I’ll be a good fit for her?”

“Honestly,” Yona said, with a helpless shrug, “you only have room for one and she doesn’t have any pups. That’s it. Listen, I know this isn’t how we normally do things and I’m so sorry I’m just throwing you into it without any preparation, but we’re really desperate here. They’re all high needs, high risk. There’s no existing support network for them, and there are more of them than we have room for. So we called all of our most experienced, most dependable alphas first thing this morning so we can focus on the ones we have room to house here. I know it isn’t fair to you but–”

“Hey,” Curtis interrupted. “It’s ok, I understand. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out, a small fraction of the tension she’d been holding bleeding out of her shoulders. “Ok, I’m gonna go bring her in.” 

She slipped through the door and Curtis leaned against the table in the center of the room as he waited. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on putting together a to-do list. He had two sets of nesting supplies always ready, one with his scent and one without. In the next few days, he’d try to figure out if there was anything else this omega wanted for the nest. He’d gone grocery shopping the day before, so his pantry was stocked, but he’d see if there were any favorite comfort foods he could grab in his next shop. He needed to rearrange his work schedule, push back some deadlines so he’d have time to get the omega settled. He had no idea what they’d be bringing with them, so a shopping trip for toiletries and clothes would probably be necessary. Depending on the omega's state, maybe he'd be able to get the shopping done on the way back to his house. He glanced at the time on his phone. Shit. Depending on what was open.

At movement right outside the door, he stood at attention. Yona came back in with you right behind her. He took a good look at you. You wore a rumpled long-sleeved floral dress that went down to your ankles. It was faded like it’d been washed too many times. Your eyes were fixed on the tennis shoes you wore, which had probably been white at one point, but now were discolored and looked like they didn’t fit quite right. 

There was a little hand-written number ten pinned to your dress. He wanted to raise a judgemental brow at Yona, but if none of you would say your names, he supposed Yona and her team had to come up with some way to keep track of you all.

He had to stifle a gasp when his eyes landed on your neck. There was a large bite scar over your mating gland. Unlike the neat and pretty, well-healed ones he was used to seeing, yours was deep and jagged, red and white, scar tissue bubbling up where your flesh had clearly been torn. This didn’t look like a mating bite. It was the sort of bite meant to inflict pain. What sort of alpha had you had??

Your eyes stayed on the floor, your expression blank but your scent said so much – panic, sadness, terror, relief all jumbled together. He wanted to reach out and touch you, his alpha instincts were going haywire, but he kept his hands to himself. 

“This is Curtis,” Yona said to you. “He's the alpha who's going to look after you until we can get all this sorted.”

You didn’t react at all, just stood there, stiff as a board with your eyes on your shoes.

He stayed where he was, conscious of giving you space. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he said, as gently as he could. Then, with a glance to Yona, “Can you tell me your name?”

Your face scrunched up and the fear in your scent spiked but you didn’t say anything. He sighed. Shit. He really didn’t want to have to use an alpha command with you right now. That could be disastrous for any dynamic he tried to build with you. But they needed this information. He really, really hoped you wouldn’t make him force you.

“Omega, what’s your name?” he asked as firmly as he could, hopefully without scaring you. “I need to know.”

You closed your eyes tightly and he thought he saw the smallest little head shake. There was another moment of silence and he looked at Yona nervously. But then, you said it. So quietly he almost didn’t catch it. But you said it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yona frantically scribbling it down, but his focus was completely on you.

He tried to keep his sigh of relief to himself. “That was so good. Thank you. You’re doing so well,” he said, keeping the praise soft, hoping you could scent how pleased he was with you. “When were you born?”

You gave up your birthday a little more easily, but you left off the year. 

“That’s great. Thank you. Do you know how old you are?” he asked, maintaining his gentle tone, knowing it was possible that you didn’t.

For whatever reason, it was that that finally got a reaction out of you. You looked up at him, so he could finally see your eyes, and snarled, “I’m not stupid!”

There was a beat when no one did anything. Curtis and Yona just stared at you in shock. The snarl was frozen on your face until it suddenly disappeared and your eyes got wide. Before he was able to process any of what was happening, you’d dropped down onto your knees. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Alpha. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Alpha, I’m sorry.” You just keep repeating that in a constant stream, your head tucked to your chest.

Repeatedly mixed into that jumble was a number. It took Curtis a few moments to realize it was your age. You were answering his question. He quietly repeated it to Yona, then dropped down to his knees as well so he could be closer to your level. “Hey, hey. You’re okay. You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re right. You aren’t stupid. I can already tell how smart you are. It’s okay. I’m not mad.” He wanted to reach out and touch you, wrap you in his arms, even, comfort you however he could. But he was too afraid that that’d make you panic even more. That was a boundary he couldn’t cross. Not yet. He stayed down there, whispering reassurances to you for as long as it took for you to stop apologizing, and a few extra minutes for your breathing to calm down. Once you seemed like you were back in the present moment, he moved to a crouch. “Think you can stand up for me, honey?”

You nodded, but you were back to keeping your eyes downcast. “Yes, Alpha.”

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to call him ‘Alpha,’ that ‘Curtis’ was just fine. But that could wait until you were a little more comfortable. Once he had you home, maybe. He could already tell that picking his battles was going to be important.

“Thank you,” he said as he stood up to his full height, and you did as well. “You answered my questions so well. You gave me exactly what I needed.” He looked to Yona to see if there was anything else.

“Do you have any questions for me or Curtis?” she asked you.

You shook your head, emphatically, hunching your shoulders. The room filled with the scent of fear again.

“Okay… that’s fine,” Yona said, and he could tell how much she hated this. “Well,” she turned to Curtis, “I’ll go get the paperwork and then you two can get home. I’ll be right back,” she said to you, then left the room. 

This was happening too fast. In normal circumstances, you would have already been at the center for a few weeks, at least, with access to mental health professionals, life skill classes, and support groups. He’d be the last step before going back to the real world. You’d be ready to spend time with an alpha. Ready to work through processing positive physical attachments. Ready to learn how to share space with someone who wasn’t a threat to you. You’d be ready to slowly take steps into the world, with him there to support you.

You had backed yourself into the corner now. He could see the way every single muscle in your body was trying not to cower. You weren’t ready. You were nowhere near ready. But with all the resources for at-risk omegas pushed to their limit by this raid, what would happen to you if he didn’t take you? As insufficient as it might be, his help could be all you’d be able to get. This wasn’t how it should be, but he’d do everything he could for you.

Yona came back in and he watched her take you in, sighing at your state. He knew she was thinking the same things he was. “Ok,” she said, handing him the packet of forms to sign. “No changes since last time. You know the drill.”

He nodded as he grabbed them and sat down at the table, getting to work signing where he was supposed to. As he did, he felt your eyes on him as the scent of your apprehension filled the room.

Yona called your name. “Let’s go outside for a minute while Curtis finishes up.”

You both left quietly. This, too, was part of normal procedure. She was asking if you were sure you were comfortable leaving with him, telling you you had the option to say no, getting your verbal and written consent, and giving you cards with all the emergency numbers on them. He was afraid this situation might stretch the legal definition of informed consent. Based on everything he’d seen so far, he couldn’t picture a scenario where you’d say no. 

Nothing about this felt good, but everyone’s hands were tied. And he knew that he’d do everything he could to keep you as safe as possible.

A few minutes after he’d finished signing the last page, you and Yona came back in. A worn knapsack hung from your fingers. It was small, confirming Curtis’s suspicions that you didn’t have much in the way of clothes. Alright, that was priority number one.

Yona had a thin folder in her hand that she immediately passed to Curtis. “The regular information, along with her schedule of appointments for the next few weeks, both doctor and therapist. And the card for the agent in charge of the investigation into the compound, in case anything pertinent comes up.” Then she turned to you with a small box. “I’ve got a couple packets of suppressants for you. Do you want them or do you want Curtis to keep track of them for you?”

Your eyes cut to him suspiciously then flitted back to the floor. “Alpha,” you muttered.

“Okay,” Yona said, handing the box to Curtis as well. Then she clapped her hands together, her face set in grim determination. “I won’t keep you any longer then. I’ll see you both next week.”

On the way out of the center, Curtis was all too aware of the way you walked exactly three steps behind him, one step to the left. That wasn’t just old-fashioned, it was archaic. He’d never seen an omega do it in real life.

At his truck, you looked at the truckbed in a way that made him worried you might try to ride back there, so he opened the passenger door for you and waited for you to get in. He resisted the part of his alpha instincts that wanted to buckle you in. And after a gentle request, you did it yourself.

As the two of you hit the road, he reached over to turn the radio on. He tried to move slowly, but you still flinched. “Want some music?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t respond, so he found an oldies station and left the volume low. His plan for the day had shifted a bit. You definitely weren’t ready to go shopping. That was fine. There was nothing that couldn’t be delivered.

About five minutes into the drive, the strong scent of your tears filled the cab. He looked over at you. You were huddled against the door, as far away from him as you could get. Your face was pressed against the window, so all he could see was the back of your head. But he could hear your sniffles and he could smell your distress.

It took everything in him to not pull over right now and reach over to comfort you. Pull you into his arms. Rub soothing circles on your back. But he knew that would do more harm than good. His touch wouldn’t be welcome. Yet. You weren’t ready.

And god, he wasn’t either. He wasn’t ready for any of this. But damn it, he was going to try.

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[andypantsx3]

DEAD RECKONING : TODOROKI TOUYA x READER

SUMMARY: A makeup artist at a haunted maze, all you want to do is make it to the end of the season with a little extra cash in your pocket and no murder convictions on your record. Scare actor Todoroki Touya makes that last part a challenge. (7.8k) CONTENT & WARNINGS: no quirks au, halloween, enemies to lovers, fem + afab reader, slight scumbag touya, haunted maze workers, smut, semi-public sex, smoking, heavy swearing, touya likes having his hair pulled + girls who are a little mean to him, sort of good girl vs bad boy vibes, 18+ minors please dni NOTES: Happy Halloween from me!! This fic is part of the Willow's Haunted House collab. Dedicated to cat-slippered and ofmermaidstories, for workshopping what eventually became this fic with me about a thousand years ago. I’m sorry I turned Bakugou into Dabi. And I’m sorry for dedicating the now Dabi fic to you. But not sorry enough to not have done it. Love you. :)

If there was one thing you hated about Halloween, it was Todoroki Touya.

Shockingly, this was not a commonly-held sentiment, which was the only reason there even was a recurrence of Todoroki Touya darkening your Halloween seasons in the first place.

For the last three years, you’d spent your fall semester working as a makeup artist at the Musutafu haunted maze alongside a slew of other college and local kids looking to make a little extra cash. The hours were fairly flexible, and the wage covered your textbooks, with a little left over to keep you in the occasional coffee between lectures.

But your wages did not nearly cover the amount of psychic damage you had been dealt, managing Todoroki Touya’s obnoxious, sarcastic, chain-smoking ass day after day for seasons on end.

On lucky days, someone else was on Touya duty. But on unlucky ones, you found him sprawling in the plastic makeup chair opposite you, those intense blue eyes tracking you with no small amount of pleasure, like he was this afternoon.

You stopped in the doorway, a curse slipping out of you. You’d been hoping that you’d get lucky today, as the day was otherwise an excellent one. You’d invited a group of friends to do the maze with you after you got off shift, and you had been looking forward to it all week.

But it figured Touya could never let you have too good of a time.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he drawled over the noise of displeasure that escaped you. He was at least already dressed in costume, so he wouldn’t go smearing his makeup as he pulled it on, a tumble of stitches and frayed edges that had once been a dark-blue duster, but now just mostly gaped open to show the hard planes of his chest.

“I’m so sure,” you told him, averting your eyes from his pecs. You sighed, resigning yourself to his presence, and made your way in, dumping your bag on the staff room couch.

“This is a very hostile work environment you’re creating,” Touya rasped, his grin sharp. Years of chain-smoking outside the maze had left his voice even lower and raspier than when you’d first met him three years ago.

“Don’t worry, it can always get more hostile,” you told him, affecting your own sweet grin as you moved over to the vanity, digging through all the makeup and prosthetics for the ones he’d need.

Touya himself was severely scarred, which was likely why he’d applied to work at the haunted maze in the first place. You’d never asked him about his scars, but you’d heard enough gossip from the other maze workers to know that they were the product of a childhood accident, involving the burning down of his father’s—the then-and-current mayor’s—house.

He’d accentuated them with a shit load of facial piercings, and was sort of off-putting to look at the first time you caught a glimpse of him. The issue was that, once your eyes made sense of what they were seeing, he was infuriatingly handsome.

You’d heard he’d initially been unleashed on the maze with no makeup or prosthetics, and within the first evening was causing line backups, with all the parties of teen girls who were taking a little too much time lingering around his section of the maze.

So now he was subjected to prosthetics to make him uglier, a fact that he seemed to absolutely relish.

You dug out the monster prosthetic pack that gave him jutting forehead ridges. “Let’s make the outside reflect the inside, shall we,” you told him as you flapped the rubbery pieces at him, smirking your own little smirk.

Touya’s answering grin was wicked, and he relaxed back in his seat, sprawling his legs out wide in that infuriating way men had. “Think my outside is too pretty then, huh?” he asked, sapphire eyes flickering over you.

Your face went hot in a weird combination of anger and embarrassment. “I try not to think of your outside,” you told him pertly, making sure to slap the forehead piece onto him hard enough to make a splat noise.

His mouth twitched again but he let you go to work, gluing the pieces down against his face, careful not to press them to the seams of any of his scars. He was tall enough even lounging in his seat that you only had to lean over a little to focus clearly on his face, all long legs and rangy muscle.

This close, he always smelled like cigarette smoke, with an undercurrent of something rich and dark, like cinnamon or chocolate. You could never put your finger on it, but you were not about to go sniffing him at any length to figure it out, even if it was annoyingly appealing.

He’d probably love that, and would absolutely never let you live it down.

Touya’s eyes tracked you closely as you worked, but otherwise his expression was still, and you thought not for the first time that it really was too bad he was so obnoxious. He was actually quite handsome, with a soft, sensuous mouth, a blade-straight nose, and vivid blue eyes that all but glowed like the embers of a crackling fire when he was provoking you.

It was a shame he wasted all his beauty being the most annoying man on earth.

You’d heard from the other maze workers that he was relatively well-known around the area, having spent his teen years doing petty criminal shit to destabilize his father’s reelection campaigns, netting himself several jail stays and a record a mile long. He’d settled somewhat since he’d gotten a job at a piercing parlor downtown and several side gigs like the maze, but people weren’t fully convinced he’d abandoned his old ways, and he still clearly relished any opportunity to discomfort and destabilize anyone who got on his bad side.

Apparently including you.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard, sweetheart,” Touya said, those cerulean eyes blinking up at you.

You realized you’d paused over him, midway through blending his prosthetic forehead in, and another annoying little smirk rode his mouth.

You took care to roll your eyes at him, gesturing at him with your brush. “I know several places I can stick this if you’re not careful.”

Touya’s smirk melted into an unholy grin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he rasped, eyes glittering up at you.

You went back to work on him with a little more force than necessary, blending hard enough that you saw his broad shoulders shift in an effort to keep his neck braced. “I doubt any time with you could be classed as good,” you said pertly, giving a final few brushes before stepping back, satisfied with your work.

The forehead made him look unhinged as he offered another smirk, leaning forward. “True—the feedback I usually get is ‘incredible’, ‘mind-blowing’, ‘earth-shattering’, ‘toe-curling’, ‘scream-inducing’—”

“Oh I’ll scream if you keep talking,” you said hotly, even as your cheeks warmed. Even with the stupid fucking forehead he was annoyingly handsome. You needed him a thousand million miles away from you before you herniated something, jumping back and forth between annoyance and attraction.

Maybe it was time to stop signing up to work here.

“Now get out of my room, I have other people waiting,” you commanded, thankful when you heard the scuff of a boot at the door confirming another maze worker waiting.

Touya didn’t look at all chastened, but he unfolded himself from the chair in an unfurling of broad shoulders and long legs. He leaned in close as he passed, voice dipping low. “See you later, sweetheart,” he said, a smile curling his mouth.

Annoyingly, his proximity crossed a bunch of the wires in your brain, and you fumbled before managing, “Not if we’re both lucky.”

“Stop, I’ll blush,” he drawled, another unholy grin splitting his cheeks before he saluted two fingers at you and ducked out of the room. The scent of smoke and cinnamon followed him, and you let out a sigh of relief, the air and your brain clearer now that he was gone.

No sooner were you free of him, however, than another problem was immediately introduced.

“So…he actually talks to you?” The other maze worker’s head poked through the door, her eyes resting on you intently. You recognized her as a local highschooler who’d just joined this season, who usually ended up getting in early enough to get her makeup done by the other artist.

You blinked. “I…unfortunately?” you answered, confused.

She stepped into the room, and you reflexively gestured her over to the chair that Touya had just abandoned.

She hummed as she took her seat, eyeing you curiously. “Wow. How’d you get him to do that? He doesn’t really talk to any of us,” she informed you.

You could feel your eyebrows lift towards your hairline. “He…doesn’t…?”

She shook her head, her pretty golden ringlets swaying with the motion. “He’ll chainsmoke with Tomura and he sometimes talks to Himiko. But the other girls—they say he just laughs and walks away if they try to chat with him.”

Well. That sounded rude enough to be true to form, you thought. But when Touya was in your makeup chair you couldn’t get him to shut the hell up. You shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that Touya had any special soft spot for you. Maybe, like a cat, he could sense who didn’t much like him and decided to latch on out of spite.

“You might be a little young for him,” you decided, going over to the vanity and digging out the prosthetics she’d need—a witch chin and a raised gorey slash that would open along one cheekbone.

“No—it’s all the other girls too. And most of the guys,” she told you. “He must like you.”

A laugh escaped you, and you turned back to her with the prosthetics in hand, a few new brushes and a white, cakey paint palette shoved beneath your elbow.

“I don’t think he likes anyone,” you told her, setting everything down and applying the tacky glue to the underside of her chin prosthetic. “I think he just likes to inflict himself on people he knows it will annoy. You could act disinterested in talking to him and he’d probably come flitting right over.” The image of Touya suffering at the hands of a league of flirty high school girls pleased you—better they suck up his time and energy than you.

“I don’t know,” the girl said uncertainly. “Maybe he likes you.” But she was forced to leave it at that once you started applying her chin, making it difficult for her to speak.

You certainly didn’t think that was the case.

But the seeds of doubt had already been sown, a question that you thought would probably haunt your evening now that it had been formed. Just why did Touya talk to you if he was so standoffish with other people? And what did it mean that he made such a point of it?

You knew for sure it wasn’t because he liked you, his obnoxious manner said that well enough. But why did you get treatment that was significant enough that even the other maze workers would comment on it?

And, perhaps even more concerningly, why did the thought agitate you so much?

You decided to try your best not to think about it, and have a good time with your friends once they got there, putting Touya out of your mind. You returned to doing the girl’s makeup with vigor, suddenly as eager to get her out of your chair as you had been Touya.

She was finished in record time and she thanked you, carefully not to smile too widely lest she dislodge the prosthetics. You took in the next person waiting as she left, slowly working your way through the line of people as the hour drew ever closer to the maze’s evening opening time.

Eventually you finished up and collected your things, making your way out front to find your friends already waiting for you. They’d clearly dressed with the intent to go out after—something you hadn’t considered—their dresses short and slinky and their makeup smoky. You’d have liked to have joined, but you were still in the sweater and leggings you’d come straight from lectures in.

Maybe you would have time to go home and change after the maze.

You were scooped up into several hugs, breathing in the sweet scents of various perfumes, and informed that you absolutely did have to go home and get changed after so you could come out and get “Hallowasted!” too.

“Okay if I’m not busy peeing my pants, which monsters are the ones you did?” your roommate asked, dancing around to warm herself in the cool fall air. “I wanna see ‘em.”

You named several of your creations, conveniently leaving off Touya. You knew that if your friends took too close a look at him and figured out what he looked like under the cakey makeup and forehead prosthetic, they’d never leave the maze. You knew he sat somewhere around the end of the set up, in an alcove that had been decorated to look like an abandoned village with burned out cabins, a mess of bones dotting the ground at the side of the walkway.

You were also hoping you could pass unnoticed in the group of your friends, as there was no doubt in your mind that Touya would take special care to annoy you in particular. So you did not want your group to linger long enough for your friends to scope him out.

You would know it was him under the makeup you’d done yourself, but being cornered somewhere in the dark with the soundtrack of screams echoing in your ears would not exactly have you feeling your boldest.

Your group had dinner at the food trucks parked out front, chatting and laughing and waiting for the crowds to die down, each indulging in one drink for bravery before joining the line. Eventually you ended up at the front of the queue, late in the evening, your friends crowding in behind you, whispering nervously.

“You first,” your roommate hissed when you looked back at them questioningly. “You work here, you have to do the honors.”

You sighed, accepting your fate, making a mental note to subtly shift to the back of the pack as you made it further into the maze.

Then you were being greeted by Shigaraki Tomura, whose makeup you’d done last. He’d been given layers of prosthetic peeling skin and a scar at his mouth, and he was decorated with a layer of disembodied hands gripping him all over. He shredded your tickets, looking unenthused.

“Remember that inside the maze, none of the monsters can touch you,” he recited dully. “You are not permitted to touch them in return; do not hit, kick, push, bite, slap, lick, scratch, or otherwise assault the actors. Don’t tamper with the props, do not leave items behind. Be respectful of other guests and do not linger too long in the rooms. If you need to leave for any reason, every room or alcove has clearly-lit exits marked in red.”

His eyes briefly met yours as he waved you through, and you thought you saw a pale brow go up.

But then you were being shoved forward by your friends, several hands clinging to your arms and the back of your shirt, and you stepped forward into the dark of the hall.

The maze truly was a labyrinth—it started indoors in a pitch black room, with fake body bags hanging from the ceiling. Toga Himiko, a highschooler whose makeup you usually did, stalked you around the edges of the room, dressed in a torn school uniform with fangs peeking out of her widely grinning mouth, and a dripping knife clutched eagerly in her fingers.

Once you made it past her, the maze spilled outdoors, into a tangle of hedges and artificially-constructed set, steering you in twisting loops around the property.

You were pleased with how terrifying all the actors looked, even having done most of their prosthetics yourself, and found your heart racing as you took every new corner, found yourself freezing up and stumbling back whenever someone jumped out at you, suppressing a shriek.

Your friends participated with gusto, shrieking and ducking away from the monsters, holding you like a human shield between them and the maze workers. You would have been insulted if it hadn’t been so funny.

You made it through most of the maze with little trouble, passing through a haunted swamp, a graveyard with mummies twisting and screaming in their bindings, grasping for you. You stumbled past a man wielding a chainsaw and a set of clowns waving axes, making it through in record time thanks to the push of your frantic friends behind you.

It was only on the last leg of the maze that you finally ran into Touya.

You peered around the corner, recognizing the set up instantly. The burned out houses flickered with blue flame, lighting up the set in an eerie, unsettling sapphire light. The fake bones on the ground sat in piles of ash, glowing stark white in the light. You couldn’t spot Touya anywhere, and you slowly crept forward, trying to shepherd your friends in front of you.

You even almost thought you had been successful, until a rasping voice drawled behind you, “Hello sweetheart.”

And then your roommate screamed, bolting forward, knocking into you and sending you stumbling over a pile of the fake bones. You landed hard on your ass in the patchy grass, the wind punching out of you.

“Oh fuck—” you heard one of your friends say as she too was steamrolled, and you watched the group of them trip over one another in their desperation to get through the alcove, dissolving into chaos in a matter of seconds.

You quickly tried to get to your feet to follow, but a hiss forced its way through your teeth when you tried your ankle, a wave of sharp pain washing over you.

Oh fuck. Not good.

The tread of a boot in the grass next to you made you jump, and your head whipped up to catch sight of Touya crouching over you.

“You good down there?” he asked. His eyes glinted in the dark of the maze, and the blue light cast shadows over his features, twisting them in the dim. Your heartbeat picked up, even as your brain recognized him for who he was.

You cringed, embarrassed that you’d had to hurt yourself in his part of the maze specifically. It figured.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to climb to your feet again. Your ankle twinged in protest, and Touya must have caught the flash of pain on your face because then his hand was under your elbow, supporting you as you rose in an unexpected show of courtesy.

Although he broke the illusion immediately when he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah you look real fine,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. With the prosthetic forehead it made him look sort of demented.

“Well I’ll be fine,” you insisted, even as those blue eyes flickered over you assessingly. His fingers tightened a little on your arm before he bent down, tapping his other hand on your leg.

“Which leg, sweetheart?” he asked. “And where?”

It took you a minute to catch up to what he was asking, confused at seeing him on his haunches before you. A scream went up in the background, some terrified maze goer, and a little shiver went down your spine.

“Uh, the left ankle,” you supplied, startling when Touya’s fingers slid underneath the cuff of your legging over the aforementioned ankle, rolling it up gently. You blinked, surprised at the careful touch.

“Can’t see too well in the dark,” he announced. “But it looks like you ripped it open on something.” He peered back up at you. “Think it’s sprained?”

You shook your head. “Probably just rolled. It hurts but not like go-to-the-hospital level,” you said. “Just give me a minute, I’ll be good.”

Touya considered you for a moment, then got to his feet, moving closer. That scent of smoke and cinnamon drifted over to you, and he bent his head to look into your face.

“Much as you’re the most terrifying thing in this maze, I don’t think people are gonna wanna see you here,” he told you, a smirk cutting into his mouth. “Would ruin the experience. So we’re gonna have to get you out of here.”

You scowled up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Well no thanks for the concern, then. “I’m going, I’m going, keep your shirt on,” you told him, preemptively gritting your teeth before readying yourself to take another step.

But before you could, one of Touya’s hands was suddenly sliding under your knees, his other slipping behind your shoulder. In the next second the burning buildings were swinging wildly in front of your eyes, and then you were being hefted up into Touya’s arms. You let out a startled yelp, your own hands shooting out to grab his jacket, giving him a wild-eyed look.

“Touya—!” you garbled out, as a smile pulled at his expression.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he told you, looking a little too smug about the situation he’d just put you in. He strode towards the exit, kicking the door open with a heavy boot, carrying you down the hall and back into the building. He was hard with wiry muscle underneath you, and so deliciously warm against you. Your ears went hot with every sure, easy step he took, like carrying you was little effort for him.

Thankfully it was barely a minute before you reached the staff room, where Touya laid you out gently on the couch, much more carefully than you might have expected from him.

Your cheeks and your nose burned, flaming even hotter when he squatted down in front of you and took your ankle in his hand again.

His dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he took note of your injury. In the light you could definitely see that you’d caught your ankle bone on one of the fake bones you’d tripped over, as there was a long gash up the side of it, but nothing else looked bruised or otherwise concerning. You thought you’d probably be fine in a couple hours, just a roll.

It was definitely nothing Touya had needed to princess carry you through the staff halls for!

“Don’t move,” Touya told you, and you watched, bewildered, as he stepped away, stalking over to the other side of the room where the staff lockers were. He dug out a shabby backpack, pulling something out of it, and then returned to your side, spreading out his haul on the couch next to you.

You noted a little tube of rubbing alcohol, an antiseptic cream and a bandage, as well as an ice pack. One of your eyebrows went up.

“You rob a hospital or something?” you asked reflexively, heart fluttering a little bit weirdly when Touya’s eyes flickered back up to yours. His eyelashes were long and thick, startlingly pretty.

“Nah,” he said, his gaze cutting suddenly away from yours. “Usually keep shit on hand for my burns.”

Your stomach flipped, and you realized how rude your question had been. Embarrassment welled up in a hard lump in your throat. Well shit. “Oh—fuck. Of course. I’m sorry, Touya.”

A pinch to your leg had you yelping, and his handsome face was serious when he stared back up at you, his eyes practically glowing with intensity. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

You rolled your eyes, rubbing the skin he’d pinched absentmindedly. “It wasn’t sympathy, asshole,” you said. “It was an apology for being thoughtless. Although if that’s how you’re gonna be then I take it back, geez. As if you need sympathy when every girl in this maze—” you froze, clamping your mouth shut when you realized what you’d been about to say. “Uhhhh.”

Touya’s eyes slowly slid down your face, flickering over you as another fucking obnoxious smirk started to twitch at the side of his mouth. “When every girl in this maze what?” he asked, pleasure turning his tone a little silky.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to grab the rubbing alcohol off of the couch so you didn’t have to look at him. “When every girl in this maze would like for you to shut up and stop asking questions,” you said, unscrewing the top with a deliberate focus.

Calloused fingers came up to yank the tube out of your grip, however, and Touya leaned in, his grin sharp and white.

“Lemme do it, sweetheart. Return the favor for my prosthetic,” he said. You winced, remembering how forcefully you’d applied his forehead earlier. As you braced yourself, however, his fingers brushed gently over your skin.

You suppressed a shiver at the feeling of him wiping off the blood with the rubbing alcohol, then going over it with the antibiotic cream, smearing it delicately, your nose going hot again. He took his time, careful to cover every inch, kneeling on the ground in front of you with your ankle clutched in one large hand. His duster fanned out behind him, dragging on the ground as he bent over you, but he didn’t seem to care, too absorbed in his task.

