#the amount I see him lightened and skimmed down

[thoughtofadumbteenprotagonist]

okay that’s IT y’all’s “drawing x as a human” rights have officially been revoked until you can draw something OTHER than a conventionally attractive skinny white dude

[number8bciate]

I couldn't let myself forget you.

Set in season four, so spoilers ahead for that. This is based on episode five, I believe.

Cw: Lila and five in episode Five :P

You and five hadn't known one another long, a few years at most, but in that short amount of time, he had found himself growing quite attached to you. He wouldn't admit it outloud. That's just the kind of man he was. He didn't need anyone, but no one could understand him. He couldn't explain it either because he would sound just as insane as the people he had been investigating, but then there was you.

You were too nieve for your own good, but part of him loved you for it. It meant that anything he told you in your head made sense.

"Wait- that was our stop." Lila and Five spoke at the same time, pressing their hands and cheek against the door of the train as they tried to manipulate the train into going back but the platform that they needed to be on just got smaller and smaller and smaller.

Year one

Five thought about you all the time. When he was getting shot at, he thought of how you might bandage his wounds if he got hit or how you would scold him because he was in a dangerous situation. He sat down in the train station, watching Lila as she ate, wondering if she had been having the same thoughts about his brother, or if maybe she was thinking of her kids. He hated the fact that the memory of you was the only thing that kept him going, that kept him trying to get back home, not his family, but you... to be honest, you felt like his family now.

Year Two

"What's that?" Lila asked, peering over the older boys shoulder as she cut his hair for him, trying to catch a glimpse of what had been occupying his thoughts for the last few weeks. He shielded the book from her view, smacking it shut to ensure that she wouldn't see the contents. "Come on, Five!" She pressed, leaning over his shoulder, trying to grab his book, she thought it was harmless, he did not.

"Lila!" He yelled at her, with a different kind of tone in his voice, he was desperate, clearly, he was grieving too and she knew that but she was only trying to lighten the mood a little.

Year Three

Five had now filled three separate books with something in them, Lila wasn't sure what it was, but every time she tried to ask, she got a response not too far off a rabid dog that was protecting it's property, she knew it was important, which was why she wanted to know, which was why she waited until he was dead asleep to try and find out what it was one last time.

She skimmed through the pages that were mostly filled with useless words that made no sense put together, but Five's handwriting had never been the best anyway. She flipped through each page. Only one thing was recurring, and it was a random drawing of someone she knew but didn't know from where.

Year Four

The both of them were growing tired. It was hard to keep running and running with no sight of the end. Five knew Lila was fed up. He understood why, but he couldn't give up, not when he knew that you were still out there waiting for him because he knew you would be.

Year Five

"Hey Five." Lila leaned onto Five, both of them trying to find some sort of warmth between them as the cold metal of the train station dug into their backs. He hummed softly, looking around the room, trying to see if there was something they had missed. He knew there wasn't, but he thought he'd try anyway. "You know that greenhouse, the one with the strawberries?" She started, leaning her head fully on his shoulder now. He nodded, not willing to speak because he knew what her next suggestion would be. "How about we stop there for a few days? I- I know we've - I know we need to get home, I'm just... tired." He understood. Of course he did. He had been through this before, but the time before, he was all alone.

"Sure." He said softly, turning to look at the stacks of books that he had filled, he thought of you, and realized you'd want him to take a break, you'd beg him to, and so he decided he would go, but only for a few weeks.

Year Six

Five walked into the green house, looking at Lila and then the berry bush she was tending to. She tossed one strawberry at him, then another, then another. "If you keep that up, we won't have any left for the winter." He smiled as she threw one more and turned to her as she began walking towards him. She tripped up in a few watering cans that had been discarded on the floor, and he caught her just before she was able to hit the floor.

"Oh- sorry." He noticed the blush on her face, then felt his cheeks begin to heat. His hand rested on her cheek, cupping them and rubbing his fingers over her soft flesh, then he looked to the strawberries on the floor and pulled away, running to the stack of books on the table and joting down a few notes. "What just happened?" She walked over to him, her arms crossing as she leaned against the wall.

"What do you mean?" He asks, slamming the book shut and poking it into his bag. He turned to her, noticing that she had a slight pout across her face.

"Whatever that was." He stared at her for a while, shrugged his shoulders, and walked away.

Year Seven

"I'm going out to look for some more scrap metal."

"What happened to the stuff we already had?" Lila asked curiously, looking the boy up and down. He rubbed his fingers over the braclet in his pocket, the one he had made.

"I have no clue." He walked out of the house and back to the train station. He grabbed a few wires, tugging on them before he slipped and dropped his flashlight down onto the tracks. He looked both ways, just to be safe and climbed down onto them. "What's that?" He thought out loud as he grabbed a book he had never seen before. He climbed back up onto the train platform and opened the book. "That's my handwriting." He pointed out to himself as he read what was throughout the pages, figuring out that it was their way home.

"What's that?" Lila asked, sitting down next to him.

"A way home." He said simply, flipping through more of the pages, everything inside of his head clicking together like it had been obvious the whole time. He shook his head in disappointment in himself.

"Wait, what?" Lila asked, chasing after him as he ran back to their house and packed up his bag. "Should we think about this first?" She suggested.

"Think about what?" He asked, stuffing the books into his bag as he changed into what he had been wearing the day they had left.

"That- Maybe this is a trap of some sort? Set by the older, uh? Younger? You." She followed him around the house, trying to keep his pace as he charged out the door.

"I'm willing to take the risk, why aren't you?" He turns around. She almost smashed right into him.

"I am. I just think we need to consider the fact that this could be a trap." He understood her concern. Some people would rather not take the risk, there was a chance that this was a trap, and that they would die.

"Stay here if you want, I'm going." He decided and made his way back to the train station, her following closely behind him.

When they returned, it had only been an hour or two, you were sitting in between Allison and Luther and bounced your leg nervously, wondering where Five could have gone. Lila, walked in through the door followed by Five who's eyes searched the room until they landed on you. You jumped up out of your seat and ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. He nearly cried, as much as he hated to admit it, his eyes welled with tears, feeling you pressed against him was something he didn't think he'd ever feel again. "I wasn't gone that long." His voice shook, but only slightly as you pulled away from him to check him for any injuries, because you knew how careless he could be.

"It was too long." You smiled though, no matter how pissed you were at him for not returning your calls or texts, you were just glad he was alright.

He looked around the room again and stuffed his hand onto his pocket, feeling the braclet that he had forgotten about. The two of you walked to the center of the room, you sat down where you had been and five remained standing, you glanced over to Lila who had a distant look in her eyes as she looked at her husband and then you looked back to five, who was now standing right infront of you, playing with something in his pocket.

Everyone's attention was brought to him as he cleared his throat, he knew it was sudden, and he knew he would jump off the side of a cliff if you happened to not reciprocate his feelings, but he dropped down onto one knee and pulled a bag out of his pocket. Allison, who was now sitting up straight with a face full of surprise gasped at the sight if her oldest brother on his knee.

"I- Jesus. Uhm." You looked to Lila who, unlike before, was now focused on Five, but it wasn't that unusual, right? Besides the fact that her face held signs of jealousy and sadness, it wasn't weird at all. Your heart fluttered when he held out his cupped hands towards you, his eyes pleading with you to take the bag that was in them. "Y/n.." He spoke carefully, as his cheeks began to redden as Allison's reaction threw him off the piller of confidence he was once standing on.

You nodded, ready to hear what he had to say, you hands grabbed the bag but remained in their place, trying to soothe the old man's nerves as he worked up the courage to speak. "Will you give me the honor of.. marrying me?" You squealed and jumped out of your seat, pulling Five to his feet and you kissed him. "Will you?" He whispered to you this time.

"Yes I will." You kissed him once more.

Once the excitement settled down, and the bracelet sat proudly on your wrist, you noticed the bag that your fiancé had brought in with him. "What's that?" You asked, pointing to the bag. He bit his lip nervously and pulled a few of the books he had filled up the bag. Revealing the contents to you. The words didn't make sense to you either, until you saw your face, the soft brush strokes that he used to draw your hair and your eyes, you had never looked so beautiful.

He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, his lips brushing against them. "I- I couldn't let myself forget you."

"You remembered I like strawberries." You pointed out, you ignored the way he flinched when you had mentioned it, but he ran his fingers over the words and nodded softly.

"Of course I did."

[deancaspinefest]

Everything's Fine

Author: butterflyslinky | Artist: DeanCodedCasNB Posting on Friday March 3

Dean has been offered his dream job: Personal Assistant to Editor-in-Chief Castiel Novak. Unfortunately, his boyfriend Michael has other plans for their futures.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Castiel barely glanced up as Hannah knocked on his office door. “What?” She walked in, ignoring his curt tone, stepping around the clutter of papers and boxes all over the floor. “Just letting you know we’ve hired a new assistant for you. He starts in January.” “Another one? You know I hate having assistants.” “And you know you can’t do literally everything yourself. Don’t worry, this one seems better.” Castiel sighed and leaned away from his computer to actually look at her. “Fine, tell me about him.” Hannah moved a stack of files off the other chair and sat down. “Dean Winchester. KU, English Lit. Just out of school so you can train him how you like. He was very sensitive in the interview, and very charming…polite, but with a good amount of sass. Seems like a good snap-to little soldier anyway.” “Come on, Hannah. What am I even supposed to do with an assistant?” “Have him screen your mail and calls, grab you lunch, set up meetings, make sure nothing off the slush pile somehow makes its way to you without vetting…normal stuff.” “I enjoy seeing the shit from the bottom of the slush pile.” “You don’t have time for it, Castiel. You’re editor-in-chief now, you have actual responsibilities. And you need someone to help you organize this place” “I know, I know…shouldn’t have accepted the promotion if I don’t want to be the boss.” Castiel rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, well, this is why you don’t listen to the fuckwit who keeps pressuring you to rise above the point where you’re happy so he can squeeze more cash out of you. I mean, you’re a mess…you’re exhausted, you’re snappish, you’re three sentences away from offending our top author. You need someone to help lighten this load, and you’ve failed miserably at keeping anyone on board to do that.” Castiel sighed. Hannah was right, of course. The only reason he’d taken the promotion was because his last boyfriend had pressured him into it. But Bart was gone now, having ditched Castiel for some rich Broadway producer, leaving Castiel with nothing but a way-too-big apartment and several maxed out credit cards. Both of which meant Castiel couldn’t take a voluntary demotion, leaving him stuck in a job he hated. Okay, maybe not hated. Castiel did like some aspects of being the head editor. The corner office and salary were nice, and it was good to have the final say on what was published. But it also meant talking to a lot more business people than he liked, and that he missed the more fun but terrible books on the slush pile. Not that he would ever let those go out the door, but reading them was the best entertainment he’d ever had. And worst of all were the assistants. Castiel had only been in the job for a year, but he had already gone through four of them. He felt a little bit bad about it; it wasn’t like any of his previous assistants had been bad people. But none of them had been especially helpful to him, getting in his way more often than not, or messing up his routines too much for him to function. He hadn’t even fired all of them; the last one had quit because she thought he was too particular about things. Which he was, but it wasn’t something he could help. And now there was a new one he’d have to try and train. “Try to go easy on this one,” Hannah said. “He’s moving all the way here from Kansas, so it will be very expensive for both him and the company if you only keep him for three months.” “Fine,” Castiel said. “Can I get the resume?” “Right here.” She handed him a single sheet of paper. Castiel skimmed it quickly. The kid didn’t seem that special; a BA in English and several years working on and off as a mechanic. No clerical experience to speak of, but Castiel figured that could be a good thing. If Dean didn’t have experience, it meant he didn’t have any bad habits to break. “He just graduate?” he asked. “Back in May, yes…so he’s very young, even compared to you. I thought that would be easier if you do decide to fire him immediately.” “Fine, fine.” Castiel set the paper aside. “That all? I have a mountain of drafts to approve.” “That and your mother called the front desk again to ask if you’d consider joining her for Christmas. I told her to call your cell phone, and she told me you never answer it.” “Because she only wants me there so she can set me up with whatever nice girl she’s found now. So tell her I’m busy.” “That’s another reason you need an assistant,” Hannah said. “But until Dean arrives, you can tell her yourself.”

 [continue reading on Ao3 on Friday March 3]

[erenisms]

BLIND : where eren didn't expect you to be worse than him. you are an absolute menace to society and he wishes you came with a warning.

pairing: eren jaeger x f!reader

notes/warnings: e2l, heavy cursing, horny college kids (eventual smut at the end of the series), bad grammar, she/her pronouns, just lots of dumb shit

word count: 1.6k

[01] second semester hell

— university is a hellhole and there’s one particular demon who just really grinds your gears. thank god, you’re friends with angels.

masterlist. | next.

“do you guys plan on changing clubs? i feel like literature club isn't really for me.” marco asked as he, you and jean made your way towards the library to work on minor research.

“is it because there are only four other members and all of them are girls?” you mischievously remarked to which jean cackled at.

jean gave marco a harsh slap on the back, sporting a mischievous grin similar to yours. “bro, if i wasn’t planning on joining the militia this semester, i’d gladly switch places with you.”

“did you know? my neighbour said the militia is full of dicks.”

the light-haired male snorted at you. “isn’t that what you want?”

“i didn’t mean like that! i meant most of them are like assholes, you dumbfuck.” you huffed.

“is that so…?” from your right, marco sighed in disappointment and jean gave you a scolding look.

the three of you have had your eyes on that particular club ever since coming in the university. your neighbour, whose part of a different club often trash talks the militia but it never really deterred you that much.

“well!” you immediately backtracked, and struggled to sling each your arms on their shoulders. “we can just be the not-douchebags of that club!”

jean who found your attempt at cheering up your other friend adorable decided to further lighten up the conversation by attacking you.

“you just want some dick.”

“i’ll cut off your dick, you fucking–”

“guys, sshh, we’re here!”

after zipping your mouths shut, the three of you entered the library and logged in your names. the three of you split up to gather some book you thought may contain good information and rejoiced back at a free table in the middle of the study area.

for a while, you’re all serious and quiet. however, as a few more minutes passed by without finding anything worth noting, you got frustrated with the book you’ve skimmed through.

“i can't find any relevant references in this one, let me grab a different volume.” jean waved you off in acknowledgement and you stood up from your seat, tucking it under your arm.

walking back to the shelf you took it from, you didn’t expect to crash into the same man who’s the reason for your dehydration with the amount of saliva you’ve wasted by bickering with him. you nearly fell down because he’s built like a grown-ass man but his large hand caught you by the wrist surprisingly well.

“ugh, it's you.” eren jaeger stared down at your form with a scowl, letting go of your wrist once you got your balance back. “are you stalking me?”

“ugh, it's you.” you rolled your eyes at him, dusting away imaginary dust. “don’t get cocky. why the fuck are you here? are you stalking me?”

green eyes bore incredulously into yours and the brunette clicked his tongue. “to study, what else?”

before you can retort that you doubted he can even read, a black-haired girl came up from behind him.

“hi, [name].” she greeted, nodding at you.

“oh hey, mikasa.” you were pleasantly surprised to see her. she was your seatmate in two of your classes last semester.

eren reeled back, looking offended. “the fuck? i didn't know you can talk to people normally.”

“you just said it yourself, i talk to people normally. not to the likes of you, whatever the fuck you are.” you spat, turning away from the two but not before sending mikasa a friendly farewell smile and glaring nastily at her brother.

eren gritted his teeth and was about to shout after your annoying yet pretty ass but the saner of the two grabbed the hood of his jacket to stop him from causing a scene in the library.

you sat back on your chair moodily, gently slamming the books you took because you have courtesy for other people despite being pissed off.

“why do you hate each other so much? i swear, it's ridiculous.” jean complained, having watched the chaotic scene from afar.

“not sure, to be honest.” you shrugged, absent-mindedly opening one of the books that you randomly snatched from the shelf. “you know how cats and dogs are enemies by nature? maybe it's that.”

“are you calling yourself an animal?” jean squinted at you.

“in bed, yeah.” you grinned, peeking from the pages of the textbook while you wiggle your eyebrows.

“disgusting. you are disgusting.” the light-haired male scrunched his nose, looking at you like you’re a peasant from medieval times.

“my cat and dog are friends though.” marco butted in innocently.

you and jean blinked and frowned simultaneously at him.

“what? i'm just saying.” the black-haired male raised his hands up in defence against the judgemental stares you’re shooting him.

“careful, marco, i've got more rabies than your pets.” you glared, playfully punching him on the arm.

marco snorted at your comment until an irritating voice inserted itself in.

“rabies? oh yeah, you seem like you have them.” eren craned his head from his seat just to pathetically insult you. none of you realized that he and his friends were sitting at the table behind yours.

you groaned at the reminder of his presence. “no one fucking asked for your opinion, jaeger. get the fuck out of our conversation, or better yet, my life.”

“holy shit, you're extra aggressive today. who pissed on your cereal?”

“i'm lactose intolerant, dumbfuck.”

he glanced at the milk carton beside your hand, raising a brow. “is that why you're full of shit?”

“hold me, marco, not because i'm cold but because i might just kill someone. i'm not really in the mood to go to the guidance office.” you scowled at the long-haired male and offered your arm to your freckled friend.

“[name], i'm pretty sure you're going farther than the guidance office for murder.” jean pointed out exasperatedly, rubbing his face.

he shot a sympathetic look at armin and mikasa who sat in front of eren. the two only shrugged at him, the blonde smiling sheepishly. unfortunately, all of them are so used to you and eren arguing that they don’t even bother stopping your argument until you both let off some steam with each other.

before you could sock eren jaeger in his disgustingly handsome face, marco placed his hands on your shoulders to prevent you from committing homicide in a public place. he only smiled apologetically at eren and the other two people at his table.

“she takes lactaid.”

the rest of your time at the library was annoying as fuck with eren purposely reading out loud when you’re asking a question to your friends, leaning back on his chair and hitting your head ‘accidentally’ and the like. in return, you keep stretching your arms backwards exaggeratedly to elbow him straight in the jaw without even pretending that it was an accident.

with none of you having a pleasant time, and feeling bad that you’re inconveniencing your friends as well as mikasa and armin, you decided to end your research session. you tidily packed up your things, marco and jean did the same knowing studying right now would be pointless.

surprisingly, eren and his friends stood up from their table, too. you glared at each other one last time before haughtily parting ways to return the books you have taken.

much to your luck, the stool you used earlier to grab one of the books from the top shelf was now missing. pouting in displeasure, you stood on the tips of your toes and tried your best to put it back in its place.

“here, kid. let me put that back up for you.” eren’s voice came up from behind you, snatching the book from your hand and placing it back on the shelf with ease.

your ears tingled at the sound of his smug voice. you didn’t have to turn around to know that he has a smug smile on his face, too.

“you’re already drinking your milk, good job.” he ruffled your hair condescendingly. “you should take naps, too.”

eren didn’t see the other book flying at his face until its thick spine hit him square in the nose.

“what the fuck?”

“thanks.” your gratitude didn’t reach your eyes nor tone.

“one day, one day i’ll have one of his teeth knocked out with my fists.” you muttered darkly while gloomily walking out of the library building.

“you are kind of short though. i don’t know what you’re mad about.” jean pointed out nonchalantly, earning him a glare from you.

“say that one more time, jean, and i’ll delete your kneecaps.”

he only grinned down at you, raising his head on purpose. “oh, yeah? because that’s all you can reach?”

you kicked him in the shin.

“ow! i’m just telling the truth!”

“and i don’t need to hear it!”

“guys, look!” marco interrupted your childish fight with jean by pointing at a bulletin board.

“the survey corps is accepting members again!”

“lame.” the light-haired male drawled.

you tilted your head in disinterest. “the cleaning crew?”

“the fuck, don’t call them that, you idiot!” jean suddenly hissed, pinching your cheek.

“but did i lie?!” you swatted his hand away. “you just called them lame, why are you getting mad at me?”

“i heard it’s a nice club though. plus the extra credits are pretty high.” marco commented, catching your and jean’s attention.

your eyes met jean’s, a knowing shine glinting between the two of you. you both looked back a marco at the same time.

“high extra credits, you say?”

the freckled male only sweatdropped. “you know, you two scare me sometimes.”

new eren fic based on the first plot i had for what we can be ! i decided to turn it into a mini written series– this is a more chaotic and even dumber version of that, actually :')

not sure if there will be a taglist for this, but if u guys want, we'll have one :)

- love zari

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

*

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs​

[cagestark]

A Hole In the Head//8

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

-

About this: 4.5k. Smoking. Alcohol. Mention of wounds, healed (burns specifically). Masturbation. Threatening as foreplay. Typical winterspider stuff. Daddy kink.

-

Hours later finds Peter still staring upwards, only the ceiling blocks his view of the stars. Most nights he crawls into bed naked (or ends up that way thanks to his lover). It’s more comfortable that way, his sensitive skin against the high thread count sheets. But Peter doesn’t hold much hope that he’ll sleep at all tonight, so instead he dons one of Tony’s dress shirts pulled from the laundry basket, pressing his nose to smell the fading cologne whenever his heart starts racing. 

The bed is far too big for one man. Far too empty. 

Peter picks up his phone and opens a message to Bucky. Come lay with me. Even though it’s two in the morning, Bucky’s response is almost instant, a bullheaded, No, that Peter can almost hear in the man’s rasping, no-nonsense voice. 

No fucking, Peter promises. He sends the message, but his thumbs hesitate over the keyboard, fluttering anxiously before he decides that nothing ventured will mean nothing gained. I can’t sleep, he admits. Help distract me?

In a few moments, the bedroom door opens a fraction and Bucky’s figure is there. He’s wearing sweatpants and an undershirt, hair mussed like maybe he was laying in bed the next room over just like Peter. The sight of him makes Peter’s heart flit upwards to his throat. He’s much more aware of his own outfit: nothing but one of Tony’s shirts and the softest boxer-briefs. 