When he was done he carefully applied the bandage too, and you looked on, mystified, as he cracked the ice pack with long, strangely elegant fingers, and pressed it over your ankle bone as well.

His eyes flicked back to yours when you let out a short hiss, feeling the zing of the ice all the way in your teeth. Some of his expression looked squashed, given the obstruction of his prosthetic, but you thought he looked maybe just a little bit concerned, before he realized you were just being a baby. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to rip off his prosthetic so you could see his expression in full, and had to pin your arm to your side to stop yourself.

“This was—unexpected,” you admitted, watching him closely. “You’re…a surprisingly good nurse, Touya. Thank you.”

His answering smile was nothing short of wicked. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You fumbled with the antiseptic and sniffed pointedly, just to have something to complain about. “Well. Your bedside manner could use some work.”

Touya leaned in, his smile suddenly going dark. “Oh, angel, now that’s not what I’ve been told—”

Your palm shot out to cover his mouth, horror overriding your normal brain function. Touya just laughed into the skin of your hand, however, shockingly boyish and sweet-sounding.

You pressed harder, hissing at him to shut the hell up, until you registered the feeling of dry, raised skin under your fingers. You jumped, realizing you were pressing down on his scars.

“Shit, did I hurt you—?” you asked, yanking your hand back, only for Touya to catch your wrist. He blinked, looking surprised that he had.

“No it’s—you didn’t—” he said. His fingers shifted over yours and his eyes darted over your hand in something like shock. “They get dry and pull but they don’t—it wasn’t that.” He sounded annoyed, but not that you’d touched him. That you’d pulled away from touching him.

Somehow, that settled you. Before you understood what exactly was possessing you, you reached back in, satisfied when Touya let you. The pads of your fingers met the edge of a scar again, feeling along the seam. You carefully traced over it the way Touya’s had just traced the cut on your ankle.

Touya’s eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a slow breath. “You don’t need to touch ‘em, sweetheart,” he said finally.

He said it as lightly as he’d said all his earlier nonsense, but he’d been giving you shit for long enough that you recognized there was something deliberate about the ease of his tone this time. This wasn’t his usual, natural timbre.

“Does it bother you?” you asked.

It seemed to take him a minute to decide.

“...No,” he answered, those cerulean eyes catching on yours again. You felt like you could feel your heartbeat in your own fingers, and your skin prickled with something—annoyingly not annoyance.

“Well then shut up,” you told him. “Or I’ll pinch you right on the seam.”

Touya laughed, a slow rolling sound. “Promises promises,” he said, but he seemed more relaxed.

You felt along the contours of his face, mystified by what the hell you thought you were even doing, until you reached the edge of the prosthetic you’d applied. It only took a second for you to give in to the impulse you’d had earlier and start peeling it from his skin, slow and deliberate.

You reached down and helped yourself to the rubbing alcohol, applying it around the prosthetic, letting it dissolve the adhesive before pulling gently. Shockingly, Touya let you do it. He just sat there, watching you with an intensity you’d never experienced before, hardly blinking.

You kept careful track of the prosthetic, unable to look him in the eye, focusing on rubbing off the makeup you’d used to blend it in for good measure. You tried not to examine the weirdly satisfied feeling that settled in your stomach when his natural face was visible to you again.

It was probably just his looks. He really was so handsome for such a grating personality.

You set the prosthetic aside, lost on where to go from here. Touya probably thought you were so fucking weird for just like, rubbing his face like he was some kind of cat. He certainly looked like he had no idea what to do now, which was such a departure from his usually snotty self-assurance that it threw you for an even bigger loop.

“Always thought you’d be a little rougher with me, sweetheart,” Touya finally managed, flashing you a smirk. It looked a little smaller than usual though, like he was drawing it up like a shield, but your hackles raised instantly, like always.

You always, always responded to him.

“Trust me, that can be arranged,” you promised darkly, trying to crack your knuckles. Only one of them crackled obligingly, however, and Touya blinked, before laughing again.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning in closer. Cigarette smoke and cinnamon clouded your senses, fogging up your brain. “Gonna fuck me up nice and good, sweetheart?”

You dredged around for something snarky to say, but words were suddenly failing you as those infuriatingly pretty features drew closer. Seriously could a makeup artist not catch a break around here?

“Uhhh,” was all you managed, your brain bluescreening, as Touya huffed a laugh, exhaling over your mouth.

“Shut up,” you finally spat out, catching a fistful of that black hair. Touya groaned, however, looking like he liked that of all things, and a red hot flash of something jolted through you.

There was a pause, then, a tiny sliver of a moment where it seemed like one of you might pull back—move away and snipe at one another from a safer distance.

Things somehow seemed to be spiraling out of control, in a way you hadn’t expected, after just one kind gesture from him. You didn’t really understand how you’d suddenly found yourself with him leaning over you, your hand pulling at his hair, but if you had any good sense you’d have pulled away immediately and told him something extra mean, just for good measure.

Except then Touya opened his mouth and escalated things, as usual.

“Make me,” he said, the most absolutely heinous line of all time. You yanked his hair harder, deeply disgusted that he’d try that on you.

And then, like a thread had snapped, you leaned forward and crushed your mouth to his.

Touya reacted like a lightning strike. He surged up over you, weighing you down into the staff room couch. He tasted like spearmint muddled under bitter smoke, and he was broader than he looked under that duster, heavy with lean muscle. You could feel every kilo of it press you down into the cushions as Touya licked hot and filthy into your mouth.

His tongue curled around yours, wet and teasing, and he exhaled on a groan like he’d never tasted anything better. It sent little sparks of electricity jittering up your spine, especially as he shifted between your thighs, that trim waist slotting between them perfectly.

“Fuck, angel,” he said, his tone somewhere between sweet and nasty. “Wanted me this whole time, huh?”

You yanked harder on his hair, telling him to shut up, but the swelling of something hard against your thigh told you he only liked that more. “You are so nasty,” you told him, and you could feel his mouth curl into a wicked grin against the side of your face, before he leaned in and bit the shell of your ear, grinding the evidence of his interest even harder into your thigh.

“I can show you nasty, sweetheart,” he promised, his tone going silky-soft again. A calloused hand slid up into your shirt brazenly, long fingers teasing the underside of your bra. When you didn’t immediately try to yank him out of there he wiggled in further, until his fingers met your nipples, and he got even harder against your leg.

He pinched carefully, moving back to kiss you again so that the sound that escaped you was muffled into his mouth. He kissed you harder as your nipples tightened, pebbling in his fingers, something far too satisfied filling the air around you. His hips canted up, grinding himself into you again, this time a little closer to your core.

Your own hips shifted, moving to increase the friction, trying to shift him closer to your center. His fingers and tongue teased you, each flick of his tongue mirroring the caress of a finger, the soft pinch of his index and thumb.

You couldn’t have controlled yourself if you wanted, too focused on the sensations he was drawing from you, the desperate need to get closer to him though you were already pressed together from mouth to shin. You realized you’d been pulling at his coat when he finally withdrew from your shirt and let you yank it down his arms, exposing a patchwork of scars over dense, mouth-wateringly well-defined muscle.

You inhaled sharply, and Touya paused for a minute—until he seemed to realize that you were fixated on the shape of his arm, rather than the purple bruise of scar tissue. The quickening of his grin in the corner of your vision told you that you’d pleased him.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice obnoxiously sweet. “Want to see the rest of me, angel?”

You ripped your eyes off of his arm to glare at him, which only made his grin wider. The fluorescent lights behind him limned his hair in a pale light, blinding you when he moved his head—and all of a sudden you recalled where you were and what you were doing.

“Here? No! Touya, anyone could walk in!” you said, trying to scramble out from beneath him.

Touya caught you around the thigh, hauling you back underneath him. You noticed he was careful to angle your leg up so you didn’t catch your ankle against the arm of the couch.

“This is far from the worst thing I’ve done in a public place,” he said, laying himself back out over you.

You pushed at his shoulder though, casting a worried glance back at the door. “I am not trying to get fired,” you hissed, even as you shivered with the delicious heat of him over you.

Touya sighed through his nose, and then heaved himself off the couch. You watched him seize the plastic makeup chair and haul it over to the door, stuffing it under the knob at an angle so that it held the lock in place. Then he turned around and prowled right back to you with predatory intent. Your stomach fluttered.

“Better, angel?” he asked, tone soft.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of nodding, but he seemed to know what you wanted anyway, leaning back in to kiss you fiercely.

You melted into the feeling of his mouth over yours, kissing him back just as passionately. You hated how good he was at that, hated how pretty he was under all those scars and piercings, hated how his obnoxious personality wasn’t even a factor in what you wanted to do with him right now.

Touya groaned again when you pulled at a fistful of his dark hair, and then you were dragging him down to the couch and climbing into his lap. Touya seized your left leg as you did, pointedly guiding your ankle away from the edge of the seat, and it only inflamed your desire for him.

“Like you a whole lot better like this,” he said into your mouth, as calloused fingers slid into your leggings.

Your reply was cut off by a moan as he traced his index finger lightly over the center of your panties, before pressing down firmly over your clit. A thousand little points of electricity lit up under your skin, and you shifted into his hand unthinkingly.

A smile formed against your lips, and it was only Touya’s hand making its way into your panties that suppressed the annoyed buzz that started in the back of your brain.

“You kick up such a fuss, sweetheart, but look at what you really think of me,” Touya purred as his fingers slid up into your incriminatingly wet folds. “All this for me, angel?”

You wanted to bite him for his cheek but you feared breaking the skin of his scars, so you settled for giving him a pointed look. He just laughed, his smile smug.

“I’ll show you what I’ve really thought of you too, sweetheart,” he promised, taking hold of your leg again to slide your leggings and panties down. He settled you back over the hard line in his pants, grabbing your hips and pulling you firmly down over it, grinning.

“Love when you’re a spitfire little fucking brat. I’ve imagined taking you right over the vanity every single day for the last three years, sweetheart. Taking you against the lockers and then right here over the couch. Fucking you so hard that you scream and everyone comes running in to see you squirming and crying and begging on my cock, and you want it so much that you don’t even care—”

He laughed when he felt you clench up in his lap, working to unbuckle his belt and free himself, immediately angling you over him. “You want that too, sweetheart? Want to see if I can make you scream so loud that people come to see what’s wrong?”

“My god you never shut up,” you told him, pointedly avoiding the question. In lieu of an answer, you shifted, guiding him to your center and sinking down onto him instead. You watched with satisfaction as he threw his head back and hissed at the feeling of you slipping down around him.

“Fffffffffffuck,” he said to the ceiling, a hand tightening in your sweater. You had to agree, gritting your teeth with the delicious slide of him inside of you, hot and thick and full and perfect. You leaned in, putting your mouth over the scar tissue on his neck, smirking when he exhaled shakily again.

“I think,” Touya huffed. “I should have put you over my lap three fucking years ago.”

You thought back to your first glimpse of him, flicking ash at you as he chainsmoked outside the maze entrance, and thought you would have probably gouged his eyes out if he had tried. Honestly he’d barely scraped together enough good will with his little ankle treatment as it was.

But maybe this is what that girl had been talking about, when she said Touya didn’t talk to anyone besides you. Had he really been more into you than he’d let on, these three years? Is that why he’d been at your throat this entire time?

The thought was lost when Touya’s hips lifted into yours, grinding himself into you just right, and your head fell back with a shivery moan. Touya’s mouth found the skin of your throat and sucked as he bucked up into you, picking up into a faster pace. You rocked back and forth over his lap, guided by Touya’s grip on your hips, relishing in the feel of him inside of you.

His fingers slid back down, brushing over your clit, and you bit down a yelp as he dragged his thumb over it firmly.

“That’s it,” he said, biting down softly on your neck. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth instead as he slid in and out of you, those clever fingers working you deftly. He pinched softly, then swirled the pad of his thumb firmly over your clit again, groaning and pounding up into you. “I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Always want to hear your mean little mouth.”

“Touya—shut up—” you panted as he moved you how he wanted, played you like an instrument. Between his fingers and the hard press of him inside you, you felt like you couldn’t escape the pleasure, the feeling mounting within you. No matter how you moved your hips, his fingers were there to meet you, rubbing maddening circles, teasing you mercilessly, and he filled you so good that it felt like he was pressing against that spot from the inside too.

You writhed with the feel of him, as he steadily covered your neck and shoulders with marks of his attention. You couldn’t help but moan, much much louder than you would have liked, and Touya leaned back to look at you again, looking pleased.

“That’s it, yeah,” he said, another grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Louder for me, sweetheart. Want you to come for me.”

You huffed, unable to do anything but squirm in his lap, chasing the feeling closer, ever closer to the edge. You weren’t going to let his infuriating attitude ruin this for you, not when you were so close—

Without input from your brain, your hand reached out to grab a fistful of Touya’s hair again and his hips stuttered, slamming up into you with more force than he had previously. He looked a little shocked, and then a little dazed, and the grip he had on the side of your hip tightened almost to the point of bruising as he forced you down onto him harder, gasping.

“Fuck, yeah, sweetheart—fuck yes,” he rasped.

His fingers rubbed you harder, and his hips slapped up into you frantically. The uptick in intensity had your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, and you bit your palm to keep the sounds in.

Touya ground into you with a renewed fervor, and it was only another matter of seconds before something inside of you was being wrenched loose. You lost the grip on your control, every nerve ending in your body lighting up and coming alive, singing with pleasure. You seized up, crying, “Oh my god, Touya!” and then you were cumming hard, harder than you ever had, Touya’s talented fingers still working you, his cock still fucking you mercilessly.

Touya swore, spitting out your name like a curse, and then again in almost reverent tones, before he too was following you right off the edge. He slammed you down on him once, twice, and then he was cumming too—shivering against you as he held you tight against him.

The silence of the room around you was ringing, once you managed to return to yourself. Touya was a long, hot, hard wall of muscle between your thighs, his hair mussed and a patch of makeup you’d missed smearing into the hair at his temple. His cheeks were flush with effort over the seam of his scars, and he looked, irritatingly, even more beautiful than he usually did.

Like he could sense what you were thinking, the corner of his mouth rose as those cerulean eyes searched over you, blinking like a pleased cat.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I knew I liked you mean,” he said, his raspy tone rougher than normal.

“And I don’t like you at all,” you sniffed, though you knew the protest was pointless when he was quite literally softening inside of you. You let go of his hair, remembering yourself.

“Aww angel don’t be like that,” he drawled, his grin widening. He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss over your mouth. “I can make it up to you—all three years, if you’ll let me.”

You knew he felt your involuntary shiver, pressed up against you like he was. And that was definitely answer enough for him, as his smile went more handsome and boyish than you’d ever seen it. You hated that you liked it.

“I’ll clean up and clock out,” Touya told you, gingerly helping you off of him and back into your leggings, his eyes fixating a little too closely on your legs as you did so. “You tell your friends you’re gonna go home and rest that ankle. And I’ll pick you up out front, angel.”

You flushed, embarrassed that you’d completely forgotten that you were at work, and you’d intended to go out bar hopping after. But you figured you could be forgiven just this one time.

“Fine,” you said, though your insides were feeling a little fluttery at the thought of leaving with Touya. “But I expect penitence or there’s going to be a reckoning.” You supposed you were owed, for all these years of suffering.

Touya looked down at you from under his lashes, dark and beautiful and still as infuriating as ever. “I’ll give you my best, sweetheart. Over and over until you can’t even walk,” he promised, “Gotta keep you off that ankle, after all.”

You flushed again, yanking your sweater down over your leggings, and fled out the door. Touya’s laughter floated after you, sounding pleased.

You sped up your pace, your ears burning.

And if you were actually rushing not to get away from him, but to return to him sooner? Well, then, nobody needed to know that but you.

[eddiernunson]

Take My Anger | mean!Eddie x Reader | 18+

Summary: Eddie is pissed after a session from Hellfire and you offer for him to take his anger out on you.

Warnings: This is...intense. Mouth fucking, lots degradation, use of stop/go, slight dom!eddie, light after care, reader is in established relationship with Eddie. Also depicts him being a dick about Dustin but never to his face.

Based on a conversation I had with the lovely @oddussy420 thank you for the inspo <3

Words: 2.4k

Disclaimer: I wrote this high as shit. That's all.

Eddie walked out of his Hellfire session as his friends celebrate feeling frustrated. Dustin kept finding out his plots and purposefully picking against him…somehow. As the beginning of the semester aired, Eddie realized quickly he would have to up his game when Dustin picked up on his usual storytelling methods. Either Gareth, Josh, and Peter weren’t that observational or just didn’t care enough to pay attention, but Dustin picked up on his three methods in a mere four weeks.

Eventually Dustin started challenging him by picking against the usual route. It made Eddie need to learn how to think on his feet and dig through his own list of plots he’d came up with mentally. It certainly made Eddie prepared at almost every twist, eventually he met Dustin’s challenges with a half-smirk. Eddie’s rise in confidence had to do with several factors, but for time and storytelling reasons we’ll get into two of them (for now).

One, Eddie had practice with Dustin being a shithead. Loads and loads of it, the point where he had come to welcome Dustin’s alternative routes and sometimes rely on them.

Two, Eddie spent weeks figuring out a quest where Dustin would think he’s leading again but Eddie had everything planned out to work out so that no matter what they’d get to the big twist he had planned. He started to feel confident on his plan at this point.

Eddie spent damn near hours in that library researching and writing in his spiral notebook that was so tattered from the years of ripped out pages. He had given Dustin a ride home one late night after Hellfire, and as Dustin left, he caught a glimpse of the thing that Eddie had, quite frankly, been so obvious he didn’t want Dustin to see. If he hadn’t touched it, Dustin would never have known. Eddie kept trying to not so secretly keep it hidden, which was his dead giveaway.

Somehow, Dustin needed to get to that notebook. There’s only a handful of things that Eddie would be protective as he was. You, his guitar, his van, and his plans for DnD sessions. Luckily Josh, who doesn’t know a thing about Eddie and Dustin’s game of cat and mouse, was the one to provide the combination. During Eddie’s free period where he’s usually found making out with you in the forest or goofing off in the drama room, Dustin went into his locker and picked up the graffitied notebook.

It had every answer, and Dustin had to say he was impressed. He would have to be sneaky to throw him off to a different route this time. In a manner of ten minutes of a quick study Dustin knew the plan, and it happened to be one Eddie was excited and hyping up for the group for that same Friday. Dustin came up with his own counter-move for everything, knowing Eddie would want to lead to the big twist and Dustin would move away.

When the day came, Dustin had managed to throw off the story and quest completely, and Eddie saw red. Of course, he knew Dustin was only playing the cat and mouse game, but it felt like his weeks of work and his excitement was just something to laugh at than indulge in for Dustin. As the game ended, Dustin offered his hand to shake for no hard feelings. You walk into the drama room, bounce down the stairs, your ponytail swinging down each step as you say goodbye to the members already leaving.

Oh, the last reason he became more confident? You finally asked him out and you and him had gotten together.

You watch as Eddie meets the handshake nodding to Dustin to let him know they were okay. However, one look at Eddie told you he was pissed. He has all the tell-tale signs. The locked jaw, hardened eyes, the overly intimidating posture. He smiles as his friends leave but the smile is nowhere near his eyes. You have no idea how they didn’t see his anger.

Maybe Eddie’s just good at knowing what he was angry at.

The last person lets the door slam behind them, and it’s loud in the silence that follows. “Hey, baby.” You greet him, walking up to stand face to face with him.

Eddie gulps, looking down at the table blankly as his arm wraps around your back. “Hey,” he answers, his voice gruff and short.

You hesitate in your question, gently caressing his tense back. “How…how was Hellfire?”

Eddie takes a large inhale in, as if calming himself. “That shithead Henderson…” He does it again, closing his eyes. “That shithead Henderson found my notebook and memorized everything.” He stops talking, finding himself getting a bit worked up. “I spent weeks on that campaign just for him to…” he sighs, leaning onto the table, “just for him to destroy it in an hour.”

“Oh, baby that sucks.” You emphasize with him.

“Yeah, no shit it sucks!” Eddie laughs, walking from you towards the head of the table where his throne sits.

Okay, now he’s being mean with you, too.

He sits down on the throne, his one leg hanging over an arm rest. You checked the time, knowing this session ran late and wanting to catch that movie that he asked you to. If he’s pissed to the point of being just plain mean it would take some time calming to get him down to regular mad.

Fuck. He’s never this way after an orgasm, it would roll right off his shoulder. An idea.

You observe where Eddie is sat in his throne, deciding you could fit in the space between the table and his legs. Eddie doesn’t even notice you crawling under the table on your bare knees until you reach his line of sight on the floor right in front of him.

“Whoa, what’re you doing down there?”

“You couldn’t see me anywhere else.” You shrug. You sit back on your knees, looking up at him with that stare you knew got to him. Wide eyes, big smile. He loves it when you’re eager. “Is there anything I could do to help you feel better?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I’m just pissed.”

“Anything?” You ask crawling up between his legs. “You don’t need help taking your frustrations out…any other way?” Your hands move up and down his legs, watching as he immediately leans back and sighs. His brown eyes remain fixated on yours. Offering a blowjob is one thing, but offering this? Holy fuck, has he won the lottery.

“What’re you offering?” Eddie asks, sounding uninterested.

You don’t buy it for a second. “Use my mouth. Fuck it, then you’ll feel much better when I swallow.”

Eddie’s chest rapidly inflates in response, his eyes welcoming that sprinkle of lust he usually has. “Then do it.” Your hands work fast, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans as fast as possible. He chuckles darkly as he legs his pants fall to his knees, watching you eagerly eye his cock. “Get to it.”

You wrap your lips around the head, sucking lightly as a tease. It happens only for a second as a harsh hand lands on your neck and forces you down further on it. Perfect. You bob your head up and down, getting it nice and wet. As you continue, saliva naturally curates and you let it all drool on to him, spit and slobber covering your hand you had supporting you and your mouth. “Oh shit.” Eddie comments, watching you through half-mooned eyes.

Since you suggested him fucking your mouth it was all that was in your brain. You find his hand again, placing it around the base of your ponytail. Eddie immediately takes it into his fist and moves your head so harshly you’re surprised by the initial move. He kept up the movement, eventually muttering to himself. “Oh, take that cock. Oh shit, fucking whore, you take it.”

Just when you adjusted to him suddenly, he pushes himself down your throat, his treasure trail meeting your nose. How did his treasure trail smell so good? You clutch onto his jeans in front of you, tears forming as he stays in the back of his throat and doesn’t move. When it’s been a longer time than usual, Eddie can sense your curiosity. “I wanted to see how long you could take this, a cock at the back of your throat. What a good whore I have…” It was only a minute more when you hit Eddie’s thigh twice, air needed to be brought to you or you would’ve passed out. He places a hand beneath your chin, staring at you in awe as you catch your breath. Your face looked a disaster, your eye makeup a tad runny while your mouth was covered in your own spit. He loved it.

“Bend over.” He commands, and from the authority in his voice you don’t have a damn option. Your underwear is snatched off you, it’s not even down to your knees when Eddie slips into you without pacing himself. He moved right into bucking his hips against yours, the slap of them bouncing harsh enough to bruise. “Baby?” He asks, his voice soft for one moment.

“Go.” You let him know.

“Fucking whore, letting me fuck her just to get some anger out.” His hand goes around your torso, his hands holding you harshly enough to bruise. “Fuck, pussy is so good, though. Look at me.”

You turn your head to face him, and he leans in to kiss you and he does so gently, his tongue sliding against yours with grace. He lets go of you, letting you fall forward on your chest on the table as he continues to buck his hips into you. That was purposeful; you realize. He wanted to embarrass you.

“Let your tits out, slut.” He orders you, his voice showing indifference as the little whines escape your throat. You move your dress down your torso off your shoulders, exposing your nipples to the hard linoleum table. Eddie lifts you up to him, turning you around so one leg was on his shoulder.

“Oh fuck.” You whimper as he starts to hit your g-spot at this angle.

Eddie stops his movements real quick “Hey. You’re the fuck toy. Shut up.” His crass choice treating you as such only turns you on more, your hand covering your mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your head in arousal. Eddie notices, your pussy becoming wetter in response. “Slut loves when I put her in her place.”

You nod your head, hand still on your mouth as you tried not to make another sound.

“The perfect fuck doll, baby. Take this cock so fucking well, goddamn whore.”

His hand reaches the now loose ponytail and pulls. You smile up at him, the reaction sends more anger through him as he pulls tighter. You manage not to moan in response but the pleasure that it sent through you was indescribable.  

“So fucking pissed, spent fucking…weeks…” He mutters, his hips still going at an unprecedented rate against you, his grip he now has on your forearm starting to feel sore. “Fucking steals…fuck you’re such a damn good whore.”

Heat remained explosive from your pussy, and though he’s barely put any attention on your pleasure you were almost there. “I-I’m close.” You mutter, and Eddie lets out a chuckle.

“Of course, you get off to being a fucktoy. It’s all you are.” He pounds into you a handful of times, feeling your heat flutter around him as you got closer. “Fuck, I’m close, too.” He puts the leg on his shoulder down and lies you flat on the table, the impact against your back harsh and cold. He places a hand around your neck, cutting your air off. “You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to. Understand?”

You nod, two hands gripping his strong forearm. He admires how his rings make a nice necklace around your throat.

His other hand meets your clit, starting to rub at it to purposely get you to that high as fast as possible. Eddie knew you so goddamn well he could time your orgasm to take however fast and slow he wanted. “Uh-uh,” Eddie tuts when he sees your entire body tense up in preparation for an orgasm. “Not yet.” He lets go of your folds, letting you feel the loss, then he places his hand there again.  

He repeats it, twice. Each time you get more and more desperate to cum, and Eddie can feel your pussy shaking from it.

“AH!” He tuts again, yanking his fingers as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your legs tense right up.

“Please, Eddie. Please.” You beg him, the overstimulation at this point too much. “Lemme cum, I need it so bad. Please.”

“Oh thank you for using your manners, whore.” Eddie uses his hand one more time on you, strategically getting you off at a calmer rate and loving how your face looks as you finally cum around him.

Heat invaded you as you finally cum, your body going limp as Eddie continues to fuck you. He’s gone in seconds, the entire time he was torturing himself, as well. The afterglow kicks in, and Eddie slips himself out of you as his hand swipes your face lovingly. “Oh, baby. My sweet girl.” He stays laying down with you until he sees you come back down to earth, and you inhale and exhale deeply, attempting to catch your breath. “There she is. You did so fucking good, baby.”

You smile up at him, your heart expanding. “Yeah?”

“Fuck.” Eddie swears, a laugh escaping him. “We definitely missed the movie, but we can go look at the stars, again, if you want.”

“Out in the field by your place?” You ask hopefully, remembering one of your first dates where he spent most of the night eating you out.

He places his hands delicately on your cheek, kissing you with all the love in the world. “Of course, sweetheart.”

You sigh, your heart still racing.

He can feel your heart still pounding against his chest. “You okay to walk?”

“I’ll need a few more minutes, stay with me.”

He let you crawl into his arms until you recovered, making himself pissed for not having a source of water on hand. “Grab some food later?”

You nod in his chest, taking in the scent of the cologne on the shirt he didn’t take off. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Miles, thank you so much for that, sweetheart.”

You smile into his chest, proud of getting him to handle his anger in a way you’ve talked about. “Of course, baby.”

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

[carlottawllms]

Can't Be Mine

Mason Mount x Reader Angst / Fluff Italics = Flashback

Author’s note: I’m back. Kinda at least. Like I explained before I’m currently in struggle city and have no clue how to get out of it…I’ve been wanting to write this trope for as long as I can remember and after a quick chat with my lovely Loz @mountttmase, I eventually managed to be inspired enough to write this.

I hope you’ll like it! As always, feedback is very much appreciated. Especially now that I’m finding myself in a bit of a slump. Thank you, love you loads! 🩷

When your alarm went off at 6am, you weren't half as annoyed as you usually would be and, against all human nature, you jumped out of bed and into the shower, a soft hum of a song, that was stuck in your head, following you.

You weren't a morning person, far from it in fact, as you normally needed at least an hour and a coffee to function properly, but after yesterday you felt like all the happiness of the earth had gathered in your heart.

“I really don’t think I want to say goodbye yet.”, you pouted, feeling genuinely sad you’d reached your front door. The date that was just about to end had been the best you’d been on in a while, and you hated how these past few hours had basically flown by.

“Neither do I, but it’s late and I don’t want you to be grumpy tomorrow morning and annoy your colleagues.” Mason flicked your nose lovingly and the way you scrunched it had his heart squeezing in his chest. You were too adorable for your own good.

“I know.”, you sighed. “I genuinely enjoyed today a lot, Mase. Thank you.” You squeezed his hand that had been wrapped around yours ever since he’d helped you out of his car.

“No need to thank me. I enjoyed it just as much.”, he smiled. “And I’d love to see you again.”