“No fucking,” Bucky mutters. 

Peter crosses his heart. 

The snort Bucky gives shows just how much he thinks of Peter’s promise. The armchair is still beside the bed where Bucky left it earlier. Peter had thought about pushing it back to the spot in the corner, but a part of him likes the new spot for it. It was a fond reminder of the man who had just sat it in hours before and who was there again now. Maybe it was time to redecorate—call it fengshui. 

Peter settles in amongst the blankets and sheets still smelling of Tony’s scent. With his lover miles away, this is the most contentment he can find. Against his will, he feels the sting of exhaustion at the back of his eyes, the tender ache relieved only for a moment when he blinks. 

“Can you believe I don’t know anything about you,” Peter says, resting one hand beneath his cheek on the pillow.

Bucky shrugs one shoulder—the one without the terrible scarring. “Not much to know.” 

“You’re the Winter Soldier,” Peter says with no small amount of awe in his voice. The way Bucky’s shoulders tense at the title isn’t lost on him, but by then the words are already tripping their way out of his mouth. “You must have plenty of stories you could tell—” 

“They aren’t bedtime stories.” 

Peter winces. Maybe Bucky has a point. “Then just tell me about Bucky Barnes. What’s your middle name?” 

The man’s mouth twitches, his eyes glinting in a way that makes Peter feel like the butt of a joke. All at once, the expression is neutral again as Bucky says: “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Oh man,” Peter says with vicious glee. “It must be awful, then.” 

“Terrible,” Bucky agrees. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know? Pick one.” 

“Pick one for me.” 

Peter sighs. “That’s not how favorites work.” 

Bucky stares at him, solemn. “It’s not how I work, kid. I’m not that kind of man.” 

“Your favorite color is blue, now,” Peter says. “I’ve decided.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes in answer. 

“You said you lived in Russia. Were you born there?” 

“No.” 

When the man doesn’t elaborate, Peter presses. “Where were you born?” 

“The west.” 

“I’m sorry, the west? That’s not a satisfactory answer.”

“What do you want me to say?” Bucky asks. “I’m wanted internationally. Telling you anything about me could get me killed one day, or—” 

“Or?”

“Or it could get you killed,” he says, expression dark. “I have powerful enemies.” 

“Powerful allies, too,” Peter points out. “Not that I can imagine anyone ever getting one over on you.” 

“It’s happened before.” Bucky’s hand comes up to trace at his shoulder along the mottled scars that circle the shoulder joint. With the attention drawn to it, Peter allows himself to look. The skin is heavily textured, shiny pink in some lights and a dark purple in others. Fresh, he thinks. Maybe a few years old. During Tony’s employment, he thinks. “I’m human, kid.”

“Does it hurt?” Peter asks. 

Another one-armed shrug. 

“Is the person who did that—are they dead now?” A slow, mirthless smile stretches across Bucky’s face; an answer in itself. Peter finds himself mirroring it. “Good.”

Without a further thought, Peter throws the blankets off of his bare legs. Bucky’s eyes flicker over them: pale and soft with dark, sparse hair, gaze lingering on Peter’s glossy clear-polished toes. When Peter crawls towards that side of the bed, Bucky’s chin ducks down like he’s preparing for a physical attack, though the way his eyes shimmer like molten mercury makes Peter think it wouldn’t be altogether unwelcome. 

Peter opens the bedside drawer on Tony’s side of the bed. Tony’s personal handgun is gone, which makes it easy to rifle through the condoms and lube to find the half-empty tube of cream the older man had received from the dermatologist. 

“Come here,” Peter says, patting the bed. 

“Why?” Bucky asks, eyes narrowed at the tube in Peter’s hands. “No fucking.” 

“No fucking!” Peter says. It takes all the mental fortitude he has not to roll his eyes. Who could have imagined that an international assassin would be such a prude? “Tony—he’s got a scar too. They gave him this cream that he was supposed to rub on it three times a day to help the scar tissue break down and lighten, but he’s too fucking busy for that.” 

“And I’m not?”

“You’re with me two-thirds of the day,” Peter says, opening the tube. He squeezes out a generous amount of pale colored cream onto his fingers. “And I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

When Bucky makes no move to come to the bed, Peter lets his legs dangle over the edge, reaching out to where the man sits at the bedside, but before his fingers can come close to Bucky’s shoulder, the man flinches backwards, catching Peter’s wrist in a fierce grip. 

“Don’t,” Bucky rasps. “You don’t have to touch it.” 

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Peter scoffs. The grip around Peter’s wrist tightens to the point of pain before going slack again, Bucky’s thumb pressed against his pulse point which must be hammering. “When will you learn that there’s not a person in the world who could make me do something I didn’t want to do?” 

After a long moment, Bucky lets go. 

Gentle, Peter lets his fingers trace over the ring of scars. It lacks the clear edges of Tony’s stab wound; if Peter had to guess (which he doesn’t, he doesn’t have to think at all about what gave Bucky those scars, about how badly it must have hurt, about how long it must have taken him to heal), he would say that the scars look like burns. 

The scars don’t have the same texture as the surrounding skin, no softness, no stretch. Peter rubs the cream in with the utmost care, working hard not to cause any pain. He coaxes Bucky’s arm to shift so that he can reach the scars that extend towards his armpit and then stands, t-shirt touching his thighs to walk around the other side of the man and make sure every inch of tissue receives the same attention. 

“I hate this.” Bucky’s voice makes him jump, jerking him from where he’d become lost in his own thoughts and in the pleasant monotony. His hand freezes, but Bucky goes on: “I hate the way I am around you.”

“Nobody said you had to be such a hardass,” Peter says. He reaches out and gathers Bucky’s hair where it’s falling onto his shoulder and getting stuck in the cream. When his fingers brush the back of the man’s neck as he brushes the hair to the other side of his head, Bucky shivers. 

“That’s how I’m supposed to be,” Bucky rasps. “I hate how you make me so—” 

Bucky cuts himself off and Peter waits one endless moment before he prods the other man. “So?” 

“Weak.” 

Peter isn’t sure what to say. There’s a queasiness in his stomach. He remembers when things started to get serious with Tony, when his older lover had explained that affection was weakness. There’s a reason why cold men make it so far. When you fall in love with something, it becomes a part of you, an extension of you. Suddenly, you’re taking up more space in the world, Tony had said. The man had turned his hand into a makeshift gun, pressing the barrel of his pointer finger to his temple. Bigger targets are always easier to hit, sweet thing. 

He’d lifted a hand, shifting it between Tony’s finger and his head. Then, it had frightened Peter. Tony was right; love could be a liability. But after Beck, Peter knew that for people like them, that wasn’t true. Love could make him colder, braver, bolder. Strong. 

When he opens his mouth to tell Bucky that, he notices that the man’s head has slackened, body loose in the chair. One glance at his face shows that he has fallen asleep. 

-

Peter falls asleep himself, somehow. When he wakes he can see the dim signs of impending morning through the window, but the chair beside the bed is empty. He stretches, groaning with satisfaction before reaching for his phone on the nightstand to make sure that he hasn’t missed his morning Facetime with Tony. 

He has a handful of unread messages from the man, which is more than he fell asleep with hours ago. Smile stretching his face, Peter opens with one hand while the other reaches down to palm his morning wood (more out of habit than anything else). When he sees the wall of text sent, eyes skimming it quickly, he squeezes his erection tightly and hisses through his teeth. 

Fuck kid, Tony begins. I just finished that footage and I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard in my life. I’d kill to have been a fly on the wall, to hear whatever filth he was spewing in your ear. How did his cock feel pressed against you, honey? Looks like it felt good with the way you rutted against him like an animal. You looked like an absolute slut pinned underneath him and so desperate for whatever scraps he’d toss you. When I’m home, I want to see you suck him off and show him your gratitude properly, is that understood? 

If there’s any doubt how I feel about this, see the enclosed.

Next Tony sent a video. The thumbnail tells Peter everything: just a still of Tony’s shirtless torso. He clicks on it frantically and makes it full screen, mashing the button to turn up the volume. For being in his forties, Tony looks incredible. He’d worked hard with the physical therapists hired to come to the mansion after Beck, and it shows in the flat lines of his abs. Dark hair is smattered across his chest and then against below his belly-button. The scar at the center of his chest is dark with shadows from the dim lighting. 

Tony fiddles with the placement of the phone until it is propped up on what appears to be the desk of his hotel room. A glass rests just barely in view, drained. Tony sits back in his chair, the movement flexing the muscles in his core. Peter can only see him from nose to knee, but it’s more than enough. His dress pants are open, cock tenting his boxer-briefs obscenely. But he doesn’t touch it; instead, he takes a package of cigarettes from where they rest offscreen on the desk and expertly taps one free. Just the sight of his capable hands has Peter’s throat bobbing, the hand on his cock squeezing to the point of pain just to pace himself. 

Tony lights the cigarette with the lighter Peter bought him at the mall, and Peter swears he can feel the flame. 

“There’s no smoking in this room,” Tony says after the flame catches. “But with a sinful little thing like you at home, a fee is the least of my worries. I haven’t smoked cigarettes in over a decade, pumpkin. You see what you’re doing to me?” 

Holding the cigarette in his lips, Tony reaches down to work his cock free. The sight of it evokes a physical response, Peter’s mouth salivating, his throat tightening. Leisurely, Tony fists it while his other hand comes up to take the cigarette from his mouth, smoke rushing from his nose. 

“You can show this to him, if you feel so inclined. If you really think he’s interested.” The handsome, full mouth twists into a smirk. “You know I’m not shy. And if he’s going to have you, he’s going to have to get used to me, too. The things I’m going to have him do to you,” Tony sighs wistfully, shaking his head to clear the illusions. “You’ve got no idea what you’re in for. I’m going to take you apart, sweet thing, and he’s going to be the tool that does it for me.”

Peter can imagine. Beneath the sheets, he shimmies his underwear off and runs his fingers over his cock. All at once he remembers that he isn’t allowed to touch himself and his expression sours. On screen, Tony taps ash onto the desk. Peter hopes he has to pay a big fine. Huge, he thinks sulkily. 

But if Peter is anything, he is resourceful. Rolling into his stomach (kicking when his legs get all twisted up in the sheets), he presses a pillow down between his legs and groans at the pressure on his aching cock. It’s juvenile, but it will work, and if Tony didn’t want him to exploit loopholes in his orders, then he shouldn’t have left the loopholes in the first place. He turns his head until his cheek is pressed into the pillow, holding the phone inches from his face. 

Tony’s stamina and cool head always impress Peter. Surely it is something that comes from twenty more years of experience, but Tony always strokes his cock like he has all the time in the world, like he’s savoring the feeling of himself in his hand and cumming is secondary. His knees are spread wide, the perfect place for Peter to kneel between. 

Behind him, the door opens. 

He sucks in a breath, rolling onto his side to take in Bucky’s figure where he leans against the doorframe, eyes narrowed at Peter’s suspicious figure on the bed. Peter lets his back arch, emphasizing the obscene curve of his ass where he continues to rut against the pillow, leaking precum. 

“Jesus, kid, it isn’t even eight AM. What the fuck has you so worked up?” 

Peter grins. Holding up the phone, he says, “A gift. From Tony.” 

A muscle in Bucky’s jaw twitches as if he is clenching his teeth. The otherwise unimpressed look stays on his face until Peter adds: “He says it’s for you, too.” 

A normal person might react with interest, pleasure. Bucky looks as if he’s only been pushed a fraction closer to a murderous rampage. He stalks closer to the bed, boots silent against the floor. How a man with so much mass is so quiet, Peter will never know. “The fuck do you mean it’s for me?”

When he gets close enough, his eyes flit to the phone and there’s no hiding the widening of his gaze. His whole expression shudders as it struggles to return to a more neutral position, but it’s difficult when those pale eyes are glued to Tony’s tan hand where it leisurely jerks the impressive cock between his legs. Has Bucky always been this expressive, Peter wonders, or is Peter just getting better at reading the few expressions he has?

It was one thing to hear Tony’s sinful mouth yesterday on the phone, but it’s another thing entirely to be confronted with the image of it, the overt sexuality of the cigarette dangling from his lips, the way his head tilts back on screen as he draws closer to his orgasm. All this and Peter hasn’t taken his eyes off of Bucky’s face. On screen, Tony mutters, fuck kid, take it, and Bucky’s pupils dilate, and Peter is lost, the phone lax in his hand as he presses his face into the pillow until its hard to breathe, hips jerking through his orgasm.

He comes to in time to lift his head and watch Tony cum, all the muscles in his abdomen thrown into sharp definition as his hips jerk upwards into the tight circle of his fist, cum pale where it lands on his tan skin and the dark fabric of his dress pants. The groan he gives is music to Peter’s ears, one hand coming up to take the cigarette from his mouth so that he can pant properly. 

“Look what you fucking do to me,” Tony sighs smoke curling from his mouth. “And nobody here to clean me up. What a tragedy. Shakespearean proportions. Next time I cum, I’m doing it down your throat, sweet thing. Be good for Bucky. I love you.” 

He stands onscreen, tucking his softening cock back into his dress pants (though he leaves them undone as he reaches out and turns off the video). Peter dares to give Bucky a glance and finds him glaring at the phone. He waits to see what the other man might do, but eventually the phone screen goes dark and still Bucky stares, now at his own reflection. 

He drops the phone onto the bed with a quiet thud, fingers flexing and smoothing at his jeans as if he’s trying to wipe away a filthy touch. When he speaks again, it’s with a mixture of hostility and resignation that makes Peter shiver: “He knows.” 

“If you mean how obsessed you are with him, then he doesn’t. But to be fair,” says Peter, edging towards the far side of the bed just in case he decides to run for it. “You’re a little obvious.” 

“Obvious?” The word comes from Bucky’s mouth sounding like a curse. He shifts on instinct until he is between Peter and the one exit. Fucking assassins. “I’ve worked for him for eight years and he never caught on. Three weeks with you and now I’m fucked. What did you tell him?” 

“All I said was that I thought you had a hard-on for him!” Peter says. He pulls the blankets up, cocooning himself in soft cotton. A slip of dark fabric appears - his boxers, score! - so he works to tug them on instead. “He seemed shocked, but in a good way. Look, I don’t want to be presumptuous or anything, but I feel like this is a very natural progression given where we were heading. I don’t get why you’re freaking out.” 

“You don’t understand,” Bucky mutters. He breaks from standing between Peter and the door and chooses to sit in the chair Peter is beginning to think of as his. Slumped over, he looks like the picture of dejection. He mutters something under his breath but it doesn’t sound like English. 

With all the care of a man approaching a feral animal, Peter carefully slips off the bed (tugs up his boxers the rest of the way, even if there is cooling cum clinging to his well-trimmed pubes) and pads to the chair Bucky occupies. The carpet is soft and not uncomfortable to kneel on. When he tilts his head to rest it on Bucky’s jean-clad knee, the man flinches. After a long, still moment, he lets a hand come down to pat condescendingly at Peter’s head. 

Rolling his eyes, Peter says, “I don’t understand. Then tell me.” 

Bucky lets out a breath. He tugs on a lock of Peter’s hair until Peter turns, resting his chin on the man’s thigh to look up into his tired, uncertain face. “You want to know more about me? Tony is all that’s worth mentioning. This thing with you,” he begins. “It’s big. I’m not saying it isn’t. But this - thing - I’ve had for Tony? It’s been so long. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s formative. It made me.” 

“I still don’t get it.” 

“I’m still talking, aren’t I? Do I sound finished?” 

“Start from the beginning.” 

“You’re a bossy little shit,” Bucky mutters, flicking Peter between the eyes. “There’s going to be none of that when we’re fucking, you know that right?” 

Peter grins. “We’ll see. Quit stalling.” 

“About eight years ago, I reached the end of my rope. Lost my mind, a little. I convinced myself that I was being followed, that the people I worked for had put a hit out on me, and I ended up isolating myself in a tiny cabin - somewhere, don’t give me that fucking look, kid, be lucky I’m telling you this much. I was there for twenty days. Starving to death. Spiraling...then one day out of the fucking blue, Natasha called me.”

“Nat?” Peter asks, eyebrows raised. “You two knew each other?” 

Bucky nods and doesn’t deign to explain their relationship any further. “She called me to say she’d been stateside for three years, working for a man she couldn’t even name over the phone. She promised that if I ever wanted a change of scenery, I could catch a plane and there would be a job waiting for me.

“I thought it was a plot. Maybe she was in on it with the others, maybe they were just trying to lure me out. Maybe there was no job, maybe as soon as I stepped foot outside, they’d have my location confirmed and they’d send someone to kill me. The no food, no water just made me more paranoid. In the end, I told myself that even if it all was a plot - if I died trying to get out - it wouldn’t matter. Who’d fucking care if I died? Not anyone I worked for. Not Natasha. Not some boss in New York City. Least of all me. 

“So I caught a plane to New York, drank water out of the faucet in a bathroom at JFK International and met up with Nat. She took me to Le Cinq in downtown Manhattan, that fancy French place. Fuck, I must have looked like a nutcase walking in there, smelling like a homeless person, thin enough that a stiff enough wind could have carried me away. And there I was surrounded by all these white table clothes and maître d’s, luxury like I’d never been treated to. Then there was Tony, sitting alone at a table dressed in one of his suits but without the jacket. He stood up when he saw us coming, like some kind of gentleman in one of those old black and white movies. You know what he looks like. But it was more than that. He’s got a presence, and once I was in it, something inside me just - burst.  

“We’d never even fuckin’ met. Never even spoken. But I told him that my gun was his, my skills were his, my life was his, if he wanted it. We hadn’t even sat down yet. He asked me what did I want, and I said I didn’t know. Trust, maybe. Rest, but I didn’t fucking say that. And he just smiled and said, ‘well, how about a hamburger’?” 

“No,” Peter says, one hand clutching at his bare chest. “No, tell me you did not force Audric Ansel, head chef of Le Cinq, make you a fucking hamburger at the finest Parisian restaurant in the tri-state area. They don’t even have beef on the menu.” 

“I didn’t,” Bucky says. He reaches out and threads his fingers into Peter’s hair, pulling to coax him to rest his head back on the man’s thigh. Just that act of dominance alone starts a fire simmering low in Peter’s belly. “Tony did. Is that the only point you took from that story? Shows how fucking often I’ll open up to you.”

“Not the only point,” Peter says, eyes heavy lidded. He’d need a few more minutes to become hard again, but that doesn’t mean his cock doesn’t tingle with the threat of it. “I know now that you’re in love with him.” 

Peter feels viscerally when Bucky’s hand tightens in his hair, pulling at his scalp to the point of pain. He loosens them right away at the wince on Peter’s face, patting clumsily as if to soothe the ache he caused. 

“If you tell him,” Bucky warns. “I’ll make you regret it.” 

“Fuck, yes, threaten me again,” Peter groans lowly. He has to bite off the end of that sentence, the way the word daddy came so easily to his tongue. But the other man isn’t ready for that, hasn’t expressed any interest in it. Not to mention, maybe it makes him a sentimental fool, but Tony is the only man he’s ever called daddy, and it doesn’t feel right to pass the moniker along. Not without permission. Peter opens his mouth wide and plants his teeth into the muscular thigh that was resting beneath his cheek. When he pulls back, there is a shadow of the imprint in the denim. “It turns me on.” 

Bucky pulls his hair again, this time harsh and purposeful. Peter’s neck cracks, an unsettling sensation that makes him shiver. He leans down until his breath fans across Peter’s upturned face. “I mean it.” 

There is a real trace of fear that trickles down the back of Peter’s neck, but he leans into it. This is what he wanted. A dangerous man brings danger with him. His mouth opens to taunt Bucky more but the eyes - those pale, sea spray eyes - they are wild. Maybe frightened. It takes herculean effort to decide between egging the man on and comforting him. Well - it takes effort to choose what he knows to be right. 

“I’m joking,” Peter says, throat hoarse from how his neck is exposed. “I won’t tell him.” 

He’s left pinned under that fervent gaze for a few more endless seconds and then Bucky’s fist loosens. Brings him back down to rest his head where he had moments ago planted his cheek. Between Peter’s legs, he is throbbing. He can’t help but reach a hand down to palm at the tented fabric of his boxers. 

“None of that,” Bucky says sternly. “Jesus, how desperate are you? You came just fifteen minutes ago and you’re already thirsty for more. You’re going to learn some patience, kid, if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Good luck,” says Peter, breathless.

[buckysgoldenheart]

Hotel Room: August Walker x Reader

Summary: August, sick of you jumping from location to location trying to escape him, broke into your hotel room to interrogate you about you leaving him months earlier. 

Words: 2952

(First Person) (Both August x Y/N POVs)

**It is August, but in my head August isn’t evil, more just temporarily morally confused, so in this he’s an okay guy.**

Warnings/notes: angst, fluff, internal emotional thoughts (which always make me uncomfortable), mentions of sex. cursing somewhere.

****So the edit directly below was done by @eastwesthomeisbest for this story. I meant to add this to my story ages ago but something reminded me today, and i’m glad it did, because this edit made me so happy that I wanted to share it again. I love it so much! All of the edits made by @eastwesthomeisbest are freakin amazing!****

August POV

I would wait all night in this room if I had to, just to see her face and find the look I am horribly desperate to see in those eyes. The one I hope will reassure me of her feelings.

I want to believe that she can’t fool me; that I am as confident in her love as I seem to be, but she rules me in every way. If at any time, any single moment, anywhere, in front of the entire world, she told me to kneel before her, I would kneel like the begging puppy she doesn’t even know I am.

The silver knob of the door jiggles the slightest and a sudden fear bubbles up inside me that squashes my determined facade like a fly. What if she isn’t alone? What if she has some unworthy idiot she plans to take to her bed?

But no. Thank God.

Once on this side of the door, she closes it quietly behind her as if not to disturb anyone sleeping in the same hall and leans her forehead against the wood. She sighs, and I worry over that sound.

She doesn’t look up when she asks how long I have been in her room. She sighs again, and I worry again. I can feel her exhaustion from 10 feet away. It floats to me, hoping I might let some of the burden seep into me through my every pore just to relieve her. And if it were a physical possibility, I wouldn’t hesitate to take not just some of it, but all, until nothing weighed her down and she could straighten her spine for the first time in a while.

“Not long.” I say, pushing myself upright from my leaned position on the wall beside her.

She lifts her head and graces me with a glance. A tired glance, but something of a gift, nonetheless. “Get out. I’m in no mood.”

I cross my arms because they make my muscles bulge in a way that she could never resist. And I think that if that doesn’t get to her, well, at least it shows her I’m still strong, I’m still determined, despite how being around her always turns my brain to jelly. “I need to talk to you. That’s all I want.”

She would groan if she had the energy. I can tell by the way her lips thin when I say anything. “Then speak if you find it so absolutely necessary but make it quick, will you. And skip the part explaining how you found me again. I’m getting really tired of the whole ‘you’re not good at covering your tracks’ bit.”

I’m pushing her to the brink. She fakes nonchalance, but she’s irritated, at best. She’s the kind of irritated that has the ability to turn into something much worse over time, and I know if a baseball bat were nearby, mustering enough strength to beat me to a bloody pulp would not be as hard for her as I wish; but she has yet to kill me, so I say: “Fine. I am in love with you.”

She scoffs and puts her hands on her hips. My hips. They belong to me. They are for me to touch and grab and love. “So you have said, repeatedly. Is that it?”

“You are in love with me too, and I want you to come home.”

A beautiful, sarcastic chuckle sings in my ears. “Wow.”

“The truth is the truth.”

“I am not in love with you!”

“Yes, you are.”

She rolls her eyes, but all it does is lighten my heart. “You really are insane.”

“You love me. You do now, and you did when you somehow managed to pack up and leave in the middle of the night without me noticing. Which I still can’t figure out. Until that night, you couldn’t so much as shift in the bed beside me without me waking to make sure you were fine and safe.” I shake my head. I had replayed that night in my head too often for any sane man, and still couldn’t understand how she disappeared like a wraith. “But I woke up the next morning with you not next to me, because somehow you had slipped away without a trace.

“Apparently not, seeing as how you keep finding me wherever I go.”

“I told you a long time ago, I would always find you. If anything ever happened, I would protect my woman.”

“I’m not your—”

“I know you don’t want to believe it, because I was a bad guy who did some bad things; a bad guy you heard had done even worse things, unspeakable things, but this feeling is real despite that. Our connection…”

“We have no connection!” She yells before running her hands down her face. She is tired of this, but if I give up now, she will never allow the word ‘love’ to pass my lips in her presence again, if she even chose to speak to me.

“Y/N, I don’t want to be without you. I can’t stand another second without being able to have you, or hold you, or kiss you, or make love--”

“Stop it, August!” She snaps. “You live in fantasies and think just because you say things over and over that they eventually become truth and everyone around you will accept it as such.”

“We are not a fantasy! You and me, we are--”

“We are nothing!”

A quiver echoes around the room.

A crack in her shell.

Tears began to dribble down the soft cheeks I once kissed.

I move but she steps back with every inch I advance until the icy chill of the wall is flush against her back. And I see it: false hatred masking underlying fear in her eyes; a fear she has had since we met, a fear of loving me.

I brace an arm on the wall, my palm flat next to her face as my other moves to her body, down her arm, to the curve of her waist, to the silky soft flesh peeking from under her sweater for me to stroke with my thumb as the rest of my fingers firmly grip her hip. My hip.

“We are everything to each other…and you know it,” I say as I meet her eyes. They glisten, wet and shiny and beautiful in a way I hoped I would never be the cause of. Her teary gaze is unblinking, in utter disbelief that I was touching her again, that she was letting me touch her again.

“Don’t,” is all she whispers; one final plea as I firmly grasp the last brick of the wall she put up to keep me out and throw it away, out of sight where it could never be found again…I hope.

“August…” Another whisper.

“Y/N, I know I scared you and I know you heard a lot of bad things about me, but I would never hurt you, ever. And I’ll step away, I will, I promise I will, if you tell me to.” I never wanted to lie to her, but as the last of those words come out of my mouth, I know that is exactly what they are: A lie. I won’t ever step away.

I inch my head down to hers, my face closer to hers, my lips a hairs width away from hers, praying she won’t shove me away.

“Just tell me to.” I whisper against her lips.

But she doesn’t and so I press my lips to hers, taking her rosy, plump bottom one between my own.

She tastes the same. Too many months without this taste is like coming home after being at war and I savor every single generous second.

Then I feel it. A movement of her lips over mine, a small pressure that forces a moan from my throat, tingling both of our lips. I don’t waste another beat pulling her to me. Remembering this sensation of our bodies molded so perfectly together is intoxicating. I won’t, I can’t let her go. Not now. Not ever again.

 Y/N POV

I’m still.

So still.

I can’t move, and I tell myself it is only because he has trapped me; that my anger is strong enough to paralyze me; that he is abusing me, and I just see too much red to focus on that fact. I tell myself that the chill running down my spine is from the wall he has me up against.

He looks at me like he wants me. It’s the way he has always looked at me. Devouring. Begging. Desperate.

He is moving, somehow closer than he already is and my body reacts to him, sensing a familiar stinging heat though his skin has yet to touch mine. I can feel my heart’s uncontrollable excitement and I’m screaming for it to shut up, to stop beating for him, stop humming for him, just stop living if that’s what it takes for him to go away. But it won’t, or can’t, or just doesn’t want to. I have no idea anymore, but I can’t look away from the hand inching its way toward my arm.

If you touch me, I will kill you, I repeat over in my head.

But it, he, moves closer.

If you touch me, I will kill you.

And closer.

If you touch me…

He looks at me, right in the Y/E/C of my eyes and the air is sucked from my lungs.

…I will kill you.

Then he touches me.

His hand rests gently on my shoulder and skims down my arm over the fabric of my too-thin sweater. My waist feels it and my belly flops as he strokes the skin that hasn’t felt his touch in months. It sings for him, my skin. It cries in relief and thanks me for not shoving him away.

Finally, it moans.

I think this must stop, now. Break the contact. Don’t let him control you. You have fought so hard to become the woman you are, a woman who needs no one, and now is not the time to give in to this feeling, but it feels so good and he has only stroked a thumb, a simple thumb, along an insignificant amount of my skin.

I am numb to everything but the fire of his fingertips.

“Don’t.” What a pathetic whisper. A lie.

But his gaze is unwavering.

“August…” I cry his name in my head over and over, but once again, my mouth fails me and it comes out so quietly, so soft.

He tells me he will stop if I tell him to. But his face is so close, his lips are so close. I feel his puffs of breath stroke my skin and it warms me from head to toe.

He whispers something again, but the blood rushing in my ears doesn’t allow me to comprehend. I think I need to pull away.

Not now, my mind screams at me. Don’t be an idiot, it yells.

He kisses me and my brain shuts down. I only feel softness and slight pressure and a moan that tingles my lips, but I can’t tell who it came from.

The taste is the same. His taste is the same. It’s sweet with hints of whiskey he must have had recently and it shoves me back in time, into the body of the woman who let her guard down and was dumb enough to fall in love with a man like him. Then I move my lips, just my lips, and I’m pulled so close to him. I feel his muscles; firm ridges and valleys through his shirt against my stomach and breasts.

It’s too much and not enough.

My hands seem to rise on their own accord and slide to his arms, up to his shoulders; the opposite trail he had touched me with. He groans into our kiss as his arms hold me tighter than I thought possible.

By the time my fingers are resting on the back of his neck, pressing his lips harder to mine in the first greedy act I have taken, he’s hoisted me up. His hands grasp my bottom to secure me and I am forced to remember the last night we had together before I left.

Every feeling I had the last time I was on top of him, sinking down onto him, moving my hips in a way that made us practically weep from pleasure, swallows me whole. I remember the feel of his fingers as he grabbed my backside to keep me firm against him.

Imprints were left that night. Stinging from where he would roughly slap a cheek. Bite marks on my shoulders, my neck, my breasts, that didn’t disappear for days. He made sure to claim me in every way possible again and again.

And now he was back for me, my heart, my soul, my love. And he would not waste a single drop of the flood that was pouring out of me.

I plant my palms on the stubble of his jaw and tilt my head, parting my lips to give us the chance to deepen this kiss, and it allows him to slip his silky, soft tongue in to caress mine.

He turns us and walks to the large bed in the middle of the room, never breaking our kiss, before gently laying me down on the plush comforter and ripping his shirt off over his head.

He really is the same, I think. Everything is exactly the same. Perfect in every single way. Strong shoulders, and thick arms, and toned abs that lead down to a defined V that disappears under the waist of his pants. And he’s looking at me like I brought him back to life, just like he did for me before I ran.

“Come here.” I whisper, reaching out a hand for him to take; reassuring him that I want him, this, everything he has to offer me.

He gives me a tentative look and for once I see the vulnerability that being together can bring out in us. He’d perfected his craft of illusion long ago, but now I sense little of that mask.

August takes my hand in his and I tug lightly. He catches himself from falling completely on top of me and gently lowers his body onto mine in the most delightfully sensual way anyone could.

 August POV

She’s looking at me in a way that’s going to destroy me from the inside out; like I’ve hung the sun that only shines for her, and all I want is to see that look every minute of every day until I’ve memorized it so well I see it in my sleep.

‘Come here,’ she says, and reaches out her delicate hand. Fuck, I remember those hands on my body, and I’m almost not sure I can handle it again. If I have her now, I will need her forever, and it’s terrifying how much I want it.

But I take her hand and let her pull my body on top of hers, and I kiss her because I have to. Because if I don’t, I will lose my damn mind. It’s a horrifying feeling that only her lips can relieve, and I drink in every second that she lets me savor this; that she lets me kiss her top lip and then her bottom; lets me delicately bite one.

And when she moans, dear god, when she moans, my whole body tenses with desire for her. I want to wrap myself around her and run my hands through her silky, Y/H/C waves. I want to tear her sweater off and slip her pants down, until she is bare for me and me only, so I can show her just how in love with her I really am.

I want to feel every inch of her and rediscover every dimple in her flesh, every freckle, and every tiny mole that even she doesn’t know she has. Every scratch, every scar, and that section of stretch marks that I once ran my fingers along before trailing the length of them with kisses, I want only to be for me.

No one else, right? I want to ask her. There’s no other man but me, is there? Please let there be no one else. But she loops her arms around my neck and tugs me closer like she wants me to sink into her so we can just be one, and my mind momentarily flies out the window. Other men or not, from now on she is mine.

Then she pulls away and I’m afraid I’ve suddenly scared her, desperately wracking my brain for what I could’ve done in a matter of seconds. But she takes in a deep breath and her Y/E/C eyes meet mine as my name is lucky enough to be a sigh that passes through her plump lips.

“August…” She says again, and I close my eyes, dipping my forehead down to hers. I inhale and exhale. I would wait a million years for any words she would be willing to give me. “I do love you.”

And I was right.

She is going to destroy me.

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

tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz @xceafh @jazzwoman897 @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999 @ufffg @debra77 @rebelliouscat @anise-d-castle6 @projectxhappiness @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @lowkeysebby @notmyfault404 @jjamesbbarness @guera31 @sophiatomlinson23​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @hiddles-rose​ @mywinterwolf​ @picapicapicassobaby​ @genius2050​ @lokilvrr​ @sunshine-seven​ @missjayi​ @agniavateira​ @tumblenewby 

[flannels-and-fannypacks]

Will They Won’t They | Part 2/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 7.5k

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears & ANGST

A/N: hey babes it’s drea posting :) i hope you enjoy this part as much as mimi and i did writing it! again, if you enjoy our writing, please like, comment, and reblog! and if you want to be updated, dm us to join our taglist! sending my love - drea :) 

“Come on, let me take you out! We need to get you a new outfit for the gig coming up,” Rose insisted, dragging you to her car. 

“Who said I was coming?” you frowned stubbornly, tugging your arms back but to no avail. 

“I did, now let's go,” she strongly urged, pushing you into the backseat while she hopped in the passenger side and Luke hopped in the driver’s seat. 

“Rose, he’s coming too! Oh, hell no!” you refused, giving the boy a pointed look. 

“Sorry (N/N), I can’t drive this car, it doesn’t have learner’s insurance,” Rose apologized. 

“Nice to see you Lady Bunny,” Luke grinned with a wink and you sighed. 

“Okay, let’s just get this over with, okay?” you prompted and Luke nodded turning the keys in the ignition. 

“Whatever you say bunny, you’re the boss.” 

“Would you stop calling me that Patterson, it’s worse than when Reggie calls me Cookie,” you grumbled, your nose scrunching up in disgust. 

“Oh lighten up, at least you’ve got some cute nicknames,” Rose chuckled and reached a hand back to hold yours. “We’re gonna have a blast (N/N), just trust me.”

Walking past countless amounts of stores, it seemed as though Rose’s plan to find you something nice to wear was pointless. You and Rose had very different ideas of fashion, ideas that clashed far too much for Rose’s liking. 

“There’s no way I’m wearing that!” you exclaimed, eyeing the brightly colored jacket in Rose’s hand. 

“It’s so pretty though!” she insisted. “The texture, the color, the price? It’s a bargain, (N/N)!”

You rolled your eyes. “Then you buy it for yourself,” you told her, pulling out a simple knit sweater from the rack.

“You know what, I will,” Rose settled before looking at the sweater in your hand. “Oh you can’t wear that! You’ll look like a grandma who got lost at a rock concert!”

You frowned at your friend, holding the sweater to your chest. “I always wear things like this,” you pointed out, slightly hurt.

Rose tugged the sweater out of your hand and shoved it back into the rack. Luke popped his head up from the other side of the rack. “Yeah, but at a rock gig, you can’t go as your typical self. A poor little bunny like you would never survive a place like that,” he explained with a pout. 

“Lord, have mercy,” you grabbed your necklace pendant and kissed it, frowning when you realized you weren’t wearing your normal silver cross. 

“Is that like some white person good luck thing you picked up?” she asked suspiciously and you chuckled. 

“No, I just thought I was wearing a different necklace. I don't know how I could have mistaken it.” 

“What is it?” Rose inquired further, taking the pendant from your hands and looking at the details. “A horseshoe? I didn’t take you for a horse girl.” 

“Yeah- no, I’m not… Reggie gave it to me in middle school, he won it at a county fair or something, I can’t remember,” you explained. 

“Reggie gave it to you?” Luke inquired. 

“Thought I said that already Patterson,” you shot back with a roll of your eyes. 

Luke fought the urge to say something sarcastic back to you. “No, I’m just- Reggie?” he repeated. “I thought he...hates you, and vice versa.”

You walked down the aisle, skimming through the various articles of clothing. “And you’d be correct,” you told him. 

“It was before you moved here,” Rose explained. “She and Reggie used to be best friends up until middle school,” 

“Yep, but that’s in the past and we’re in the present so let’s focus on that,” you rushed, already feeling uncomfortable about the topic.

“No let's not,” Luke rested his forearms on the rack in front of you, resting his chin on top of them. “Tell us more,” he pleaded, pouting like a child.

You glared at the boy, tossing a sequined shirt at his face, making him stagger back. “And why should I, it’s none of your business, no offense Rose, and I’ll probably tell you at some point anyway,” 

“None taken cariña,” she chuckled and continued looking for some clothing that would be appropriate for the gig. 

Luke sighed, following close behind you. “But why can’t you tell me now?” he whined like a child. “I adopted you-”

“Against my will,” you cut in, flicking his forehead.

“Details,” he insisted. “I’m just saying, shouldn’t we be close now? Don’t you trust me?” 

You took a deep breath. “Of course I do, Luke,” you reassured him, your patience thinning. 

“Then why not tell me?” he pressed.

“Because it hurts!” you finally broke. 

The two friends seemed to freeze at your sudden exclamation. The quiet small girl was cracking and revealing the broken china doll inside. 

“It hurts, okay?” you repeated. “And having to tell the story of how I lost my best friend for some stupid reason that I don’t even know...it hurts beyond belief. The worst part is that he probably doesn’t even care. I loved him, okay? I loved him because he was my best friend. Even when I had no one I had Reggie and I used to think that nothing in the world could ever tear us apart.” you admitted. “When we stopped talking, he took a piece of me with him. And I know that I am never going to get that back.” 

Luke quietly moved over and past the racks of clothing pulling you into his chest and giving you a tight squeeze. 

“Bunny I’m so sorry. I had no idea,”

You let out a humorless laugh. “No one knew,” you told him. “It’s not your fault, Luke, you were just curious.” 

“Still,” Luke said. “I feel so bad. Maybe I could try and talk to him and-”

You shook your head repeatedly. “Maybe let’s not,” you countered. “It’s in the past now. There’s nothing I can really do about it and the last thing I want to do is rope my friends into this, too.” 

“Well then how about this,” Rose suggested, giving you a prompt to change the topic while holding up a long sleeved white turtleneck along with an oversized black shirt sporting the album art of a famous rock band.

“I actually think I might be able to tolerate that,” you let out a soft chuckle. 

“I’m hoping you have some ripped jeans at home, maybe some converse?”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m not entirely hopeless,” you assured them and Rose laughed while Luke just pulled you in tighter for a brotherly hug. 

“Look at you being mature! We love you, bunny,” he told you, swaying as he held you tight in his arms. 

“Love you, too, I guess, Patterson,” you laughed. “Let me go, you’re crushing me!”

The second Luke pulled away, he leaned back in to ruffle your hair. “Now come on, Bunny, the gig starts in three hours. You all down for lunch?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you nodded. “Why not?” you replied. 

Rose wrapped an arm around the both of you. “Anything but hotdogs,” she giggled. 

“Agreed!” you quickly vetoed any other option and ran giggling with Rose to grab lunch leaving Luke to pay for the clothes. You were lucky he adopted you otherwise that would be a tricky one to get out of. 

—

“I feel like this is an illegal number of questions to have on a test, it’s literally taking so long to mark these,” you grumbled to yourself, scribbling notes with red ink on the margins of the freshman biology test. 

You had lost count of how many detentions had passed and lost track of how many were still to come, at this rate they could go on until the end of the year and in all honesty you probably wouldn’t notice. 

You looked over at Reggie who was marking some short answer questions on a test, seeing his bright red check mark where there clearly shouldn’t have been one. 

“That’s wrong”, you said, looking back down at your paper. 

“What do you mean?” 

“That. You marked it right, it’s wrong,” 

“Why?” he asked curiously, putting his pen down so he could listen to you. 

“Because,” you sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “the mitochondria is not the party house of the cell,” 

“Well I say the mitochondria can do whatever it wants,” Reggie proclaimed, adding another check mark to the test. “Because it’s the boss,” 

“No that’s the nucleus,” 

“The what?” he formed and you banged your head on the desk in front of you, 

“How in the world did you pass freshman science,”

“Like the rest of us, I cheated,” he countered and you looked at him with a shocked expression on your face. “Oh my God, lighten up Cookie, I was kidding, it’s been four years and I’ve barely taken any science classes since I just forgot,” he rolled his eyes. 

You moved your head back to your work, only to toss the pen down in frustration moments later to try and massage a hand cramp. 

“Stupid pen, stupid tests, stupid detention,” you grumbled under your breath, honestly feeling like you wanted to cry. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sat back in your seat, debating whether you should fake an emergency so you could just go home. 

Reggie silently reached over to your pile of tests and eyeballed splitting it in half, taking the unmarked tests and placing them in his own pile. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said flatly. 

“Sooner we finish the sooner we can go home and it didn’t seem like you were going to go any faster,” 

You stayed silent for a moment, carefully reaching for your own again before whispering, “Thanks,” to which Reggie only gave you a nod. 

The silence between you both was excruciating. It shouldn’t have been this way, it should have been easy to talk to him like it always used to be. 

So, you took a deep breath and unclenches your jaw, casually continuing to write while asking, 

“So how’s the band?” 

There was a short silence, probably due to his slight shock in you even asking or trying to have a civil conversation and his first instinct as usual was to block it. 

“Why do you care?”

You rolled your eyes and continued to do your work, at least you tried that was all you could do. The ball was in his court. 

When he looked up and saw your tired expression he realized there really didn’t seem to be an ulterior motive at this point so with an audible sigh he answered, 

“It’s great, we’re working on writing songs for our demo CD,” 

You nodded and checked off some multiple choice questions before you heard Reggie clear his throat and spoke again, 

“How about you? How’s the family?” 

“They’re alright,” you said, your lips pressed in a thin line. “I mean as good as they can be. Things haven’t changed much.” 

Reggie nodded in understanding, aware of your family’s financial situation. 

“Is that why you push yourself?” he asked again. You froze, your hand holding the grading pen not moving. “Hours in the library, studying until your brain practically explodes with information.” You raised an eyebrow curiously at him, making him blush sheepishly. “I just know from uh, Mr. Mallard. He likes to talk, you and I both know that.” With a small smile on your face, you nodded. 

“I guess you’re right,” you finally answered. “If I get a scholarship maybe I can at least make my way through a degree without plummeting further into debt.” You kicked aimlessly at the floor. “I just feel so guilty. Like...if I don’t do the right thing or make one stupid mistake I’ll disappoint my parents.” 

Reggie frowned, setting the testing papers down. “You know you’d never disappoint your parents, Cookie” he told you. Chills went down your spine upon realizing he didn’t have the usual malice and sarcasm behind his name for you. “They would never be upset with you.” 