When you simply nodded in confirmation, a blush coating the tops of your cheeks, Mason leaned down. For a second you thought he was going in for a kiss on the lips, something that for you felt a little hasty, but you soon felt his lips pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Good night, y/n.” The soft smile he sent your way had the butterflies in your tummy going mad. Especially as halfway to his car, he looked back and waved again, chuckling when you did the same.

It was insane how quickly this man had you falling for him.

And with that memory basically engraved into your mind, the drive to your office wasn’t half as annoying as it usually was.

It wasn’t that you hated your job. Quite the opposite actually and up until this day you still couldn’t believe you’d manage to land a job at Manchester United.

Back then, it had actually just been a silly ‘bet’ between you and your dad. Towards the end of your time at university, you’d been looking at several job offers and companies, unsure of where to apply and one day, a job offer at the football club had come up.

You’d laughed if off, saying they wouldn’t take you anyway so there would be no use to put time and effort in an application, but your dad being your dad had insisted they would. So in an attempt to prove your point, you’d applied anyway and to your biggest surprise, they’d invited you for a first interview.

And even after the years you’d spent working for them already, you still enjoyed every single day with your colleagues.

“Morning.”, you smiled brightly as you entered your shared office. Your work bestie Anna was already comfortably working away. She looked up from her keypad, obviously a little confused by your good mood this early in the day.

“You look awfully happy, y/n. Something you want to tell me?” Anna took a sip from her coffee and leaned back in her chair; her watchful eyes following your every move in hopes to figure out what had happened.

“No.”, you grinned. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You got some last night!”, she exclaimed, causing you to shush her instantly. The door was closed, but obviously nothing was soundproof, and you didn’t need this week’s rumours to include you.

“No, I didn’t, Anna.” You rolled your eyes when she sighed dramatically. “But I did go on a date.”

Your colleague and friend gasped in surprise. After years of sharing an office with you, she could recall the times you’d actually gone out with someone on one hand and you admitting it on a random Tuesday morning hadn’t been on her bingo card at all.

“No way, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day. You have to tell me everything! Like…what did you do? How was it? Who is he?”

You laughed at how excited she was and it somehow warmed your heart. She really was a great friend, and you knew she’d always have your back and be excited with you. Just like you’d been when she’d told you that she’d got engaged a few weeks back.

“It was pretty much perfect.”, you admitted, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “He was an absolute sweetheart and gentlemen. We actually went for a walk with his dog first – he’s super cute by the way – and then grabbed some take away on our way back and spent the evening at his and-”

“You went to a stranger’s house for a first date? y/n, are you crazy? That’s bloody dangerous and-”

“Obviously I didn’t, you know me, Anna.”, you laughed, only now clocking on to how weird it sounded to go home with a stranger. You quickly unpacked your bag and sat down, finally taking a sip from your coffee as well. “He’s like…a friend of a friend, so I knew him before and neither of us wanted to sit in a restaurant, so we went over to his.”

“Pff, I’m relieved, not gonna lie. Thought I had to get your head straight or something. But that sounds so relaxed and laid-back. What’s his name?”  

“It’s erm…Cameron.”

When Anna raised her eyebrow sceptically, you knew your answer had come out too hesitant in an attempt to find a name that wasn’t Mason. “Are you sure, love?”

“Yes, sorry, I was just thinking about yesterday.”, you chuckled, dropping your head to avoid her seeing your red cheeks. “His name is definitely Cameron.”

Before either of you could keep the conversation going, Steven, head of media department, popped into your office and you could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t come for a normal chat.

“Morning girls, it’s short notice, my apologies, but there’s going to be a meeting in conference room no. 2 in ten minutes. Make sure you’re on time please.”

Anna and you exchange a meaningful and equally worried look the second Steven had left again. Unannounced meetings usually didn't bode well and for some reason you had an extremely bad gut feeling today.

After all, a high was usually followed by a low. And this week's high had undoubtedly been yesterday.

“I wonder what that could be about.”, Anna mumbled as she gathered her iPad and pen. “He didn’t mention anything about bigger projects for this week.”

“No idea, but for some reason I have a really bad feeling about this, to be honest.”, you confessed. Your heart was racing and you felt sick to your stomach; both signs that had you worried as your gut feeling very rarely ever fooled you.

And when you both arrived in the conference room and not only your other colleagues from the marketing department were sitting there, but pretty much all your colleagues from the administrative departments, you felt vindicated.

The last time you’d all been called together like this, you’d been told that there would be a new owner, and this didn't feel any less big.

-

After an exhausting day on the training pitch as well as an extra shift in the gym straight after, Mason would normally flop down on the sofa and take a nap before a game or two with Ben and an early night, but after the date with you yesterday, he was still pretty much on cloud nine.

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to grow a pair and ask you out – about three years of friendship in fact – and he wasn’t proud of how long he’d been simping for you in silence and opting to stick to staying friends, but he’d been terrified of being rejected.

Ever since you and him had become friends, he’d never seen you seriously date someone and you’d never given him any real signs you could be interested in him out of all people, so he’d held himself back and enjoyed the time he’d got with you.

But lately, you’d been a bit touchier with him. Conversations had turned flirtier, and you’d sought out his proximity more than you usually would.

So one evening on your way back home – you’d been out for dinner with friends – he’d held you back by your hand, bit the bullet and shyly asked if you wanted to go out with him. On a date. And the bright smile on your face as you’d nodded, had made his tummy flip like never before.

Mason had wrecked his brain for days to figure out what he wanted to do for your first date. He’d wanted it to be absolutely perfect and ended up making a list with all options, but after a conversation with Declan, he’d settled on the most down-to-earth option. Going for a walk – Ace unsurprisingly ended up loving you way more than him – and eating pizza in the safety of his home.

Despite the years of friendship, he’d worried the date might be filled with awkward silences and two people not knowing what to say, but to his utter relief it hadn’t been weird for a single second. You’d settled straight away into easy conversation, laughter and slightly deeper topics and it had never felt wrong.

Not when he’d pulled you into his side during the film, not when you’d grabbed his hand beneath the blanket, not when he’d kissed your cheek when saying goodbye.

The only problem: He missed you already.

Mason had always enjoyed your company, but ever since yesterday, he just wanted to spend every second with you. He felt like he’d got to know you on a different level and he appreciated who you were as a person even more than before.

Throughout the whole day he’d hoped to catch at least a glimpse of you, maybe just a tiny smile from you, but he never got the chance.

Realistically, he’d known he wouldn’t see you. He rarely ever did because the time you had to spend with the players or staff members was limited and reserved for special occasions like the photo shooting for a new season, but the whipped part of him had hoped you’d make up a silly little reason to see him.

He considered calling you, but he didn’t want to annoy you, so he eventually opted for a message. But much to his surprise, it was left unanswered.

*

To say you were nervous when you came in the next morning was pretty much an understatement. Your heart was beating out of your chest; overall you felt like you were about to faint.

“Morning.”, you mumbled quietly as you entered your office. Your voice lacked the usual excitement and happiness, but Anna’s greeting wasn’t more cheerful either and as much as it sucked, you were glad you weren’t the only one who struggled to process everything that had happened and throughout the day you noticed that it seemed as if the news had hit everyone quite surprisingly, meaning the atmosphere was tense – to say the least.

Two hours into the day – you’d barely managed to get anything done – your phone lit up with another message from Mason. The hopeful sound of it made your heart hurt, especially as you knew you’d have to leave this one unanswered. Just like the ones he’d sent yesterday and this morning.

You knew it would confuse and probably hurt him and that alone made you feel like the worst person on earth. Mason was the most genuine and kind man you’d ever met. He had a heart made of gold and deserved nothing but the best and here you were ignoring his every single attempt.  

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Anna’s soft voice and her hand on your shoulder brought you out of your thoughts. You’d been so stuck in your head, you’d not even noticed how she’d got up and sat down next to you.

“Nothing, I’m just…everything’s okay.”

“y/n, you’re crying. That doesn’t look like everything being okay to me.” She gently turned your chair and grabbed your hands. “What’s wrong? You can talk to me, you know that.”

“Not about this, no.”, you shook your head. “But it’s okay, I’m fine, I promise. Just had a bit of a moment.”

Anna didn’t look convinced at all, but much to your relief decided to play along for now and accept your decision to keep whatever it was to yourself. She squeezed your hands and nodded. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

You were quick in wiping the stray tears away once she’d let go of your hands, determined to get yourself together, but it was hard to focus on anything other than Mason.

Somehow you made it through the day without fucking anything up or breaking down again. You’d only bumped into Mason once. He'd intercepted you in the corridor after lunch, but you'd brushed him off with the brief information that you had a meeting.

The sad and disappointed look in his big brown eyes had haunted you throughout the whole day and now that you were sitting in your quiet kitchen, staring at the wall and trying to enjoy your dinner, it got even worse.

He didn’t deserve any of this. But there was nothing you could do. He had to forget about you and the feelings he held for you as quickly as possible and shutting him out felt like the only way. Even if it was the most painful one.

You tried watching some random show on Netflix, but with your thoughts distracting you continuously, you gave up not too long after and got ready for bed.

Mason had messaged you again a little while ago, asking how your meeting had gone, but you’d ignored it. Just like the two calls that had come in a little later. You could feel your heart breaking every single time his name popped up and your resistance crumbled ever so slightly.

You made it into bed without giving in, bravely deleting all notifications from your screen, thinking it would surely get better and be easier tomorrow, but just when you were setting your alarm another message came in, filling your eyes with hot tears.

-

A deep sigh left Mason’s left when once again there was no reply from you. Ever since yesterday evening, he’d been wondering what he could’ve done that would make you ghost him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find anything.

The date had been amazing, probably the best he’d ever been on and from what you’d said, he’d thought you felt the same. But ever since then, everything seemed to have gone south.

Looking back at it now, even you telling him you had a meeting to attend, felt like you brushing him off and not wanting to talk to him, especially as he’d seen you talking animatedly to a colleague not long after, and his heart squeezed uncomfortably at the thought of you not wanting anything to do with him anymore.

He liked you, he really liked you a lot, so you ignoring his every attempt like this felt like torture. What if you really just cut him off like that without so much as an explanation?

*

It didn’t get easier at all. The next day still felt like you were ripping your own heart out and you had a hard time focussing and not bursting into tears.

You had a feeling that Anna knew something was genuinely wrong with you, but she respected your decision and didn’t ask you again. Instead, she brought you tea and a couple of snacks back whenever she had to leave the office and whenever she’d pass you, she squeezed your shoulder in an attempt to be there for you.

You managed to avoid Mason for the majority of the day. He’d tried to catch you a couple of times, but you were lucky enough to always be a step ahead and get away from him. By his expression, you could tell just how upset he was, but as much as it tore your heart apart, you couldn’t help but keep going.

It was what was best for you. Even though it didn’t feel like it at all. And if you were being honest with yourself, you began to genuinely doubt whether you were really doing the right thing.

Later in the afternoon - Anna had just left for a meeting - a knock at your door had your heart dropping to your tummy.

“Hi.”, he said quietly. The small smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes like it usually would, and it pained you, knowing you were the one who’d caused it. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t thi-”

“y/n, please.”, Mason sighed as he closed the door behind him to allow the two of you some privacy. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”, you dismissed, trying to busy yourself with tidying up your desk a little, but it was to no use. He could see right through you, you knew that and he wouldn’t leave until he got what he wanted.

“Yeah, obviously everything’s fine.”, he scoffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “That’s why you’ve been off with me right? And ignored my messages and calls. And dismissed me yesterday, saying you have a meeting when you actually just didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I did have a mee-”

“I saw you laughing with a colleague right after, y/n. I didn’t expect an hour-long conversation, you know? I just wanted a little chat after you ignored every single message those last days.”

You could tell that he was genuinely hurt by your actions, and you hated yourself for making him feel this way. You’d never meant for him to see you joking around with Ellie after you’d told him you had to leave for a meeting and you could only imagine how much it must’ve stung.

“I thought the date was great and you said you’d enjoyed it too. What happened ever since? Or did you lie back then and never planned on seeing me again?” His voice was laced with disappointment and sadness and the expression in his voice mirrored both in a way that had your heart hurting like never before.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t lie and that you’d meant everything you’d said. You wanted to wrap him up in your arms and confess how much you liked him, but instead, you got up from your desk and shook your head.

“I don’t want this, Mason.”

Mason visibly winced at your choice of words. Ever since you’d got to know him, you’d never used his full name unless you were mad at him and the fact you did now hit him harder than he’d expected. He watched you walking towards the door, obviously trying to look for an out, but he wasn’t ready for that yet.

You went all stiff when you felt his hand on your elbow, holding you back and turning you around. His eyes were hard and focussed on yours, causing you to gulp heavily.

“y/n, what’s wrong with you? What happened for you to turn on me like this? What did I do?” It was painful to hear him questioning himself, wondering what he had done wrong, when it hadn’t been him at all, but you couldn’t tell him that.

“I don’t get this at all. y/n, we got along so well, what happened? If I did something to piss you off, just tell me, please…like…just please.”

You bit the insides of your cheeks as hard as possible to stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t cry in front of him or he’d know something was up. Something that didn’t have anything to do with him.

Not trusting your own voice, you remained silent; simply focusing on holding back those tears.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t want me.”, Mason all but demanded. He was agitated, desperately grabbing the last straw he could find, but his heart only broke further, when you didn’t say anything at all.

You knew you’d break down if you looked at him; if you caught a glimpse of those sad eyes, so you opted to stare at the floor. The tears were brimming in your eyes and you knew you couldn’t hold the sobs back for much longer, but it was Mason huffing in disappointment, that had the first tear rolling down your cheek.

“And I thought this could be it.”, he sighed. Shaking his head he let go off your elbow and slowly trudged out of your office.

It took everything in you to keep yourself from sinking to your knees and crying your little heart out as the door fell close, but you were still at work and couldn’t cause a scene like that. Your heart was in your throat, keeping you from breathing properly and you felt like you were about to throw up any second as the tears silently ran down your face.

This was the worst you’d ever felt. No other heartbreak came close to how much it hurt to know you’d sent away the best thing you’d ever had.

You tried your best to calm down and regain your composure, but when Anna came back into the office, you still felt like you were in some sort of different dimension. Your thoughts were all over the place, pretty much wavering between making you feel like you did the right thing and like you were the worst person in the world and it didn’t take Anna more than a glance to figure that out herself.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I erm…I’m not feeling very well, to be honest.”, you admitted, knowing it was no use lying to her when you probably looked like you’d been crying for the past hour. “I think I’ll actually head home.”

“I think you should.”, she nodded; reaching out and squeezing your hand tentatively. “Call me if you need anything, okay hun?”

“Will do, thank you.” You tried a small smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace than anything else. “See you tomorrow.”

“Take as much time off as you need, y/n. It’s just work. Whatever is going on for you, prioritise that, yeah?”

You nodded, the gratitude you felt nearly bringing you to the brink of tears again, but you managed to keep it together. Saying goodbye, you hurried out of the building and making the short drive back home where you eventually let go of everything you’d been holding in.

*

Coming into training the next day, Mason still felt awful. Obviously, he was still hurt by you pushing him away like you had, but he also felt horrible for not respecting the choice you’d made.

Sure, he was sad and disappointed, especially as you’d never explained your change of heart, but after mulling about it for hours yesterday, he’d come to the conclusion that the way he’d reacted had been out of line as well.

You’d obviously been distraught and instead of just accepting it for the time being, he’d made it worse and demanded something you’d not been ready to give to him yet. He had too much respect for you to disrespect your decisions like he had and whilst it might only hurt him further, he’d made the decision to apologise for his behaviour and tell you that he’d be okay with being friends.

Ultimately, he just wanted you to be happy and if him not being in the picture as your boyfriend was part of your happiness, then he was okay with it. Well, he would be. At some point.

The whole training session, Mason kept going over what he wanted to say to you, to reassure you he would stay your friend if that’s what you wanted and never in his life had he been happier about a gaffer calling it a day.

He quickly took a shower before jogging up to your office, thinking that after today, you and him could be back to being friends, but he was more than surprised to find it empty. Your desk looked untouched, there was no bag by the side of it and no trace of your coffee mug.

“Oh hi Mase.”, Anna smiled the moment she returned to the office. “You’re alright?”

“Yeah, erm…I’m good, thanks. You too I hope?”

The blonde girl nodded. “I take it you’re looking for y/n?”, she asked, receiving a quick confirmation from the midfielder. “She’s not in today. Rang in sick this morning to let us know she won’t be in the whole week.”

Mason’s heart dropped to his tummy. You were rarely ever sick and it wasn’t like you to sign off sick entirely instead of working from home, so the worry that overcame him was barely bearable.

“Can I help you with whatever you came here for?”

“I erm…no, it can wait until next week, no worries.”, he smiled, hoping it looked like a genuine one and not like the forced one it felt like to him.

Anna just nodded and watched him leave. She’d been suspicious before as you and Mason had always got along really well and you’d kept mentioning him, but whenever she’d hinted at there being more between the two of you, you’d denied it and explained that he’s just a really good friend.

Now however, she felt as if everything was adding up: You struggling to remember the guy’s name you’d gone on a date with, the way you’d not taken the news on Tuesday well and now you ringing in sick for the whole week after you’d obviously been crying yesterday.

She just hoped you’d figure it out and not give up on everything that could be.

Mason didn’t have to think twice about where to go as he got into his car and started the engine. He’d been determined to make things right before and now that he had the confirmation that something was genuinely wrong, he wanted to make sure you were okay even more.

The drive to your house felt like an eternity and when he eventually reached your door and knocked, his heart was beating out of his chest. What if you sent him away again?

You were surprised to find someone knocking at your door this late in the afternoon and wondered, if Anna had decided to stop by as you knew she hadn’t bought your excuse from this morning. Especially not after she’d found you after you’d cried your eyes out, but when you opened the door and it wasn’t Anna staring back at you, your heart dropped.

“I…Mase, what-”

“Anna said you rang in sick and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”, he explained quietly. You could tell how nervous he was by the way he kept fiddling with the hem of his shirt and if you weren’t in the situation you were in right now, you’d find him utterly adorable.

“I’m okay.”, you nodded, trying to shut the door subtly, but Mason caught on to it almost immediately.

“You don’t look okay, though, y/n.”, he insisted, stepping closer so you couldn’t close the door on him. He studied you for a moment, clocking on to the slightly puffy and red-rimmed eyes, the red nose and your chapped lips. I could be a cold, but it could also be because you’d cried and not knowing made him feel like he was going insane.

“Probably caught something. A cold most likely. Savannah has been coughing ever since she came back on Monday. So it’s actually better you leave. Wouldn’t want you to catch it too.”

You knew it was a poor attempt at getting him to leave again, but you were too weak to think about a proper reason. The constant crying and worrying had got to you, making you feel like death warmed up.

“I actually came to apologise too.”, Mason admitted. He scratched the back of his head. “Do you think I could come in? Please?”

You thought about it for a second, utterly confused why he was the one wanting to apologise when you’d ghosted him for days, but you eventually sighed and let him in. Having known him for years it was pretty easy to tell that he wouldn’t leave unless he got to apologise for whatever it was and especially because of the current circumstances, it would be better if he wasn't seen at your front door.

Mason really wanted to give you a second to process his presence, but the need to say what he had to say was too overwhelming, so he started talking as soon as you entered your living room.

“Look, I just wanted to apologise because the way I behaved yesterday was out of line and-”

He had so much to say, so many things to reassure you that he was okay with whatever you wanted him to be, but one accidental look at your opened notebook was all it took to shut him up. The page you’d opened on Google made it unmistakably clear that none of what he’d planned to say was necessary. You had made your decision. A painful decision made by someone he’d never thought would hurt him like this.

“Mase?”, you asked, confused as to why he’d stopped talking, but then you remembered what you’d looked for a few minutes ago. “It’s not wha-”

“Save it, y/n.”, Mason interrupted you sternly. Unlike when he came here, his expression was stoney and cold.

“Never mind.”, he said. “It was a ridiculous idea to think you’d want anything to do with me after your behaviour those last days…and to think I came here to apologise. Fuck me.” The hollow laugh he let out had chills running down your spine. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him this hurt and you were desperate to explain, but Mason wasn’t having any of it.

“Mase, I-”

“Look, y/n, you don’t have to pretend anymore. Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to date me anymore? Obviously, it would’ve hurt, but we’ve been friends for so long, I would’ve never let you go entirely. I would’ve been okay with being friends if that’s what you wanted, but very clearly, were not on the same page with that either.”

You could feel yourself tearing up at the way he got the wrong side of the stick and didn’t even let you explain things, but after everything you couldn’t blame him for it.

“No, Mase, it’s not like that, I-”

“y/n you’re literally looking for a new job.”, he huffed. “You obvs can’t wait to get away from me and whatever it was between us. Just tell me, seriously, because this is getting ridiculous. I just…this is so fucked up, I can’t believe it…I just…”

You watched him running his hands through his hair and over his face. He looked confused, angry and most of all hurt, but as much as you wanted to interfere and explain everything, you knew you needed to wait a little longer and let him get everything off his chest.

“Back in your office, I asked you to tell me you don’t want me. I fucking asked you and you didn’t have the guts to tell me straight into my face.”, he boomed. “Instead, you’re ringing in sick when you’re not actually sick but looking for a fucking new job. Just to get away from me…like…do you realise just how fucked up this is?”

“You’re getting it all wrong, Mase.”

From the look on his face, you could tell that he didn’t appreciate you saying that at all. You knew he probably felt ridiculed and taken for a fool who’d laid his heart out in front of a girl who ended up stomping all over it, but you didn’t know how to even begin to explain what was going on.

“Yeah? Then fucking tell me how what you’re doing translates into you wanting to be friends or more with me. Because I obviously don’t get it at all.”, he bellowed. “It hurt y/n, can you imagine? We went out on that date and it went so well and I really thought you were the one I’d been looking and waiting for for years. I genuinely thought we had something but instead you went all cold on me and fucking ghosted me. You didn’t even explain anything. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”

You choked on your own breath as the tears you’d managed to hold at bay finally made it past the last line of defence. Here he was, laying his pain out in front of you and it hit you like a million trains all at once. His big brown eyes were full of tears, probably a mixture of hurt and anger, but it didn’t make it any less bad.

You’d never meant to hurt him and now here he was, standing right in front of you with tears in his eyes and his heart broken into a thousand pieces.

“And on top of that, here I am wanting to apologise for making you feel bad and disrespecting your decision…god this is so fucking humiliating you have no idea. I-”, Mason stopped and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself as he didn’t have the strength to keep going like this anymore. He just wanted it to be over. “Look, y/n, you don’t have to leave. I know how much you love your job and the club. I’ll just stay away and leave you be. It’s like we’ve never been friends or something, I don’t know.”

And with that, he turned around, obviously leaving the choice with you once again, and you contemplated letting him leave, but you knew that this time it would be for good. And whilst it was everything, you’d tried to achieve those last days, right now you realised it was the worst thing that could happen.

You weren’t ready to lose him. You couldn’t lose him. Not when he meant everything to you.

“I’m doing this for us.”

Mason had wanted to leave. He’d been determined to stop this game you were playing with him, but your quiet voice made him freeze on the spot. He didn’t turn around, not ready to face you in case it was just another move in whatever game you’d chosen, but something inside of him wanted to hear what you had to say.

You took a deep breath, ready to lay it all out in front of him, no matter the consequences, but you were terrified it was too late. “I…with the new management, we’re not allowed to have any kind of friendship, let alone relationship with any of the first team players.”

Mason’s blood ran cold at your words. It was everything but what he’d expected you to say.

“The day after our date? We got called into a meeting where they explained that the team’s success is the most important thing and that nothing and no one can be a distraction. Apparently, someone had filled them in on the friendships that had formed and they didn’t like that administrative staff and players aren’t strictly separated, so they gave us updated terms for our contract that states that from now on, any kind of relationship and us is strictly forbidden and that whoever would break the rules would be immediately suspended. Apparently, we don’t even have to sign it for it to be effective.”

Mason’s heart hammered uncomfortably in his chest. He could hear how much it took for you to get it all out without breaking down and it made him feel even worse for exploding on you like that before.

“I couldn’t tell you cause it was confidential and to be honest, I’m not even allowed to tell you now, but here we are…”

When he turned around, his gaze was a lot softer as it locked on yours and the relief flooding your veins because of it was indescribable. Maybe everything would be okay after all?

“y/n.”, he sighed softly as he took a couple of careful steps into your direction and when you didn’t back off, he eventually brought you into a tight hug.

The warmth and comfort surrounding you all of sudden as well as the reassurance that you hadn’t broken everything beyond repair caused you to eventually collapse in his hold. Emotions, you’d been holding in for days turned into body-wrecking sobs; your fingers gripping his jumper and his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders the only things keeping you upright as you let everything out.

Mason felt absolutely helpless. He’d never seen you like this; so broken and sad and he had no idea what you needed. On any other day, you’d been this strong and independent woman; you’d always known what you wanted and needed and of course, you’d let your guard down on several occasions with him, but never like this.

But as shit as the whole situation was, it just proved to him, that you felt the same for him as he felt for you.

“It’s okay, love.”, he whispered as he leaned his cheek on top of your head. “I got you, I’m not going anywhere.”

He slowly swayed you from side to side in an attempt to calm you down further, lips pressing kisses to your hair every once in a while, and it wasn’t long until your sobs became less and less violent. Ever since Tuesday, you’d felt as if the castle you’d built over the last years had collapsed in itself, but the way Mason kept you safe in his arms and whispered reassuring words into you hair made it all seem a bit less definite.

“I’m sorry.”, you whispered once you’d regained enough composure. “I know I hurt you a lot and I never meant to be as shitty as I’ve been. It’s just…when they handed us the updated terms, I didn’t know what to do. They said there would be consequences and I was so terrified something could happen to you and…I thought you’d just forget about me and our date if I pushed you away enough and…I’m so sorry I hurt you like this.”

Mason pressed a kiss to your head, before pulling back an inch. With his fingers beneath your chin, he tipped your head back gently to catch your eyes. They were still filled with unshed tears, but you didn’t look as heartbroken anymore as before.

“I’m sorry, too, y/n. I shou-”

“No, Mase you have nothing to apologise for.” You loosened one hand that was still gripping his jumper tightly and moved it on top of his shoulder; your thumb just about caressing the warm skin of his neck.

“I was the one who ghosted you and didn’t explain anything properly. It’s just…I like you so much and when you cornered me in my office and asked me to tell you I don’t want this, I couldn’t. And I couldn’t even look at you cause you would’ve seen my tears and…I couldn’t tell you, Mase. Because it would’ve been a lie.”

“I know.” He gently cupped your jaw with his warm hand, thumb caressing the soft skin on your cheekbone causing you to smile softly. “But still…Yesterday, I gave you the chance to explain, but everything was still so fresh and then today when I came here, I cut you off all the time and jumped to conclusions. I know I was mad and hurt, but I should’ve given you a moment to explain. I’m sorry, I didn’t.”

“No, it’s okay, Mase. You couldn’t know and when you saw the page you just got the wrong end of the stick. After how I treated you I wasn’t surprised you got mad.”

You gently kissed the palm of his hand before leaning back against his chest. His evenly beating heart doing the trick in settling you even more and when Mason ran one hand up and down your spine, you snuggled into him even further.

For a rather long while, you simply stood there, holding each other and breathing in each other’s scent. His hands continued to run up and down your spine, fingers gently digging into your tense muscles, and you kissed his chest in appreciation.

Deep down you’d always known that trying to get rid of him was the most stupid decision, but now that he was holding you like this, making you feel the safest you ever had, you seriously questioned yourself.

Mason was the best thing that had ever happened to you and it didn’t matter whether it was as your boyfriend or a normal friend, there was no way you’d ever let him go.

“I don’t want you to quit, y/n.”, Mason suddenly said. “Let’s keep it under the wraps and see where it’ll go. We obviously like each other a lot, but we don’t know if it’ll work out in the long run. Let’s just figure it our just us two and when we’re both certain that this is what we want, you can still quit.”

You pulled away from him a little bit, searching his eyes for any kind of doubt, but there was none. All you could find was the determination to make what you had work.

“Are you sure? It could have consequences for you too and I don’t want this to jeopardise your career.”

“More than sure.”, Mason smiled. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. “I know how much you love working for United and there’s absolutely no need to worry about me. If anything, I’ll be even more focused and determined to do well and impress you, to be honest.”

“Well, I am pretty impressed already, Mr. Mount.”, you giggled, pinching his sides in jest, before resting your hands on them and turning serious again. “So, we’re doing this?”

“We are.”, he confirmed and the smile lighting up his face made you feel weak in the knees. He really was the most beautiful man you’d ever laid your eyes on. “And I couldn’t be happier, love.”

Carefully, he slid his hand up your arm until he could cup your cheek; his fingers spreading just behind your ear as he tilted your head up a little. He noticed how your gaze dropped to his lips momentarily and how the grip of your fingers had tightened ever so slightly.

“I really want to kiss you.”, he admitted quietly, nose nudging yours in an attempt to test the waters and when you didn’t pull away, but instead tilted your head a little to the side, he dipped down and kissed you softly.

You kissed him back just as gently, but he could feel it in every cell of his body. The overwhelming feeling of happiness and love threatened to burst his heart, and he could tell that you felt the exact same thing.