You laugh humorlessly. “Right again, Flicka,” you sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe the better term would be I would be disappointed in myself? I don’t want to fail them or anything by slacking off. They’ve already done so much for me.” 

“But that shouldn’t stop you from just-” Reggie drummed his pen against his thigh as he thought of the right words to use. “living? Cookie, we’re still kids. The point of high school is to just let loose and have fun, not drown yourself in schoolwork and scholarship essays.” 

You playfully flicked a paper clip in his direction. “I bet you’d know all about letting loose, wouldn’t you?” you teased. 

Reggie grasped his chest, gasping in feign hurt. “You wound me, Cookie,” he dramatically exclaimed, making you giggle and roll your eyes. 

As the two of you continued your light banter, you were reminded of the days you and Reggie would spend at the park, competing to see who could swing the highest between the two of you. The weight on your back lifted slightly as you started to sense a bit of normalcy, no longer at each other’s throats for any reason you could find. It felt good to talk like this with Reggie, to “let loose” as he said and finally set down all the baggage you’ve been carrying since you two stopped being best friends. Everything in that moment felt right. Stress, detention, and ungraded biology tests long forgotten. 

After what seemed like hours passed, Mr. Siezlio came back to the classroom, announcing that you were done for the day. You and Reggie surprisingly continued your conversation outside of the classroom, Reggie sharing more stories of the band as you giggled with every shenanigan. However, the moment you stepped foot outside, Reggie’s composure changed. 

“Alex!” you exclaimed, running over to the boy. Alex had his arms outstretched, pulling you into a friendly hug that Reggie considered far too chummy. He narrowed his eyes at his best friend, watching and making sure his hands were where he could see them. 

Reggie walked over to the two, a scowl forming on his face. “Alex, what are you doing here?” he asked, bitterness visibly clear in his tone. 

The blond drummer raised an eyebrow in confusion at Reggie’s attitude, but decided not to address it. “(Y/N) and I have an AP chemistry project coming up so she’s going to sleep over at my place so we can work on it.” 

You grinned up at Alex. “We’re probably going to have to pull an all-nighter to get it all done tonight,” you told him, making him groan. 

Reggie’s lips fell to a thin line. “Good luck trying to do that,” he muttered. “Alex falls asleep before eleven o’clock. I’d pay to see him stay up past that.” 

Alex rolled his eyes playfully. “When my grade is on the line, I think I can manage,” he said. “Especially after that one experiment in class you left me to do, I think we both definitely need that A.” 

“Yeah, Alex can’t do titrations for shit,” 

“I tried my best,” Alex fought back. 

“And what did that get us?” you pressed. 

Alex’s head hung low. “Erm, a B,” he muttered. 

Reggie stared at the two in disbelief. He couldn’t comprehend this ‘nerd talk.’ “A B?!” he exclaimed. “You were disappointed with a B? I would have been happy with C-,” he shook his head and pulled his bag up higher on his shoulder, preparing himself to part ways. 

You shuddered at the thought of such a low grade. “I’d never even begin to imagine a C,” you said aloud. 

Reggie smirked at you. “Well, you are a nerd, Cookie,” he teased, making you shove him. 

“Ass,” you shot back. 

“(N/N), we gotta go if we don’t wanna stay up all night,” Alex said anxiously. 

You nodded, taking Alex’s hand in yours and squeezing it. Reggie glared down at your intertwined hands, anger bubbling rapidly in his chest. 

“Bye, Flicka,” you cheerfully waved goodbye. 

Reggie didn’t look you in the eye, only staring down at the sidewalk with his hands shoved in his pocket. “Whatever, Cookie.” 

—

Band practice the next afternoon -to say the least- was probably the shittiest the band had ever played. Luke and Bobby were incredibly confused why Alex continuously dropped his drumsticks and refused to make eye contact with anyone and why Reggie looked so angry that he could snap the strings of his bass. 

“Okay, guys, guys! Come on we have a gig in like a week! We can’t go out there playing like this!” Luke insisted and Bobby nodded in agreement. “Alex I haven’t seen you fumble this much since we tried to play football and Reggie you currently have negative three hundred and forty-five dollars and seventy-three cents in your bank account so I would recommend loosening up on the strings because none of us can afford more.” 

“Yeah, what the hell is going on with you two?” Bobby added and Reggie sent a cold glare towards Alex that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. 

“What was that?” Luke asked, pointing in between the two boys. 

“What was what?” Reggie asked, his head snapping back to send the same glare to Luke. 

“Okay you two clearly have things you need to settle so get it out there,” Bobby nodded, motioning to the floor, metaphorically saying it was open for one of them to take. 

Alex took a deep breath and nervously started, “Well I think it’s pretty clear Reggie is mad at me it’s just I have no idea as to why,” he shrugged his shoulders. “D-Did I eat your sandwich or something? A meatball sub maybe?” 

“That’s not it, but did you? Because if you did you are dead to me,” Reggie said venomously. 

“No! No, I didn’t,” he insisted quickly, very much so wanting to stay alive and not murdered at the hands of his best friend. “But what the hell is making you mad Reggie, I’ve never seen you like this,” 

Luke and Bobby seemed to nod carefully in agreement and Reggie swung his bass around the strap so it was hanging from his back. 

“You need to stay away from (Y/N),” Reggie said in a cautionary tone, pointing directly at Alex. 

“Lady bunny?” Luke asked curiously with furrowed brows and Reggie just looked at him back with confusion before remembering the nickname. 

“Yeah, I guess, but seriously Alex, you shouldn’t be with her,” 

“What do you mean I shouldn’t be with her. (Y/N) and I are just friends! We’ve been lab partners since freshman year,” Alex insisted. “And in case you forgot I’m kind of really gay?” 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t be spending time with her!” Reggie exclaimed furiously. Was he mad that you were spending time with his friends or that you seemed to be getting just as close with them as he once was with you. Right now, that was all a muddled mess in Reggie’s mind and heart so naturally, he started spewing out words that probably didn’t even have meaning at that point. 

Bobby discreetly made his way to Luke. “Hey Luke,” he whispered. “I can go ask Rose to make some popcorn,” he shrugged. 

“Oh yeah, for sure, and tell her to come in, she’ll wanna see this,” Luke added, equally invested, as their two other bandmates seemed to really be going at it.

“Reggie, you need to calm down. (Y/N)’s my friend, too. I don’t know any of your past, but you can’t tell me I should just drop her completely,” Alex said in a level toned voice. 

“Oh don’t act like you know (Y/N) better than I do,” Reggie snapped. “I know her like the back of my hand, and I know she’s bad news.”

“Do you really even know her?” Alex pressed. 

“Of course I do! Who was there when she broke her ankle? Me. Who was there when her fish died? Me! And who was there when everyone else wasn’t?”

“Not you anymore,” Alex cut in softly. Reggie's rant stopped short. The teen stopped pacing to look his friend in the eyes. “Reggie, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you have to admit to yourself, you still care about her.”

Reggie fumed silently. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Alex pressed his lips together. “I think you do, Reggie.”

“Alex you don’t get it! (Y/N) and me, that’s over!” his anger had sent him over the top. “Stop trying to say something’s there! It’s not!” 

“Listen to yourself Reggie, just listen to yourself talk! If you heard what I’m hearing I think you’d have a different opinion,” 

“Just-Just!...” Reggie pursed his lips and grabbed the neck of his bass pulling it back in front of him. “Can we just take it from the top,” 

“Y’know Reggie I think Alex has a point,” Luke butted in, remembering his previous conversation with you, realizing how much losing Reggie had actually affected you. 

“Oh joy,” Reggie sighed. 

“Just hear me out,” Luke continued, regardless of Reggie’s reluctance. “Why did you get into music in the first place?” 

“Because I loved it,” Reggie scoffed as if it was obvious. 

“No really Reg, be honest,” Bobby added. “Specifically when did you start playing music more seriously?”

Reggie bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, tasting the metallic liquid in his mouth he shrugged his shoulders and flopped onto the couch. 

“I got into it after I stopped talking to (Y/N),” he admitted. “But what’s your point?” he asked. 

“You don't confront your problems Reggie,” Alex explained. “You came to music because it helped you block out the fact that losing her tore you apart.” 

“Well if it tore me apart then why am I still here, huh? Why am I happy? Why am I even alive? If she was my everything then how the hell am I still here?!” 

“Because she’s keeping you here,” Luke whispered. Reggie turned to Luke, at a loss for words. “Because even though you two had a falling out, you know that seeing her everyday at school...you’re glad she’s okay.”

Reggie ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t know me,” he snapped back. “You don’t know what I think, or who I-I care about. You just don’t, so you can’t stop playing “mom,” Luke.”

Luke slowly approached him. “I don’t understand you,” he said truthfully. “You never open up or tell us anything. You say we don’t know you, you won’t even tell us anything. If no one knows you, then who does-“

“(Y/N)!” Reggie finally broke. The boys froze in their spots, only staring back at their struggling friend. “(Y/N), okay? She’s the only one who listened to me, the only one who cared. And now she’s gone because I pushed her away. All because I was so stupid and my pride got in the way. It’s my fault the best thing in my life is gone.”

Reggie realized what he had said and quickly pushed himself up and away from the couch. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he shook his head and tried to make his way out of the studio. 

“Reggie wait!” his friends called back for him, but he shook his head and pushed his way out of the door just as Rose was heading into the studio. “Reggie come on! We’re sorry!” 

Biting the inside of his cheek he cursed under his breath, knowing that they were right. He did push people away before they got too close and right now he didn’t have the strength to blame himself so he blamed you instead. 

—

Reggie stormed into the almost empty library on Saturday, having had to walk to his detention from his home by the beach which was not close to say the least. 

When he pushed on the door to come into the library with such force it startled you as you organized the books and put them back on the shelves. 

Reggie didn’t speak to you as he tossed his things to the side and grabbed a cart, going to his designated spot in the library. 

You were careful to not try and push any buttons, knowing he was in a fragile state, it was kind of obvious, but it was even harder not to address. 

“Hey Flicka?” you said gently, trying to be as compassionate as possible. 

“What,” he spat, shoving some books onto the shelf without much care. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, expecting to be met with barriers, that seemed to be all that comprised your relationship now. Walls, fences, barriers, and barricades. 

“None of your business,” he said, his breathing slightly heavier as the tears burned in the back of his eyes and the lump grew in the back of his throat. 

“I-I mean are you sure, you seem really agitated,” you noted and he didn’t respond. “Reggie you don’t have to hide anything. It can be my business if you want it to-” 

“No it can’t!” he snapped, throwing the books that were in his hands on the table. You flinched at the loud noise the impact made. “It stopped being your business the second we stopped talking to each other so just leave it Cookie,” his voice carrying the same hostility it did weeks ago. 

You paused for a moment, looking down at your pile of books before whispering, 

“They’re fighting again… aren’t they?” 

Reggie’s throat was burning, he wanted to scream into a void, empty himself of the pain because you were right, you were always right. Even when it felt like you didn’t know each other you were always there proving him wrong. 

His hands started to shake and he dropped the books he had just picked up again, turning around so you couldn’t see him. Reggie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed or if he just didn’t want you to worry. 

You wanted to reach over to your old friend, offer him some sort of comfort because you knew Reggie’s family and you knew how hard it was on him. 

So you did the next best thing. Pulling out your MP3 player from your pocket you went over to Mr. Mallard’s speaker system and plugged it in, turning up the volume to the max, letting the soft plucking of guitar strings fill the library and the hallway surrounding you. 

You went back to your pile and turned your back to him, giving him some sort of privacy, what you thought he needed. 

Reggie wasn’t sure if there was another time in his life where he had listened to this song and related to it more. 

So when he wiped his nose on his sleeve and turned around and saw you, he realized he didn’t want to be far away from you, he didn’t want to yell at you, he didn’t want that distance. 

So he quickly pushed the chair and table with wheels out of his way before stopping right behind you, carefully reaching for your hand that was resting by your side. 

When you felt his long slim fingers wrap around your own you turned around to look him in the eyes. They were still the same beautiful shade of blue and green, but unlike the last time you really looked into those eyes, they carried so much hurt. So much hurt and sadness that should never have been there in the first place. 

But through it all they said I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m sorry for all of this. 

And you nodded, back, accepting that apology. 

So he didn’t hesitate a moment, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face in your shoulder. You nearly gasped in surprise as his grip around you tightened. It was as though he was afraid of losing you, and didn’t want to let you go. Lucky for him, you felt the same.

Slowly, your hands found their way around his neck. You could feel Reggie’s tears dampen your shirt, but you couldn’t care less. 

“It’s going to be okay, Reggie,” you whispered. 

Reggie sniffled quietly, shaking his head. “Don’t say that,” he murmured.

“Say what?” you asked.

“Say that everything’s going to be okay,” he continued in a hushed but angry voice. “Say that everything is all sunshine and rainbows when at the end of the day my parents will still fucking hate each other while yours struggle to keep their home.”

You stiffened under his touch. His words struck a nerve in you, but you pushed down the anger in you. He was hurting, and what he needed was a friend, not a fixer.

Instead, you squeezed him tight against you. “Then, don’t think,” you said. “Clear your mind and- and forget everything. Forget your parents, forget this stupid detention and the musty smell of these ancient books, forget me.”

Reggie dug his head deeper into your chest. “I don’t want to forget you, Cookie,” he murmured. “I-I don’t want you to leave me again a-and-“

You shushed him. “I’m not leaving, Flicka,” you reassured him. “I promise.”

Reggie let out another broken sob. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I-it’s just that we both don’t have a good record with those. Promises, I mean.”

“Let’s clear the slate,” you suggested softly. “Start over to a point where all broken promises of the past are nothing but a mere memory, okay?”

Reggie nodded, placing his hands over yours. “I’d really like that Cookie,”

You smiled, removing your hand from his cheek and linking your pinky with his. It was just like when you were kids, but slightly different. This time, it had so much more meaning of hope and love. “Then take my promise to your heart, Flicka, because I’m not leaving. No matter what.”

Reggie rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and letting whatever tears had gathered to fall down his cheeks. You lifted your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the spot right in between his eyes, letting your lips linger there a moment longer than they should have.  

“Dance with me Cookie?” he whispered. 

“Flicka, you know I suck at that,” you laughed quietly, ducking your head as your cheeks tinged red. 

“Don’t worry,” he sniffed as you wiped a few of his stray tears. “I won’t leave you hanging,” 

“Okay,” you breathed, allowing his hands to gently hold your waist while yours were wrapped around his shoulders. 

As you gently swayed in the library you could vividly see two young teenagers in a brightly lit room dancing to the same song. 

You could hear Reggie softly humming along with the tune, but when you opened your eyes and looked at him you were brought back to reality and realized what you needed to do, 

“I’m gonna call the boys okay?” you said gently and Reggie winced. “I won’t tell them. I was just going to stay over at Rose’s place tonight so maybe we could all stay in the studio.” you suggested. “So you don’t have to go home.” 

“Y-You’d do that?” he asked, a certain tone of surprise in his voice. 

You pressed your lips together and nodded, pulling away from him. 

Making your way to the phone behind Mr. Mallard’s desk, you dialled Rose’s house number first to ask if it was okay to have everyone over, before making the subsequent calls to Alex, Luke, and Bobby. 

After dealing with the phone you checked the time. Technically you still had an hour of your detention left, but for today Mrs. Hillside just swore you to honesty. 

As much as it made you anxious to do so you looked over at Reggie and raised a brow. 

“Should we call it? We can walk over to Rose’s place. I told Luke to bring some comfortable clothes for you,” 

“Sure,” he nodded and you hesitantly let go of his hand. For some reason it felt like it was too much at once. You just needed a few moments to yourself. 

All you ever wanted was for things to go back to the way they were, but now that it seemed to be happening it was a lot to take in and Reggie sensed that so he didn’t push farther, only grabbing his bag and walking quietly by your side as you left the school through a backdoor that was locked from the outside. 

The situation for you both might have been one to cause panic or worry, but right now you both relished the fact that your friends were sure to provide a wonderful distraction. 

—

“Lady bunny, you’re wearing your pyjamas already?” Luke chuckled from his spot on the couch while you walked out of the washroom, day clothes folded in your arms. 

“I intend on relaxing today, kidnapper, thank you very much,” you said in a matter of fact tone. 

“You still wearing my shirt to bed, Cookie?” Reggie teased and you stuck your tongue out at him before retorting with, 

“Still wearing that Star Wars underwear Flicka?” 

“Yikes,” Alex scrunched up his nose and Reggie’s cheeks went a darker shade of red than they usually were. 

“They still fit okay, it would be a waste,” Reggie fought back. 

“No one wants to hear that,” Bobby grimaced while you and Rose laughed together, relaxing on the futon. 

“Why don’t we play a game or something?” Rose suggested. “Just to pass time, I mean this is a sleepover isn’t it?” 

“That sounds like a good idea,” you nodded. “Any suggestions?” 

“We could play would you rather?” Bobby said, “I mean that’s a favorite right?” 

You nodded in agreement. “I haven’t played that game in a while, but I’m down.” Everyone gathered around the coffee table. Prepared to sit next to Reggie, you felt someone’s hand grab yours and tug you down. Looking to your right, you saw Luke smiling giddily at you. 

“As your parent,” Luke said in a motherly tone. “I need to sit by your side in case any inappropriate language is used.” 

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Luke,” he said. 

Luke gasped, covering your ears and pulling you to his chest. “Language!” he hissed. “We have a bunny here and I don’t want you to taint her mind with your demon words. No fucks, no shits, no dicks.” You shot the boy a look before pushing him off you. 

“Would someone tell this guy I’m not five?” you rolled your eyes only to have one of your cheeks pinched by Reggie while he snickered and said, 

“You sure look like it,” You threw an empty solo cup at him. 

“Who wants to go first?” Rose asked with a wide grin. 

“Oh me!” Luke exclaimed, raising his hand and waving it around wildly. 

“Sometimes I don’t know what you’re on,” Alex sighed and the rest of the group laughed. 

“Okay, okay, um, Bobby would you rather smash your guitar or have it run over by a semi?” 

“That’s just cruel,” Bobby looked at Luke wide eyed and he just gave him a smirk in return. He sighed heavily before saying, “I’d like to think if I smashed it, it would be from rocking out so hard so I’ll go with that one,” 

“Okay now it’s your turn,” you raised your brows at Bobby.

“Alright, (N/N), would you rather be locked in a room with Reggie or Luke?” 

You scrunched up your nose. “Both are horrible options,” you began, making the boys yell out in response. “But the real question is: would I rather be babied to oblivion or be murdered?” you thought for a moment. 

“I wouldn’t murder you!” Reggie exclaimed. “That’s too easy,” he smirked and you gasped, slapping his arm. 

“Hush you!” 

“What would you do to torture her then?” Rose asked curiously, knowing exactly what buttons she was pushing. 

“Well see if you really want to get someone you make them fall in love with you and then break their heart,” Reggie explained casually.

“Oh that is cold Reggie,” Alex said with wide eyes. 

“But I wouldn’t do that to (N/N), I think she deserves a murder,” Reggie shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip from his cup.

“Put me out of my misery,” you nodded. “Alright, I’d go with Reggie,” 

Luke pouted, leaning his head on your shoulder. “But we’d have fun, Lady Bunny,” he whined. “Don’t you love me?” 

You scoffed, flicking his forehead. “Barely,” you joked. Luke just grabbed you by the arms and brought you up to him, pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek. 

“I’m your mom you have to love me,” he poked and you made a face, wiping your cheek after he had kissed you. “Hey! That was a sign of motherly love, how dare you!” You smirked, flipping him off before continuing the game. 

After what seemed like hours passed, you and your friends got bored of the game once you started to run out of ideas. 

Alex was nearly passed out on the floor, but Bobby nudged him awake. “Can we play a new game now?” Bobby sighed. “I know would you rather was my idea, but I’m kinda tired of it.” 

You nodded tiredly, before your mind clicked with an idea, 

“Wait how about MASH?” you asked curiously. “Reggie and I used to play it all the time,” 

Reggie’s lips quirked up to a smile. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “I’m still hoping I get that mansion and forty horses.” 

“I don’t understand how you play rock music. Were you born in Montana or something?” Rose chuckled. 

“Pfft,” Reggie scoffed while you laughed. He sighed and finally conceded with a nod. “Yeah okay, I’m not from here,” 

“Wait you’re not!” Luke exclaimed and Reggie shook his head. 

“I’m from Wyoming,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I moved here when I was like...four.” 

Bobby’s face turned sour. “Wyoming doesn’t exist,” he said stubbornly. 

Alex coughed, “Wait you don’t actually think that do you?” 

“It’s a joke Alex, and you ruined it,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “But seriously Reg, Wyoming?” he frowned. “Like what do you even do there?” 

“Live on a ranch,” Reggie sighed longingly and you tried to stifle a laugh, prompting him to put you in a headlock and ruffle your hair. 

“You’re laughing right now, but no one knows where you’re from,” he smirked. 

“Oh Reggie, you’re a dick.” 

“Language!” Luke exclaimed, trying to cover your mouth while you protested and Reggie explained that you also were not a California native. 

“(N/N)’s not from California either, she moved here when she was five,” Reggie explained. 

“From where?!” Alex asked, completely invested. 

“I thought we were gonna play MASH?” you tried to interject, but no one was listening to you and Reggie still had you locked under his arm. “Flicka don’t do this!” 

“She’s from Canada!” he grinned and you groaned. “And the town she lived in is called Saint-Louis du Ha!-Ha!” 

“Reginald!” you protested, finally wrestling yourself out of his grip while he laughed uncontrollably. 

“The city has two exclamation marks in its name!” 

“Guys,” Luke started seriously and Reggie’s laughter faded to silence as you listened to the band leader. “I-I have a confession to make. I’m also not from here,” 

“You’re not?!” Bobby was coming close to losing it, having not known about his friends. 

“I’m also from the Great White North,” 

“Wait really?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m from Fredrickton,” Luke grinned. 

“No way!” you exclaimed giddily. “So are you Acadian?” 

“Proudly so,” he nodded and you gave him a high five. 

“Canucks unite!” you laughed, not noticing the pointed glare Reggie was sending Luke. 

Bobby pulls his hair in frustration. “Okay, who else isn’t from California here?”

Rose sheepishly raised her hand, much to Bobby’s disbelief. “Puerto Rico?” she answered, more so like a question. 

“Dude,” Alex said, shaking his head. “She has a strong Puerto Rican accent.” 

Bobby stood up abruptly, storming off. “I’m out of here!”

You stifled back a giggle, calling out, “Bobby! Where are you going?” 

“TO THE FUCKING GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE,” he yelled back. “MAYBE I’LL FIND ACTUAL CALIFORNIANS THERE.” You rolled his eyes at his dramatics. You knew he would probably make it out the door before coming back in. The boy was far too lazy to make the drive, anyway. 

“I wonder if he realizes that I’m from California, too?” Alex pondered aloud. The entire group burst into laughter.

“Let’s just start the game without Bobby,” Rose suggested. “Who wants to go first?” 

“I can go,” Reggie nodded, grabbing a scrap of paper and writing down the things for each category.

“Okay hit me with some career options,” 

“Stripper,” you said, slapping his back and he rolled his eyes, but still followed the rules and wrote it down under occupations. “You’d be a terrible stripper though, you can’t dance and you have terrible balance,” 

“Okay I’d be an amazing stripper, but that’s besides the point,” Reggie countered and continued writing all the names and places his friends wanted thrown in his options. “Alright numbers now right?” You hummed in response. 

“Do five,” you said with a toothy grin. “That was how old we were when we met.” 

Reggie nodded, starting to go down each list and circling whatever he landed on. At one point as he counted, his face turned red as he hid the paper from you and everyone else’s view. Once he was done, you tugged on his arm. 

“Come on, Flicka,” you teased. “Show us what you got!” 

Reggie cleared his throat, “I mean is that really necessary?” he asked cautiously. 

“Come on it can’t be that bad,” Alex insisted. 

“Um, well it’s not bad perse,” 

“How do you know that word?” Luke teased and Reggie rolled his eyes. “Just tell us,” 

“Alright well I got a house, a music teacher, two kids, five horses and I’ll live here,” he nodded, trying to avoid a certain topic. 

“Who do you marry?” Rose asked curiously. 

“No one?” he answered unsurely.

Rose rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t an option,” she reminded him. “Come on, it’s just a game, Reg. Just show it.” When Reggie refused to move, Rose resorted to snatching the paper from his hands. 

“Rose!” he cried out, reaching for the paper. 

The girl only held the paper far away, squinting her eyes to read the circled mark. “It’s (N/N)!” she squealed. Rose and Alex high fived each other while you dug your into Reggie’s chest, completely flustered. As a response, Reggie wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his head against yours. 

“It’s okay (N/N),” he said loud enough for the rest to hear. “We can just murder them,” he smirked and they all burst into a fit of outrage, during which Reggie leaned in closer to you, his lips coming close to your ear while he whispered, 

“It’s nice to take a break every once in a while, right?” 

You nodded with a smile. 

“Yeah, Cookie can let loose,” you joked.

“Of course she can,” he smiled, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to your temple before resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“Oh my God did you see that!” Rose pointed to you and Reggie and he stuck his tongue out at her. 

“What can’t a guy hug a gal?” he countered and you just placed your hand on Reggie’s mouth before he made it first, prompting him to teasingly bite your finger. 

“Flicka!” you complained while Luke immediately came to your rescue. 

“Guys! You gotta leave at least a foot for Jesus, come on this is beginner stuff,” he poked. Luke swatted Reggie’s hand away. “Get your hand off my daughter. I’m not ready to be a grandmother just yet, Peters.” 

“Luke,” you whined at his extra comment. 

“If they think this is bad they should’ve seen the dance Mrs. Leona made us do,” Reggie nudged you and you agreed with a chuckle. 

“Since when are you guys in the dance class?” Bobby asked, coming back into the studio with more snacks. 

“We’re not, Mrs. Hillside assigned under Mrs. Leona’s care for a day and we helped choreograph a dance for the sophomores next semester,” you explained, totally not realizing the implications of what you had said. 

“You know they’re gonna make us dance now right?” Reggie sighed. 

“Shit, they are, aren’t they,” 

With a loud groan you both stood up and Reggie took your hand. 

“From the top Cookie?” 

“From the top,” you sighed with a roll of your eyes. 

Rose reached for the speakers, connecting her MP3 to them and playing the song. 

“Swing those hips, Reginald!” Luke whooped, reaching for the bowl of popcorn in the middle of the coffee table. Reggie mouthed a swear to his friend as his hands found his place on your hips. 

“Watch where you’re putting those hands!” Rose warned. Rolling his eyes, Reggie teasing dropped his hands lower, only for you to swat them away. 

“I’ll still bite you,” you hissed playfully. 

“Promise?” he shot back. 

Once the music started to play, you felt Reggie’s hand trail down your arm. Every move was burned to your memory as you danced along with Reggie. The comments of your friends -either cheering or teasing- escaped your mind. 

And all that you wanted was for the night to never end. 

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[beaubokuto]

━ i. what you broke

pairing: tobio kageyama x f!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, royal!au, angst

summary: prince tobio kageyama is cruel. he was known to be vindictive, revengeful, other synonyms for anger’s embodiment. you were not quite as interesting: a simple village girl with a knack for stealing things and will to kill the prince.

a/n: my first published fic on this account! i do hope you enjoy~~

tags: angst, royalty, swearing, medieval, fantasy, enemies to lovers, all characters are aged up, minor depictions of violence and death (no major character death)

glossary

next chapter

There was little to no effort as you weeded you way through the crowded streets. Though the sun shone brightly in the sky, you were nearly invisible. You needn’t a distraction as your hands skimmed the villager’s pockets and bags. You needn’t a disguise as you pocketed a fine gem from a shopping lady.

Not when you were in good relations with the general’s family.

You quickly swept through the streets and into a more quiet part of the town. The part you most disliked. There was not enough sound there, not enough places to run your hands through.

Still, it was home nonetheless.

You crouched to a stray cat and handed it a small cup of milk you had managed to obtain.

“I can’t stay long, kitty.” You whispered to it as if it could hear you. As if it understood.

The town square now behind you, you were walking towards the castle. You were not going to the actual castle, although the thought of stealing from them is incredibly tempting in a way only your mind could fathom. You were walking to a nice series of houses a little further down the hill from that.

The Castle of Kageyama sat perfectly structured on the top of a large hill. Nearly a mountain, but you were hesitant to call it as such. With towers of varying heights casted around it, the castle was almost as terrifyingly dark as the prince inside.

Below the castle were the High Order. The general and his family, knights and theirs. Cooks, messengers. Those in favor of the castle and those who work for them. 

And below that, the villages in which they rule. Dusted in browns and poverty, surrounded by lakes no one dares swim in lest they be drowned by sirens. Guarded by goblins and ogres and soldiers alike. 

They were kind if you were to them.

You were not fond of the prince. If you were being blatantly honest, you hated the man. He had no honor.

You watched as he clipped the ears of an elf who dared not bow to him. You watched as he called the city you lived in, the city he were soon to rule, filth. You watched from afar as he pointed his sword at your sister’s neck for your father’s disappearance.

And you watched as he killed her.

One day, it would be your blade at his neck.

The creaking of the door was the only sound that gave away your presence. The general peaked from the kitchen, bowl of something delicious in hand. 

“I imagine I do not wish to inquire what you have been doing?” The general asked you after you closed the door.

“You would only be delighted.” You joked. “And where is Kiyoko?”

“She’s in her room. She was at a ball this evening, so I believe she’s changing.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The general was a kind man. He welcomed you whenever you arrived, happy to allow you to eat with them in the Shimizu house. In the beginning, he was hesitant to let a foreign village girl into his home. But your friendship with his daughter quickly let him forget about that.

Kiyoko was beautiful. She was two years older than you, dark hair and bright eyes that shined beneath lenses. And one single mole under her lip. You could only imagine how many men danced with her at the ball. Women, too.

“What did you sneak this time?” She asked as soon as you entered her bedroom.

She was slipping out of a gorgeous blue dress. You paid that no mind, sitting on the edge of her bed in your (rather dirty) black cloak.

“Look!” You fanned out your items of the day.

An antique fan, a shoelace with a rubber nub at the end, varying food, a small bracelet made of braided rope, and the blue gem.

“All of this from walking from your house to mine?” She raised a brow. You nodded. 

Her eyes immediately lightened at the gemstone. “That’s a sapphire! You could sell this to Tanaka and Nishinoya for an incredible amount of money.”

“I figured it would be much, but how much?”

“At least... at least a moonful.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie. You know that.”

You were grinning ear to ear. One single gemstone may be cause of your fortune. You could apply to be a knight in the high order with a moonful.

“Put it away.” Kiyoko hushed, placing the gem into your palm. “I will phone the boys and see when they can meet. You’ll be a great knight.”

She pressed a kiss to your cheek and headed for the stairs. You followed suit, adjusting the sword that hung at your hip under the cloak.

The first time you had picked up a sword was when you were three years of age. You were a tiny thing, smaller than most and malnourished from your father’s lack of... well, everything.

You were running through the streets, playing with your older sister. Her long hair passed behind her, your three year old legs having trouble keeping up with her six year old ones.

But everything stopped when your eye caught on a sword on display at a shop.

The blade was made of pure silver, the handle carved into false blue vines that twisted into the actual blade itself. It was beautiful.

The vendor noticed your childlike wonder and smiled down at you. He came around the side of the table, picking up the blade. 

“Do you wish to hold it, little one?” He offered.

You nodded instantly. You hadn’t even noticed your sister’s return to your side, watching your infatuation with the object.

The second the sword touched your palms, you wanted to swing it. You wanted one your size. Your toddler arms could barely hold it up despite you holding it in both arms bridal style.

“I may have one your size.” He winked.

The man went behind the counter only to return with a small wooden one with a dull blade. It was not nearly as beautiful, but you could hold that one. 

“How much for it?” Your sister asked, looking through her pockets for any money she may carry.

“Worry not.” The vendor placed the blue and silver one back to his stand, and then proceeding to crouch in front of you. “You can leave with that one.”

Your sister thanked him, bowing and asking again if it were really all correct if you took it. But you were already swinging the thing around, the air around you feeling lighter and a smile on your three year old face.

“I don’t see why I must go wonder the village.” Tobio Kageyama argued. “Why must I go walk a place where I rule? This is why we have advisors.”

“You will be crowned in a month’s time, Tobio.” The king spoke. His voice was loud, booming. It commanded respect to any who hears. 

The king had the adoration of most of his kingdom. He was worried for his son, who already had a reputation of irritability and anger. He knew that he would be all correct, all kings had a different way of gaining respect.

“And tell me why we cannot crown Miwa instead?” 

“Because she is overseas. Because she is studying and to marry the sea king.” His father rubbed the space between his brow. “We have been over this many times, Tobio. No matter your rebellions, you will be crowned.”

“May I take a friend, then, if I must trudge through the grime?”

“Fine.” He huffed. “Watch your words. This grime will be your kingdom soon.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You will be kind to be careful of your tongue if you wish to keep it.”

“Yes, father.” Kageyama corrected through bared teeth. He turned to the nearest servant. A human standing at the entrance to the hall. “Call for Shoyo Hinata. Tell him to make haste, we’re going on an adventure.”

The sun was setting against the horizon. Some days, you wished that you could see it; watch the sun set over a line of a horizon. But the sun always disappeared beneath the forest’s trees that circle the town.

You imagined that the castle had the perfect view.

Kiyoko and you had dueled for a while before you left. Being the daughter of the general, she was skilled with a sword. Though she was better with daggers, she still gave you quite a fight. 

Near the end, you both were sweating. You had almost managed to overtake her. 

“Good job. Soon you’ll be better than I.”

“That is incredibly doubtful, you’ve been doing this since you were born.”

She only smiled, saying, “There is a difference, though. I was born without talent and taught to battle, trained to be this way. You were born with talent and continue to train that talent. One day, you will best me. I can bet on it.”

You were still thinking of her words as you walked through the brown paths home. Most people were doing the last of their daily shopping, reading to head home before the ghosts come out.

Kiyoko had given you a little bit of money, telling you, “For on your way home. You won’t be suspicious if you buy things on occasion.”

She was correct, of course. 

You stopped to get cheese and bread. You had some fruit still in your pockets, but food was better warm.

You thanked the vendor. You plastered your best fake smile to them, bowing your head a little in respect. 

You hated common courtesies. 

You caught a glimpse of a bracelet on a woman who was looking at a basket shop a couple of yards from you. You could leave it, return to your mission home. 

Your hands tingled in anticipation. You could not help yourself.

Before anyone could see, before anyone had the chance to even acknowledge your position at the shop, you had the bracelet unclasped and in your palm.

You truly had to give yourself the credit for your talent. 

Perhaps it was the fear of never stealing again once you enter in the knight program. Perhaps it was the adrenaline you never fail to feel when you snatch something in plain sight. No matter; you could not help but smile to yourself.

That is why your heart seized in it’s chest when you found yourself face to face with the prince.

“I do not see why you are not enjoying yourself more, Tobio.” Hinata spoke. He rode his horse a little behind Kageyama. Kageyama figured it was out of respect, but Hinata just had a slower horse. 

Hinata’s orange hair was nearly glowing. It could be from his powers, but he was sure it was from the setting sun.

“I do not wish to prance through poverty.” Kageyama told him. “Why must I get my hands dirty when we are not supposed to leave the castle for prolonged periods?”

“You get to meet people.” Hinata smiled, looking ahead. They were close enough that he did not have to use formalities, honorifics. “Don’t you wish to see what the people are doing in the place you rule?”

Scoffing, Kageyama dismounted his horse. Hinata followed suit.

It was ridiculously symbolistic, their horses. Kageyama’s was a slick black, donned in dark metal armor and piercing eyes. Much like himself. Hinata’s horse was palomino, light with white hair and white saddle and an almost smile.

They walked beside their horses as they entered the town. Almost instantly, they could feel the atmosphere change. Whispers ignited through the people. As they walked by, each one bowed in honor.

Except you.

You were too busy looking at something in your hand, eyes agleam in something Kageyama could only claim as mischief. 

He had viewed the same look in his own mirror.

When you looked up, you caught his eye. You didn’t bow, you didn’t even mutter an apology.

No common person had ever looked him directly in the eye before.

“Where is your respect?” Tobio Kageyama asked you. His voice was deep, dark. A warning.

You had to hold back a roll of your eyes. “Not with you, my lord.”

masterlist

[kingsansa]

Omg please sansa apeshit preview!

—Preview of baby teeth

She didn’t touch him—she never touched him first—only merely offered up her skin as a suggestion. Her knee brushed his. But her hands were tucked behind her back. As if to show him just how patient she could be.

Jon tried not to be so fidgety. He tried not to be so still.

“You came home late last night.”

Sansa arched a neat eyebrow. A coy smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Home?”

He said it without thinking. He contemplated taking it back, but he wasn’t sure it would be true. It seemed to please her, anyway. He liked to please her. And she was always so much more amicable when she was pleased.

He urged her closer, hand on the back of her knee. That pleased her too. She straddled his leg, arms loose around his neck. The skirt of her dress bunched up at her hips. The bruises on her thighs were lightening. No new ones that he could see. Jon did not check, because he knew it would upset her.

“Where did you go?” He asked.

His hand was in her hair, playing with the tail end of one of her dark french braids. Sansa’s eyes were heavy lidded, as she leaned into him. She reminded him of a cat. Hidden claws, and all.

“Mama wanted me over for dinner.” She murmured. “Said she hadn’t seen my face in awhile.”

Jon undid a single button of her dress. He told himself it was to reward her. He knew he was lying. He could see the beginnings of a silver chain. He undid another button so he could see the letter J hanging from it properly.

“And then?”

Sansa undid the third button herself. And then another. “I stopped Kappa to get some things.” Her mouth brushed his ear. “So I could come home to you.”

Something stirred deep within him, just like it always did when she whispered to him in that voice. Something low and shameful.

“Did you end up staying awhile?” His throat made his words husk. “You weren’t back ‘till late.”

Sansa stared down at him. Hair was coming out of her braids in wisps, framing her face. Her eyes were not so heavy lidded anymore. Her hand came up to lightly touch his face.

“You can ask me.” She murmured, “If it'll make you feel better.”

It felt like something barely there was creeping along his spine, inside of him. His heart was pounding. His throat felt tight.

“Would you lie to make me feel better?” He asked her quietly.

“Only if you asked me to.” The answer was almost immediate. “I would do anything you asked me to.”

He looked away for just a moment. The admission was something blunt and bright. He has to shield his eyes against it. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted metallic. He thought of a bloodstain on cracked pavement, papery skin and a gummy red mouth—

He still couldn’t make himself say the words. Perhaps she knew this.

“I stayed for a while.” She continued, hand still cupping his face. “Then I came home.”

It was hard to believe that there was ever a time that he was so sure of what she was thinking. He constantly had to remind himself that everything could be a lie. Even the soft touch of her hand on his cheek. Even the feel of her nose against his. And especially her words: gentle and even. A little desperate, too.

But she wasn’t stupid. And at the very least, he could trust in that.

His hands skimmed her sides. “Promise?”

Sansa nodded. Then, seemingly satisfied that he believed her, dropped her head into the curve of his shoulder. Her hair tickled his face. Jon found himself gathering her closer to him. Sometimes it felt like the meanness inside of him sought out the meanness inside of her.

“Are you sad?” She asked.

He paused. “Hm?”

She pulled back from him a little, just so she could stare at him, “You liked Stannis. Are you sad he’s gone?”

There it was again. The blood on the pavement. Those spider veins. His gaping mouth, toothless and slanted wrong from a broken jaw. It would have taken an absurd amount of strength.

Sansa sifted her fingers through his hair. Slender. Fine boned.

Jon leaned in, searching for the scent of her again, yearning for it. He inhaled until he wasn’t thinking about those things anymore. Vanilla. Like birthday cake.

She whispered, “I would never do anything to make you sad.”

He almost shuddered.

“The police…” He faltered. “They’re angry. Scared. They want someone to blame. Promise me you won’t go looking for trouble.”

Her fingers stilled in his hair. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, “Promise.”

He could feel everything, they were so close. The rise of her chest as she breathed. Her pulse in her neck. Her heart in her chest. Neither of them skipped. She wasn’t lying. He really hoped she wasn’t.

“I don’t know what I’d do if somebody tried to take you away from me.”

The words left his mouth without his permission. They shouldn’t have. But he felt better now that they were out. Less sick to his stomach.

Sansa stared down at him, eyes searching. Her head was half cocked lllto the side, as her hand came up to ghost over his. “Would you miss me?”

He didn’t say anything.

She didn’t seem to mind it. She brought his hand up and placed it on her throat. Seconds passed, and he didn’t move. It felt like a challenge. Then he spread his fingers across her throat, squeezing lightly. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Her voice was barely audible, teasing. “Would you die because you couldn’t have me?”

He bit his tongue. Hard.

Her eyes opened, half cocked and dark. Sansa trailed the fingers that were in his hair down to the nape of his neck, under his shirt to the small letter there. An S in white ink. His heart stammered. Stopped. He let out a ragged breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You can be so stubborn sometimes.” She said to him, almost exasperatedly.

His throat was swelling with something like shame and his chest was aching with need. Need for her. It paralyzed him. Scared him.

Sansa kissed his neck, as if she knew this. Then her mouth trailed lower. And lower.

[cami-chats]

The Pattern Of Sleep

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Tony Stark/Natasha Romanov

Warnings: None

On AO3

"Do you never sleep?" Natasha asked, lounging in a spare rolling chair a few feet away with her wings over the back and leisurely falling so the tips of her feathers skimmed the floor. "It has been quite some time since I last had a charge, but I think you are still supposed to sleep more than this."

"You're only guessing," Tony said.

"I am creating a hypothesis based on what I remember. Staying awake for fifty hours seems a little extreme."

"You're fine," he pointed out. Because where he was mainlining coffee, Natasha didn't require food, water, or sleep and she wasn't flagging in the slightest.

"I am not a human," Natasha said. "I sleep when my charge sleeps."

Okay so maybe she did sleep. And come to think of it, he'd seen her snacking on an apple the other day, but he was pretty sure she didn't need it regularly the way humans did.

"And I think you are sleeping less than you are supposed to."

"A good guess, but you're wrong," Tony said. She'd probably believe him, but she wasn't as trusting as he thought guardian angels should be. Although, with how much he lied to her in an attempt to not have to change how he worked, maybe it was for the best that she didn't always take him at his word. If nothing else, he could appreciate how hard he made her job and the way she seemed to have magically nudged him into making better decisions on occasion. Magically, he was sure, because he did not decide to stop drinking all by himself.

Natasha hummed and said nothing.

*

"Do you survive solely on coffee?" Natasha asked, peeking over his shoulder to look at the four empty coffee cups on the cafe table in front of him.

"You've seen me eat."

She turned to start pacing around the table. The coffee shop wasn't very busy, so she had the space to circle the table without bumping into anyone. "Not as much as other humans eat. Are you a different species than them? Perhaps evolved to require more caffeine and less nutrients?"

"Sit down and stop being snarky," Tony said.

"No. Perhaps this is the same evolution that lets you sleep once every three days instead of once a day the way everyone else does."