When eventually both of your smiles broke the kiss, it was earlier than either of you wanted. You pressed your forehead to his; eyes still closed, and the small chuckle Mason let out had the butterflies going wild in your tummy.

“I like you so much, y/n.”, he whispered; both of you knowing that liking each other didn’t come close to how you actually felt, but you knew it was too early to say it yet.

“I like you loads, too.”, you smiled and with that, Mason leaned back in to kiss you again.

—————

I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading this. You would make my day if you left a little feedback 🩷

[rogersideup]

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 6

Little Birdie

Series masterlist

Previous part: Rearview next part: Twinkles

Word Count: 7,800

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions and descriptions of sexual acts, anxiety, and sever depression.

One week.

Steve made it one whole week without you.

It was one of the longest weeks of his life.

Every day for seven days straight he needed Bucky to convince him not to text or call you. That conversation usually happened as Steve paced around his living room, while Bucky sat on his couch, threatening to get up and rip the phone out of his hands.

He couldn't even text you outside of work hours considering you blocked his number from being able to do so, but that still didn't stop the itch he felt to just see your name on his phone screen again.

Both boys were in agreement that Steve eventually should reach out and try to fix the damage that was done, because if your situation at the compound needed to get better just for the chance that you would stay, you at least needed your best friends back. But Bucky knew you deserved time and space away from all of the drama to really process it and figure out how you wanted it to end.

Bucky also knew a week of no contact with Steve would help the both of you stop fueling the fire. The harsh words would settle, reflecting back on the situation wouldn't feel as dramatic, and maybe now Steve would finally find the right words without the sight of you every day.

Plus, he would be damned if he let Steve have a conversation this serious with you over the phone.

Sure, both boys were extremely worried about you. There were a few times Bucky wanted to call and check up on you too, but he knew his own feelings shouldn't come before yours right now.

Meanwhile, the week did you wonders. You spent your days reconnecting with everything you used to love. Your favorite restaurants in the area, old friends you barely got to see now that you lived so far, the old yoga studio you attended 4 times a week, and seeing your family every day was healing in ways you didn't even know your heart could reach.

Filling the mornings and afternoons with everything you loved was important, but you knew better than to completely disregard the real issues at hand. So every night you'd go on a walk to the pretty park a few blocks from your childhood home, and meditate under the moon.

With the one airpod you had left, you'd let music shuffle and allow the lyrics to guide your thoughts. Some were a little to sad to bare, others were so on the nose you couldn't help but to listen over and over again while allowing the words to comfort you like a hug you've really been needing.

You and Steve were still friends and shared a playlist on your favorite music streaming app. Every night at the park you could see he was listening to sad music, and knew he could see you doing the same. Dramatic? Maybe. Were the sad melodies making you feel understood and less alone? Absolutely.

Eventually he got brave and while you sat under the moon and admired the stars, your headphones read the newest notification.

Steve Rogers added new song to playlist: Little Freak by Harry Styles.

You sighed, but against your better judgement you let the song play to understand what he was trying to say to you. Though the song was familiar to you, all this music was new to Steve. He loved listening to all your favorite artists and bonding over the modern music. The message was loud and clear when you heard it.

"I was thinking about who you are, your delicate point of view, I was think about you. I'm not worried about where you are or who you will go home too, I'm just thinking about you. I disrespected you, jumped in feet first and I landed too hard. Broken ankle, karma rules."

You knew deep down that you shouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response. He didn't deserve to be invading your sacred space, he knew how much music meant to you. But on the other hand, he deserved to know how much he hurt you. If he got to send you a message through song, you deserved to speak your mind too.

So you added a new song to the playlist as well. My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift.

"Even on my worst day, did I deserve babe, all the hell you gave me? Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you till my dying day. I didn't have it in myself to go with grace. You're the hero flying around saving face. If I'm dead to you why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed? Look at how my tears ricochet."

After that, your phone was silent and nothing else was added to your playlist. You could see he listened to the song, then once it was over he was no longer active on the app.

You'd usually let your mind really reflect on what happened and what you wanted going forward, but you found that Steve took up most of your thoughts, and what to do about your career always came second to him.

It seems like your Mom and Dad's advice always leaned towards joining the Avengers. But why wouldn't it? All they ever wanted for you was to find something you love and run as far as you could with it.

Jane would've preferred you leave the field completely. You knew the nature of your job left her in a permanent state of unease about your safety, but you always reassured her that you were in good hands so you'd be okay.

Nathan was a little more understanding that not everything was so black and white, so he played devils advocate for all sides, and of course Luca wanted you to join the Avengers.

Hearing all of their perspectives was helpful to see the bigger picture, but at the end of the day, only Jane and Nathan knew the extent of what happened. You kept the whole Steve and Bucky situation away from your parents for the same reason you kept it away from Luca, you didn't want to ruin the illusion of a superhero for them.

Also.... Your parents really didn't need to know the nitty gritty on your escapades with the winter soldier.

All good things came to an end, especially having your whole family under one roof. After a whole week together, Jane, Nathan, and Luca had to go home to get back to their own life, while your mom and dad left to go on a few day vacation they had planned months ago. So it left you, and the family dog, Rocket, you happily agreed to take care of in their absence.

It was actually kind've nice to have time to yourself. You filled the day with morning yoga, brunch with a friend, some journaling and therapy, and a much needed nap. As the sun went down, you threw a toy around the house to try and get Rocket's energy out but it didn't help much. So after you cooked and ate dinner, you grabbed a tennis ball and walked him a few blocks to the park.

Luckily he was allowed off leash, and there was one other dog there for a little while that took an immediate liking to him, so they ran around and tuckered each other out while you sat on the grass and watched.

Eventually his little friend left, so it left just the two of you, the tennis ball, and the twinkling stars above head.

As lame as it felt to admit, the small spotty brown dachshund filled your soul with so much joy that you couldn't wipe the smile off your face. Throwing the ball, and watching his little legs carry him so far, so fast with tiny little hops was definitely one of the cutest things you've seen in a while.

He was a brave and trusting little creature in most aspects of life, but when the rumble of an approaching motorcycle got a little too loud for his liking, Rocket came running back to your side with his tail between his legs.

Sitting by your side, you picked him up and held him close to your chest while speaking calming words to him that he definitely didn't understand. You pressed little kisses to his forehead, and he licked your cheek in return causing you to laugh.

Feeling a little annoyed that the motorcycle pulled into the parking area for the park you were occupying on your own, you stayed vigilant of your surroundings. Fully prepared to leave when the man got off the bike, you set Rocket down and started reaching for his leash before the dog started running towards the man who was now walking towards the both of you.

"Hey! Rocket, no!" You jumped up from your spot to chase after the irrationality fast weenie. Tail wagging, and happy wiggles took over his little body as he hopped up on his back two legs to greet the stranger. "I'm so sorry! He usually never does this, I don't know why he's... oh."

I'm front of you stood none other than Steve Rogers himself, looking delectable and cozy in a cute teal crewneck and some casual pants with sneakers on. You immediately had a billion and one questions, but he was very obviously taken by Rocket who was also very obviously taken by Steve. There was a serious love as first sight situation happening as Steve leaned down with a big smile on his face to say hi to the little dog.

"It's okay!" Steve giggled, squatting down to get closer to Rocket. "He soooo stinkin' cute!"

"What are you doing here?" You asked, feeling throughly confused, and immediately feeling a little defensive and protective.

When he looked up at you, your arms crossed over your chest as a form of self soothing. It had been so long since you felt this uncomfortable energy, and having it ripple through your body once more felt like reconnecting with an old friend.

"Oh, I was just in the area." Steve said sarcastically, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.

"Right." You agreed. "Casually in the area two hours away from home... on a motorcycle?"

"An hour and 45 minutes is only an hour and 20 on a bike." Steve noted with a shy smile.

"And how did you know that this area you so happened to be in was the same place I was, even though I never told anyone where I was?" You tilted your head to the side.

"Oh, it's easy. A little birdie told me." Steve noted.

"What was the bird's name?"

"That's not important." He denied, still smiling at the dog but standing to his full height.

"I don't know, feels kind've important to me." You hated that you had to hold back a smile as you looked at him. And you hated even more that you couldn't stop thinking about how stupidly cute he looked with helmet hair and a cozy crewneck on.

"Do you want to sit and chat?" Steve asked, suddenly seeming nervous. "...if not that's fine we can talk a different time if you want."

"You came all this way just to talk?" You questioned.

Steve swallowed nervously as he nodded.

“You could've called me." You challenged.

"Sometimes I think the old fashioned way of doing things is better." He shrugged. "...Also you blocked my phone number after work hours."

You sighed and pointed to your blanket on the grass. "Sit."

He quickly nodded and obeyed your orders. He sat first, and you sat next to him, Rocket trailed behind with the tennis ball in his mouth before happily handing it to Steve.

"Who is this little guy?" Steve asked, throwing the ball for him.

"Rocket"

"Like the raccoon?"

“No, he's my parent's dog. They just thought the name suited him. But they're out of town for the next 3 days so he's mine until then." You explained.

"I heard you spent some time with your family. You look a lot happier, do you feel better?"

"So Jane was the birdie who told you where I was." You noted.

"Will not confirm nor deny."

"Mmm" you hummed, reading between the lines. "Yes, it was very nice spending time with people who love me. I do feel a lot better, but it's going to take a lot longer than a week to heal from everything that happened."

"Of course it will, but all that matters is that it's getting a little better everyday." Steve noted. "I don't know if this helps, but I think I put the fear of the devil into Harvey and all his friends. Should you choose to come back, I don't think they would be an issue for you anymore."

"Do I even want to know what you did to them?" You asked.

"I don't think the details really matter too much right now." Steve shrugged once more.

A very uncomfortable silence fell over the two of you, so you threw the ball for Rocket this time.

"Would you like to talk about the hard stuff?" Steve raised.

"Can't we just talk about the weather?" You complained, dreading the inevitable.

"It's pretty chilly out tonight." Steve noted. "You're not cold?"

"Nope." You exaggerated the P at the end of the word.

"Good chat." Steve giggled at the astronomical amount of discomfort and awkwardness you were exuding. "This is never going to get better if we don't talk about it."

"I haven't cried in a few days." You told him. "I'm dreading losing my streak."

"Crying is healthy, and so is expressing emotions." Steve told you. "For example, I really missed you and I've been worried about you for a while now, so I'm here to express that."

"Oh, so you weren't just in the area?" You questioned.

"I took my motorcycle to get to you as fast as I could, because I waited a whole week and every single day that passed by without me giving you a much needed apology was killing me slowly with an amount of guilt I didn't even know was possible for a human being to feel. So no, I was absolutely nowhere near the area."

"Was that the apology?"

"No." Steve denied. "I'm really sorry for everything that's happened. I feel like every interaction I've had with you this past month has been a really bad reflection of my character. I should've went about the whole situation with a lot more logic and understanding, and I should've just listened to you and Bucky before letting anger get the best of me. It wasn't fair to you."

Your eyes stayed fixed on Rocket as he hopped around the grass, he watched you slowly nod while processing his words. "I never meant to hurt your feelings, and if I knew back then what I knew now, Bucky and I would've never..."

"I know." Steve saved you from having to finish that statement. "And our last training was just... completely unacceptable. I wish there was a logical explanation as to why I was so upset that day. Quite honestly, every time I even start to think about it I feel just horribly embarrassed and completely mortified. I'm sorry for not listening to you and telling you that I didn't care. I'm sorry for scaring you and completely breaking your trust. Most importantly I'm really fucking sorry for hurting you. I should've listened better and walked you to medical the second you said something, and the fact that I only made it worse has kept me awake every night since it happened."

"Bucky said you were having a tough few days." You noted.

"It doesn't matter." Steve declined. "I need to do better than that, and I will. You were having some really hard days too, but you never used it as a reason to treat me like shit."

“I was pretty shitty to you."

"But within reason."

"I told you to ignore my existence, called you some not so nice names, yelled at you a few times..."

"Because I pushed you to that level of anger."

"The fact of the matter is that you felt that way because you felt disregarded and disrespected by Bucky and I, and for that, I'm sorry too." You apologized. "I know you weren't interested in hearing me out before when this all happened, and at the time none of the words really came out right. So if you're open to it, I feel like I'd really like a chance to explain the choices I made."

"Of course." Steve practically whispered with a subtle nod, throwing the ball once more for the dog. "But don't feel obligated to. I don't think I would've come all this way if I hadn't already forgiven you."

"This is never going to get better if we don't talk about it." You used his own words against him.

"Ah, so you do think we could make it better?" Steve asked.

"Why wouldn't I want it to get better?"

Steve sighed. "You made it pretty clear in a few different ways that you didn't want me as a friend or even around you at all anymore. A big part of me was expecting you to turn me away for good when I showed up here."

"Oh... sorry." You mumbled sadly, suddenly feeling bad about all the words you shouted at him out of pure, hot red anger.

"S'okay."

"Growing up, I was never really the center of attention for anything. I was never good at anything, I got straight B's in school, I had 2 friends at most. Even as I got older and went through high school I wasn't paid much attention to. I never had a boyfriend, I struggled a lot to make friends, once I even went to my teacher to ask him a question 4 months into senior year and he thought I was a new student even though I had been sitting in the second row of his class every single day."

"...yikes." Steve cringed.

"Yikes is right." You agreed. "I never thought I would exceed at anything at all in life. My big plans were finding a 5-9 desk job to make ends meet then just keep going until I didn't have to anymore. Then I discovered the joy of helping people, realized maybe I'm not all that bad at it, and before I knew it I was at Shield. Then all of the sudden I went from never getting much attention my entire life, to having all eyes on me at all times. I was being held to impossibly high standards, the boys wouldn't leave me alone, it felt like regardless of where I was in the building, there was this big huge spotlight on me."

Rocket had finally gotten too tired to play with his ball, so he came back to you and Steve, and laid down right next to Steve's leg. "Even I was hearing about you before you had made it to high enough ranks to work with me."

"Getting no male attention your whole life will kind've mess you up a bit, but going from no male attention to getting thrown into the compound where only a handful of other women work will mess you up a lot."

"Like throwing a zebra into a pack of lions."

"Even that feels like an understatement." You grinned. "Harvey was the first guy I met that didn't feel like he was going to eat me alive, so I stuck with him."

"He was your first boyfriend?" Steve asked, sounding genuinely appalled.

"He was my first everything." You admitted shyly. "I thought he was one of the good ones, like that one boy you waited your whole life for. But obviously I was stupid, and that turned out to be one of the bigger mistakes of my life."

"He's the stupid one, not you." Steve denied.

"When I met you and Bucky, it was a big breath of fresh air. You guys helped me realize that Harvey was bad for me, but at that point I was already convinced he would be the only guy who would ever be stupid enough to fall in love with me. So I stayed way longer than I should've, but in the meantime I felt like I had opened up to you and Bucky far more than I ever had to Harvey. We started training together and talking more, and at that point I felt like I had given you so much more of myself than I had ever given anyone else in my life. Which I know sounds odd, but we were having these really good conversations that made me feel really vulnerable but in a good way, and we had built so much trust and understanding of each other that I never had to question what your intentions were when you were around."

Asshole. Asshole. Asshole. That was the only word Steve could think of at the moment. How he felt, how he treated you, how he made you feel, he was an asshole.

"I'll spare you details, but after Harvey and I officially called it quits obviously I was really fucking sad. I wanted to see you, but you were away on a mission and I just needed to be with a friend so I went to Bucky's place instead. I had all of this new found freedom, paired with this gut wrenching feeling that I was going to be alone and unloved for the rest of my life, and a good friend in front of my face who was just so kind and gentle...things just happened. I wasn't the one to initiate, but I definitely didn't put a stop to it because for once it was really nice to feel wanted. We didn't even kiss or see each other naked, it felt like less of a big deal to me and far less vulnerable or intimate than most of the stunts and challenges I let you guide me through in training. Bucky and I weren't trying to be malicious and we had no bad intentions in our choice to not tell you, I was just afraid that you wouldn't understand and that you'd take it the wrong way. Which, with all due respect, you didn't understand and by the time I even got a chance to try to explain it to you, we were both so angry and defensive that none of the words would come out right."

Working up the courage to look at Steve to gauge any sort of emotional reaction from him, his face was full of remorse as his eyes stayed set on the dog as his hands gently pet his long body and scratched the top of his head.

You took the chance to take a deep breath and let your palm sink into the fluffy park grass, one last ditch effort to ground yourself before the getting into the hardest part of the conversation. "That fear of misunderstanding and miscommunication is exactly why you didn't tell me or Bucky or anyone for that matter that you liked me. And just like how the information about what Bucky and I did got to you in the wrong way at the wrong time, that information got to me in the very wrong way at the very wrong time. And just like you, I didn't understand, and I felt hurt and betrayed because of it."

You watched Steve's cheeks turn red before he hid his face in his hands and let out a groan, earning a little smile from you that he couldn't even see. "Can we just talk about the weather again?"

"Sure thing." You agreed. "I think I lied to you on accident, because now I am kind've cold."

"Wow I'll never forgive you." He joked dryly, mumbling into the palms of his hands.

"That's okay, we can add it to the list of dumb shit we gotta talk through." You giggled. "Well, seems like that covers the weather category again. Are you ready to come out of hiding?"

He peeked one eye out between his fingers. "No. I kind've wish the floor would swallow me whole right now."

"Wow, I didn't think that you had a weak spot, but I found it." You enthused.

Although it was at much too high a cost, seeing a genuine smile on your face for the first time in over a month was like a big breath of fresh air to Steve.

"I'm not covering my ears, I can still hear you perfectly fine. Please continue." He grumbled.

"Just to put you out of your misery and conclude that horrifically long sob story I just subjected you to..." You started. "I was only hurt in that moment because after fooling around with Bucky and getting the information that you liked me sprung on me, it felt like I had lost the only two people in the compound who didn't see me as or treat me like an object of some weird sexual fantasy. Part of me even felt mad and embarrassed at myself for believing that we could've been friends without you guys seeing me that way. Plus, I had all those people in the compound already saying the only reason I was getting so far in my career was because I was sleeping with you, and I so desperately didn't want them to be right. So, all of that being said, I'm sorry too, I should've never been so mean to you. I'm sorry that Bucky and I hurt you, I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions and not letting you explain yourself while accusing you of things you'd never do."

"Like I said earlier, I already forgave you." Steve slowly let his hands fall from his face, cheeks still stained a pretty pink color.

"That doesn't mean you don't deserve an apology." You reminded him. "We both hurt each other, it's not fair for you to take all the blame."

"I feel like I'm going to throw up" Steve took a deep breath.

"Don't do that" you shook your head. "Please don't throw up."

"I hope you know that our friendship has always meant a lot to me, and absolutely none of it was a scheme to sleep with you." Steve braved through the hard part of the conversation he absolutely wished he never had to think about again.

"Yeah, I do now." You reassured him. "I'm sorry I said that."

"I really just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." Steve explained. "Especially in an environment where you were already getting eaten alive. Plus I was your boss, and you had Harvey, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship... and, yeah, I dunno. It was just a mess. I didn't tell Bucky because I didn't want him to tell me to tell you. He figured it out on his own, by the way. Apparently my eyes twinkle too much, whatever that means."

"I'm not uncomfortable, and yeah, you do have really twinkly eyes." You grinned.

"I guess that's your fault" Steve jokingly sassed.

"Oh so now we're pointing fingers?" You took fake offense.

"From this point on, I'd really like it if everyone could just ignore the twinkle in my eyes so we can all get back to being friends like we were before." Steve said, giving you a really easy escape to officially denying him.

"But I think the twinkles are so pretty!" You enthused, giggling when you could practically see his heart drop.

"You shouldn't be saying things like that when you know I already feel like throwing up." Steve shook his head and clutched his stomach.

"But I mean it." You confirmed. "Knowing what I know now, why would we ever go back to being how we were before?"

Steve swallowed thickly, then his hands started exaggerated movements to further get his point across. "I'm trying to give you an easy way out of telling me you don't want me back in the same way."

"I understand, but that wouldn't be true." You giggled. "I do remember you stating very clearly that you aren't my boss anymore, am I remembering that correctly?"

"No, technically I'm not you b-" He rambled quietly.

"Do we think this would do anything to harm our sweet little Bucky boy?"

"No. He's been going out with Natasha and has been trying to get me to ask y-"

"You we're so kind as to cut me some deals, so I've got one for you too. Let's take some time to let everything settle and heal over, then when the time is right, we'll explore more of that little twinkle, alright?"

"Okay." Steve nodded wide eyed and enthusiastic.

"Yeah? Are you going to throw up?" You questioned with a smile.

"Maybe only a little bit." He continued nodding.

"I guess that's better than a lot-a-bit" you justified.

"So we're okay?" Steve asked, twinkly eyed and puppy dogged face.

"We're okay." You confirmed. "Can I give you a hug? You look like you really need it."

Steve opened his arms for you, and you both had to awkwardly lean over Rocket who was instantly stayed tucked next to his leg. Embracing him tightly, you realized just how badly you needed it too.

Both unwilling to let go for a little while, you took the time to appreciate his body heat that was a stark difference between the cold air outside.

"I'm sorry." Steve quietly apologized again.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too." You accepted. "I really missed you, Stevie."

"I missed you too, Bug. I've been so worried about you lately." One of his hands was very sweetly rubbing your back.

"Sorry." You sighed. "I've been trying my best."

"I know. That doesn't make me worry any less."

"I love you." You reminded him for the first time in a while.

Steve relaxed and let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding onto. "I love you more."

Although you could've hugged him forever, the two of you mutually unwrapped yourself from each other.

"How is your shoulder?" He questioned remorsefully.

"Oh, it's fine." You told him. "It feels so much better. I've been doing yoga all week and it's held up nicely."

"Good, that's good." He nodded. "And have you put any thought into what you're going to do about your job?"

"Everyone seems to want me to do something different." You sighed. "I've been coming here almost every night just to think about it. It's really nice that the sprinklers don't turn on at 10 pm."

“What do you want to do?"

"I think I know what I want, but I'm really scared of making the jump." You explained.

"I'm not here to talk you in or out of anything, I was just curious." Steve grinned. "You still have the rest of the week to think it through. But just know that I have no doubt in your ability to handle a big scary jump"

"I can usually only handle big scary jumps because most of the time, you're down at the bottom waiting to catch me." You admitted.

"Well regardless of what you choose, I'll still always be here for you." Steve reminded you sweetly. "I just hope you do what you think is best for you, and not what other people want you to do."

“That's the thing, I don't think I know what's good for me."

"Are you kidding me? You have great intuition." Steve said. "Your just need to gain back trust for that little voice in your head that's telling you what to do."

"The same voice that bullies me every day?!" You asked with a giggle. "Absolutely not, she gets no say in any of my choices nowadays."

Steve close lipped smiled at you, his dimples setting deep into his chiseled cheeks. "Then forget you even have a brain and listen to your heart."

"She's also been really problematic recently." You noted. "I don't like her very much right now."

His smile turned into a pout. "That sounds like a very tough thing to not like about yourself."

"Tell me about it." You agreed. "But we're working on it."

"Once again, I guess that's all that matters." Steve noted. "So you can't make a big decision with your heart or your head, and your shoulder is out of the question. We're running low on body parts."

"Maybe I'll let Rocket make the choice for me." You grinned at the sleepy dog.

"I think Rocket should be an Avenger... actually, I think Rocket should come home with me and be my dog instead." Steve smiled, petting the dog once more.

"My parents would hunt you down for sport if you ever took this dog." You giggled. "He's their favorite child."

"But I love him!" Steve pouted like a child. "He's just so fucking cute! Have you seen these ears?!"

"No pets allowed at the compound" You reminded him, nudging his arm. "Maybe that's all the more reason to quit."

“I think that's reason to break the rules, not to quit." Steve corrected.

"Captain America suggesting I break the rules?!" You questioned with a gasp.

"Am I not the same man who's whole career was founded off of breaking the law?" Steve questioned right back. "When have I ever followed the rules?"

"Wow, bad to the bone."

"That sounded sarcastic." He noted as his eyebrow raised in question.

"Me? Sarcastic? Never." You denied.

Rocket readjusted to get more comfortable, but crawled into the hole within Steve's crossed legs and curled up into a little ball in his lap, with his head resting on his thigh.

"Okay that's it." Steve declared, fists balling up to keep himself from unleashing his cuteness aggression on the creature in the form of hugging him so tight his eyes popped out of his head like a stress ball. "I can't take this anymore. How bad would your parents beat me up if I stole this dog? Because really, I think I could take the beating."

"I simply cannot express to you how much taking this dog away from my parents is not an option." You laughed at his question. "I think my Mom would run you over with her car."

"No way she would do that." Steve shook his head. "She was so nice when I met her!"

"She would not be nice if you stole her weenie." You pointed out.

"Come on, she gave me a hug. No mom that's giving out free hugs could ever hit me with a car."

"That's where you're wrong. Because any woman that has so much love for her kids would do anything to seek rightful justice if you did anything to fuck with them." You corrected him. "Even if she's five foot nothing, and you're Captain America. Don't mess with her baby."

“Oh no" Steve's eyes went wide.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh shit." He panicked. "Do your parents hate me?"

"No? Why would they hate you?" You questioned with a nervous laugh.

"Because I accidentally fucked with your Mom's baby and now she's going to do anything to seek rightful justice." Steve clutched the fabric of his sweater right over his chest. "The throw up is coming back."

"I didn't tell them anything about you or Bucky, other than that you didn't let me quit right in the spot." You explained. "They love you and all of the Avengers too much for me to ever ruin their perception of the people who make them feel safe."

"So why do they think you're here?" Steve asked.

"I only told them about Harvey and the general issues I'm having with all of the other agents."

"Your sister knows." He said. "She made a weird comment..."

"She always makes weird comments, that's just what makes Jane, Jane." You smiled. "Yes, she knows, but she likes you a lot. I think she even took your side, she's been advocating for you the whole time."

"She's going to tell your mom, and your mom is going to hunt me for sport."

"No she won't, and even if she does find out about it, she's a very rational person. As long as we're fine, she's fine." You explained. "Look I'll prove it to you, say cheese!"

Quickly taking your phone out of your pocket and pointing the camera at Steve and Rocket, he smiled and you snapped a picture. He watched you type away for a few moments.

You sent the picture in a group chat with your mom and dad, then immediately got a response.

"See! Look! I said, look who came by to hang out with your favorite child." You giggled at your screen, turning it towards him so show that you sent them the picture. "My mom responded and said omg, Dad is honored. We don't know who is cuter, Rocket or Captain Rogers."

"Okay now ask if I can steal the dog." His cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink.

"I thought the point was to make sure my mom liked you" You laughed, locking your phone and putting it on the grass besides you. "Trust that I'm doing you a favor."

"Fine, but I'm not happy about it." He joked.

"I didn't know you felt so passionately about wieners, Steven." You giggled.

"What can I say? There's nothing better than kicking back and playing with a wiener." He ran with your joke.

"A nice, long wiener."

"This is ridiculous" Steve's face scrunched up, earning more of your adorable laughter.

Like no time had passed, you and Steve sat and chatted away for a few hours. You could tell the comfortable conversation was helping him resolve his own internal guilt, so you were happy to stay and chat for as long as he needed. But selfishly, you missed him more than you ever wanted to admit to yourself.

His adorable smile and pretty pink cheeks lit up a part of your heart that you had felt so disconnected from for so long now. And as the night grew colder, and significantly later, he couldn't just ignore the occasional chills that would make you momentarily shiver. You kept ignoring them and playing them off just to spend more time with your sweet friend, but eventually you ended up tucked underneath his arm and snuggled up to his side for warmth while Rocket stayed glued to his lap.

There was little you could do to ignore how comfortable and familiar it felt to be sharing warmth with the soldier. By all means, both Steve and Bucky were touchy people on a normal day to day basis, plus all of the training you did with Steve made you very comfortable with his skin on yours.

But this was different. His head that nestled on top of yours that rested on his shoulder, his big hand on the top of you arm keeping you close and snug against him, paired the gentle and quiet volume in his voice wasn't just friendly.

His hold was apologetic, and almost regretful. It was reconnecting, and mending. You could feel all of his unspoken words seeping out from his warm body to into your cold one, and you wondered if he could feel the same thing happening to him through your timid hand resting between his shoulder blades.

Just based on his calm breaths, but still racing pulse that you could feel on his neck, you knew it was different for him too.

But it was a good different, a hopeful and very exciting different.

Much like your shivers that you ignored and played off, Steve was trying to mask his yawns. Unfortunately, this was something that you couldn't ignore. Especially when you pressed the button on your phone and the screen informed you that it was already 11:52pm.

"As sad as I am to have to put an end to this, it's already almost midnight and your crazy ass drove an hour and a half here on a motorcycle." You reminded him.

"I just got you back, I don't want to leave you again." He pouted.

"I don't want you to leave either, but I'd prefer if you got home safely." Your timid hand now gently rubbing short stripes on his back. "Or you can stay the night with me here if you'd like."

A sleepy grin overtook the sat pout. "Thank you, but once again I don't want your parents to hate me. Plus I have my stupid annual physical in the morning."