"Natasha," he groaned. "Can you bother me about this when I'm not on a deadline?"

"You're always on a deadline."

"All the more reason to stop being snarky altogether," he muttered lowly, but he knew that she heard him.

"Have you considered lightening your workload? Less coffee, more sleep, and an all-around better life for you."

"If I had less coffee and more sleep, I would get nothing done."

"You said the same thing before you stopped drinking alcohol," she said.

"And it was true." He didn't regret giving it up, but there was no denying the fantastic waves of inspiration he'd gotten while drunk off his ass. The resulting hangover had balanced him out by making him incapable of doing anything but laying in bed, but he did sort of miss those days. He wasn't going to say as much to Natasha, though. She probably already knew what he was thinking because of the whole guardian angel thing. Or maybe that wasn't a power they had and she was just that good at reading him. He didn't really know, and he wasn't sure he cared.

"Yes, how dare I make you more healthy? A tragedy, to be sure."

"It kind of is."

Natasha's wings snapped close against her back like they did when she was aggravated with him. He didn't look up, but he heard it happen. "Why are you so insistent on fighting me? I'm trying to look out for you."

"Not because you like me," he muttered, not really meaning to.

"I may have been sent here, but do not think for a second that I do not love you, Tony. If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't be here."

At that, Tony did look over at her. She'd stopped opposite him, arms crossed over her chest. He took a gulp from his newest latte. "You're not allowed to leave me once you've been assigned, right?"

"Wrong. I can request a transfer at any time."

"Oh." He blinked at her, and she stared back stonily. "Good to know." He started to turn back to his work, but he glanced back up at her a scant moment later. "When I first asked you about this-" years ago "-you told me that I was stuck with you."

"Because I already knew that I had no interest in being reassigned."

"You could've said that."

"And deal with you acting out to try and get rid of me?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tony opened his mouth to deny it, then he closed his mouth again. "How many other half-truths have you told me?"

"Only as many as you've told me," she said evenly.

"So a ridiculous amount, then."

"I'm just trying to keep things even."

Tony snorted, but he wasn't actually very bothered by it. Like she’d said, fair was fair. "Does that mean that if I stop lying to you...?"

"I will follow suit."

"You're a lot sneakier than I gave you credit for."

Natasha grinned, her wings finally returning to a more normal position. "Did you really think you would be assigned a run-of-the-mill angel?"

"Not to sound too ignorant, but yeah, I sort of did."

"Well, you're only human. Some mistakes in logic are expected."

"What mistake in logic? Is there some sort of hierarchy for guardian angels that are supposed to be considered common knowledge?"

She looked puzzled for a moment, then cleared her expression and said, "You really should stop piling so much work on yourself."

*

Tony was used to ignoring his feelings, so he wasn't agonizing over it very much when he realized that he liked Natasha. He had a habit of finding the absolute worse person to develop feelings for, and then falling in love. So yeah, he'd gotten pretty good at ignoring his feelings over the years.

He couldn't deny it anymore when Natasha sat in his lap one day, though. He only had so much self-control. He didn't even have to do anything because she kissed him; all he had to do was kiss her back. He got used to being with her like that in a hurry. He got used to the way she would drape one wing over him as they slept, even though it tickled him at first.

They weren't together like that all the time. Hell, he still didn't go to sleep every night, and more often than not, Natasha was too busy trying to make sure he didn't hurt himself that there wasn't much time for romance or cuddling-- because being together hadn't made him listen to her anymore than before.

"Finally going to sleep?" Natasha asked.

"Mm," Tony said, because forming words was too much. He'd written far past the point that his hand hurt. It was completely cramped up, and he knew that he should do something about it before going to sleep, but he felt like he was going to fall over.

Natasha put her hands on his shoulders. "Deep breath," she instructed, and he did so.

He felt warmth seep into his muscle and down into his writing hand. When she pulled her hands away, the pain was gone. He flexed his fingers experimentally. "Thanks." He rubbed at his eyes. He was so tired that they itched, which was annoying, but it's not as if he could stay up longer and wait for it to go away.

"Of course. Come on, I'll help you change."

Tony yawned so wide that his jaw hurt. "Is that normal guardian angel behavior?" he mumbled.

"Each situation is different. 'Normal' is incredibly subjective." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

*

Tony blinked. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm your new guardian angel," he replied.

"Where's Natasha?"

"I have no idea, man. I just go where the boss tells me. My name's Sam, by the way."

"Well, what happened to her?"

"I don't know."

"Can you ask?"

Sam blinked. "I... could try, but I don't think you'll get an answer. Normally, when one guardian angel leaves, you don't hear from them again."

"Yeah, but did she leave? Or was she taken off my case by your boss?" 'Your boss' because Natasha had insisted it wasn't god how he thought of it.

"Like I said, I don't know." He shifted in place, wings ruffling uncertainly. Natasha's wings were black; Sam's were white. Tony didn't know if that meant anything, but the white was practically blinding. "Look man, are you okay? You look kind of devastated. I know that she was your guardian for like ten years, but this seems kind of extreme."

"She was my guardian for ten fucking years and you don't see why I'm upset?" Tony asked incredulously. If Sam was here to stay, this was not going to go well. He folded his arms over his chest. "I want to talk to her."

"That can't happen," Sam said immediately.

"Why not?"

"It's against regulation."

"So?" Natasha had said the regulations were for people that didn't know what they were doing.

"So I'm not doing it."

"Seriously? You're being serious right now."

"Uh, yeah," Sam said.

Tony stared at him. "What the fuck. Me and Natasha were paired together for ten years, and now you're telling me that I can't talk to her?"

"Yeah..." Sam said with trepidation, clearly not having anticipated this kind of reaction.

"That's bullshit. I want my old guardian angel back. Or a new one, if that can't happen." But personally, he didn't believe that getting Natasha back was impossible. There was no way that she had asked to be reassigned. Could guardian angels get sick? Maybe she needed to get back home and recharge or something; she'd said that his case was an unusually long one.

"I'm afraid you don't get to request for her to come back."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Regulations."

Tony rolled his eyes, hard. This wasn't his usual fond annoyance that he had for Natasha and Rhodey. This was more like the way he used to roll his eyes at his father when he wasn't looking and all his professors when- well, when they said pretty much anything to him. "Fine."

*

He felt kind of bad about it since it wasn't Sam's fault, but he ignored him all the time. He didn't listen to a damn thing he said. Any time he tried to do something for Tony, Tony shoved him away-- sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally. It only took two times for Sam to stop trying to touch him, but the rest stayed. After all, he was Tony's guardian angel; he was trying to do his job.

"When was the last time you slept through the night?" Sam asked.

"Last night, or haven't you been paying attention?"

"That was three hours."

"How would you know? You were still asleep when I got up."

"I know when you wake up even if I decide to keep sleeping."

"I thought guardian angels didn't need to sleep."

"I don't need to, but I like it," Sam said. He was a lot grumpier than Natasha had been.

"Natasha never complained when I got up in the middle of the night."

"Then maybe she wasn't doing a very good job of guiding you."

Tony glared at him. "Natasha was the best. You never could've handled me five years ago."

"It shouldn't have taken her that long to make progress with you," Sam said. "I'm not blaming her; we all have our own timelines for how things will progress and our own methods, but-"

"Do you think that insulting her is really going to make me like you more?"

"No," he said easily. "But I am trying to understand why you're so attached because it seems to me that Natasha overstepped and made you rely on her too much. It's what makes her so good, to have her charges care about her the way they do, but on an assignment this long, she should've known better."

Should've known better, perhaps, but Tony wasn't going to blame her for that. God knows he made more than his fair share of mistakes; she should get to make a few of her own. That being said, Tony didn't actually think of it as a mistake. He loved Natasha. She'd always been there. Even when he screamed and tried to get rid of her, she'd been there. Even when she'd gotten mad at him, she'd been there. When Tony had no one else in the world that cared about him, Natasha was there. Part of that was because she was assigned to him, but after a few years, Tony had learned that she truly wanted to be there, with him.

That was the start of when Tony started ignoring Sam altogether. He knew he was being an absolute dick, but he would do far worse to get Natasha back.

He started hosting parties. He let himself seep back into his work and kept the hours he wanted with no regard for anyone else. It was childish, he knew, but he didn't stop. Sam never stopped trying to get through to him, but it was clear that he didn't expect anything to come of it-- his patience had long since run out.

He walked into a liquor store and stared for a very long time at a bottle of whiskey. It was the cheap shit. The kind he'd be able to swig and drown the bad taste with more of it. He looked at the bottle, and his fingers itched. In the end, he walked out empty-handed. He wasn't willing to give up the sobriety that he'd worked so hard for-- that was still a struggle to maintain. It might get Natasha back if he proved that Sam wasn't doing a very good job, but he wouldn't want to see the disappointment in her face if it did work. Besides, he couldn't. He couldn't do that to himself. There was a curl of shame to him as he headed home, and he didn't know if he was more ashamed that he had tried, or that he hadn't been able to go through with it.

*

"I know it wasn't your main goal," Sam said one day, "but you have successfully accomplished getting rid of me. Your replacement will be here in the morning."

Tony thought about continuing to ignore him, but that seemed cruel. "It wasn't anything personal," he muttered.

"I know. I think I would've preferred if it was, though. At least then I would've deserved it."

"Sorry," Tony said, because he could be gracious in victory.

"Eh, I'll get over it. I once had a charge that tried to kill me, so you're not that bad."

"Shit."

"Right? So you're not my favorite charge, but you're also not the worst. I still don't get why you're so intent on getting Natasha back. Now that you're getting rid of me, would you care to share?"

"Nope."

Sam sighed. "Yeah. Didn't think so."

*

The next guardian angel was a woman named Sharon. Evidently, their boss thought that Tony would be more receptive to a woman.

She was gone a hell of a lot faster than Sam. The one after her was Steve, who lasted a similar amount of time. Tony had completely shattered his sleep schedule, but it's not like he was going to meetings or something. He made his own hours, which meant he could screw them up and not face consequences other than craving food from a joint that wasn't open-- which, not to be dramatic, was absolutely soul crushing at times.

After that was Bucky. He reminded Tony of Natasha in some strange way. At first he thought it was because his wings were black as well, and then he realized that it was because they moved the same way. Held themselves the same way. Spoke with a similar cadence. Reminded him of certain tasks without sounding demanding. Tony started listening to him without really meaning to, and he thought about backtracking, but Bucky and Natasha had to know each other if they were this similar.

"Do you know Natasha?" Tony asked, shortly after figuring it out.

Bucky glanced at him. "Yes." He didn't say anything for a moment, then added, "I was her mentor."

"So you're close?"

He nodded.

"Do you know where she is?"

"Doing time, as it were," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. He and Natasha had the same lounging position.

Tony frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Certain regulations are mostly for show, and others are comparable to crimes in your society."

"What crime-comparable regulation could she have possibly broken?" Tony asked incredulously. He was pretty sure he'd know if she'd done something, and he hadn't noticed a damn thing.

"Officially, I don't know a damn thing."

"Are guardian angels allowed to curse?" Tony wondered aloud.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

"I'm going to interpret that look as 'yes, we can curse if we're fun'?"

He snorted.

"Unofficially, what do you know?" Tony asked.

"That it was a real dumb move of her to fall in love with you." Tony's stomach dropped. "Not judging," Bucky continued. "I've fallen in love with a charge before too. When you know someone that well, you're going to love them in some way. Sometimes it fucks you over."

Tony swallowed thickly. Bucky already knew, and he didn't seem to care one way or the other about it. It had been a dumb move for Natasha to fall in love with him, much less act on it, and Tony had known that before Bucky put words to it. "That doesn't tell me where she is."

"Like I said, doing time. At the home office, on probation. She won't be allowed to leave for a while."

"How long is a while?" Where Tony had gotten older, she hadn't changed. He figured guardian angels had a ridiculously long lifespan if they weren't out and out immortal.

"I dunno. They didn't let me leave until he was dead. They might do the same here. It depends on how cooperative Natasha is," Bucky said evenly, then he sighed. "I wouldn't count on seeing her again."

"They never let you see him again?"

Bucky didn't respond. He didn't need to.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Who would've looked out for him better than you?"

Bucky scuffed his foot against the floor. "His attachment to me made him care less about the world around him. I imagine they're trying to avoid the same thing with you."

"It's none of their fucking business."

"They make it their business."

"So what are you saying? I should forget about her?"

"I wasn't giving you advice; I was telling you what happened. It didn't work out for me, so I don't know why you'd listen to any advice I could give you anyways."

"How to do it better than you, maybe?" Tony suggested, but internally, he was thinking that he had no fucking idea what he was going to do. He didn't believe in not doing anything. He just needed to make a battle plan.

*

In the end, Natasha was the one who took care of it. She showed up on his doorstep, looking oddly off-balanced without her wings.

"What the hell happened?" Tony asked. Then he got his wits about him and pulled her inside. He gave her a slightly awkward hug because he was used to working around her wings, and they weren't there anymore. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Then, "A little off. Everything feels different now."

"You can tell me about it later."

"Not now?"

She sounded too down-trodden to want to talk about it, so Tony said, "Nah, I've got to get used to you again. Bucky's here, by the way."

She snorted. "Only he would've finagled himself into this position."

"How dare you. I am a delight." He wasn't going to tell her about the other guardian angels he chased away. Not for a while, at least. Maybe a couple years from now, when they settled into whatever their new normal was going to be. 

[imnotdoneyet-forreal]

Deals with the Devil- 14

Author: Amanda Preston

Summary: A need to fill a void and an encounter to start something new, Elijah and Katya never knew that a simple one night stand would wind up into a love affair filled with family drama and side deals gone wrong.

Deals with the Devil Masterlist  

        “I don’t care if you kick me to the curb and set up my room on Craigslist but I refuse to work with misogynistic, egotistical, piece of Euro-trash that is your shitty, lying, cheating ex-boyfriend Lorenzo St. John.”

        Bonnie is out of breath by the time she’s done with her rant and Katya lets out a sigh at all of the prying eyes around her office that are waiting for her response. 

        “I really ought to rethink this whole open-door policy,” Katya mutters tiredly. “I desperately need my door back.”  

        “Katya!” 

        She looks up at her best friend/editor in chief and lets out a sigh. 

        “Look, I can’t.” 

        “You can’t or you won’t?” 

        “I can’t,” Katya repeats. “Enzo wanted me to be his editor and I have too much on my plate to fall onto his lap and do his bidding all over again. You are the only one I can trust that he won’t try to flirt or friend into getting his way. I need you to do this for me not only as your boss but as your friend.”

        She pauses as she notices Bonnie’s resigned expression. 

        “Mostly as your boss though,” Katya amends. “If HR asks, it’s because I’m your boss.” 

        Bonnie has to let out a laugh at that and the tension in your office is soon relieved. 

        “Fine, fine,” she sighs out. “I’ll do it but you owe me. Big time.” 

        “I’m already planning on doing so,” Katya relent. “A midnight bar crawl or a road trip to wherever you choose. Or maybe…” 

        Katya slides the folder across her desk for Bonnie to take. 

        “What is that?” she asks curiously. 

        “Why don’t you take a look and see for yourself?” 

        Bonnie takes up the folder and looks through the contents. 

        “Oh my God,” she exclaims. “The lit mag got approved!”

        Katya grins at her excitement. 

        “This is your baby, Bonnie,” Katya tells her. “I’m letting you take control here but I have to let you know of one big requirement and I hope you don’t hold it against me.” 

        “Alright,” Bonnie nervously agrees. “What is it?”

        “The publication of MoonLit will have to have its first release at the same time as the MoonStone Online Publishing website.” 

        Bonnie lets out a sigh of relief at hearing this. 

        “That’s fine,” she answers. “I won’t have things done by then anyway.”

        “Perfect,” Kaya responds with a smile. “Now, get to work! We’ve got a lot to do today.” 

        “Ay, ay, chief,” Bonnie states with a mock salute. 

        Katya watches as her best friend practically skips her way out of the office. She leans back into her chair relieved to have that issue out of the way but knowing there were hundreds more like it that she had to filter through. 

        A knock on Katya’s door frame interrupts her again and she finds a shy Davina to be the cause. 

        “I’m sorry to break in on your already busy day,” Davina apologizes as she steps up to Katya’s desk. “But I just got a call from Viking Co.” 

        “What did they want?” Katya asks in alarm. 

        She wasn’t sure if the acceleration of her heart was one out of panic or excitement. Katya hadn’t heard from Elijah since their outing on Sunday. She had expected some sort of text or maybe a sudden appearance to her office but he hadn’t done any of those things. Just pure radio silence. 

        “They were hoping to have a follow-up meeting over the online publishing project,” Davina summarizes. “I know it’s late notice, but they set it for this Friday at 5.”  

        “Alright,” Katya mutters anxiously. “That’s quite soon. We need to have something… anything ready for them then. I… crap.” 

        Katya rolls her chair out of her desk and starts to motion for Davina to follow her. 

        “Get Josh into the conference room,” Katya orders. “We’ve gotta bulldoze through two weeks of work in hopefully one day.” 

        Davina’s eyes widen at her statement but does as she’s told watching as Katya stormed into the conference room and began to write an outline on the dry erase wall. 

*

        Katya fidgets with the hem of her skirt unable to stop herself from doing so. She had everything prepared for this impromptu meeting but she couldn’t stop herself from being nervous. 

        “You’ll be fine,” Bonnie assured her as she stopped by her office before she left. “You put your heart, mind, and soul into this and it's perfect.” 

        Katya just smiled nervously. 

        “Unless you’re nervous because of something new altogether,” Bonnie pinpoints. “You never did tell me about that Sunday meeting that took all day.” 

        “It was nothing.” 

        “If you say so,” Bonnie shrugs with a grin. “I guess if all fails, you can always sleep with the gentleman Elijah and hope to appease his mind that way.” 

        Katya had immediately shunned Bonnie out of her office at that comment and had tried to keep her mind clear of any sexual thoughts revolving around her boss.

        It was hard to prevent her mind from straying towards that direction but Katya focused on her work. Her hard and great work. 

        She wasn’t someone who sought praise in everything she did, but Katya wanted Elijah to appreciate the work that she and her team had done in the few days they’ve had. It wasn’t perfect, but the potential it had was driving Katya fully. 

        Katya wanted to prove to Elijah that his investment in MoonStone, that his investment in her, was not a mistake. MoonStone under her leadership has true potential and she wanted Elijah to see what the future held for it. 

        With one deep breath, Katya makes her way to Gia’s desk who is quick to motion her towards the conference room. 

        “He’s ready for you.” 

        Katya thanks Gia before making her way into the conference room. She smiles at the sight of Elijah who immediately stands up from his seat to greet her. Except that smile fades away at the serious expression he held on his face that hid all emotions from her. 

        She keeps up the smile though as she realizes there’s someone else in the room. 

        “Good evening, Mr. Mikaelson and...?”

        Elijah was too slow to make the introduction as Kol is quick to rise from his seat and offer out his hand to Katya. 

        “The younger and more handsome Mr. Mikaelson,” Kol responds with a kiss on her hand. “Charmed, I’m sure?” 

        Katya has to fight back the laugh on the back of her throat as she glances over at Elijah for confirmation as to what has just occurred. Elijah looks as if he’s in physical pain which is the most emotion she’s seen in him since she’s come in. 

        “I apologize for the behavior of my younger brother, Kol,” he explains. “He will be shadowing me for the time being. I hope you don’t mind.”

        “Not at all,” Katya answers as she pulls her hand away from Kol’s hold. “Shall I begin then?” 

        “Yes.” 

        “No.” 

        Katya looks between the Mikaelson brothers confused at the responses. Elijah pinches the bridge of his nose while Kol just continues to grin.

        “Isn’t it proper to have some polite conversation instead of jumping straight into business?” Kol offers up. “Like how’s your day going? How have you been? Etcetera, etcetera.” 

        “My day’s been fine and I’ve been great,” Katya answers as she slides her presentation to the both of them. She was relieved to have made an extra copy now but that ease was quickly turned into turmoil by the chaotic intruder in the meeting. “I’m assuming things have been good for both of you?” 

        “No.” 

        “Yes.” 

        Once again the conflict of their responses do nothing to ease the tension in the room. Elijah simply lets out a sigh and nods for Katya to begin her presentation which she does. 

        “...We’ve got an approximate timeline to launch online MoonStone by early May. My team will be focusing on this solely while my Editor in Chief will have MoonLit magazine ready to launch on the same date as well. As you can see from the budget…” 

        “That’s quite low,” Elijah interrupts. “Are these numbers right?” 

        “Yes,” Katya answers with a small smile. “It’s also just an estimate but I’m confident that we will either reach or be below that budget.” 

        Elijah skims down the spreadsheet and pinpoints the problem. 

        “Your team consists of two?” 

        “Aside from me and some advice from my lawyer Mr. Gerard, yes.” 

        “That’s quite small for the amount of work that is required.” 

        “I know what needs to be done and I know that my team of two can easily do it all.” 

        “Well I beg to differ.” 

        Katya has to refrain from getting defensive. It was such a minor detail in her presentation. 

        “I know what my team and I are capable of…” 

        “Your timeline is a hopeful estimate at best. It would be wise for the sake of keeping the deadline to increase your team. I’ll approve of the new budget once you get those new numbers calculated.” 

        “That’s great but I’m not going to hire more people.” 

        Elijah looks up at her and Katya has to remain calm at the new demeanor he held at the moment. 

        “Excuse me?” 

        “I know I have you backing me financially but the finances are not the issue here. My team is capable of doing the work and to make that deadline.” 

        “More work means more people are required. At least to lighten your load.” 

        “I can’t argue with your logic there,” Katya responds. “But I am no better than my employees just because I’m the boss. I can do the work so I will do it. There is no need for me to expand my team. We’re fine as is.” 