"My parents wouldn't hate you, they'd rather you be safe than drive home tired."

"I'm not that tired, I'll be okay." He reassured you. "And you can't come back to the compound?"

"No, I have to watch Rocket." You reminded him. "But I'll see you in a few days at least. I'll be back before the end of the week."

"Oh, you'll be back?" He raised an eyebrow, challenging your statement.

"To give my official resignation at the very least, or to move all of my stuff into the Avengers sector at the very most. Who's to say what's going to happen?" You giggled.

"Well, when you need help moving let me know. I know a couple guys that can lift a few thousand pounds at a time, it helps the process go by really fast." Steve egged you on.

"Uh huh, I'll keep that in mind." You rolled your eyes with a smile, and wrapped your other arm around his front to squeeze him in a sideways hug. "Thanks for coming all the way here. It was really nice getting to have a conversation with you, I really missed spending time together."

"Of course. Thank you for even giving me the chance to explain myself. If I were you, I don't know of I would be able to be that gracious." He squeezed your shoulder in appreciation.

"There isn't much I wouldn't do for you." You grinned.

"Oh yeah? What wouldn't you do?" Steve questioned with a chuckle.

"I won't let you steal my moms dog." You stated. "Which reminds me, I'm going to need that back."

"Okay, I guess you can have him back. " Steve smiled and picked up the little fur-ball from his lap and placed him on yours instead. "Thanks for letting me play with your wiener."

"Feel free to come back and play with my wiener anytime." You laughed at his joke, unwrapping yourself from him as he started standing up.

"What an incredible offer, thank you" Steve smiled, now standing over you and offering you his hand to help you up.

"Like I said, anytime." You playfully winked.

Quickly putting on Rockets leash, you set the dog on the grass and accepted Steve's hand. He pulled you up effortlessly and bent over to grab your blanket from the grass.

"How far away is your parents house?"  Steve questioned, subconsciously folding the blanket.

"About two blocks" You shrugged.

"Can I walk you guys home?" He asked, eyes twinkling once more as he shoved his hands in his front pockets to keep them warm.

"Absolutely not" You denied.

He was immediately pretending to be offended with a big gasp and hand whipped out of his pocket and over his heart. "Ma'am, it is pitch black out here and it's already midnight."

You laughed at his response. "Sir, it's pitch black and midnight. Your motorcycle is right there. I'm not letting you walk me two blocks in a neighborhood I'm familiar with because that means you'll have to walk another two blocks back here all by yourself somewhere you've never been. Logistically it makes no sense."

Steve puffed and furrowed his eyebrows. "What if some creepy dude comes and tries to mess with you? Huh? Then what?"

"Then I use all my big and scary self defense moves that Captain America taught me." You answered. "Also, do you not see this big scary guard dog? Nobody is going to fuck with me."

His pout deepened. "What if you start walking home and some dude on a motorcycle follows you all the way home?"

"Is that what's going to happen?" You giggled at his question.

"If you keep saying you're not going to let me walk you home then maybe it will." Steve shrugged.

"I've been walking by myself this late every single night for a week now." You told him. "It's always been fine, it'll be fine again."

"Now you're just trying to give me a heart attack." Steve deadpanned, earning your laugh once again.

"So I'm a good enough fighter to be an Avenger, but not good enough to walk to my parents house by myself?" You asked.

"Yes, exactly!" Steve enthused. "So glad we could have this conversation to clear that up, come one let's get you home."

His arm linked around yours and he started walking. "I think you're absolutely out of your mind, but I appreciate you nonetheless."

Looking up at his face just in time, you caught his smile. "The second half of that statement is really the only part that matters to me."

Your steps synched up with his, and Rocket walked ahead of the two of you. "Hey, Stevie?"

"Hmm?"

"If you actually want to get me home, we should be walking in the complete opposite direction" You grinned.

Steve stopped and laughed. "Okay, you lead the way."

You did eventually make it home, and only when you stood on the door step did Steve let your arms disconnect.

"Look we made it here and nobody died!" You enthused. "Do you remember how to get back?"

"Of course I do" Steve giggled at your question. "It wasn't even two full blocks."

"Just making sure" you raised your hands in defense. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

"I would if I could." His thankful grin showed off the shallow dimples in his cheeks. "See you soon?"

"In a few days" you nodded in confirmation.

He stuck his arms out for one last hug, and you accepted happily. After he let go of you, he bent down to say bye to Rocket.

"Drive save! Text me when you get home." You told him.

Steve's face scrunched up for a second, causing you to look at him in confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"You blocked my phone number" He reminded you with a loud whisper.

"I'll unblock it, but text me when you get home" You giggled.

"Okay great!" Steve smiled big and did a little happy dance. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, love you!"

"Love you more!" He waved as he walked down the driveway.

Next Part: Twinkles

Taglist: @sarangheay @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qalijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @dbnightingale24 @ynstark @sincerelytlh @alexakeyloveloki @mrsevans90 @smhnxdiii @claralovescaptainamerica @hisredheadedgoddess28 @bigtreefest

[loveacrosstimes]

The Nurse and the Rancher - Ch. 2

Summary: Claire, a 27-year-old nurse from NYC accidentally gets transported back to California in 1995. There she meets Jamie, a 25-year-old Scot who recently inherited his uncle’s sprawling ranch in St. Helena.

Claire trudged along an undefined path at the edge of town, clumsily retracing her steps. She hoped to stumble back to the dirt road along the forest where she’d fallen through time, away from the hustle and bustle of New York City where everyone was walking with purpose. 

Towards jobs, towards love, towards passions. 

Sometimes, failure and heartbreak.

Either way, time – or the lack thereof – propelled the ebb and flow of foot traffic, helping to move people along on their journeys. 

Here, in Le Cressida, time seemed to meander, chugging along just enough to avoid rousing suspicion, but without enough urgency to produce anything worth getting out of bed for. 

She’d not seen a single soul until she’d managed to find the convenience store nestled unreasonably deep inside of this place that looked like the remains of a dilapidated movie set.  

Le Cressida – the name even sounded fake .

What was undeniably real, however, was the irreparable damage this California dirt was doing to her favorite pair of work shoes. Frank had gotten them after she’d spent months complaining of the way every other pair she’d found seemed impartial to hospital floors – like the cushion and support they were supposed to provide were suggestions .

Now, they were coated in such grime, there wasn’t a washing machine that could salvage them.  And yet, this would be a worthy sacrifice for her if she could just find … this … fucking … trail. 

Pushing out a deep breath, she continued along the path, hoping to snuff out the long, dirt road where the universe had spit her out like yesterday’s trash. It’d seemed long and unforgiving at the time, sprawled out in front of her like a looming side quest, relishing in her arduous journey ahead. 

Now that she needed it, it was nowhere to be found. 

In hindsight, a map would’ve been a better investment than a newspaper – but beggars couldn’t be choosers.   

At least the sun wasn’t quite as vicious as when she’d arrived. A thin layer of clouds had gathered in the sky, blocking just enough heat and UV rays to provide her with a little bit of relief.

Walking several more hundred yards, Claire eventually ran out of trees, arriving to the edge of a wooden fence. She stopped, trying to remember if she’d passed one during her earlier trek into town. She didn’t immediately place it but kept walking until she realized what the fence was enshrouding: a modest bungalow that had seen much better days. 

Worry rose where relief should’ve settled. There was no way she’d have passed this house and not remembered, or stopped to seek help, which meant that she’d somehow turned a wrong corner on her way back. She turned backwards, peering back over her journey, unsure where she’d gone wrong, a gnawing feeling building in her stomach.

If she couldn’t find the spot she’d somehow fallen through, how could she ever get back home? Granted, she hadn’t exactly figured out the logistics of a plan, but getting back to the spot was the first step to reversing this mind-boggling situation she’d found herself in.

With a loud sigh, she resigned her gaze upward, noticing that the thin smear of clouds were thickening and darkening before her very eyes. At this rate, she only had a few hours of daylight left – even less if a storm rolled in. 

“Just what I need," she huffed.

Grabbing at the fence, Clair hoisted herself up backwards to give herself a better view of the area. Other than the house, carved amid the shrubbery, there was nothing other than thick trees stretching in both directions. 

She bent down and planted one hand on top of the fence to steady herself as she hopped back down onto the ground. 

Claire sunk into the fence, allowing the thick, splintery wood to support her for a spell. As a nurse, she was used to being on her feet, but not while traversing an unfamiliar state in an unfamiliar time, in godforsaken heat. 

If she didn’t get out of the elements, she’d eventually collapse from exhaustion.

Pressing a hand into her face, Claire blinked rapidly, hoping that if she did it enough times, she'd wake up from what had to be a dream. It had to be. Because if it wasn't, she was simply a woman out of time with no means of providing for herself, or letting her loved ones know she was okay. 

Loved ones. What loved ones. Frank was all but five years old in 1995, and still living in Germany, where his father was stationed in the army.

Meanwhile, her mother, Julia Beauchamp, hadn't even met her father yet -- in this timeline. But even if she had, it's not like she would be the mother she knew in the present or through her childhood. A comforting, level-headed, if not slightly reclusive woman, who occasionally stashed her with her grandmother for days, occasionally weeks, at a time.

Not that she’d minded. Her Grandma Agnes had been the living embodiment of a warm hug in her childhood. 

Gulping, Claire realized that, for the first time in her life, she had no one but herself. The thought burned the inside of her nose, signaling that the tears were on the horizon. But they arrived quicker, heavier than she thought.

“Come on, get it together.” 

Standing upright against the fence, she peered back towards the house.  

From the road, she couldn't tell whether or not it was occupied or abandoned. 

Given her position, she wasn’t sure what the better option would be.  

On the one hand, she needed food, a change of clothes, and a decent place to sleep. But who in their right mind would take in a total stranger? Even if they were crazy enough, that doesn’t mean it’d be a smart decision for her – unless the home just so happened to be occupied by a sweet, little old lady, who thought Claire reminded her of her granddaughter. Someone aching to extend a little maternal affection.

A hot meal, a bath, a place to rest her aching body.

One sleep — that's all she needed. Enough time to come up with a real, viable plan, and figure out how to navigate this town she'd ended up in long enough to find the portal. Enough time to explain to Frank why she didn’t come back home on the night of their anniversary when their marriage was already hanging on by a thread. 

And yet, that was the best-case scenario.

The house could very well belong to someone far less hospitable, who'd only make this journey more difficult for her; who’d ensure that she never had to worry about facing her husband after ghosting him on one of the most important days of their marriage, thus far.

Either way, she had to try. 

Planting her hands into the fence, Claire hoisted herself up once more, just as she heard a car approaching down the dirt road. Well, less like a car and more like a black, mechanical whale, choking on the dry, California air. 

It sputtered along the trail, gasping with each inch it gained, surrounded by a dust cloud befitting the dirty kid from Charlie Brown. 

Balancing on top of the fence, Claire glanced back at the home, wondering if she should make herself scarce or if she’d be better off hitching a ride from whoever owned this very loud, very clunky piece of junk.  

Afterall, the house would still be there to explore if they said no. And if they could drop her back off at the point where she’d come through – maybe this wouldn’t end up being the worst anniversary she’d ever had. 

Maybe she wouldn’t have to give Frank another reason to think her heart wasn’t in their marriage. Maybe she’d be able to convince herself .

Claire approached the dirt road, nearly throwing herself in front of the car. 

The old clunker skidded to an ungraceful stop a few feet in front of her. Before the occupants could survey the hurdle in their journey, Claire was approaching the driver’s side.

“What the hell are you doing, lady??” spit out the driver – an upper middle-aged man. There were also two, slightly younger men in the passenger seat and one in the back, too. “We got places to be.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Claire said, attempting to soothe his rancor, before turning her attention to the other men. “I was wondering if you gentlemen could help a lady out.” 

The man in the passenger seat leaned forward, an unsettling glint in his eye. “Well, that depends on what kind of help a lady needs,” he grumbled in his best attempt at a seductive tone.

The comment garnered a chuckle from the man in the backseat. 

“Hush up, Aaron. You too, Rob,” said the older man.

His tone wiped the smirks from their faces.

“What do you need, ma’am?” He asked. “We’re on a schedule.”

“A ride if you can manage. I was out here doing a house call today, but I’m not familiar with these parts, and I’ve gotten a little turned around.”

He eyed her attire. “You a nurse?” 

“Yeah. For the local hospital … about ten miles out,” she said, remembering that detail about her story from the diner. 

The hospital’s name didn’t surface as easily. 

“Rosedale Medical Center?”

“Y-yeah, that one.” 

He scratched his temple. “That’s a ways off … How’d you get all the way out here without any wheels?”

Oh right . If she was going to keep lying, she had to come up with a story that accounted for these little details that could trip her up – like this.  “Uh, my friend dropped me off this morning,” she said quickly. “They were supposed to pick me up, but never showed up.”

His curious expression resigned into casual acceptance. “Some friend,” he said, humping his shoulders.

“Yeah, well they’re probably swamped at the hospital and haven’t gotten off yet, but as you can see, the weather is turning, and I’m trying to get out of here before the rain comes.” 

That last part was true.

Sucking his teeth, he tilted his head. “I’d like to help you, but 10 miles both ways will set us back too much. And we have a lot of work to do.” 

“That’s okay, actually,” she said quickly. “I’m actually just trying to get about a half mile or so from here to the road near my patient’s house. I kinda got lost and, I want to wait to see if my friend comes back up this way … well, that way,” she said pointing behind her. 

In truth, she was hoping to locate the portal and figure out how to get back through – not that he needed to know that.

She swept her bottom lip into her teeth, hoping that her desperation would sway him. 

It’s not like she had any cash to offer him — that jackass at the diner had made sure of that. 

“And what if they don’t?”

“Well, then I’m no worse off than I am right now, am I?” She said with a sly smile to soften his grumbly exterior. 

“I don’t know …”

“Aww, come on, daddio,” said one man.

“Yeah, the little lady asked nicely,” said the other.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Claire kept her focus on the driver, as he was obviously calling the shots. 

“Okay, I’ll do you one better,” he eventually said. “How about you ride with us over to our place, spend the night there, we’ll drive you back to the hospital in the morning … the whole ten miles.” 

Claire flashed him a panicked smile – there was no way in hell she’d take up shelter with three strange men overnight. “That’s such a generous offer, but I couldn’t impose on you like this.”

“Trust, you wouldn’t be imposing," he said. “Besides, we haven’t had a woman around the house since my wife died a few years back.”

A beat passed before she managed to push a conciliatory message out through her constricting throat. She doubted the feminine energy he was missing was anything she was willing or able to give him. 

“Thanks …” he said dismissively, not noticing – or perhaps caring – about her discomfort. “So what do you say?” 

She smiled politely. “I can’t, really. It’s too much of an ask.”

“Nonsense. Besides, you could earn your stay by whipping us up a quick meal. It’s been ages since we had anything decent to eat.” 

“Hey, I do the best I can,” Aaron retorted, genuinely offended. 

“Hush, boy,” the older man shot back – a reply that set off a back-and-forth between them that curdled her blood. 

The absolute nerve of these men to think that after a long day at work she’d spend her evening cooking for them of all people. Nevermind the fact that she hadn’t actually made it to work – one second she was following a skeletal stray cat into one of the only working phone booths left in NYC, the next she was in hillbilly purgatory – it was still a nonstarter. 

She barely enjoyed cooking for Frank, and she’d be damned if she was going to cook for another man on their anniversary. 

��Gentlemen!” she yelled, cutting through the noise, “As I said, I appreciate the offer, but I really have to get home tonight. My husband is waiting for me, and he’ll have a fit if I don’t turn up.” 

Refusing to wait for their response, and hoping to God that knowing another man had claimed her would be enough to satisfy their archaic sensibilities, Claire straightened her posture, and started back up down the road in the direction she’d come. 

She hoped to hear the exasperated cranking of their car start up, then pass her by on their merry way. 

These men obviously had nothing of value to offer her. And though a ride would’ve been nice, without them, she had time to regroup and maybe find some shelter for the night, since it was becoming clearer she probably wasn’t going to make it back to her home, her time today.

The cranking came, but not quick enough for her. 

As she walked, a car crawled up behind her, but she kept her head forward until she couldn’t ignore their presence.

“What, you’re too good to cook for me and my sons?” Called out the father.

Claire drifted off the dirt road, onto the brushy overgrowth, hoping they’d realize she wasn’t going to bite, but her non response only made them slow down even more. 

“Hey, bitch, my daddy asked you a question!” yelled one of the sons. 

Clasping her arms over her chest, she pivoted to walk into the opposite direction, hoping they’d think she was too much trouble to pursue. But the car cranking down let her know that she wasn’t that lucky.

She quickly glanced back, noting the way the good-for-nothing father watched from the driver’s side. Before she knew it, the sons had exited the vehicle, and were quickly approaching her. 

With no other options, she took off down the road, running as quickly as she could, kicking up dust with every step. It was barely a few seconds before she felt a man's hand yank her backwards by the arm. 

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” She yelled fighting to free herself from his grasp, as the heady laugh of the other brother pierced her eardrums. 

He stood close, watching his brother manhandle her. 

The more she thrashed, the tighter he gripped.

With her other fist, she pounded against his forearm, but it made no difference. So she dug her nails into his arm as hard as she could, drawing flesh and blood underneath the surface, causing him to release a loud, screechy howl. 

For a second she was free, the urge to take off – despite the other brother being mere feet away – strong. But then he whacked her with an angry, vengeful hand, across her shoulder. She fell to the ground with a thud, the approving laughter from the other brother, drowning out her own agonizing cry.

Claire pressed her hands into the ground to stand, the sharp piercing pain in her shoulder causing her to collapse onto her back just as the brother she struck closed in on her. She kicked her feet, attempting to keep him at bay. He absorbed every kick, every thrash, cursing loudly when her foot managed to hit him at the perfect angle.

But that only angered him further. He dropped down onto his knees, using his weight to subdue her. 

“Get off of me, you bastard!”

Unable to fight him off, she grabbed a handful of dirt and grass and threw it into his face, temporarily blinding him and rendering her invisible, as he tried to rid his eyes of the debris. 

Claire balled up her fist and hit him as hard as she could across the face, nearly cracking her knuckles in the process. The man wailed, falling over onto his side, giving her just enough leeway to try to escape. 

But she was immediately kicked back down by the second man, whose casual delight had evolved into rage. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, voice dripping with grisly intent. 

In pain, and worn down from the absolute worst day she’d ever experienced, her body froze into a defensive position, as if it knew that she could never overpower two adult men, especially those with such delicately bruised egos. 

Would this be how she would die? Alone in the middle of Le Cressida, California, 29 years in the past. 

She closed her eyes shut, not wanting them to be the last thing she saw before she met her end. 

For a moment, her mind drifted to Frank, their modern, yet cozy, adorably decorated apartment just outside of the city. Their wedding day. Her parents. The babies in the neonatal unit who depended on her. All the wonderful things this life had blessed her with. 

Yes, that’s how she’d go out – focusing on the goo — arggghh . A firm hand around Claire's neck ripped her from her thoughts, back into the present

She gasped, flailing as she fought to take a clear breath until the weight of the other brother’s body cemented her arms to her side. 

“One meal – that’s all you had to agree too. But no, you thought you were too good! Not you’re gonna p–”

BANG!!!!

A deafening sound exploded behind them, piercing her eardrums, and, when mixed with her depleted oxygen, made her head spin. The only thing that kept her lucid was seeing the man's face shift from nefarious delight into bright white terror.

And then she heard it...

“You, you, step away from the lass! ” yelled out a distinctively familiar, comforting. voice. 

Firm, commanding, imbued with a heavy, Scottish accent... 

Note: I hope you enjoy! Also, I updated on AO3 as well.

[thorntopieces]

assorted pjo/hoo headcanons

part 1 - part 2

autistic!will. i mean. i was one of the first people to write it (and post it on ao3, but i had stuff about it on my long gone old blog before then). this is true. to me. it's not incredibly obvious unless you know what you're looking for because 99% of the time he's eloquent and very passionate and maybe it's just the hyper healer in him and he'd like to think he passes well. but for people who know they can just tell. it's the voice, man /gn. gives you away every time /lh

pots!hazel. she ends up (mostly!) recovering from the fainting episodes associated with her flashbacks but still faints and feels unwell a lot of the time. she spends a lot of her energy and magic on staying conscious and aware, leaving her foggy and with flare-ups. will ends up diagnosing her half-way on accident during the three days nico stays in the infirmary. she doesn't faint a lot, but she will frequently have her vision black out when she stands and feel nauseous if she has to stand still for more than ten minutes (more or less depending on the day). together with jason and nico the three of them make up the fainting trio

reyna speaks excessively formally and politely when she's uncomfortable and the moment she feels safe around you she will just loosen up completely. it becomes very clear very quickly how much of her time is spent being uncomfortable

genderfluid!lou ellen. most of the time she's happy to be referred to as a girl, but some days it just feels wrong and she prefers to be referred to either gender-neutrally or masculinely. it's not something she's out about to anyone but her closest friends, partially because there's kind of enough stigma around being the child of hecate and also, it's not all that obvious, even to her.

nico is a bit like a social interaction vampire. he's not as shut off as others seem to think, he just needs to be given explicit permission to talk about his interests because he's worried about annoying other people, especially after bianca essentially abandoned him. he could talk for hours and hours about his special interests (because yes, he's probably autistic too) like mythomagic (he picks it up again with percy's encouragement), ancient languages and literature

will and katie (gardner) friendship. they bond over liking star wars and when lou ellen join their circle she manipulates the mist to recreate scenes from the movies. as she gets better at it she manages to make the light sabers glow, much to will and katie's delight

after the battle of manhattan and will/kayla/austin almost dying from being overworked, the camp gets together with mr d and chiron without the apollo kids' knowledge and figure out how to run the infirmary in a more sustainable way than just forcing apollo and athena kids to be there. eventually they settle on apollo kids doing 8-hour shifts but none at night unless someone is severely wounded. for the night shift, other campers work in rotating pairs where one sleeps for the first four hours and the other for the last four hours. a lot more campers gain appreciation for the amount of work the apollo (and athena) cabin put in to keep them alive and healthy and the apollo cabin doesn't die of burnout

t1 diabetic!kayla. she's been sick with it since she was six, but thanks to having a very supportive dad and a team of professionals around him considering his status as an olympic archer, her condition is well-managed (most of the time, war time is unpredictable) and she knows how to treat and manage it considering her demigod lifestyle. accompanying headcanon to this: while ambrosia and nectar is mostly to heal injuries and wounds of a divine and/or serious nature, it can short-term manage blood sugar. mortal intervention is always needed to fix the problem though. a bit like how narcan delays but can't entirely fix an opioid overdose

cecil wasn't properly accepted as a child of hermes at first considering he didn't express exceptional skills at the more obvious and everyday traits associated with the cabin (multilingualism, athleticism, thievery). first when he was found to accidentally being an exceptional saboteur was he properly accepted by the rest of his siblings. due to this he tended to hang out with the unclaimed children in the hermes cabin rather than his own siblings, especially lou ellen

hjs!cecil (hypermobile joint syndrome; double-jointedness). he's not good with most physical activities because of this and easily discouraged to even attempt most sports due to how his cabin alienated him for not being exceptionally agile, a trait associated with their cabin. it's not uncommon for his wrists and ankles to not work well (such as the twisted ankle in boo). however, he feels like he "compensates" for this by working in the shadows. when properly encouraged and supported, he prefers fighting with knives (close combat or throwing), relying on being obnoxious to throw the enemy off

[rrrrinmaru]

picasso (marius x fem!reader) (nsfw)

wc: 5.7k rating: E warnings: nsfw, vaginal fingering, handjob, squirting, they're both freaks for each other

“I think it’s pretty,” you say plainly. “I like the look of it. I’ve always had a soft spot for ink wash works.”

The exhibit is held in a famous glass museum in downtown Stellis. There had been a controversy about the full glass walls and privacy issues a few years ago (you had read this case once, out of curiosity, and never again), but that was eventually resolved and now the first floor of the museum was regularly used for art exhibits. 

Before you knew Marius’ secret identity, you had invited him to visit one of Z’s exhibits. And Marius, the most shameless man to ever walk this Earth, had agreed. 

Fortunately, you learnt about this secret before you bought tickets for the exhibit. Not that you wouldn’t want to see his works displayed in the gallery, but the thought of you gushing over Z’s artwork in front of Marius without knowing the truth… 

It’s embarrassing. 

Today, however, it’s a different artist’s work on display. Thomas Mikeden, a foreign painter who’s been going on an exhibit world tour. Stellis is his latest stop, and everything just lined up. Both of you had the day off and tickets were on sale. You had invited Marius to the exhibit, excited to hear his artistic insight about the paintings, but Marius has been… a little petulant.

“I can’t believe we’re looking at a Mikeden painting,” he mutters, arms folded across his chest. “The first time you invite me to an art exhibit and it isn’t even mine; I can overlook that, but Mikeden?”

“What do you have against him?”

“We’re friends,” Marius says solemnly, looking like he doesn’t even believe the words coming out his mouth, “but we suffer from creative differences. Severe creative differences. If I ever have to see the way he mixes his oil paints again, I’d end up on the news for criminal activity. And he said if he ever had to see me try to sculpt a pot again, he’d wring my neck himself. He said my clay pots were an abomination against God.”

You blink at him. “You know how to do pottery?”

“According to him, I don’t.”

And suddenly, you get it. Creative differences, more like a bunch of children arguing over who does something right, or who does something better. Like kindergarteners fighting over whose parent made them the better lunchbox. 

“What are your thoughts on his ink wash painting?” 

Marius gives you an appraising look. “Not his worst work. He’s alright with ink wash. I've personally dabbled in ink wash before. It’s not my preferred medium, but we learnt it as part of our curriculum.”

You turn to look at him, eyes bright. “Really? Do you still have those ink wash paintings hidden away somewhere?”

“Of course. I never throw my works away. I’ll bring you to one of my storage warehouses one day.” 

One of his storage warehouses? It never occurred to you that painters would need a lot of space to store their paintings, even more so if they were particularly diligent and practiced different painting techniques often. With how many easels and canvases were strewn about Marius’ house, you suppose you should have made the connection.

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

The next few works are insightful, to say the least. Marius gets up close and personal with one of them to sneakily point out to you a place where Mikeden allegedly made a mistake and had spent hours trying to cover it up. 

“This is from when he tried to lean into the Baroque style,” Marius says, using his thumb to frame certain parts of the painting to draw your eye to them. “The colors here, see, the stark contrast between the light and the dark? That’s the use of tenebrism, popularised by Caravaggio.”

“Hm,” you note, eyes wandering around the painting. It’s a stunning piece of work, and Mikeden captured the likeness of the male form well. The extreme contrast almost seems to frame the figures with a halo, a light that blooms from their very center to strike at the viewer’s attention. “They’re quite handsome.”

Marius makes a sound at the back of his throat. “You’re more into modern men, jiejie.”

You hide your laugh behind a cough. He’s like a needy kitten pawing at you for attention, and you’re helpless against someone this cute. 

“Yes, yes, look at how handsome you are,” you say, turning around to face him head-on. You reach out, smoothing the non-existent creases away from his button-down. 

Without really thinking too deeply, your fingers linger on the stretch of the fabric across his chest—the thought that you can see them if you squint hard enough comes unbidden to your mind. The small bumps under the fabric, stiff from the slight chill of the room. 

It’s the kind of thought that grips you by the throat, sitting in your mind and taking up space, holding you captive until you do something about it. 

You brush your thumb against one of them, just because they’re right there, because you can, because Marius’ hands are on your hips and you’re feeling a little… playful. 

Immediately, a hand catches your wrist. It doesn’t stop you from pressing the pad of your thumb lightly against that raised bump, and Marius’ breath hitches. His fingers flex against your wrist, hard enough that you can’t help but smile. 

He’s usually the one making you flush in public, so you mark this as a victory. The sight of him, red-faced and pouting, heart pounding so desperately you can feel it through his chest—you pull your hand back, and he lets you go. That hand drops back to your waist as you bring your thumb to your lips, and you hold Marius’ gaze as the tip of your tongue darts out to lick your thumb.

Marius goes still. It’s as if he’s nothing more than one of the paintings hung up on the gallery walls, with how still he is; his pupils are blown wide and he gives you this shaken look, as if you’ve completely disarmed him. Swept him off his feet and left him grasping at straws to find the words to say. 

Eventually, you go back to smoothing out his shirt. Properly, this time. No messing around.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Marius murmurs, his breath puffing against the curve of your throat as he leans down. His voice is soft, barely louder than a whisper, but it somehow feels deafening in the quiet of the room. 

Your hands tighten around the front of his shirt. “Marius?”

“Be quiet for a moment,” he says. His fingers rest on your hips and you swear you can feel the heat radiating off his palms. It makes you want to shuffle away, pull back and put some space between the both of you—he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t tighten his grip, but his hands somehow get heavier. Like a weighted blanket resting around your waist, shackles holding you in place without really holding you at all. 

Your heart kicks in your chest. It isn’t often that Marius gets this way, so quiet and possessive, like he has to cage you in a small corner and watch you to make sure you don’t get away. His forehead rests against your clavicle—it’s not a comfortable position, not when he’s so much taller and he’s pressed up so closely against you that you can feel the way his chest shivers when he drags in a long breath. 

“Jiejie,” Marius whispers, voice quiet. “Sometimes, I wish I could wrap you up like a piece of art and hang you on my wall.”

He’s crazy, you think, and you realise even your subconscious thoughts have taken on this air of fondness when thinking of him.

“Is that so?” You reply, voice just as hushed. From the corner of your eye, you can see another patron glance at the both of you—they glance away, then look back, as if doubting their gaze. Yes, you think weakly to yourself, Marius is indeed clinging to you in the middle of a public gallery for expensive artworks that easily go for three times the price of your apartment. “Which wall will you put me up on?”

This time, Marius’ grip tightens imperceptibly on your hips. “Any wall that jiejie wants to be put up on,” he says huskily. His voice has dropped an octave, and the tone he takes is one that you’ve become very familiar with when you tease each other. Never enough to really commit to anything, not yet, but enough that Marius gets that look in his eyes like he’d very much want to stop being a gentleman about things. 

Abruptly, you notice the double entendre. “Marius!”

“You asked,” he says smugly, lifting his head so you come face to face with the smirk pulling at his lips. He tugs you in to press your body fully up against his, hip to shoulder. “Is jiejie shy now? I can tell you about which walls I’ve thought about you up on—my bedroom, naturally, but the living room is a strong contender.”

You gape at him, too shocked to say something smart in return. “You—! Not so loud, we’re in public!”

“No one’s listening.” Marius tilts his head, giving the surroundings a cursory once over before catching your gaze. “They’re busy looking at the art on display. I’m looking at a different kind of art on display.”

He’s so shameless that it makes you want to burst out in laughter. A different kind of art on display? Who does he think he is, a host from a host club? Where did he learn these phrases from? The Internet? His brother? Worse, Vyn? 

The thought of Marius asking the one and only Vyn Richter for advice on how to pick girls up makes you laugh. 

“You think you’re so smooth,” you say helplessly, lips curving up of their own accord as you reach up to loop your arms around Marius’ neck. “You think I’m going to fall for that?”

“I’m not a gambling man,” Marius tells you, a confident glint in his eye, “but I’ve always been lucky.” 

He puts up a strong front, but you know better. The back of his neck is hot from embarrassment. The tips of his ears are flushed red. You brush a stray strand of hair past the shell of his ear and pinch the crimson tip along the way. 

“Jiejie,” Marius whines, caught in the act. “Come on, let me pretend for a bit. Don’t you want to come home with me and have a better time?” 

He gives you this beseeching look, brows furrowed and lips turned down. You’re weak to that look—it’s suckered you into agreeing to far more things than you normally would have agreed to. But how can you say no to a face like that? To a man built like that, shoulders so broad they could dwarf you in a hug, fingers so long they could encircle your wrist, a face like God himself came down to carve it from marble—when Marius looks at you with that pleading gaze, millimeters away from begging, how can you say no to anything he asks for? 

Perhaps a stronger man would be able to resist the power of Marius’ visual attack. But you never proclaimed to have a strong willpower, and you fold like a castle of cards in a stiff breeze. 

“Let’s finish looking at all the works first. And no, just because you know who the artist is and insist that you could bring me over to his studio to see his other works—that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see the works exhibited here.”

“His art isn’t even that good,” Marius says, just to be contrary. “If you really wanted to see something from him, you should see his sculptures. I’ll admit those are impressive.”

“Finish the gallery, and then we can go home. You get to pick dinner.”

He perks up. “Italian or Chinese?”

“Later,” you insist. “I want to see this painting—” you glance at the title, raising an eyebrow when you catch sight of it, “—Lotus III.”

“Inspired by the same lotus garden that was featured in Lotus 0, Lotus I and Lotus II,” Marius grumbles as he takes one hand off your waist. You slide your hands down his shoulders, his chest, and furtively pat him on the ass before letting him go. 

He jumps, eyes wide as he swivels his head around to look at you. You give him an innocent look in return. 

“If you insist on being naughty, jiejie, don’t be surprised if I snatch you away and kidnap you back home.” The hand still on your waist squeezes in warning, and heat slithers down your back at the tone in his voice. 

You put a hand over the one on your waist, sliding your fingers in between his. “Be good.”

“Good boys get rewards. Is there a reward waiting for me later, jiejie?”

Naughty, you think to yourself, side-eying him. There’s a charming smile on his face, not even bothering to hide the playfulness lurking beneath his eyes. He’s testing you, pushing and pulling at your limits to see how far you can bend over backwards. 

“Maybe,” you reply. It’s never a good thing to reveal all your cards too early when dealing with a von Hagen in a playful mood. 

Marius laughs, leaning in to press his lips against the side of your head. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

The way he practically attaches himself to your hip, thumb rubbing possessively over your waist—you can’t help the flush crawling up to your cheeks, or the heat that flares between your legs. His hold on you isn’t tight, but it isn’t loose either. It reeks of a promise, and you can’t help but look forward to what that will happen once the two of you get back to his house. Or what will happen once you get into his car, when Marius has you right where he wants you to be and there’s enough privacy for something to happen. 

You shift, thighs rubbing together involuntarily at the stray thought. Desire slips through your body like a snake coiling in your veins; if you cling a little tighter to Marius in return, your mind only half-focused on the works displayed on the walls, well, no one will know. 

You think Marius might suspect something, though, going by the way his smirk grows larger with every glance he shoots you from the corner of his eye. 

Like he’s found something he can’t take his eyes off. Like he’s found something he likes. 

You fail to give Mikeden the attention his works deserve for the rest of the time you spend in the gallery, but he’s truly friends with Marius then you think the man won’t mind too much.

==

To your surprise, Marius doesn’t immediately scoop you into his lap when you get into the car. 

He leans over to help you pull the seatbelt, and very conveniently buries his face in your neck for half a second before he pulls back. Long enough for him to press his lips against your collarbone, the tip of his tongue swiping wetly against your skin; short enough for you to wonder if you hallucinated it.

But the smug look in his eyes as he pulls the seatbelt over your chest to click it into place tells you that you most definitely did not hallucinate it. 

“Home first,” Marius tells you, pretending to be casual as he leans back in his seat and does his own seatbelt. “If you keep looking at me with those eyes, jiejie, I can’t promise I’ll keep my hands to myself while we’re on the road back.”

Right, you think dazedly. You’d forgotten Marius had decided to drive the both of you here—it wasn’t far from his place, and the both of you typically take a chauffeured car, but Marius wanted to do something special today. You haven’t been on a date in a while due to your unfortunate work schedule, and it definitely surprised you when Marius pulled up to your apartment in the driver’s seat, the window wound down, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he grinned at you. 

“What a shame,” you murmur under your breath, watching as he does his own seatbelt before pulling out of the parking lot. 

Your words make Marius stiffen. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel as the other finds its way to your knee. 

Again with that loose grip that feels like a shackle holding you in place. Marius isn’t doing anything more than just placing his hand over your knee—there’s not even any real pressure behind, no force or flexing or tightening of his grip, but you feel weighed down. You feel held down.

You wonder, a little stupidly, if Marius would do something if you spread your legs apart. 

But you’re on the road. Despite the heat flaring insistently in your gut, you’re not actually ready to risk it all while Marius is behind the wheel. It would have been a different story if the both of you were in the back seat with the partition drawn up. The ride back is what, ten, fifteen minutes? There’s a lot you can get done in that period of time.

Right as you resign yourself to a normal, quick ride back home, Marius’ hand slips a little.

Just a little. It’s so subtle that if it weren’t for the heat practically bleeding through his palms, you think you wouldn’t have noticed. 

His hand goes from right above your knee to cupping the inside of your knee. 

You eye him speculatively. Was it inertia? The car made a turn and his hand simply slipped with the centrifugal force? 

His lips quirk up. “I’ll get shy if you keep looking at me, jiejie. I need to focus on the road.”

“Hm,” you say, feeling your cunt clench involuntarily when Marius’ hand moves further up your thigh. It’s not in direct contact with your skin, not when there’s your silk dress in between, but the material is thin and you swear you can feel the calluses from Marius’ fingers rubbing gently against the sensitive inside of your thigh. 

Fifteen minutes, you think. Surely you can’t die from a little fun on the road. 

“Your hand’s on the wrong place,” you murmur, gently placing your hand over his. 

Marius hums at the back of his throat. “Ah? Sorry, I—jiejie.”

You lift his hand off your thigh for a quick moment, draw apart the slit of your dress, and slide his hand under the fabric.

Directly on your thigh. You even curve his fingers back down so he can maintain that grip on you.

You can see his fingers flex. They’re stiff, knuckles tense as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. When you peek at him, his ears are flushed a bright red and his Adam’s Apple bobs furiously, like he’s swallowing desperately. 

And right between his thighs, you can see a tent in his trousers. You kind of want to reach out to touch it, but you hold yourself back. 

“Jiejie,” he whines, and chances a glance at you before reluctantly dragging his eyes back to the road. “I was joking—you can’t distract me while I’m driving.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you say mildly, burying the laugh that threatens to escape when his fingers squeeze pointedly around your thigh. The grave you dug is for both of you; his hand is higher now, on your thigh, so close to your core that one road bump would probably be reason enough for his fingers to slide right home. 

You almost want to pretend to jerk forward. But you have enough of your wits about you to recognise that if Marius felt the heat of your pussy through your panties press up against his fingertips at this moment, he would probably drive the car into the nearest building. 

“I’m trying to be good,” Marius complains. His fingers keep twitching against your skin, as if he’s really, physically holding himself back from doing something. 

“Good boys get rewards,” you echo, patting the back of his palm. “We’re almost home, see the gates up in front?”

He clicks his tongue. “As if I can focus on anything right now.” To prove his point, he speeds up, leg bouncing impatiently as he turns into the driveway. “Park, I have to park…”

The whole time, his hand doesn’t leave your thigh. And there’s something really sexy about it, you can’t help but realise—the slant of his jaw from the side, the way driving comes so easily to him, where he only needs one hand to maneuver the wheel. Even the way he looks over his shoulder as he eases into his parking spot makes you want to press your thighs together in a useless attempt to stave off the heat building in your core. 

“Good enough,” Marius declares, switching the engine off. “Out, out, come on—”

He snaps the seatbelt off and practically flies out the car. You’re so taken aback that you’re still in your seat when he comes to your side and yanks the door open, petulance written all over his face when he finds you still strapped in. 

“C’mon,” he whines, reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt. “Jiejie, come on, come on—”

“Impatient,” you chide, even as you reach out to steady yourself while you exit the car. “Hold on, my heels—”

“Jiejie,” Marius says, and he seriously sounds like he’s about to burst. 

In that split second, you make a decision. Your panties are ruined as is, and you really, really want to be filled right now. You’re not sure if you can make the distance from the car to the lift, especially when the garage is so fucking huge—

“Backseat,” you murmur, and Marius reacts much faster than you expect. He pulls you up and into his chest, making you let out a sound of surprise at how aggressive he is, but he’s surprisingly gentle when he cups your jaw and slants his lips over yours. 

It’s a desperate kiss. Marius licks into your mouth, hands tight around your waist as he pulls you in close. The bulge in his slacks feels like it’s burning a brand into your hip—you want to skate your hands down, cup that swollen cock and rub your thumb over the tip. You’ve never seen it, not yet, but the two of you have fooled around every now and then so you’re somewhat familiar with the curve of his cock through his pants. 

It’s a hefty weight in your fingers, and Marius always makes the most delicious sounds when you rock your hips against him, squeezing around his thigh between your legs as you trace over the outline of his cock. 

“Fuck,” Marius curses. His fingers dig greedily into the sides of your body—the grip now is entirely different from the one at the museum. The positions are roughly the same, but this time he holds you like he’s trying to burn his brand into you, leave an imprint of bruises around your waist so you ache every time you move tomorrow morning. “Fuck, jiejie, your mouth—”

“Mmhmm,” you hum into his mouth, shoving one thigh between his legs so you can get a good seat on Marius’ thigh. It’s as if Marius has a direct line of sight into your mind—he hikes you up on his thigh so the hard line of his muscle presses right into the swell of your clit, and you groan out loud as you start rocking against his thigh. 

Fuck, you think you could cum like this. Marius’ hands have dropped lower, cupping the curve of your ass and every squeeze he makes goes straight to your cunt like there’s a livewire connection. He pulls you so high up that you’re struggling to keep your toes on the ground, and Marius is practically pulling you back and forth on his leg, helping you rut against him. 

His breath is hot. His kisses are searing, and it feels like there’s a nonstop feedback loop where your arousal pours into each other over and over again. It’s a fire in your gut, threatening to eat you alive, and when he pulls back to catch his breath, he immediately bows down to lick against your jaw. 

Marius sucks at your skin, bullying a bruise into the underside of your jaw. He isn’t satisfied with just one, and he just keeps going down the expanse of your neck, biting at any patch of unblemished skin. 

“Baby,” you whisper, one hand trailing down to press your palm over the tight bulge begging for attention. The lightest touch is enough to make Marius groan, hips stuttering as he chases your touch. “Can I—can I touch?”

Marius freezes for a heartbeat. Before you can second guess yourself, he moans into your neck, hips jerking as he pushes his clothed cock into your palm. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, nodding while avoiding eye contact with you.

His ears are crimson. So cute, you can’t help but think through the fever in your mind. It’s almost too easy to find your way around the button in his pants, and there’s some trouble with getting the zipper down from how hard he is. His briefs get caught for a moment, long enough to make Marius groan from frustration, but you shush him with another slide of your hips, cunt wet enough to drench his slacks, and Marius shuts up. 

“Good boy,” you murmur breathlessly, arching your back so you get a better angle to grind your clit against his thigh. “Be good, come on, let me—”

Unfortunately, there are no flaps in briefs for you to pull his cock out from. You reach in instead, shivering at the proper weight of it in your palm—skin on skin, you think deliriously to yourself, cunt clenching at the feeling of Marius’ cock in your hand. His cock, so thick that you can’t even really wrap your fingers around it properly, and the head is dripping. 

Marius sucks in a tight breath, cursing as he cants his hips up, almost bouncing you on his lap from the force. 

“Jiejie,” he begs, plaintive and desperate. “Nngh, please, the tip, you need to—fuck, I’m not going to—I’m going to cum, jiejie…”

And you stop thinking. You grab one of his hands and drag it to your front, so commandingly that Marius’ head flies up. His eyes are red, lips parted as he sucks in a shaky breath every time you swipe your thumb across the sensitive slit at the head of his cock. 

“In, inside,” you whine, rising as high as you can go on your toes. It’s not very high, given how far up Marius has pulled you onto his thigh, but it’s enough for your to drag his long fingers under your skirt and press them up against your cunt. 

Marius’ eyes are blown wide. “In-inside?” He stammers, fingers crooking automatically to press against the throbbing bud of your clit. Such clever fucking fingers, already familiar with the shape of your cunt to know where your clit is. 

Without needing much direction, he uses two fingers to drag your soaked panties to the side and rubs the knuckle of his index finger against your pussy. 

“A-ah,” you cry out, hips jerking. Fuck, you understand now why Marius reacted like that when you got your hand on his cock—there’s something about the texture of his skin, the calluses on his fingers that’s stroking the sides of your pussy, the sheer heat radiating off him—and the knowledge, the knowledge that it’s his hands on your cunt. After months of frotting, the most you’ve done being Marius’s palm flat against your cunt while you held eye contact and grinded against his shaking palm until you cummed—

“Inside, baby, come on,” you plead, rocking your hips insistently against his curious fingers. 

Again, it’s like Marius gets you. He sinks his index finger in; you think he wanted to go slow, because he tentatively pressed up into your cunt, but you’re greedy and you’ve been thinking of being filled since Marius made that joke about putting you up against a wall and you whine, rocking forward until you sink down, down, all the way down to the base and Marius’ breath is hitching in his throat. 

“You’re—” his finger bends, the tip brushing against this spot inside you that makes your entire body shiver, threatening to bend in half from the electricity that surges through you. “Shit, you’re—fuck, jiejie, you feel fucking incredible.”

“One more,” you beg, holding his wrist in place while you clench around his finger. Christ, you didn’t think it could feel this good. It’s so foreign, so much longer and thicker than your fingers—and again, the knowledge that it’s Marius’ hand, Marius’ finger is enough to make your gut tighten and sparks burst at the very end of your fingertips. “One more and my—”

You break off, thighs trembling when he swipes against your swollen clit with his thumb.

Marius groans at the sight of you, leaning in to bite at your lips. “One more and my thumb on your clit? Is that what you want, jiejie? Is that what you need?”

“Mmhmm—ahhhhhn, fuck, Marius—please, please, I’m so fucking close—!”

You’re not even sure if you’re still stroking the length of his cock. All your senses have narrowed down to your cunt, the pressure on your clit and the way his fingers have gained confidence with every stroke—he fucks up into you with such surety, so certain that he knows exactly where to hit to get that same, body shivering reaction from you.

The worst part is, he does. It barely takes one, two, three strokes while he whispers filthy things about how hot and wet and slick your cunt is, about how it’s soaked through just for him, about how he wants to bury his face in it, please jiejie, please let him put your thighs around his ears and eat you out, and you’re gone. 

It hits you so hard you think you almost pass out. The ascent comes too quickly; it almost feels like the orgasm is ripped from you from clever hands that know you better than you know yourself. It leaves you breathless, your entire body jerking uncontrollably as you whine, pussy clenching around those two thick fingers buried in your cunt. You’re mumbling nonsense, not even sure what you’re saying as your cunt gushes around Marius’ ruined pants and when you resurface, Marius looks at you like you’re the second coming of Christ.

It takes you both a while to get your breathing under control. Marius recovers first, gently sliding his fingers out of your cunt. You’re a little embarrassed at the absolute mess you’ve made, but Marius eyes the wetness dripping over his palm, down his wrist, and decides to drag his tongue along his skin to lick it all up.

He even looks right as you as he does it. The sight is enough to make your clit throb, as if gearing up for a second round. Oh, you could definitely do a second round, but you think you’d prefer for it to be in a room with a bed and not a garage.

Almost absentmindedly, you start to rub your thumb against the cockhead in your grip.

“F-fuck,” Marius groans lowly, free hand reaching out to grab your wrist. “Wait, wait—nnngh, sensitive. Give me a moment.”

You pause. You look down.

His briefs are stained. There’s a massive wet spot at the front, and when you drag your fingers out, they’re coated in a sticky, white fluid. 

You look Marius in the eye as you, too, lift your fingers to your lips. You stick your tongue out, wiping the threads of cum on your tongue so Marius can see how white looks in your mouth—and he flushes even redder than he already is, eyes darting away before darting back, as if he can’t decide whether he wants to look or not—and then you swallow. 

Marius is speechless for a while. 

“That was really hot,” he says eventually, voice hoarse. “I—fuck, jiejie, I can go again. I’m serious, just give me a minute.” 

You suck on your fingertips for a moment. You’re clearly ready for a second round, but you know he gets more desperate when you keep him hanging. And a desperate Marius is always a delight to work with. 

“Bedroom?” You suggest, and your cunt tightens at the way his eyes immediately go dark with desire.

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[abarbaricyalp]

Give Me Toothaches Just From Kissing Me

"But March 10th was two weeks ago!" Time doesn't exist. Happy Birthday to Bucky Barnes

The first time Sam had gotten Bucky a birthday cake, it was a joke. It was 2016, just a few scant months before their whole operation went to hell in a handbasket, and Sam had texted Bucky without expectation of a reply. Just a picture of the view from his fancy hotel balcony in Monaco or something, with a fancy chocolate cake on the wide balcony ledge. He was in town for a military tech conference, so his morning jogging schedule had been interrupted. Eating a whole cake on his own over four days would totally be in the realm of possibility. 

An hour later, when Sam was more than half a bottle of wine down and two albums in on a 'crooners' playlist, a shadow peeled itself off of the wall and greeted him with a, "Hey, birdbrain."

Sam, perhaps, did not do any work towards proving that nickname stupid by flailing dramatically and knocking the cake with his forearm. With twin movements, they watched the cake sail to the ground seven stories below and explode into a shower of sugar and cream. Then they turned to look at each other. There were three beats of shocked silence and then they both burst into laughter together.

"That was a really good cake," Sam whined in between the laughter as he leaned into Bucky's space and Bucky wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah, I could tell. You already had half."

"I didn't figure you were gonna actually show up," Sam pointed out.

"Why wouldn't I show up? You called."

"That hasn't stopped you before," Sam pointed out. He spent a few extra seconds staring at the mangled cake on the ground before he sat back on the balcony furniture. Bucky followed him down. He kept his arm around Sam until it was unfeasible, and then he let his hand fall to Sam's, fingers tangling together. Sam allowed it because it was his birthday, even though it was vastly out of the range of usual activities for them.

"Well, this time I was promised cake," he added after a few seconds of amiable quiet.

Sam looked over at him to discern if he was serious or not. The grin pulling at his usually severe mouth said all Sam needed to know. They burst into quiet giggles again.

“Good thing I got all the sweetness I need right here,” Bucky eventually conceded. He tucked a knuckle under Sam’s jaw and leaned in to kiss him beneath the moon and the lights and everything but a cake.

. . .

The second time Sam tried to give Bucky cake, it was a year later. It felt almost impossible that the world had slowed down around them long enough to justify an impromptu visit to Wakanda to check in on Bucky.

When their jet had touched down, Bucky was waiting for them with a wide smile that Sam had never really seen before. "Now, I know I told T'Challa not to do anything for my birthday, but he went a step further and got me everything I didn't want," he joked as he and Steve collided in a fierce hug, the kind of thing that always made Sam want to look away.

Then Bucky was extricating himself from Steve's hold so he could crowd around Sam instead, ducking his face down to Sam's neck as he squeezed his waist. If it was supposed to be a hug, it was like no hug Sam had ever had. He could get used to it though. After a few heartbeats shared between them, Sam pinched Bucky's hip and stepped back.

"Hey, old man," he greeted. Bucky grinned at him, boyish and a little smitten. It was a look Sam was more familiar with. "Happy birthday."

"Is that what this is about? You stop paying attention after 90," Bucky joked. For a split second, his fingers lingered over Sam's but he didn't take his hand--Sam didn't take Bucky's either--and he turned back to Steve to amble along together as they instantly fell into a conversation like they hadn't just been apart for the better part of half a year.

By the time they got around to dinner and a small party, Sam felt silly for bringing a dozen store bought cupcakes--hidden away in his room upstairs. The dinner had been more of a feast, despite Bucky's protestations, and the dessert spread that followed was unlike anything Sam had ever seen. No expensive wedding or VA event or Stark fundraiser held a candle to the cakes and cookies and sweet bars that were available. Sam ate more Wakandan desserts than he could name American desserts and each one was better than the last. Bucky, for all his talk of not wanting anything, had at least sampled every chocolate food on the table and gone back for full servings of most of them.

By the time they managed to crawl into Bucky's room--which branched off into Steve and Sam's rooms and connected bathrooms--all of them were groaning about stomach aches and sugar comas. Bucky crawled under his blankets, becoming nothing more than a groaning lump, and Steve settled along the bench at the end of the bed, laying back on it and resting a hand over his stomach, while burping and then apologizing every few minutes.

Sam ducked into his room while the others settled and grabbed the two bags from him and Steve, as well as the plastic carton of cupcakes. It was absolutely not going back with him at this point. His stomach hurt just looking at it.

Back in Bucky's room, he passed off the bounty. Bucky set aside the gift bags, but his eyes gleamed at the sight of more sweets.

"Come on, open the gifts," Sam jostled, sitting on the bed nearest where Bucky was sprawled.

"Nah, I'll look at them later," he said as he peeled the safety seal sticker away from the cupcakes.

"Oh, come on," Steve laughed. "You're still shy?"

"I'm not shy," Bucky snapped. "I'm civilized. Not everyone has to tear into their gifts as soon as they're within reach."

Sam snorted and tried to hide it from Steve.

"I do not do that," Steve objected, but not with much conviction. Actually, he wasn't that bad, Sam had to admit. But clearly Bucky had better stories than Sam.

“What are these?” Bucky asked instead of fighting a battle he knew he’d already won. He took the cupcakes and deftly opened the package without making a cacophonous sound, which meant he knew perfectly well what they were and clearly had had his share of them.

“I know they’re not anything special after that whole show,” Sam acknowledged, waving his hand in the general direction of the kitchens. “But these are packed so full of preservatives, you’ll be able to keep ‘em until his birthday,” he joked with a gesture towards Steve.

“Way to sell ‘em, Wilson,” Bucky chuckled. He was already halfway through one of the cupcakes and he held a blue one out to Steve. It was the middle of march, so most of the predesigned things were spring flavored. This set, blues and greens swirled around, was about as festive as Sam could find. “I love the frosting on these things,” he added around a mouthful of cupcake.

Steve shot Sam a knowing, slightly gloating look. He’d been the one to insist Bucky would enjoy these, no matter what else was going on with the day. Then he shoved the entire cupcake in his mouth just like Bucky because apparently manners hadn’t been invented yet back in the ‘40s. Sam shook his head at their antics, both of them trying to one up the other until almost the whole carton was gone.

Bucky reached over to snag a smear of frosting off of Steve’s cheek and sucked his knuckle into his mouth while Steve cried foul about uneven division of frosting.

“You two are gross,” Sam laughed and made sure his own face was devoid of any frosting before their turned their attention on him.

It didn’t work. By the time Bucky had turned his playful, teasing expression on Sam, his eyes had darkened just a little and one eyebrow rose in a challenge.

“No,” Sam warned, holding up the half of a cupcake still in his hand. “Whatever it is, no.”

But Bucky didn’t listen. He reached out to and shoved the cupcake against Sam’s cheek, frosting first, then pinned him back against the headboard with a broad hand across Sam’s shoulder and collarbone. Sam swallowed thickly, couldn’t help the way he went lax beneath Bucky’s weight as the other man settled across his thighs and leaned forward to lick a stipe of the icing off of Sam’s cheek.

“Stevie, you might wanna think about gettin’ to your own room,” Bucky warned without taking his dark, hungry stare off of Sam.

“Ah, come on. You two are gross,” Steve complained, but he did hustle out of the room pretty quickly. Took a cupcake for the road.

Sam tried to put some structure back in his bones, tried to posture up under Bucky’s hold. He reached up for the frosting, wiped most of it off of himself, and then smeared it across Bucky’s cheek, down to his mouth.

That mouth split into a grin before it was against Sam’s, lips parted, tongue hungry as he licked over Sam’s lips, chasing after the frosting he was depositing.

Sam had to admit: this may be better than the desserts downstairs.

. . .

The next time he actually got to sit still for Bucky’s birthday, it was a few lifetimes later. He had every intention of sleeping in just a little bit, skipping his run to get up before everyone else and make a cake, wake up the house to the smell of chocolate and buttercream, the way his mama used to always.

Instead, he slept in a lot a bit and woke up to the sound of nothing short of chaos in the kitchen. Sarah was out already, he surmised when he finally dragged himself upright and grabbed his phone from where it had fallen the night before to check the time. He and Bucky had gotten in late the night before, stuck in New York doing paperwork after some giant worm appeared out of a sinkhole in New Jersey. He had no idea how Bucky had the energy to get up, much less start making noise in the kitchen.

Groggily, maybe a little grumpily, he pulled on a hoodie and a pair of shorts that wouldn’t aggravate all of the scrapes he was covered in and went out to see what was happening.

Bucky did make it a point to clean up the kitchen any time he was near it. Especially after himself, but even when Sarah cooked. He insisted that she did the cooking, so he should do the cleaning. And somehow this reflected badly on Sam, as far as Sarah was concerned, which seemed unfair. Sam cleaned plenty.

The cleaning never seemed to justify the mess beforehand.

“What in the world is going on here?” Sam asked, leaning on the wide doorjamb that led into the kitchen.

Cass whirled around first, clutching a too large mixing bowl to his chest. “Nothing!” he exclaimed.

AJ, less practiced in the ways of subterfuge, said, “We’re making cupcakes! For Bucky,” he clarified

Bucky, who was remarkably clean for the amount of flour and egg otherwise splashed across the kitchen, grinned at Sam. “I didn’t ask, by the way. They brought it up. I dunno how you and Sarah say no to these little faces.”

AJ preened and gave another spin with the spatula, sent more frosting over the edge of his too-small bowl.

“You guys are working at a disadvantage, trynna listen to Bucky,” Sam said, coming into the kitchen. “I know you know how to use paper towels. Why does the kitchen look like this?”

Cass let out a little noise of guilt, but Bucky saved him from having to answer by producing a roll of paper towel from behind himself. “It’s probably supposed to be my job, but I’m a better taste tester.”

“Uncle Sam, is it true he can’t get salmonella ‘cause of the super soldier serum?” Cass asked.

“Can I have some?” AJ added.

Sam shot Bucky an unimpressed look, but he was nothing but cheeky smiles and not a shred of embarrassment. “I guess we’re gonna find out if it’s true or not,” he said. He snagged the paper towels from Bucky to begin wiping up at least the bits of cracked egg that lined every countertop. “Lucky it’s me in here and not your mama.”