        “You have a company to run. You can’t be spreading yourself thin.” 

        “I am not,” Katya argues. “I know what I’m capable of.” 

        “I don’t think you do.” 

        Katya can’t hold herself back this time. The hitch in her breath at his statement was the only response she could make. 

        “As entertaining as this is, I’m getting hungry.” 

        Elijah and Katya turn to Kol in surprise. Amidst their argument, they had forgotten his presence. 

        “You don’t trust her and she is hurt by it,” Kol continues. “So in order to remedy the situation and wrap this up so I may take myself out to dinner, how about we come up with a solution to this menial problem?”

        “What do you suggest we do?” Katya asks the younger Mikaelson.

        Kol smiles at the question and leans forward in his seat.

        “Middle ground,” Kol suggests. “My brother thinks you need more help and you don’t. Hence, I come into play.” 

        “Kol, enough.” 

        Kol ignores his elder brother and continues with his explanation to Katya.

        “I have no experience whatsoever in the publishing realm so I will be no aid to you which is what you want. What I can do though is keep an eye on you and your team and if you are to fail… spread yourself too thin or miss certain deadlines then I will report to my brother which then he will be forced to expand your team. A win-win and a lose-lose situation.” 

        “I’m not going to allow you to…” 

        “I’m in.” 

        Elijah turns to Katya with a mix of surprise and betrayal. 

        “Katya, you don’t understand…” 

        “It’s business hours, Mr. Mikaelson, you are to address me as Ms. Fontaine,” Katya corrects him as she shuts her portfolio closed. “And whatever I don’t understand you may type up into an email and send to me by Monday morning which is when I expect you at work, Mr. Mikaelson Jr.” 

        “Ms. Fontaine…” 

        “This meeting has surpassed the hour scheduled for it,” Katya continues ignoring Elijah’s attempt of mending the situation. “I won’t keep you much longer. We wouldn’t want you to spread yourself thin just because this meeting ran too long.”

        “Katya, please…”

        “If you have any questions or concerns, call my assistant and set up another meeting. Have a good night.” 

        Katya packs up her things and takes her leave without another word. Elijah simply watches her go knowing better than to chase after her while Kol was present. Though, he regretted not doing so anyway.

        “Well I think that went very well considering you insulted her blatantly to her face,” Kol states with a grin. “All of this could be remedied though if you just…”

        “I’m not firing you, Kol,” Elijah interrupts him. “You made a commitment now and you’re going to follow through it.” 

        Elijah leaves the conference room and Kol simply shrugs off the order. 

        “You’ll regret this soon enough, brother. Just wait and see.” 

[narrans]

The Poisoned Fey | Chapter 1 | The Poisoner’s Apprentice

It was dark; not yet dawn, but there was no better time to rise on a northern fall morning. Rothrem was completely still on these mornings. No birds or creatures of the Hhatu Strip disturbed the air as it chilled before winter. Never were there insects saturating the air with their swarming forms. The mammals were either preparing their seasonal migration or hibernation, not that they were too much of an issue in the first place. It was mornings like this that Tal’el woke especially early to begin his work.

Tal’el turned over under his sheets, inhaling deeply as he stretched and clung the warmth around him. He reached out to the candle at his bedside table and grabbed the wick. Even in his dazed state of early consciousness, he was able to focus his mind enough to produce a small flame in the palm of his hand and lite the tip of the candle.

The light in his room slowly grew from dark to dim, and continued to glow brighter as the flame danced on the wick. The room itself was simple in its design and decoration, needing only enough room for his bed and a bedside table. There were a few shelves along the wall for his books and a curtain covering a small closet where he changed and stored his clothes.

The rest of his home echoed the simplicity of his bedroom. There was a table and two chairs, an area for cooking, a washroom, and numerous bookshelves lining every wall. There was only one place not completely concealed with books, and that was a place with a cushioned inset bench next to a window. The wooden floor revealed the spirals of the interior tree

Tal’el sat up and threw his sheets off of him. Rarely did he dedicate an exorbitant amount of time on his appearance. He knew that he was required, by station, to dress appropriately and did so accordingly. Still, he did so willingly. He pulled on a pair of thick brown leather pants and a simple white shirt along with his working vest and a coat. He fitted these things over his faintly tinted green, dragonfly like wings before running his fingers through his dark brown hair tipped in white in the back and slinging his pack over his shoulder.

He unlocked his door and opened it, the early morning air immediately saturating his senses. The poisoner’s apprentice inhaled deeply, his wing tips fluttering in anticipation. Successfully clinging to the bark of the tree and locking the door behind him, Tal’el pushed off of the tree and went into a free fall for several seconds. His heart leapt into his throat and the breath caught in his lungs. It was exhilarating.

The wind whipped through his hair and across his wings before he sprung into action. Wings beating furiously, Tal’el barely grazed the tall grass clumps at the base of the oak tree as he curved sharply and flew barely a foot above the ground. He passed by the grove and the gathering places. The trees of the community rustled, their dying leaves chattering like teeth with the chilling breeze. In no time, Tal’el reached his final destination, a very large black oak tree. He turned his attention upward, his wings naturally propelling him up to the top of the tree.

Years ago, before Tal’el’s mentor was even an apprentice himself, a decision was made to keep the poisoner’s place near the tops of the tree. Though it seemed counter to logic, the decision was backed by many. There was an instance when many powerful land tremors shook loose several potions and poisons from the shelves and storage places. They shattered and leaked into the roots of the tree, killing it within minutes. The tree uprooted and many in the Sprite community were injured and a few were killed because of this incident. After many discussions, placing the poisoner’s place at the top of the trees gave time to evacuate the tree should another incident occur. The place was also reinforced with spells of protection. No such incident occurred again, but the poisoner’s place remained at the tree’s top.

Tal’el arrived, fluttering near the entrance before landing and folding his wings against his back. Wafting heat greeted him as did the smell of dried or drying herbs and minerals and stones. There were a few quartz like crystals at the entrance which, upon contact with Tal’el’s hand, illuminated the workspace.

The space itself was rather large, the entire interior of the tree’s diameter in fact. There were several brewing tables along the edges of the walls filled with beakers and bottles. There were also a two mixing benches in the center of the room with scales for weighing and measuring. There were also mortars and pestles of varying sizes hanging aloft on hooks by wash basins. Also along the ceiling and other free spaces between the drying herbs and stacked stones were dozens of journals and books bound by sturdy leaves and fine, thin leathers.

To Tal’el, the sight was a pleasant one. He remembered his first day working with his mentor, and nothing had really changed within this space nearly thirteen years later. The moment of nostalgia was brief as the senior apprentice placed his belongings in their rightful place in a small cupboard at the back of the room and slid his leather apron over his head. Tal’el also retrieved a set of protective goggles made of precisely forged glass before retrieving his own journal and beginning his work.

Hours of undisturbed work filled his mind. There was a rhythm to his work. Selecting the correct herbs. Grinding, chopping, squeezing them for each concoction. There was a list of various requests and orders from the Boarder Guards, the ones who protected the Sprite villages such as Rothrem against exterior forces and intruders. Boarder Guards from many villages sent word to the Poison Master of Rothrem since there were so few true Poison Masters in the area. Simple potions such as venom and anti-venom to coat the tips of arrows and spears. Poisons to make predators ill. Any number of things to help keep the Sprite villages safe from intruders.

It wasn’t until the two suns, Targarius and Una, were cresting over the horizon that there was additional sound in the poisoner’s place. Without turning, it was clear who it was – the Poison Master himself, Drake Woodsand.

The elder Sprite, Drake Woodsand, had deep set crevasses in his brow and cheeks, giving him a kind of wise look if he didn’t have a semi-permanent scowl creasing his features. His silvery hair, which was slicked back, still possessed flecks of red at the tips near the base of his skull. His shoulders were often drawn forward as he worked, and this generally persisted as he walked or flew about Rothrem. His dragonfly like wings were a misty grey like a fog filled morning and glowed similarly as he landed and tucked them against his back.

He said nothing as he entered and grunted in partial acknowledgment of Tal’el and his work. Drake set he things into a separate cupboard, placed the apron over his head, and perched a pair of spectacles onto his nose as he began stripping some flowers and separating the interior stems, scraping the insides and placing the viscous material into jars. The sounds of the knife pressed into the flesh of the plant and scraping against the rim of the jar combined to the natural noise of the bubbling and mixing.

They worked in silence until well past midday until a messenger arrived with a sealed note. Naturally, Drake took the note from the girl and sent her away with a brisk but polite nod. She smiled, returned the nod, which was exponentially friendlier than his, and fluttered away with her bag of messages. Tal’el, who hadn’t looked up from his beakers of anti-venom, finally reached a pausing point and set down his tools and removed his goggles. His bright green eyes picked up on his mentor’s behaviors over the years, and this was no exception.

“Can you believe this?” Drake grumbled after taring open the seal and skimming the note, his gravely voice blending with his tenor timbre. Tal’el stretched, arching his back and flaring his wings before standing and walking toward Drake. The apprentice knew he would need to see for himself if he wanted the straight-forward answer.

“What is it?” Tal’el asked habitually as he extended his hand just in time for Drake to slap the note into his outstretched hand.

“As if we didn’t have enough to do around here,” grumbled Drake, who slipped into an overexaggerated impression of whomever wrote the note. “‘Excuse me, but would you be so kind as to lend us twenty vials of your most potent anti-venom.’ Really! I mean, what are they doing with the vials we send? Are they getting hurt on purpose? Provoking snakes and the sort just to earn the queen’s fool pendant? I just want to go out there and see how they are pouring through anti-venom like this. You know, maybe if they used their wings and stayed off of the ground, they wouldn’t need the anti-venom. ‘Oh. How fascinating. I didn’t think of that.’”

Tal’el felt a smirk curl onto his face, his head shaking from side to side at Drake’s continued grumbling as his eyes traced over the scrolling Sylvan letters. Indeed, it was another request for anti-venom from not one, not two, but three villages. It was a massive request which was not to be taken lightly. Instantly, Tal’el’s mind worked at lightening speed and his pondering mind began asking questions.

“It’s the cold season,” Tal’el muttered to himself. There’s no way the villages should be using this much anti-venom unless they’re stockpiling. The venomous creatures should be preparing to hibernate and sleep the winter away. New recruits? Creating a tolerance to the venom and requiring vials as a precaution? Or have they noticed something and are hesitant to say anything. “It is a hefty request, but nothing we can’t handle. I’ve been working on harvesting the insides of our Eclipta Pros for some time. Keeping them dried for too long…”

“Naturally dries them out and they’re at peak potency now,” finished Drake, his heterochromatic eyes flaring with energy. “Don’t quote me while I’m standing right here boy. I’m old, not dead.” Tal’el nodded an apology. The elder Fey, despite working with Tal’el for just over ten years, had earned every right in calling him boy; and Tal’el knew better than to quote his mentor. Still, his jest seemed to be taken in good favor as Drake shuffled to the nearest bench to retrieve his tools. Tal’el wordlessly set himself to the task of retrieving the sealed jars of scraped and boiled Eclipta Pros. He organized the jars by age and size near his workstation while Drake continued to mumble and prepare scrapings from other elements and flowers.

The began to work at simmering other herbs and plant elements to combine with the scrapings and boiled Eclipta Pros in beakers and containers suspended over open flame. The smell, herbal yet neutral, carried through the air for the hours they worked.

It wasn’t until much later in the day, just at the very end when the two suns were preparing to set, when the sound of another pair of fluttering wings grew louder. The impact of two light set feet stepped over the threshold. Tal’el took that moment to glance over his shoulder to see his longtime friend Vin Hollardrel.

The slightly gaunt Sprite, with his coal black eyes, crossed into the Potion Master’s space and bowed politely. He presented himself well and formally, but the smile on his lips and gleam in his eyes told another story entirely. He adorned the armor of a guardsman, which consisted of brown and green leathers and folded leaves reinforced by enchantment. His jet-black hair was cut close to his scalp on either side of his head and slightly longer on the top, which was slightly informal given he was in the Guard.

“Vin, pleasure to see you my friend. How went the day?” asked Tal’el as he poured the remaining contents of the simmering jar he held into another set of vials to complete his work.

“Hasn’t begun yet. I only just woke up, but that’s what happens when you’re assigned to evening patrols,” Vin shrugged while peering through some of the bubbling potions. His coal black eyes were distorted as he blinked at his friend several times. Drake rolled his eyes before retrieving his belongings.

“I am leaving. I will most likely be in tomorrow early to check the vials.” With a curt nod of his head, Drake walked to the ledge and flew away. Tal’el continued to organize and bundle the unused herbs before prompting his friend.

“Evening? This wouldn’t be a consequence of some action you took, would it?” Tal’el knew his friend long enough to understand this was exactly the case; however, coming forth and asking about the circumstances or event directly would be rude. Besides, this allowed Vin to elaborate and spin off into one of his embellished stories as Tal’el tidied up the remaining herbs, and Vin did just that.

The dark-haired Guard began an energetic reenactment of the events that transpired beginning with why he had acquired the infraction to the conversations leading to his inevitable punishment. In Vin’s defense, he was covering for a fellow Guard, but he should have known to tell his superior since they were relying on Vin’s presence to run drills and patrols. Regardless of circumstance, Vin’s story was a way to pass the time as Tal’el successfully packaged the last of the supplies.

Now, at the end of the evening, the two departed from the poisoner’s place at the top of the tree, each going their separate ways. Tal’el watched his friend vanish among the trees. There were a handful of times he wished he had chosen a similar lifestyle, but they were fleeting. The life he currently led tested his mental limits rather than his physical ones. He possessed freedom to experiment and create as necessary while also keeping to a predictable schedule.

There was the expected that came with this position, but also the unexpected. As Tal’el entered his home and placed his belongings in their provided place, the unexpected letter requesting significant amounts of anti-venom peaked his curious mind. Why did they require such a substantial amount? And three different villages simultaneously? He was still unable to answer the question and hadn’t had a chance to compose a letter to inquire why.

Tal’el spent the remainder of his night taking notes on inventory, listing potential necessities, and contemplating theories as to why he was so perplexed about the anti-venom situation. By the end of the evening, he had curled back into his bed, eyes drooping. His bright green eyes stared unfocused at the flickering flame before he brought his hand up by his face and concentrated while closing his hand into a fist. The flame, without so much as a sound, snuffed out and left the Poison Master’s apprentice in the dark abyss of sleep.

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Continue | Coming Soon

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Forty-Nine

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, and a wee bit of Angst. 

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“Morning, Harry.” Isaac smiles at Harry as he walks in.

“Mornin’.” He says going right to his office. He was extremely groggy. He barely got any sleep thinking about a future with you. He was just too excited at the thought of you someday being the mother of his children.

“Have a good weekend?”

“Mm.” He says, not really being awake enough to talk yet.

He goes into his office and sits down. His phone buzzes, a notification from Instagram. You had posted some pictures from Saturday. He smiles when he swipes to see the picture of the two of you, and then some from the photo booth. You also added a funny one of you and Niall, and a decent picture of the four of you. He double taps to like it, and sets his phone aside. Julia knocks on his door.

“Hi Harry.”

“Hi.”

“Doing the coffee rounds.”

“Julia.” He sighs. “I ask for the same thing every mornin’, do ya think we could skip this part and just go straight to when you actually give me the coffee from now on?”

“Um…sure, Harry, I could do that.”

“I’d really appreciate it.”

She smiles and leaves. He knew she looked forward to that first interaction every day, but he just needed the time to settle in without being interrupted. He grabs a camera and head down to the set up he’d be working with for the day. Mariah joins him a couple minutes later. They chat about the weekend and he shows her the pictures you posted. Julia comes over with their coffees.

“Ah, thanks, love.” Harry says without really thinking about it, taking a sip of his coffee. Her face heats up.

“You’re welcome.” She smiles at him.

“Right, well, have fun with Myk today.”

She turns and leaves them alone. Later when he feel puckish for a snack he bumps into Paige in the breakroom.

“Hey, H.” She says.

“Hi Paige, good weekend?”

“Yeah it was alright, went by way too fast.”

“Agreed.” He grabs a protein bar from a cabinet. “How are things with Dana?”

“Really good actually, she’s a fast learner. It’s been nice having some help, I’ve been able to get a lot more work done since I’ve been letting her handle some more of the mundane tasks. Thanks again for telling Ryan to have her work with me.”

“So you haven’t been annoyed at all?”

“I was at first, but once I realized that she was actually helping I was totally over it.” She smiles.

“Good, glad I could help.” He smiles back.

Harry’s day is easy for the most part. No one really interrupted him which he greatly appreciated. There were a fuck ton of pictures and shots he needed to take. He was exhausted by the time he needed to leave to meet Niall.

“Have a good evening, H.” Isaac says as he leaves.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Always have such a bright smile on your face? I have to say it always helps me leave here with a good mood.” Harry smiles at him and leaves.

“Oh my god.” Isaac says to himself, feeling slightly flustered.

//

Harry meets Niall at the storage unit, and they take a couple of trips bringing things back and forth. After work you went home to pack up a bunch of things. You also wanted to make dinner for Harry since you knew he’d be hungry after doing so much heavy lifting. When he got home he was sweaty and tired. He took his shirt off the second he was able to hang his coat up. He was desperate for a shower, and you.

You were bent over cleaning something up off the floor, tears streaming down your cheeks. Harry rushes over to you, and you stand up.

“Hi.” You sniffle, and then look at him surprised. “Where’s your shirt?”

“I just took it off, what happened?”

“I was taking dinner out of the oven and I burnt myself and then I dropped everything on the floor. I feel really bad because I know you did a ton of work tonight and I just wanted to have a nice dinner made for you.” You wipe your eyes.

“Where’d you get burnt, babe.”

“My wrist, look.” You hold your wrist out to him. He leads you over to the sink and runs a paper towel under some warm water. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“It’s better to run a burn under warm water, cold water will make it scar.” He dabs your wrist with the paper towel and you wince, but relax at the way he touches you. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“I just finished cleaning everything up. I’ll have to dive into our frozen meals, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, love.” He continues to press the paper towel to your wrist. He removes it and brings your wrist up to his mouth for a kiss. “There, all better.” He kisses the top of your head. “A frozen meal is just fine, do ya mind poppin that pizza we got in the oven? I’m desperate for a shower. I probably smell like a goat.” You giggle.

“You smell just fine, and yeah I can make that for us.”

“Thanks.”

He goes into the bathroom and gets in the shower. He stands there for a while just letting the warm water cascade over him. You pop the pizza into the oven, and go sit on the couch with your laptop. You wanted to start your first assignment for class. You had to read a few chapters out of your book and then post in a forum. You had two different high lighters out so you could color code. Harry comes out in just a pair of boxers, his hair still damp. He sits down next to you. You had the TV on while you were reading and high lighting. He watched as your lips mouthed the words you were reading.

“How can you concentrate with the TV on?”

“Hm?” You look at him. “I don’t know, I need the background noise. I usually have the TV on or listen to music while I do my homework. Are you one of those people that need it silent?”

“No, I used to listen to music, just couldn’t read with the TV on.”

“Well, I already read what questions she wants answered in the forum, so I’m just skimming for quotes.”

“Cheatin’ the system a bit?” He smirks.

“I learned a long time ago, it’s all about learning how the teacher teaches. I’m taking in all of the content, but I also know how to play the game. I’m not going to put in a crazy amount of effort if I don’t need to.”

“What happened to givin’ your all?”

“I still am.” You shrug. “I still fully intend to get an A, I’m just doing it the way I know how.”

“How come you have two high lighters?”

“I code while I read, it helps me remember things when I go back to study later.”

“What-“

“Harry.” You sigh. “TV is one thing, but you talking isn’t really helping me read.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I can go into the bedroom if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. Do your readin’ here.” He smiles.

You get back to it and find what you need for quotes. You grab your laptop and open up a word document. You had a word limit you needed to hit and you wanted to hit it well. Harry steals glances of you. You looked so concentrated. He couldn’t believe how fast you were typing away while you answered your questions. The timer went off on the oven, so he got up to take it out. He let it cool for a few minutes and then sliced it up. He brought two pieces on a plate over for you and set it on the coffee table. You copied everything from the document into the forum and posted.

“Finally.” You sigh and grab the pizza. “In a couple days I have to respond two people, and then I’ll be done for the week.”

“Seems tedious.”

“Very, but it’s easy so I’m not complaining.”

“What’s this class about?”

“It’s a philosophy, ethics, and education course. I think I want to teach at a collegiate level someday so getting an MEd is the route I think I’m going to take.”

“Hm, Professor Y/L/N, I like the sound of that.”

“Me too, I especially like the way it sounds coming from you.” You give him a peck on the cheek and dive into your pizza.

“I don’t think I’d survive one of your classes.”

“Why’s that?”

“The combination of how strict you’d probably be with how sexy you’d look teachin’ would just be disastrous. I’d probably have to come to your office for extra help, and then who knows what would happen?” You shake your head at him.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s true! I wonder what options you’d give me for extra credit.”

“Who says you’d even take one of my classes?” You get up and put both of your plates in the sink. He follows you around.

“If I saw you on campus, I’d sign up for any class you’d be teachin’.”

“That’s only because you know me.”

“Not true.”

“Are you saying there was a hot professor at your school that you took every class with?”

“God no, I don’t think I had a single young, hot professor.” He laughs. “I typically stuck with the grad assistants.” You roll your eyes at him. “Kidding! Yikes, lighten up.” He smirks.

“Harry, I would literally not be surprised to find out if you fucked every single woman at both of your universities.”

“Not all of ‘em, didn’t fuck anyone that had a boyfriend.”

“My, how considerate of you.” You say sarcastically.

“What about me? If I were a professor at your university, would you have had a crush on me?”