Cass made the same kind of noise again as he searched for a place to put down his mixing bowl. It must be an oldest sibling gene, because Sam remembered Gideon making the exact same kind of sounds. Usually when Sam was about to do something like jump off the stair bannister.

“Mom’s out at the restaurant,” AJ said, unbothered. He was usually unbothered.

“Come here,” Sam said, gesturing more for AJ to make space than for him to actually move closer. “Bucky let you pick the wrong bowl, so you’ve gotta be careful,” he said, holding AJ’s hand as he held onto the spatula. “Go slow, like this.”

He looked up as AJ failed to do that, more frosting going flying, and caught Bucky’s eye. Bucky grinned again, soft and lovely in the mid-morning light coming through the kitchen window.

“A guy could get used to this view,” he said with a warm honey tone.

“A guy will not,” Sam said. “Get to actually cleaning.”

Bucky gave him the laziest of salutes and took the paper towels back.

By the time Sarah came home, with balloons and, hilariously, an ice cream cake, the kitchen was clean and they’d managed to make the best cupcakes Sam had ever had.

. . .

It took finding their own place, saving the world a few hundred times, a lot of missed events, and one perfect spring day for Sam to finally have a cake on the table on Bucky’s birthday. Handmade, from the same recipe he always got for his birthdays as a kid.

“Happy birthday, old man,” he said, kissing Bucky’s temple.

Bucky caught Sam’s hand against his shoulder, tugged him down to sprawl across Bucky’s lap. “Is that what all this is about?” Bucky teased, like he did almost every time Sam tried to do anything for his birthday, no matter how delayed the celebration was.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam laughed. He dragged the cake closer and lit the handful of candles–he was not putting a hundred candles on a cake–before sitting back a little. “Make a wish before you keel over.”

Bucky laughed, bright and loud, and his arms tightened around Sam. “I haven’t had to wish for anything for a long time, Sammy.” And he kissed Sam without even trying to blow out the candles.

[crispyanonartnsfw]

It stood the test of enough commutes, so here it is !! A Sambastian Mixtape

If the comic idea was a TV series (pffft), this would be the soundtrack, so the songs are in chronological order. The lyrics are pretty on the nose but in case you're curious I break it down below

(I made this playlist for myself because I would like to draw the comic someday... Maybe one day... For now, I only have the music lol)

These are the first and the last song of each section for reference. I'll stay superficial bc you don't need to know the depths of my brainrot, just know that the songs are mostly either from Sam or Seb POV, few of them from other's characters POVs, and in the second half are mostly shared POV. I tried to keep all the songs in what I think are their vibes but sometimes my hand slipped for the sake of the plot I had in my head not me putting Lorde and LDR in a Sambastian playlist

✶ Ribs - Lorde ⏭ Cigarette Daydreams - Cage The Elephant

Sam and Sebastian are in their teens, they grew up attached to the hip and figured they always will be. Sebastian lightheartedly realizes there might be something more, which could be true for Sam as well if he wasn't half unaware half in denial because that's not how things are supposed to go. Surely he just loves his best friend so much and it's nothing more complicated then that! Right?? But Seb's feelings slowly become heavier and that mixed with the fact that he refuses to accept help for anything from anyone starts to strain the relationship as time passes.

✶ Let it happen - Tame Impala ⏭ Somewhere only we know - Keane

Bad times. Seb is depressed and it doesn't help that Sam and his savior complex are dating Penny (and they are actually good for each other for a while). Sebastian retaliates with Alex, something that Sam disapproves because he was one of his bullies (PSA: my boy Alex is not a villain!! just closeted young and struggling). Is it protectiveness or jealousy? That's between him and god. Much general angst when you add severe growing pains and bad mental health to a broken heart. They end up taking time apart and not seeing each other again. It's hard.

✶ If I ever feel better - Phoenix ⏭ Simple Song - The Shins

Healing hours 🖤 They really needed to work on themselves first and foremost. They figure out stuff, Sebastian fixes his relationship with Maru, Sam is finally honest with himself about his own issues. Friends help. Eventually, they meet again. They easily fit right back together and tentatively work out their feelings.

✶ Read My Mind - The Killers ⏭ Here It Goes Again - OK Go

It's Goblin Destroyer time!! Sam, Seb and Abby are living in Zuzu city, playing concerts, fighting the system, breaking the rules and having the time of their lives. Questionable decisions never looked so good (Peak ASS trio energy btw). Chaos and euphoria ensue. Everything seems perfect until-

✶ Social Cues - Cage The Elephant ⏭ Good Riddance (Time of your life) - Green Day

Why no one told them you never stop figuring shit out in life? Age 30 crisis. Goblin Destroyer are over. They wonder about what direction to take with their lives, and everything seems bittersweet. This time though, they are together, and that makes it all possible - and bearable. They did it before and they'll do it again, they're going to be alright.

✶ Everlong - Foo Fighters ⏭ Praise You - Fatboy Slim

When you've already spent a lifetime together, something very special inevitably takes form. I was thinking about their new timeskipped vibe once they get older and lose the dumbass energy (at least some of it) in favor of a deeper devotion (Hi Hozier). I might keep adding to this. This part is not chronological, truly just Sambastian basking in their love and celebrating everything they've accomplished

(and I'm just an old sap, byeeee)

By the way it's crispy talking: I had to take out several songs that were a bit too freaky lol, that would be a different playlist, also Body Talks is fully about @lily-alphonse 's Lonely Dancers fic, I had to include it 😇

[immeasurablesaladagere]

aw yeah requests open!!!

in the re!thirteen cg!cuddy headcanons you mentioned that thirteen actually told cuddy about regression as a liability thing and none of the others did. could you write headcanons/a fic for how she found out about each of them? also, does cuddy ever regress, because i can't picture that at all but i could probably be persuaded. thirteen and chase having Sibling Squabbles is everything to me also and i loved your chase sickfic

(--0v0)---> ~~~ <3 <3 <3 <3

Lol welcome to story time, House's team were all wildly irresponsible when it came to their regression (Also most of my fics aren't part of a connected universe or anything, so future fics might not match up with any of these headcanons).

🏠🩺🏠🩺

House was the first and was less of one grand discovery and more like several pieces all coming together over several months. He has a wide age range including teen years, which gives his usual pettiness a particular childish edge to it that felt out of place to Cuddy amongst his usual shenanigans. Stuff like stink/glitter bombs, gluing documents together, whoopee cushions, the whole thing. Eventually he slipped up enough that he was obviously speaking and acting differently in front of her and she called him on it. At first she thought it might be drugs or something, but the test she made him take came back clean (minus Vicodin). After that, House basically started an ARG and began seeding vague clues as to what was going on to see how long it would take her to figure it out. It took 3 weeks, and Cuddy chewed him out for over an hour about the liability nightmare he could have started, but reluctantly let it be when House made it clear he was still doing his job just fine (somehow).

🏠🩺🏠🩺

Chase came after House. It shouldn't come as a surprise that House knew about Chase's regression long before Cuddy did, and kept it a secret not because Chase wanted him to, but because the thought the inevitable reveal would be funnier that way. It wasn't really. Chase slipped in front of her for the first time at a work event involving alcohol when two other doctors sitting at their banquet table started arguing with each other. Chase had already drank enough to start feeling it, which did not help, and Cuddy followed him when he left abruptly. She found him hiding in a back hallway and on the edge of a panic attack, and all he would say to her was that he wanted his Mum. A quick call to House confirmed her suspicions, and she and Chase had a very awkward meeting the next work day. Of the team, Chase is one of the most likely to slip due to a sudden trigger (after House), and is generally on the younger side, so Cuddy made it very clear to him that if he wanted to keep his job he needed to stop whatever he was doing if he started feeling small in any way. She isn't too worried about House, Wilson, or the ducklings missing work because of how much overtime they put in, she just doesn't want a lawsuit.

🏠🩺🏠🩺

Cameron learned what regression was from Chase, and eventually she thought it was worth trying for her own stress. She did it alone at first, then later it was something she and Chase shared in while they were together. It's always been voluntary for her (minus one or two situations where she was so stressed she barely had to think about it), and she knew both Chase and House did it, so it wasn't really a big deal to her. She just dropped it casually in conversation in front of Cuddy before realizing Cuddy didn't know and wasn't supposed to. Her reaction was basically "Really? Is it all of you?" and another lecture about liability that House spent making faces mocking her over her shoulder to Cameron to get her to laugh.

🏠🩺🏠🩺

House just straight-up outed Wilson to Cuddy offhandedly while he was in the room with them. Cuddy isn't very surprised by now; she might not have been expecting Wilson necessarily, but why can't every one of her employees be regressors? Sure, that's fine. Not much of a lecture for Wilson, mostly because she took pity on him because he was absolutely mortified.

🏠🩺🏠🩺

Thirteen, considerate employee that she was, actually warned Cuddy when she was hired, and was shocked to find out that not only did Cuddy not care, but also that "You and the rest of the office, Hadley. It's fine, just don't let it affect you work.".

🏠🩺🏠🩺

Cuddy herself doesn't regress in any capacity. She's wound up being both an intentional and unintentional babysitter for most of the team at least once, and for House a little more consistently while they were together. Tired mom energy. Kind, understanding, but tired. She's also developed a slight spidey-sense for if someone on the team is regressed. It's not House-level accurate, but she's gotten good enough to call Chase or House out from across the room, and Wilson one time.

[thecrispydemon]

My Personal Elm Street:What Freddy Krueger and a Nightmare on Elm Street Taught Me about Myself

TW: brief mentions of rape, and abuse

When I was a kid I wasn’t allowed to watch Horror movies, however I’ve always had a fascination with dark things. When I went to the library I often read books about macabre topics such as, ghosts, and urban legends.

I would ask my classmates, or family members about horror movies they’ve seen, because I was afraid to watch them myself. One day, I was in my third grade classroom sitting with some of the other kids, I don’t remember how we began talking about horror, but I learned about iconic figures like Micheal, Jason, Chucky, but the one that made me the most uneasy was Freddy Krueger.

I remember lying awake at night, thinking about him, the burnt face, the glove with soldered razors, but worst of all was the idea of falling asleep and never waking up. Eventually I reached a point where I was tired of being afraid. Before I fell asleep I’d imagine going to meet him. I envisioned myself walking through a forest with serpentine trees poking out of the fog. The trail lead me to some decrepit cabin, and just behind the door he’d be there. The bright, ratty red and green sweater stood out from the rotting grey wood of the cabin. I don’t remember what was said, what I do recall is that I talked to him as if he were a friend, as if he were a misunderstood soul. Of course I knew this wasn’t the case, it was more about psychological comfort. I did this until my fear of him faded, once I accomplished that, so did his presence in my life, until much later, where he impacted me in a way I didn’t expect.

I started watching horror my freshmen year of high school, since I’m slow at watching new things, I didn’t watch a Nightmare on Elm Street until my senior year. The film peaked my interest, so I decided to watch the sequels. My passion for the franchise was cemented when I watched the second film, Freddy’s Revenge.

Have you ever heard a song that gave you chills the first time you heard it? As if the notes resonated off of something deep within? That was my experience watching Freddy’s Revenge, though I didn’t get chills I still felt that deep resonance. I felt a magnetic pull towards Freddy, like a reflection in a funhouse mirror, a reflection of you, but it isn’t. For a long time I couldn’t figure out why. In the beginning I thought I was experiencing another hyper-fixation, similar to ones I’ve had in the past.

For a year I spent my time learning about the franchise, reading, watching interviews, anything I could get my hands on I consumed. Despite my passion, there was a part of me that was anxious I was doing something socially unacceptable, or that I was liking something “the wrong way”, because Freddy is insinuated to be a child predator. I had a gut feeling that what I was experiencing was more passionate than just about being a fan. I felt like he was a part of my essence. I wouldn’t describe myself as a spiritual person, but something that is ingrained in your psyche, that is apart of your being. and I was afraid what people would think if they found out. I tried to convince myself to not feel the way I did, by imposing rules upon myself. I saw videos, and comments about how it’s “problematic” to simply like Freddy, which legitimized my fears. Despite my anxiety I kept on engaging with the series because it gave me a sense of comfort, and reassurance, ironically enough.

Eventually I wanted Freddy to be my next cosplay project. I gathered all of the things I needed, and on Halloween I woke up early to begin the several hours of makeup. I set to work, layering on latex, my face slowly morphing into his. When I was finished I was overcome with euphoria. As the sun began to set trick-r-treaters made their way through the neighborhood, I stood outside handing out candy. I wasn’t seen as my usual self, instead I was treated as if I was him. There was a level of authenticity that I felt. It’s like a suppressed part of me got to finally come to the surface.

While I learned about the franchise I found the fandom, which was a huge turning point for me. I found others with a similar passion, and they all seemed like average people. My worries about enjoying a “problematic” character lifted. However this did not address all of the emotions I was experiencing, because a lot of people didn’t experience the same intimate connection with Freddy as I did.

I wasn’t completely overcome with shame, due to spending time with my thoughts I determined that I don’t have malevolent tendencies, nor was it the cause for my connection with Freddy, instead it was examining his personality, motivations, and backstory that gave me insight.

From being a product of rape Freddy was mocked and socially isolated from his peers he was passed around several orphanages until being “adopted” by an abusive alcoholic. People treated him as evil by default. All throughout his life he’s only seen cruelty and pain. My life thus far has never been nearly as tragic, but being outcasted, and socially isolated is something that deeply resonates with me. Due to having physical disabilities, being queer, not to mention having undiagnosed ADHD made social connection that much harder. Overall I just couldn’t assimilate socially in school. Since I was undiagnosed, my ADHD symptoms were perceived as me being purposely difficult, like I was bad by default and needed to be “corrected”. Over time this led me to attain a strong sense of independence, and fierce internal rage. I became more vigilant and suspicious of others, in turn it made being vulnerable difficult. Though I wasn’t abused, I see some his fears in myself such as being afraid of being vulnerable, or asking for help out of fear of being seen as “weak”. Additionally having a burning determination in our goals.

Although there are nuances between how Freddy and I perceive the world, and how we treat others. To me he not only represents my darker nature, but my passion, individualism, and tenacity. Accepting him as apart of my identity has given me the strength to take up space in the world, that I deserve to be seen, respected, and to not allow myself to be taken advantage of. Throughout my journey I was afraid that my passionate connection to Freddy said something negative about my morality, or that I was endorsing his actions, but on closer examination I realized that I’ve learned a lot about myself. It’s easy to take a dichotomous view on morality, especially when it comes to fiction. The one takeaway I want to share, is to encourage others to examine their relationship with fiction, and what connects with them, because it’s not always the hero that we learn from.

[billdenbrough]

my uncle killed himself last night.

technically, he’s my mum’s cousin, but we’re pasifika, which means he’s my uncle. he’s one of her best friends in the whole world. she’s closer to him than she is to her actual brother.

when he told me the news, my dad gave a tiny biography. a refresher course, if you will. to some, this would indicate, i imagine, a great distance. a lack of familiarity. the thing you have to know, then, is my mother has one hundred and eight first cousins. multiple of them (who are also related to each other) have the same name.

but i’m sitting in a mall, looking at my google doc, thinking to myself, how am i going to connect a to b, and then i get a text, and i am staring at my phone for ten minutes. there is something weird and staticky and tight and panicky in my chest, but mostly everything is numb. i do not own a weighted blanket, but i imagine sometimes it might be like this. a grounding pressure coating everything. or maybe vaseline is closer to what i mean, keeping things in, keeping things out.

i call my dad. i take a list of errands. nothing to do with my uncle, or my mother, or grief, or death. they are the tasks my dad needs done, the things he was going to do today but now is not, because my mother’s heart is broken and he can’t leave her alone. so maybe they are to do with grief, kind of.

i drive through the city, and it sucks, because of course it does, but also it’s a saturday, and it’s a long weekend, and there are sales, and i am driving to the biggest mall in my area. and i get there, and i don’t really know where to go or what to do, so i try to nap in the back of my car. i lock all the doors, bunch up several of my jackets lying around, and set a timer for half an hour. after three minutes, it’s too hot, so i climb back up, figure out how to unlock the whole car, make my way to the front, turn it on, and put the back two windows down, just an inch or two. inches aren’t my favourite measurement—imprecise, unpractical, american—but it is what it is. i lay back down, and i try sleep, and i get maybe ten minutes of semi-aware rest before the noises outside stress me out too much, and then i spend the rest of the timer curled on my side, staring at my phone battery go down. my dad calls me back eventually, and gives me a direction. the first half of the great impersonator is my company for this, until my battery level stresses me out even more than the vaseline works, and i switch off bluetooth completely.

it starts raining at some point, and there is a wind tunnel, and my feet are sore because i’m not wearing my orthotics, which i am not wearing because they were making my feet ache. catch-22. i keep doing errands, and eventually, the lane i take when driving from one of the stores to a different mall leads me all the way to the house of someone i used to know, a boy who dated someone in my family for years and years and years. this is not great. i do not love this. i have spent the better part of a year adjusting to his absence, see, and reckoning with the big hurts people can deal people in ways that are small, in the greater scheme of things.

and i’m driving past his parents’ house, thinking about the last time i was there, and it’s probably less upsetting than it would be on a good day, but it is still a bad thing on a day that just managed to already be worse. and then i start thinking about my uncle, and my dad’s refresher bio, and how it did not include the fact that this man taught me how to weave, even though he did. he showed me how to weave hammocks and nets and helped me into a dinghy when i was ten and trying to bridge the gap of the ocean from the ladder to the boat and my mother loved him and relied on him and his smile is etched into my brain and now he is dead.

i finally get hungry. i woke up at 5am, my body causing me problems even after being up past midnight revisiting old stories and universes and ideas, and i’ve had one thing to eat around 9:30, and then everything has been too funny in my stomach to contend with the idea of eating. and then, suddenly, i am finally hungry, so much that it hurts. and i get food for my mother, who has not been eating all day, too full with grief, and i get food for myself, and some extra for my dad, and i drive through the rain and behind bad drivers and with songs i don’t know playing, until i get to the kitchen where my mother is, and i drop all my bags, and i hold her for a full minute while she shakes against me.

dad went for a walk, she says, and i give her the food, and i tell her i got the broth separate from the noodles so she can heat and eat it later if she isn’t ready now, and she says she will eat it.

and she is eating. and i am eating. and there she is. and here i am. and she says she wants to go back home. she wants to go this week, but she doesn’t know who can take care of the cat, because i will be in another city for three days and dad will be away for two. and she says how my uncle was such a big part of the reason she was so looking forward to going back home with all of us this christmas. they had so many big plans. and her voice shakes. and she says my aunt, her sister, is taking it badly, and i am not surprised, and then she says that my aunt is the one who found him, that it was in her house, and now i am surprised. now i am shaking too.

my dad comes home. she doesn’t bring up wanting to go back. maybe she is waiting. i wash my new sheets. the rugby game is starting in one room, and we all slowly migrate there, and we sit in separate chairs, and we watch, by which i mean we have devices in front of us that we sometimes look away from to observe the game. i’m still staring at that same google doc from this morning.

every so often, when i look up, i don’t watch the game. i watch my mother, and i watch how her face crumples, so many times that i cannot count. her whole mouth turns down, and her face shakes, and her eyes are so, so sad, and she is across the room from me, and all i can do is watch. she does not cry. she does not speak. but her face crumples, over and over.

my dad goes to shower. she goes to shower. i end up on a wikipedia deep dive of something even more horrible, even sadder, and close my laptop screen. i go to shower, because i almost had a breakdown over something that isn’t even a thing to have a reaction to on twitter, and i need to do something to douse the rising anxiety beneath my skin. so i go to shower, and i open tumblr, and i start typing. i don’t really know why i’m saying all this. i guess i’m still trying to douse the rising thing in my chest. the vaseline is wearing thin, and i don’t know if it’s all better out or in.

i guess it’s just a lot. and i don’t know where to put it down. and today is the first day. and we will do it all again tomorrow, and my mother will still be staring at the ceiling, and i will be watching her, and my dad will go for walks in the rain, and nobody will have anything big enough to say to make it better. i don’t know if anyone has told my sister.

[hydeingpurples]

Hey man! I always love hearing about others’ transition. I’m a trans guy myself who is just now identifying that way very recently and is navigating getting ready to start T and top surgery whenever I’m able as I am saving up. I’d love to hear about your journey and where you are now. 😊

🏳️‍⚧️ Testosterone and Top Surgery 🏳️‍⚧️ (UK) : Discovering Myself, Hormones, Top surgery, Where I Am Now

Hey buddy! I'm more than happy to tell my story so far. I'll pack as much into this post as I can, as it may be helpful to others too, so it may be a bit long, but I'll do it in sections 😊

🕵🏻 Discovering Myself 🧐

This bit was tough. I think it is for a lot of us. I knew deep down for several years that I wasn't a girl. I was terrified of the thoughts that were buzzing around my head, terrified of the things I was feeling. I buried it so deep. At university, I started to let go a bit. Friends around me came out as non-binary and trans, I figured it wasn't so bad. I experimented with pronouns and identities, and eventually I admitted to myself that I was just a guy. I came out to my family aged 21 by letter and it went really well.

Things were still a bit scary though. Trying a binder on for the first time was both exciting and daunting. It felt so freeing and right, but scary too because it meant that, maybe, I needed to get rid of my chest.

💊 Hormones 💉

Over time, the dysphoria got worse and worse. I was becoming extremely jealous of my best friend who was on testosterone (T) and features that other men had that I didn't. I struggled most with my period. At its worst, I spent hours in my flat toilet and the toilets at work crying and withering in disgust and vile discomfort. I'll never forget those feelings.

I knew I'd make it to the other end though one day because my friend had. And, fortunately, April 2023, that day came.

📝 Testosterone Prescription 😄

After jumping through a load of loopholes and sending my blood tests off, my GP/Doctor booked me an appointment. I thought it was just to talk to me about my blood tests.

I sat down and he talked to me for a bit. Nothing much, nothing special. Then, he started printing something out. He whipped it from the printer and handed me this lil slip of paper. It was a prescription letter.

You know how people say the world can stop? Or go in slow motion? That's exactly what happened. I must have spent an entire lifetime staring down in silence, in awe, at this little piece of paper. My eyes were welling up with joy. I looked at him and all I could do was thank him, over and over and over again. A great smile beamed on his face.

Upon leaving, everything was blurry. It was like I had tunnel vision. All I could see was this piece of paper. I stormed out of the building, called my Mom, and violently cried with joy.

"Slow down, I can't understand you", she said.

"I've got it. I've got it. I have a testosterone prescription!" I spluttered.

It took me a while to calm down, haha. I've never been so joyous.

🌱 Testosterone Effects Timeline 📊

⚠️Please note everyone's changes, intensity of changes, and rates of changes are different⚠️

Week 1: no voice drop, but my throat felt different; increased discharge downstairs; a little sweatier and took me longer to cool down.

Week 2-3: some hot flashes but not many; needed bigger meals.

After 1 month: period stopped (🥳); small amount of increased hair growth on legs; head hair started growing faster; more and slightly more intense hot flashes; subtle voice changes, easier to talk at my lowest level.

2 months: stamina increase, longer work time and shorter recovery time; voice slightly deeper; upper lip hair started coming through darker; increased peach fuzz hair growth on face, arms, legs, stomach, especially legs; increased spots on back.

Up to 6 months: how I felt and processed emotions changed (found it A LOT easier to process emotions, less chaotic mind); even more hair growth and a few random beard hairs; further stamina increase; my sweat and pee changed how they smelt which was weird; further voice changes; sometimes I had sudden bouts of strong hunger but not often.

Up to 12 months: increased downstairs discharge stopped; even more body hair (thicker, darker, curly), especially on legs; a few more beard hairs on chin; back spots decreased; voice a little deeper; face shape changes, boarder shoulders.

Up to 17 months (now): almost every area on my legs is hair; hair growth on butt and up butt; a few more beard hairs (that grow back pretty quick after shaving); warmer, more and longer got flashes, difficulties cooling down (I'm also extremely heat averse though so 🤷🏻); masculinising hairline (i.e receding at the front to look more masculine); much more noticeable voice changes, difficulties reaching higher tones, much easier to talk low.

Extra: I haven't experienced any bottom growth or change in libido at all. I've identified as asexual for a while now and still do, no changes at all. It's fairly common to experience bottom growth and some report a change in libido too, I just haven't 🤷🏻

🧑🏻‍⚕️ Top Surgery 😷 - double incision

I was terrified I wasn't going to get to this stage. I moved from Wales to England and both have different medical systems, so I was petrified of my surgery referral getting lost.

Fortunately, it didn't get lost. Once it was booked in, I had my consultation where I met the surgeon and her team, I was measured, told about the process and what could go wrong and what the solutions were.

Now I had a new fear: was this right? The self doubt was ridiculous. What if I regretted it? What if I hated my results?

The morning of the surgery answered these questions. My plan was that if it felt wrong on the morning, I knew I had the power to back out.

At 8:30am I was called to my surgery. I wrapped my arms around my Mom, a giant smile swallowing my face, and I said, "see you later!", and pranced down the corridor with the nurse. I was SO excited.

Going under anaesthetic was perfectly alright. It was insanely fast which I wasn't expecting. They started the anaesthetic and all I had time for was a few sentences before I was out.

🛏️ Recovery 🏥

💫I've got a big list of tips and tricks for top surgery recovery which might be best for another post because it's huge💫

Recovery actually wasn't too bad. When I woke up, the only discomfort I felt was a prickly feeling around the surgery site which they quickly sorted with painkillers. The day after anaesthetic was a bit rocky, I slept a lot and felt a bit icky, basically like a hangover. After that, all I felt was a dull aching in my abdomen for 3/4 days, otherwise no pain. I couldn't actually feel anything around my nipples or incisions, it was totally numb. The trickiest part was actually keeping myself busy so my Tourette's didn't damage the surgery site.

Once things had healed up a bit more and my stitches were out/dissolved away, I really started to appreciate my new chest. Unlike some people, I didn't have a super euphoria moment. For me, it's simply been total peace and relief since. I no longer think about my chest in any capacity. It feels natural, normal, right, and that, to me, means it was absolutely the right decision. It was what I needed.

🙋🏻 Where am I Now? 🙋🏻

It's been just over 10 months since my top surgery and my scars are fading very well. I'm very happy with the results. I've regained a substantial amount of sensation too in both my nipples and the incision scars. I've done a huge amount of scary care which I'm happy to talk about in another post so this one doesn't get any longer.

I'm fortunate enough to have had all of my records changed, I have a male passport, and I recently passed my driving test and have a full driver's license with my new name on it!

But, I think more importantly, I now feel more confident, I care about what I wear and how I look, I've found my style and what I like to wear, I look after my personal hygiene, and I feel like myself.

And that is where I am now 😊

I hope you've found this helpful in some way. There's a lot of information here. It was nice to type that story out. If you'd like anything else in more detail or have any questions, go for it!

[aylacavebear]

The Traveler - Chapter 21 - Mechoria Pt. 4

You're from a specific dimension, Solaris Eclipse. It was a dimension of magic. When your kind, the Eldrathiren, turned fifteen, your unique power would awaken within you. Most times, it was something small, levitation, teleportation, creation, elemental manipulation, and things like that. Once in a while, a fifteen-year-old would just disappear, and those were called Travelers. None of them had ever returned. Your parents had told you stories about them, and you hoped that wouldn't happen to you.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 7270

Pairing Eventually Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You & Sam Winchester x OC Reader/You

Warnings: Suspense, missing the Earth.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 21 - Mechora Pt. 4

Your mind had been on the sewer system and were again at the library, looking through old documents regarding the city. It had been a week since you’d helped Zephyr and spoken to Kellen. The library was massive, several stories above the main level and several stories below. It would have been easier if all the information regarding the city was in one location, but to your dismay, it wasn’t.

Getting frustrated, you gathered up the papers you’d been going over, then returned them to where you’d gotten them before heading down another flight of stairs to the last level of the library. You scanned the shelves, reading titles of books, labels on boxes of files, scrolls, and old parchments from things in the distant past. There seemed to be records of everything except what you were looking for, a map of the old sewer system.

A soft rusting caught your attention and you turned to see the elderly librarian, her eyes wise and kind, approaching you. “You seem troubled, dear. Can I assist you with something?”

“I’m looking for a map of the old sewer system,” you replied, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “I’ve searched everywhere but can’t seem to find anything.”

The librarian smiled gently. “Ah, the old sewers. They are quite the labyrinth. Follow me.” She led you to a corner of the library you hadn’t explored yet. Reaching up to one of the higher shelves, she pulled down a dusty, leather-bound tome. “This might be what you’re looking for.”

You took the book from her, carefully opening it. Inside were detailed drawings and descriptions of the sewer system from centuries ago. “Thank you,” you said, relief evident in your voice.

“Take your time,” she replied, patting your shoulder before leaving you to your research.

You spent the next few hours poring over the maps and notes, carefully noting down essential details. The sewers were indeed a labyrinth, with tunnels that extended far beyond the city limits. As you studied, a pattern began to emerge. There were several hidden entrances, some of which were no longer in use or had been forgotten over time.

Remembering how Nix had explained that the sewer had been sealed off, you looked at all the entrances. You knew you’d have to check each one to figure out which ones were still accessible and which ones were not, but you’d need to map it out. On a piece of parchment paper, you drew out the sewer system from the images in the book. Then, you pulled out the map of the city and meticulously began marking where the entrances had been noted in the book.

This is going to take a day or more to check each one, you thought, realizing the scope of your task.

The entrances were scattered throughout the city and nearly a dozen more outside the city walls. You sighed as you began cleaning up, carefully tucking your map back where it had been. After returning the books to their places, you gathered your notes and headed back to the inn, paying for a meal before heading to your room. You’d already figured out how you would tackle this next task and realized it was going to take you at least two days.

The next morning, you woke early, determined to begin your exploration of the sewer entrances. After a quick breakfast, you double-checked your supplies: both maps, your blade from Aqualumina, your pouch from Lysara which you’d added some extra food to, and a few miscellaneous provisions you put in a small bag that you had purchased during your first few days in this world. Once you got your hair up in a braid and slung the bag over your shoulder, you headed out.

You started on the southern portion of the city, stopping at each location as you came across it, then marked it on the map with an X. So far, they had all been sealed off, not even leaving a trace behind that they had ever existed. It was the same with the east side of the city. By the time you headed back to the inn, you’d managed to check just over half of the city, all the entrances being sealed off.

As you ate dinner that night in your room, you looked over the map again. You were betting on at least one entrance outside the city walls and one inside the city but were having difficulty pinpointing where they would be. You wanted to solve this so that perhaps you could get back to Earth quicker, remembering what the Luminous had told you.

Day two was similar to the day before, but this time, you did find an opening that wasn’t sealed off. It was on the Northern side of the city, tucked inside one of the abandoned buildings. The area was eerily quiet, the only sound being the rustling of leaves in the wind. You circled its location on the map before moving on, not quite ready to go into the sewers just yet. You would need to go back over the map of the sewers you made so you didn’t get lost in the labyrinth of tunnels.

There was another entrance that was only five blocks away from the Clock Tower, and that one you put a star near. You were careful though, while you were looking for these entrances. The last thing you needed was to draw too much attention from anyone who might be a part of the Rust Coalition. That night in your room, you marked the entrances on the map of the sewers you had copied, noting how they seemed to be in key locations.

On day three, you headed outside the city walls. The sun hadn’t even fully risen yet as you made your way toward the first of six locations in this area outside the city. You had a distinct feeling that all those would be sealed off but wanted to check to make sure. With the openings you did find and where you’d found them in the city, you knew there had to be at least one outside the city near them.

Your ears twitched with the sounds of the wildlife as you checked the areas you were pretty sure were sealed off. It did take you nearly all day to check every location on the map. The surprising thing, was you never saw anyone. Something you figured was that someone from the Rust Coalition would have been guarding the two entrances you did find, but that wasn’t the case. One of the entrances was near the northern side of the city but a decent distance away and into the forest. You couldn’t even see the walls of the city. The other entrance was further west and mostly covered with plant growth, looking as though not even the Rust Coalition had used it.

After marking the locations on the map, you returned to the inn, paid for dinner, and retired to your room for the night. You marked the locations on the map of the sewer you’d drawn, then went over how the tunnels were connected. There were several areas that were almost the size of a small room. The book from the library had mentioned how they had storage rooms down in the sewers for supplies. There was also an entrance you hadn’t been able to check, the one under the Clock Tower.

The fourth day began with you feeling more prepared than ever. You had memorized most of the map and felt confident in your ability to navigate the sewer system. After a hearty breakfast, you gathered your supplies and made your way to the northern entrance, the one tucked inside the abandoned building.

The building was just as quiet as before, its dilapidated structure standing as a silent sentinel to your secret mission. Carefully, you removed the cover and descended into the darkness below. The air was damp and musty, the sound of dripping water echoing off the stone walls.

With your ability to see in the dark in shades of gray, you had no need for a lantern, and it would also help hide your presence if you came across someone. This was also when your senses were more alert. You consulted the map frequently, making sure you were on the right track. The sewers were a maze of tunnels and chambers, and getting lost was a real danger.

Strange bugs moved along the walls while spider-looking creatures lay in wait in their webs along the ceiling. Occasionally, there would be some sort of rodent-looking creature that would scurry away as you walked further down the tunnels. There was also a strange odor in the air, and you wondered if it had to do with most of the entrances being sealed off or if it was just the lack of the place being tended to.

As you progressed, you found signs of recent activity - scuff marks on the floor, a discarded piece of cloth. Your heart raced with the knowledge that you were getting closer to the Rust Coalition’s base.

It felt like hours passed as you navigated the tunnels, marking intersections and noting significant features. You reached a large chamber that seemed to be a storage area, just as the book had mentioned. Boxes and crates were stacked against the walls, some covered in dust, others looking as though they had been recently disturbed.

You paused, listening intently. The faint sound of voices echoed from a nearby tunnel, but they sounded as though whoever was talking was keeping their voice hushed. You got as close to the wall of the tunnel as you dared, without touching it, slowly inching your way closer. You weren’t scared, but you were cautious, as you didn’t need to be found out.

Taking a deep breath, you crept closer, moving silently in the shadows. The voices grew louder, and you could make out snippets of conversation. They were talking about the living rust and its progress of spreading toward the city. You had found them - the Rust Coalition.

Gathering your courage, you decided to get closer and gather more information. You knew you had to be careful. One wrong move, and you’d be discovered. The fate of this world rested on your shoulders, and you were determined to see it through. You had to. Your soul needed you to so you could get back to them.

“... it should reach the city within the week. Have the preparations been made?” a male voice asked in a hushed tone.

“Yes. The heads of both guilds and our leader, Thorne, are fully prepared. They’ve ensured everything is in place on their end,” a female voice replied.

“And the city council? Are they still unaware of our true intentions?” The female voice chuckled softly. “Completely. Our leader’s position as the head of the council has them all fooled. They suspect nothing.” “Good. Once the living rust takes hold, our control over the city will be absolute. The Clockwork Guild, the Alchemists’ Guild, and the Spellcaster’s Guild will fall in line soon.” You listened intently, your mind racing. With the three guilds they’d mentioned, it meant that the other two had to be the ones involved, as there were only five guilds in the city. What completely blew your mind was that the leader of the Rust Coalition was the head of the city council. This information was crucial, and you needed more details, but who could you go to with it?

“We need to ensure no one interferes, especially with the rumors that have been circulating the city recently. Have any of the others found her yet?” the male voice continued, sounding both worried and annoyed.

“No, they haven’t found her, but they suspect she’s staying at Kragthor Inn. One of the merchants near there said he saw someone with similar features coming and going often.” the female voice tried to reassure him.

That was about the time your heart began pounding, hearing their words. This was far bigger than you had anticipated. You had to not only find a way to stop them, but now, they were looking for you. Quietly, you began to back away, making sure not to make any noise. You needed to get this information to Zephyr. He was so far the only one you could trust with it. You were also going to need to find a different place to stay, as Kragthor Inn was no longer safe.

It was just after noon when you emerged back into that abandoned building. The area was still eerily quiet, but that was almost reassuring with what you’d overheard. It took you a few moments to calm your racing heart while also calculating a quick path to Zephyr’s workshop with as few people noticing as possible.

On the entire walk there, you felt like everyone was watching you, even if they weren’t, and it was nerve-wracking. Clockwork Plaza was busy as usual when you arrived and made your way to the workshop, quickly going inside and closing the door behind you.

“Good. You’re back. There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Zephyr told you, causing you to look toward the counter where he was standing behind. That’s when you noticed the other person in the workshop, a wolf with all-black fur wearing what looked like formal attire. He gave you a friendly smile, but something about him just felt… off.

“This is Councilor Thorne Albright, the head of the city council,” Zephyr added, and that almost made you freeze where you stood.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss?” Thorne asked, extending his hand.

You hesitated for a moment before shaking it, knowing you couldn’t give him your real name, “Nice to meet you too. I’m Alkestis,” you lied.

Zephyr noticed your unease and your lie, “Is everything alright?” “Actually, I need to speak with you, privately,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Thorne raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. He’d seen you, and that was all he had needed. “Of course. I’ll take my leave. Zephyr, let’s continue our discussion later.” As Thorne left, you quickly turned to Zephyr. “We have a problem. I overheard a conversation in the sewers. Thorne is the leader of the Rust Coalition. They’re planning to spread the living rust into the city within a week.”

Zephyr’s eyes widened in shock. “What? Are you sure? “Positive. They mentioned how he’s fooled the council and how the heads of the Inventors’ Guild and the Healer’s Guild are involved.” You explained quickly as your ears twitched, alert and listening for anyone who might be trying to overhear the conversation from outside. Zephyr paced the room, deep in thought. “This is worse than I imagined. We need to act quickly. We have to inform the remaining guilds. I’ve already gathered all the ingredients for the spell to stop the rust, thanks to what you and Kellen provided. The problem is that Thorne knows about the spell. He’s the head of the council, so I had informed him of the developments.”

That made you sigh, “You’ll have to inform the other guilds and find a way to bluff about having all the spell ingredients because we have another problem. They’re looking for me. One of the merchants told someone in the Rust Coalition they saw me at Kragthor Inn.”

Zephyr stopped pacing and looked at you with concern. “We’ll need to find somewhere to hide you, keep you safe for now. Do you know of Arina? She owns a clothing shop near that inn you’re staying.” When Arina’s name was mentioned, your ears perked up. “Yes. I got some items from her shortly after I arrived.” “Good. Go and gather your things from the inn. Then, go see her. She knows what is going on, so you can trust her with what you’ve told me. I’ll talk to the other guild leaders, then go to the other council members. This will be hard to prove, but it’s the first lead we’ve had in a long time. I also want you to take the spell, and the Luminous feather with you. Keep them hidden until I come for them.” Zephyr explained as he gathered those items and slipped them into a bag, then handed it to you. He also grabbed a cloak and gave that to you as well.

“We’ll stop them, Zephyr,” you attempted to reassure him as you slipped the cloak on, putting the hood up to half cover your features. No one would even be able to see your ears and tail now.

With that, you bid him farewell before he showed you out the back exit so no one would see you leave his workshop. That would give you some time, at least. Thorne had seen you, and you were pretty sure he’d have someone attempt to follow you. Your heart was racing as you made it back to the inn. At least with the cloak, you wouldn’t be as easily recognized.

You packed up your room quickly, as you hadn’t had many things out. You did slip the bag from Zephyr into your main bag just to keep it safer and have less to carry. With your things in hand, you headed downstairs but stopped at the top of the stairs when you heard a male voice asking about you, using your description and the fake name you’d given Thorne. Luckily, that was going to buy you the time you needed.

So, instead of heading out the front of the inn, you went back to your room and then out the window, landing gracefully on your feet. You took the long way around to Arina’s shop, moving cautiously among the people on the streets. It felt like every sense you had was on high alert and like all eyes were on you.

Before slipping into Arina’s shop, you looked through the window, mainly to see if anyone else was inside. When you didn’t see anyone, you slipped in, quietly closing the door behind you and making your way to the counter near the back of her store. She looked at you, puzzled.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, noting the cloak and your bags.

“Arina, there’s so much. Zephyr said you had a place for me to hide,” you told her quickly, deciding that would be the best place to start.

Concern quickly replaced her relaxed expression, “Yes, follow me.”

She led you to the back of the store, then down two flights of stairs. The room wasn’t massive, but there were three doors there. Arina unlocked and opened the middle one, leading you inside before closing it behind you. She took you through several hallways or tunnels, it was hard to tell, before she finally stopped at one of the several doors that the two of you had passed.

“No one knows about this place,” she told you, unlocking the door and showing you inside.

It reminded you of the room at the inn with simple furnishings, only there was no window. You set your bags down on the bed, plopped down next to them, and sighed.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Arina asked, getting comfortable on the floor space between the door and the bed where you sat.

You spent the next almost hour explaining everything to her, including being able to mentally communicate with the creatures. Her expressions were mostly of surprise, except when it came to the part about the head of the council, Thorne. She even covered her mouth as the realization flashed in her eyes. It took her a few minutes to fully process all you’d told her, including the part about the Luminous and what it had told you.

“So, that’s why I needed your help. I don’t know what they’ll do if they find me,” you told her as that sinking feeling began setting in.

Arina’s expression softened, “You’ll be safe here, and I’ll bring you food. Zephyr’s good, and he’ll be able to get the others to listen and do something. You’re really important, even if you aren’t from this world.” She explained to you in an attempt to comfort and reassure you.

She then reached over to the nightstand drawer, opened it, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is a map of where you are. If for any reason you need to get out, use it and hide somewhere in the forest,” Arina told you, setting the map on the bed next to you.

“Thanks, Arina. I really appreciate all your help,” you replied, but couldn’t even manage a small smile.

She gave you one last smile before leaving you alone in that room. You didn’t even move anything before lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. It reminded you of the bunker with its lack of windows.

Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

You knew this was far safer than trying to hide out in the city or even in the forest, but it also meant that you couldn’t be out there, helping them. All you could do now was play the waiting game, and that was always a pain. Yes, you had patience, but at the same time, you wanted to be doing something to actively help.

—-------------

Arina kept her word and brought you food, and you studied the map of where you were, memorizing it just in case you needed to make a run for it. Zephyr showed up three days later with the ingredients for the spell. One of the ingredients happened to be a few drops of blood of the one who was given the Luminous feather; you. He explained that it would take some time, but once the spell was done, the other council members would be able to arrest Thorne and the others involved.

“How will the spell let you do that?” you asked him, quite curiously, after all the ingredients had been added to the bowl he was standing in front of.

Zephyr chuckled, “A nifty little trick to this spell is that it marks anyone who was involved with the living rust. The Luminous are protectors of this world, and the magic within their feathers is very potent. You’ll be a hero after all this mess is cleared up.”

You raised your eyebrows in awe and then carefully watched him. You weren’t sure how you felt about being seen as a hero. All you had wanted to do was help so you could get back to your family, even if you had felt bad for what this world was going through. Zephyr spoke the words of the spell, and beautiful colors began dancing around the room. Then, all the colors seemed to be pulled inside the bowl before everything inside it completely vanished.

“Was it supposed to do that?” you asked, completely puzzled.

“Yes. I need to get back to my shop. The city guards have already been informed, and arrests will begin shortly. You won’t have to stay here long. I imagine that in about four days, everyone involved will be arrested, With your information about the sewers, no one will be safe to hide there.” he explained as he cleaned up.

He bid you goodbye before leaving, and you plopped down on the bed as you thought about what he’d said. You still weren’t sure about the whole hero thing. Your thoughts drifted to the brothers, and you wondered just how close your birthday was getting. 

Six months? Five and a half now? 

Calculating time was a little difficult, as you had nothing to write it down on to keep track of it. That was when you decided that when it was safe for you to leave and go back outside, you would get a journal of sorts and start writing down the things you had experienced since turning fifteen. You were also going to get those things you had wanted for the brothers.

Arina visited you daily, bringing food and keeping you updated on what was going on. The first two days, the city was in a sort of chaotic state when the arrests began. So many people were in shock at those involved. The two guilds had to appoint temporary leaders, and at least a third of the guild itself was arrested. There were even two other council members and nearly a dozen guards who got arrested. 

On the morning of the fifth day, you already had your things packed. Arina told you to leave them in her shop, as the council wanted to meet you. You took several deep breaths as she led you out of her shop and into the streets. Everyone was staring, watching you, and you could hear quiet whispers from several of them. You never wanted to be a hero; you only wanted to help so that, in the long run, you could go home.

Arina led you through the city to Clockwork Plaza. There were more people there than you’d seen at any other time, all eager to glimpse the stranger who had saved their world. Yet, they kept their distance, thanks to the guards stationed around the area, ensuring you had a clear path to the council building. It was clear that everyone in the city knew who you were and what you had done.

The building stood behind the library, you’d just never had time to take in its architecture. Now, though, you couldn’t take your eyes off of it. Construction of polished stone, reinforced with bronze and copper, the building’s exterior gleamed under the sunlight. Large, arched windows adorned its facade, each pane intricately designed with patterns resembling the inner workings of a clock. Towering columns flanked the main entrance, their surfaces etched with symbols representing the five guilds of the city: Clockwork, Alchemists, Spellcasters, Inventors, and Healers.

As you ascended the broad steps leading to the entrance, the imposing double doors swung open, revealing a spacious atrium bathed in a golden light. The interior was a blend of grandeur and precision, with high ceilings supported by elegant columns and walls lined with murals depicting the city’s history. The floor was a mosaic of gears and cogs, each piece meticulously placed to form a cohesive whole. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly, adding to the sense of reverence the building commanded.

You could feel the weight of history and power in the air as you moved deeper into the building. Arina led you through a series of hallways, each more ornate than the last. The walls were adorned with tapestries and paintings of past council members and significant events. The scent of aged parchment and polished wood filled your senses, grounding amidst the overwhelming surroundings.

Finally, you reached the council chambers, a grand room with a circular layout. At the center stood a large, round table made of dark mahogany, surrounded by plush chairs upholstered in deep red fabric. The ceiling was a domed masterpiece, painted with a depiction of the city and its guilds. A large crystal chandelier hanging down cast a brilliant array of light colors across the room.

The atmosphere inside the chamber was tense, a palpable mix of gratitude and anxiety. The council members, guild leaders, and other key figures were gathered, their faces a blend of relief and concern. As you took in the scene, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride and responsibility. This was the culmination of your effort, and now, it was time to see it through.

Arina set her hand on your shoulder to reassure you as the two of you moved closer to the table while Zephyr approached you with another council member.

“Y/N, this is Agaza Firemirez, the new council leader,” Zephyr told you with a proud tone.

“Welcome, Y/N,” Agaza greeted you. “We owe you a great debt for uncovering the conspiracy. Thanks to you, the city is safe.” You nodded, trying to keep your composure. “I’m just glad I could help.” Zephyr looked to Agaza, “Y/N has done more than help. She risked her life to bring this information to us. Without her, the living rust would have destroyed our city and possibly our world.”

Agaza nodded. “Indeed. We’ve decided to honor you with the highest award the city can bestow. You will also have a place here, should you choose to stay.”

You knew there was no way you could take his offer, never knowing when the scent would beckon you to move on. “That’s very kind of you, but I must decline. I just never know when I’ll be pulled to another world.”

His eyes softened, “Of course. I wanted to ask, and you have the right to say no, but would you be willing to give us your gift of speaking with the creatures?”

That surprised you, and had no clue it was even possible. “How could I do that?” 

Agaze motioned for the Spellcaster’s guild leader to join the four of you. “This is Elkesh. She is quite adept at what I am asking, and she knows how to share abilities like this with others.” “Then yes, I will give my gift to this world,” you replied, knowing now that with this, they wouldn’t have to hurt the creatures and perhaps even find a way to live with them more peacefully.

Elkesh took out a small, crystal orb, no bigger than a marble, “Hold out your hand.” Your eyes were on the small, clear orb, but did as she asked. Elkesh set the orb in your palm, then spoke some sort of spell in a language you didn’t recognize. At first, a galaxy appeared within the orb before it shifted to an array of colors, glowing slightly.

“Thank you, Y/N. This will be an asset to all the inhabitants of this world,” Elkesh told you in a soft, grateful tone before she went to stand with the other guild leaders.

“Now, time to address your award,” Agaze began, but you held up your hand, and he looked at you, slightly puzzled.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was curious, what is wrong with the Clock Tower?” you respectfully asked him, as you had still felt that pull to it when you walked by it earlier.

Everyone in the room looked around at everyone else as some of them whispered to each other. Agaze held up his hand to quiet them. “All we know is that something is wrong with it. We’ve had all our best minds investigate it, and to their best abilities, they see no reason why it shouldn’t be working properly. Why do you ask?”

“I feel drawn to it. Somewhere under it, in the sewers. I can’t explain it and it is blocked off from reaching it through the sewers, at least according to the map,” you explained.

He thought for a moment as everyone else watched in anticipation. You’d already done so much and now you were wanting to help them even more. “Ketill,” Agaze stated, addressing a guard on the far side of the room who quickly moved to stand in front of him.

“Sir,” Ketill replied, standing at attention.

“I want you to take Y/N to the entrance of the Clock Tower and then down into the section below it. Be her escort, her guard, and keep her safe. She may be able to see something we have missed,” Agaze explained to him.

“Yes, Sir,” Ketill answered, then stood and waited for you.

“Y/N, when you return, your belongings will be here waiting for you, along with your award. We would like to have you with us when we address the city in a couple of hours and introduce you to them properly. Since you are unable to take us up on our offer of a council seat, we’ll make sure you are set up comfortably for while you are at least in our world.” Agaze explained to you with the most appreciative expression you’d seen on him yet.

It humbled you in a way you hadn’t experienced before, “Thank you, for everything.”

“No, Y/N, thank you,” he replied before he bowed to you, and every other person there followed suit, making you fight back tears.

As Ketill led you out of the council chambers, you felt a mixture of relief that things were mostly taken care of, and hope that you could go back to the brothers soon. You weren’t sure yet if you could do anything about the Clock Tower, but you needed to find out why you kept being drawn toward it. Your mind was elsewhere as Ketill led you down the grand corridors and out into the plaza. The air outside was filled with a mix of curiosity and admiration from the gathered crowd, but you focused on the Clock Tower and Ketill leading you there.

The crowd parted as Ketill led you toward the Clock Tower that stood in the center of the plaza. Colored puffs of smoke sporadically emerged from the pipes at the top, creating a non-rhythmical display. You’d never been this close to it before, and it was far larger than you’d initially realized. The two guards on either side of the door at its base only stood at attention as Kendill opened the door for you. 

Once inside and the door closed behind you, you looked up. A staircase wound its way up and around the walls as gears and all sorts of mechanical pieces seemed frozen in time. You could barely see the light that came in the faces of the clock at the top of the tower, but you did notice how the pipes the smoke was coming from went down the corners of the building and through the floor. There were a dozen of them, three along each corner.

“This way,” Ketill told you, heading toward the left of the door you’d both come through.

You followed him, trying to get a feel for what might be going on, but it was only that pull to go down. Ketill moved a rug, revealing what looked like a trap door, then pulled it open. The creak of the hinges echoed in the tower.

“Watch your step, it’s dark,” he explained as he began descending the stairs.

“I’ll be okay. I can see in the dark,” you replied, noticing a faint but odd odor when you reached the first small landing, making you wrinkle your nose.

Ketill grabbed a lantern that was kept on this platform, waving his hand in front of it before it began illuminating the area. Then, in unison, lanterns lit around the area and down what looked like several more flights of stairs. Here, there were no parts of the Clock Tower, only the pipes that continued to descend the corners. 

You followed Ketill down. That odd odor didn’t seem to get any stronger, and it smelled as though it was everywhere. “How did the clock work, before it went down?” you finally asked Ketill, as you hadn’t exactly found the information you needed when you had researched it.

“When it was working, the pipes would let out smoke every quarter hour that ticked by, one pipe at a time. Then, every hour, depending on the hour, that set of three pipes would let out smoke. When noon came, all the pipes would let out smoke. It let everyone outside the city know the time,” he explained as he continued walking.

That’s why I’m drawn down here. Something is wrong with the pipes.

At the bottom, the chamber opened up a little and became more like a dome while the pipes wound around it and along the floor to a center point. Carved on the walls were intricate runes and glyphs with pictures that told a story of the Clock Tower's history. You moved past Ketill, toward the center of the room, that odor getting a little stronger there.

“They didn’t find anything here?” you asked curiously, gently sniffing the air.

“Nothing. They don’t know what’s wrong or why it won’t work,” Ketill sighed, just watching you and giving you space.

There was a lantern over where the pipes all went deeper into the ground in the center of the room. You knelt on the pipes, looking down at them, tilting your head, and studying the pipes themselves.

“Ketill, can you turn off the lights?” you asked him, still completely focused on the pipes.

Without a word, he waved his hand over the lantern he was holding, and darkness filled the room. It took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the sudden change. Then, you thought you saw something, a tiny, almost invisible puff of smoke from one of the pipes. The silence of the room didn’t bother you, and you didn’t take your eyes off the pipes. Then, it happened again.

Instinctively, you reached your hand down and touched the pipe, feeling the faintest of cracks in it, like a tiny fracture on a bone that was almost undetectable unless you knew what to look for. 

“Now heal it.” A familiar voice within your mind told you. You almost chuckled as you smiled a little. 

The Luminous were the protectors of the world. Of course, they’d know what was wrong.

You shook your head slightly in amusement, setting your hand on the tiny crack and closing your eyes. The surface of the metal was cold under your palm as a soft golden light shown below your hand. In your mind, you saw the Luminous, and the leader bowed to you again as the light dimmed, then dissipated. 

Ketill stood there, watching in awe as the Clock Tower came to life above. You smiled softly, bowed your head, then opened your eyes and stood to face Ketill.

“How?” was all he could manage to say.

“I’ll explain when we go back to the council,” you replied, feeling a sense of accomplishment but also a strange peace that seemed to go through your body in gentle waves.

After lighting the lantern again, he led you up and then out of the Clock Tower. Once outside, though, the entire plaza erupted with cheers and whistles, and most were clapping. You had to take a deep breath as it had startled you. He led you back to the council chambers, the crowd never seeming to calm, even as you entered the building. 

Again, the entire room bowed to you, their way of expressing their utter gratitude for your help. You explained what had happened and what you found, all of them making a mental note of it for any possible future occurrence. Agaze gave you a beautiful pendant that held a crystal, like the veins you’d seen on your first day in that cave. Then, he and the others led you out to the plaza, where he gave a long speech, with the crowd again erupting in cheers.

It was a lot for you to take in and, in a way, fairly overwhelming. Ketill, with two other guards, showed you to the new inn you’d be staying in. The inn was grand, situated in the expensive part of the town, near the plaza by only a couple of blocks. The building itself was a magnificent structure with elegant stonework and tall, arched windows. The innkeeper, a stately anthropomorphic fox with a luxurious coat of reddish fur and eyes that seemed to sparkle with both wisdom and mischief, greeted you warmly.

“Welcome, Y/N,” the innkeeper said, his voice smooth and courteous. “I am Fenwick, the keeper of this humble establishment. It is an honor to have you here.”

He treated you like a celebrity, which made you blush a little. There were far more employees working here than at the last inn you’d stayed in. They bustled around in crips uniforms, attending to guests with practiced efficiency. One of them, a young female fox with bright eyes and a friendly smile, took your bags and led you to your new room.

Your new room was just as lavish as the rest of the inn. The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by the scent of fresh flowers and a hint of sandalwood. The room was spacious, with high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes of lush landscapes and mythical creatures. A large window with velvet drapes offered a stunning view of the city plaza below.

The bed was a grand four-poster with silken sheets and a plush comforter that looked incredibly inviting. A writing desk made of polished mahogany stood in one corner, accompanied by a comfortable chair. A small sitting area with a plush sofa and armchairs was arranged near a fireplace, above which hung a large, ornate mirror.

You tucked your new pendant into your pouch and took a moment to appreciate the comfort and luxury of your new surroundings. The soft light from the chandelier cast a warm glow over the room, making it feel like a safe haven after all you’d been through. Your bags were set on the floor at the foot of the bed. Part of you felt like this was all too much, but at the same time, you appreciated the city’s generosity.

It took you nearly a week to get used to being in such a luxurious inn. Three meals were brought to your room every day, as was a dessert with dinner. You did go and purchase a beautiful yet simple journal to write down your travels in and worked on it during the days when you didn’t venture into the city. You also picked up two books. One of them was a history of the city, and the Clock Tower, and the other was a history of the world itself. Those were for Sam, as you remembered how much he loved history. For Dean, you found a beautifully hand-crafted boot knife that had a silver blade. 

You never unpacked your things. You hoped that the scent would come pull you back to the brothers, to home, and you wanted to be ready. So, you just kept all your things neatly packed away, waiting, even if you did get into them when you needed to. Several of the people in the city wanted to give you gifts, and there were a few days you would find something placed in front of your door. You thought it was sweet, so you just tucked the items away in your things. Some of them even had notes, telling you what the item either did or why they had given it to you. One of your favorite items was a strange gear from a young boy. The note he’d left said he had found it on one of his adventures, and he wanted you to have it to remind you of your adventure in their world. The brothers were always on your mind, even when you were around others, more so when you were alone. You had picked up a second journal that you wrote to them in. It was the only way you had found that eased the pain of missing them as the days ticked slowly by. You didn’t mind being in this world; it was amazing, and everyone was friendly. You were just lonely, and their scents had long faded from the clothes they’d given you.

I’ll find a way home, I promise.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 22 - Earth, 1999 & Mechoria

Link to the series Masterlist.

A/N: If you'd like to get in on the Dimensional Traveling, go to this link and leave me with a comment, or several, with as much or as little detail about the dimension you'd like the Traveler to end up in. If you'd like to have something specific happen, share that too. I'll make sure that you get credit for the idea you shared in the chapter in which your dimension is featured. I'd love to have as many readers involved as possible. I think this could be a lot of fun.

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