“Harry, I think in any universe I would have a crush on you.” His cheeks heat up. He wasn’t expecting such an honest answer. You walk away from him and plop back down on the couch.

“Don’t get too comfy, c’mon.” You turn your head up to look at him.

“What?”

“Bedroom, let’s go.” You cross your arms and turn your attention back to the TV. “Y/N.”

“Aren’t you too tired?”

“Caught a second wind. Nothin’ on the TV is more important right now.”

“Says you.” You point to the TV. “The Bachelor is just about to start.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Harry, the season of The Bachelor starts tonight, and I’d like to watch.” He comes over to sit next to you.

“Please, tell me you’re joking.”

“No, and in fact…” Your phone goes off, you have a FaceTime request from Niall. Your face lights up as you answer. “Hey!”

“Tell me you’re watchin’!”

“Yes! And you’re friend here doesn’t seem to understand the importance.”

“Next Monday we are gettin’ together to watch, just like last season.”

“Yes! Please, I need you here. Can you believe they went with Peter over Mike?”

“I’m still not over it.” Harry bends over and puts his face in his hands.

“I cannot fucking believe this.”

“You can either sit and watch or go to another room. This is my guilty pleasure and I’m allowed to have it.”

“Can’t you just record it?”

“And be spoiled by all the people on Twitter, I don’t think so.”

“What else is so important?” Niall asks. You give him a telling look and he starts laughing. “Keep it in your pants mate!”

“That seems to be how it’s going to be this evening.”

You and Niall decide to just text each other during the episode so Harry is slightly less annoyed. He grabbed his laptop and put his headphones in so he didn’t have to fully watch. He’d glance up at you when he’d hear you gasp or start laughing hysterically.

“What a dumb bitch!”

“Oh god, I really don’t like any of these girls.”

“Peter! You’re horny stop!”

Harry took his headphones off when he heard you say that. He looks at the screen and sees two people heavily making out.

“What in the fuck are you actually watching?”

“This is how The Bachelor is! This guy last season, he fucked this girl four times! Four times! He just wants to bone, I don’t know if he’s ready for marriage, I just don’t see it.”

“How long is this?”

“Usually it’s two hours, but because it’s the premiere, it’s three hours tonight. It’s live.”

“Three hours?!”

“You don’t have to stay up the whole time with me if you don’t want, babe.” It was already 9:30.

“No, I…”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna go to bed at a different time than you.” You turn to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think it’s good when couple’s go to bed at different times. Like, I could already be asleep when you come to bed. Then we wouldn’t really be able to enjoy a cuddle. What’s the fun in that?”

“My parents never went to bed at the same time, it’s a perfectly normal thing.”

“Yeah? Look at how well that turned out.” Both of your eyebrows raise in a snap, and you pause the TV.

“What the fuck did you just say to me? Are you telling me that because my parents didn’t go to bed at the same time that that’s why they aren’t together?”

“No, that’s not what I meant…that came out wrong.”

“Don’t know how else you could’ve meant it Harry.” You hit play on the TV and turn your attention back to it. “Maybe you should go to bed now.”

“Can’t go to bed with you mad at me.” You sigh heavily.

“Not mad.”

“Yeah you are, I just pissed ya off. I’m sorry, I-“

“I can’t fucking hear the TV! Please, I just want to watch this!”

“It’d a fuckin’ reality show! Fuck!” He slams his laptop shut and stands up. “Don’t worry I’ll leave you and Niall to you’re textin’.”

“Good, it’s all I wanted, thanks.” You say snappily.

“You know, you didn’t even say thanks for all the shit I had to do after work today.” He crosses his arms. You pause the TV again.

“Yes I did. I tried cooking you dinner, and then I fucked it up. I appreciate everything you did this evening, okay? Would you like a cookie to go along with the thank you? Perhaps another prize of some kind?”

“Note to self, never bother you again when this stupid fuckin’ show is on or else I’ll get bitched out.” He huffs.

“You literally just threw my parent’s separation in my fucking face because I want to stay up late! You’re being psychotic Harry, it’s one night that I’m not going to go to bed with you at the same time, fuck, you’re such a baby sometimes!”

What was happening right now? He knew he shouldn’t have said that, but now you were cutting deep.

“Psychotic? A baby?”

“Yup and yup. Did you ever stop to think maybe I had a stressful day, and maybe I was looking forward to watching my stupid fuckin’ show all day? I’m sorry, Harry, but you’re wrong. Now leave me alone.”

“I’m not bein’ psychotic.” He pouts. 

“Oh my god!” You stand up and turn the TV off. You whip the remote on the couch and stomp off to the bedroom.

“What are you doin’?” He follows you to the bedroom.

“This is what you wanted right? I’m going to bed with you. I’ll just watch the rest during my lunch break tomorrow. Now I have to text Niall not to tell me who Peter’s sending home.” You were texting him furiously. You go into the bathroom and slam the door shut. You come back out after finish your routine and get into the bed.

“Now you’re going to bed upset with me.” He says sitting up in the bed.

“I can’t fucking win with you tonight!” You feel tears prick at your eyes. “Do you want me to go to sleep with you or not?!”

“I wanted to have sex earlier and you wanted to watch TV instead.” You grab the pillow behind you and scream into it, then set it back behind you.

“Harry, I didn’t feel like it.” His mouth forms into a straight line. He really couldn’t comprehend it.

“Because you wanted to watch another guy make out with over twenty women?” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You sigh heavily again. “You’re exhausting, you really are. I’m here, in the bed with you, just like how you wanted.”

“S’not how I wanted.” You blink at him, and turn over. You grab your earbuds and plug them into your phone and put them in your ears. “What are you doin’?”

You don’t say anything, you put on one of your playlists, and start scrolling on your phone.

“Hello? Really, the silent treatment over something so stupid?”

You feel tears roll down your cheeks. You hear him groan and he turns the light off. He stays sitting up in bed with his arms crossed. He could faintly hear your music, but couldn’t quite make it out. He was acting like a baby. He was exhausted and you had denied him. He wanted attention, and you didn’t give it to him. He was wrong to have said that about your parents, but you’re not the only one to have parents that were split up. Although something tells Harry he grew up in a much happier home than you did. Great, now he feels terrible. He hears you sniffle. Fuck. He made you cry.

“Babe?” He places a hand on your hip.

“Go to bed, Harry.”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” You switch your phone to your Hulu app so you can keep watching the show.

You went to bed with Harry, but he didn’t get his proper cuddle. He knew it was his fault. You fell asleep with your headphones in, and woke up with them tangled around you. You put them and your phone on your night table. It was around four in the morning. Harry was asleep facing you. You turn to face him. You felt bad about getting so worked up earlier in the night. You lightly brush his cheek with your hand, and snuggle up next to him.

You rest your forehead against his chest, and your hand on his hip. You feel his arm drape over you. You put one of your legs over his, and he moves his leg between yours.

“Hi.” He says opening his eyes.

“Hi…I hope you don’t think I think a TV show is more important than you.”

“No…I’m sorry about all of it. I shouldn’t have said that about your parents.”

“It’s alright.” You snuggle into him further.

“I know I can be kind of…needy sometimes. And I was bein’ cranky from just bein’ tired.”

“But I like how you are, I like when you want me. You’re so cute.”

“You called me a baby…” He pouts.

“I did…it’s not a lie, you are a baby, but you’re my baby.” You sigh into him. You feel him chuckle against you.

“Just don’t say it in such a mean way again.”

“Okay.”

He moves his hand and tilts your chin up so you look at him. You close your eyes and kiss him. He pulls you closer and deepens the kiss. You roll your hips against his thigh and groan into his mouth.

“Harry, please make love to me.” You whisper.

“Won���t you be too tired for work later?”

“Don’t care.”

You roll over onto your back and pull him with you. He kisses you again, and nips at your jaw and neck. He plants wet kisses on you while his hand roams between your legs. He rubs up and down your slit, getting you nice and wet. He pushes your legs apart as you give his hard cock a few quick pumps. You guide him in and he pushes inside. Your hands reach for his so you can intertwine your fingers. He rests them up above your head on either side your pillow. He slowly pumps in and out of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist. His thrusts were so and sloppy, and you were incredibly turned on. His head is buried in the crook of your neck.

“I hate when we fight.” You say into his year.

“Me too.”

“I love you so much, Harry.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry I was an asshole.” He grits is teeth when you start to move your hips along with his rhythm.

“I’m sorry I acted like a brat.”

He presses up hard into you, and stops moving so you can just grind back and forth on him. You squeeze your hands tightly on his as you feel your stomach start to tighten.

“Ah, fuck, Harry, Harry, shit!” Your release comes and he presses harder into you as you ride it out. You were full on panting. You tighten around him to hold on to your orgasm as long as you can.

“You like when I do that?”

“Yes, feels so good. Love the way I can really feel how hard you are.”

He bites down on your neck and your back arches. His hands tighten around yours as he thrusts in and out of you, chasing his own release. Every moan and groan that leaves his lips and goes into your year sends you. You feel your legs start to shake, and you come at the same time as him. He collapses on top of you and lets go of your hands. You go right for his hair and play with. He slowly pulls out of you and moves to lay on his side facing you. It was around 4:45 in the morning. You sigh and decide to just get up and shower. He grabs onto your hips and you giggle as he pulls your back to his chest.

“I need to pee.”

“Just stay and cuddle a minute, I didn’t go down on ya so you don’t need to be paranoid like ya usually are.” He nuzzles into your hair.

“Alright.” You feel your eyes flutter closed, but they soon open back up when you hear your alarm go off. You get up and turn it off. You groan as you shuffle into the bathroom to take a shower.

You were just washing your hair when you heard the door click open and the curtain shuffle open. Harry steps into the shower as you scrub the rest of the shampoo out of your hair. He waits for you to finish and you step aside to let him step into the water. He looks up at the shower head.

“Ever use tha’ before?” His voice was still raspy from the sleep and the sex. It was so sexy.

“Use what babe?”

“The shower head?” You blink at him, confused.

“You just saw me use it to wash my hair.”

“Not there, there.” He points to your crotch and your cheeks flush.

“Harry, I do not have time for this, I-“

“Just answer the question.”

“No I have not used my showerhead on to get off.”

“Would you like to?”

“Harry, out of all the time we’ve taken a shower together, why are you doing this now? I don’t want to rush to work?”

“It’s not even six yet, you have plenty of time.”

“But, I’ll need to blow dry my hair, and-“

“You didn’t answer my question.” He crosses his arms.

“Would I like to use it to get off? No, not really. Why are you offering to do it for me?” He grins at you and nods. “You just got me off, I’m good for the morning.”

“Good for the mornin’?” He chuckles. “You’re funny. C’mere.”

“Harry…”

“If you’re late to work I give you full permission to be mad at me all day and I won’t make a fuss of it, now.” He grabs your shoulders and moves you. He takes the shower head down and moves towards you.

You nearly ripped the shower curtain off the rod as you had one of the most intense orgasms ever. You thought using a showerhead was only something that worked in movies or porn. The way Harry maneuvered it was astounding. You got out of the shower and left him in there to do his thing. You put a simple outfit together, and started to dry your hair just as Harry was getting out of the shower. He punched your bum as he walked into the bedroom. He went into the kitchen to make a smoothie for the both of you. You end up only partially drying your hair. You braid back some of it and get it all in a ponytail. You put on some make up quickly and walk quickly into the kitchen. You smile when you see the smoothie.

“Mm, thank you.” You say as you take a sip. Harry wraps his arms around you and kisses you tenderly. “I really need to go. It’s my day to get coffee.”

“When did this little tradition of your start?”

“Pretty much when I first started. We both realized we were going to the same coffee shop, so we just started taking turns.” You shrug. You kiss him one more time.

“Do ya ever wanna play hooky?”

“Oh no, no, no.” You step away from him. “You’ve had enough influence over me today. I’m saving my vacation days for the move, remember? Another ten days and we’ll have a whole week off together in our new place.” You grab your smoothie and keys. “I’ll be home late, therapy session today.”

“Alright, have a good day, love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

//

You get to work on time, somehow, and give Niall his coffee. He pulls you into his office quickly.

“What?”

“Your neck! Did you forget a scarf?” Your eyes grow wide and you take out your phone to look. You clamp your hand over the spot.

“Shit! I didn’t even notice. It happened really early this morning.”

“I have one you can wear, but it might look goofy.”

“I’ll try it. I don’t even have makeup with me to cover it up.” You groan. “Maybe I am getting too old for this.” He chuckles and hands you the scarf he wears with his jacket.

“Thanks, this’ll work fine.” You wrap it around your neck.

“Early mornin’ romp?” He smirks.

“Maybe.” You giggle. “We had a little fight last night, and we went to bed upset.”

“Oh yeah, you mentioned that when ya texted me. Did you see the rest of the episode?”

“Yes! So dramatic.”

“As always.”

“I was texting the girls too. We should all get together to watch it.”

“Great idea! Everyone can come to my place Monday.”

“I can’t wait to move and have a few days off to unpack.”

“You know if you need a couple days to work from home this week, I’m sure that would be fine. You’ve got a lot goin’ on with the move, class, and Harry’s birthday this weekend. Where are ya takin’ him again?”

“To where we went on our first date.”

“Oh my god, he’s gonne die.”

“I know! I can’t wait to take him out.”

//

Harry was sitting in a staff meeting, trying his hardest not to fall asleep. It’s not that he was bored, he was just genuinely tired.

“H, you could look a little more interested, you know?” His supervisor Christin says.

“Hm? Sorry, I had a long night.”

“Well perk up. You could at least act to be happy that we’re sending you down to Florida in the middle of winter.”

“I’m sorry what? I…I thought I wasn’t travelin’ much anymore.”

“Sorry, H, but I need you on this one. The assignment’s in the folder I handed out.” He looks around to everyone.

“When do I leave?” He sighs.

“In two weeks.”

“See, the thing is, I’m in the middle of movin’, and I had some vacation time put in-“

“We’re giving it back to you, and you can use it at another time.”

“Is there any particular reason I can’t go, and Harry can stay here?” Mariah asks.

“I need you hear on another assignment.”

“But, Harry really doesn’t want to travel. Him and his girlfriend-“

“Mariah, I don’t need to know about Harry’s personal life, neither does anyone else in this room. Harry, I know it’s not ideal, but I need you on this.”

“How long am I gone for?”

“About a week.” His heart sinks into his stomach. He just wanted to have the time off with you. And the thought of you spending the first night in your new place alone crushed him. He thought he was going to be sick. Everyone could see it on his face, except Christin.

“Okay.” He says looking down.

“H, listen, you’re going to be in Florida, try to perk up, hm?”

“Yeah.” He was biting the inside of his cheek, he needed to get out of there.

After the meeting he went right to his office and looked over the full assignment. He was actually going to be taking pictures of some really cool vegetation, the timing was just terrible. He wondered if he could ask to bring you with him, but he was sure that wouldn’t go over well. He could always pay for a plane ticket for you. He was so frustrated. He put his face in his hands at he started crying. Isaac noticed what was happening and made a call.

//

“Hi Trish, what’s up?”

“There’s a man on the phone for you from Plant Geo, his name is Isaac, do you want me to transfer him?” You’re slightly confused, and a little concerned.

“Um, yeah.” You wait a moment for the transfer to go through. “Hello?”

“Hi…Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Isaac, I work reception at Plant Geo.”

“Yes, I know. Is everything okay?”

“I think Harry could use you. He just got an assignment and he’s not taking it well.”

“Oh no! What kind of assignment?”

“I think they’re making him travel somewhere. He’s, um, crying.”

“Oh god, okay…um…I’m there. Thank you. How did you find my office number?”

“He’s mentioned where you worked before, just tried my luck with Google.”

You hang up and run down to Niall’s office.

“I’m taking an early lunch, something came up.”

“Everythin’ alright?”

“I’m not sure yet, I’ll keep you updated.”

You sprint down to your car and speed over to Harry’s studio. You get there in about twenty minutes. Harry had calmed down a little, but his eyes were red and puffy as he began working. Everyone knew to leave him alone. You park and get up the elevator. You wave to Isaac as you go right for Harry’s office. You don’t knock you just go right in.

“Oi, it’s polite to knock.” He looks over at you, and his face completely changes.

“Sorry ‘bout that Mr. Styles, I won’t do it again.” You give him a small smile. “What’s wrong baby?” You sit on his desk.

“How did you? I’m so confused.”

“Isaac called me at work, he said you were upset.” Harry looks over in Isaac’s direction.

“Tattle tale.” He sighs and looks at you. “I have to go to Florida the same week we were supposed to have off together.” He starts sniffling. “And I’m upset because I can’t stand the thought of you there all by yourself when we were supposed to be unpackin’ together.” He buries his head in your stomach and you stroke his hair.

“Harry, honey, it’s okay. I understand.” You try to soothe him as best you can. “You don’t need to feel bad. Maybe I can fly down too, what part of Florida are you going to?”

“Um.” He lifts his head and looks at the papers in the folder. “Near Port St. Lucie, I’ll be near the manatee habitat.”

“Hmm, on the east coast. Well, I could fly down and spend a few days with Nannie, and then I could come meet you or you could come to us.”

“But what about us unpacking and gettin’ everything together?”

“Harry, we can still fully move in when we planned to. And I don’t mind unpacking a bit without you.”

“But…I’ll miss our first night together there.”

“I’ll leave for Florida when you do.” You shrug.

“But the last minute ticket will be really expensive.”

“I can afford it. I have the time off already anyways, and getting out of the cold sounds nice. It’s nothing to be upset over.” You run your thumbs over his cheeks to wipe his tears away.

“You don’t mind that things are gettin’ a little messed up?”

“It’s not ideal timing, but I’ll take any excuse to go visit my grandmother.”

“Where’s she again?”

“On the west coast, in North Port. Only a couple hours from where you’ll be.”

He stands up and wraps his arms around you. You hug him close to you and just stand there hugging.

“You’re amazing, thank you for being so flexible.”

“Of course.” You kiss him on the cheek. “Don’t get mad at Isaac, I’m glad he called.”

“I would’ve just come to see you in a couple hours.”

“Yeah, but you would’ve been upset for that much longer.”

Christin comes walking over to Harry’s office.

“What the hell is going on?” You whip your head around to look at the woman.

“Christin, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Didn’t realize it was social hour.” She crosses her arms.

“Sorry, it was my fault, um, I grabbed something of his by accident this morning and I needed to drop it off.” You smile at her. “I’ll see you tonight, Harry.” You give his hand a squeeze and leave his office. You nod at Isaac on your way out.

“Heard she’s been coming around here a lot.”

“Only on lunch breaks, and it’s been like two times.” He crosses his arms at well. “Did you need somethin’?”

“We need to go over Florida.”

“We?”

“Yeah, I’m going too.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your supervisor and I’m supervising the assignment.”

“Are your kids comin’ too?”

“I’m going to have my husband take the girls to Orlando and I plan to meet them there later on.”

“How nice for you.”

“Harry, if you hate it here so much, why don’t you quit?”

“I don’t hate it here, I just hate travelin’.”

“You used to love it.”

“People change, I don’t like it anymore.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing specific.” He shrugs. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine, this is just a sort of stressful time. You could act a little more sympathetic ya know. There is such a thing as work-life balance.”

“You’re right, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. As long as I’ve known you, you never really had someone in your life you seemed to care about so much…I didn’t realize how serious this was.”

“I don’t exactly go around spilling my nonsense around. Her grandmother lives in Florida, she’s going to try to find a flight to go down there too and then we’re going to meet up.”

“That’ll be nice.”

//

“Well at least they’re not makin’ him go this weekend.” Niall says, diving into his lunch.

“I know…he was acting like it was the end of world. It’s really not a big deal.”

“He probably just felt like he was lettin’ ya down. It’s good you were able to get over there,”

“His supervisor wasn’t thrilled to see me.”

“Christin can be kind of shrill…I think she forgets what it’s like to be young sometimes.”

“She didn’t seem that much older.”

“She’s like thirty-five.”

“Ah.”

“Do you think you’ll need some extra vacation time?”

“Depends on the flights I’m able to book. I’m secretly kind of happy, I can’t wait to call Nannie to tell her.”

“She’s gonna be so happy to see you. So when will you guys actually move?”

“The plan was to be fully out of my place by next weekend, and then spend the week unpacking. He was really torn up about me sleeping there alone.” Niall’s face falls.

“That wouldn’t upset you?”

“Well, it’s not ideal, but it is what it is. He and I will be able to unpack and set up pretty easily since all of the boxes are clearly labeled.”

“Was your family plannin’ to help too?”

“My brother is coming with his truck, and my mom said she could help unpack the kitchen, so I’m really not worried about it. Just need to book flights now. Hopefully it won’t be too expensive with it being sort of last minute.”

“I have plenty of miles built up if-“

“Save them, please. Very kind of you though.” You smile at him. You sigh. “Do you think Harry will ever just freelance full time like Louis does?”

“No idea. I know he wants to do it eventually, but there’s so much uncertainty. His busy seasons are great, but when it’s slow, it’s slow. He’d have to do a lot to really keep the business goin’, he’d have to lease a studio space.”

“Our loft could easily be set up as a home studio.”

“Yeah, maybe for small projects, but do you really want a ton of strangers comin’ in and out?”

“Good point.”

“Real-estate isn’t cheap in this area. He’d need to put together a whole business plan, not that he doesn’t know how to do that.”

“He just seems to no enjoy his work.”

“He enjoys the work, just not the people.”

“It sucks how the people you work with can make you hate what you’re passionate about. It shouldn’t be that way. You and I are so lucky we have each other.”

“Grateful for it every day.”

//

You can’t wait to get home to Harry after your appointment with Dr. Mara. It was a great session. When you walk in, Harry was packing boxes according to your very specific list.

“Hi baby.” He turns around to look at you.

“Hey.” He comes over and wraps his arms around you.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He kisses your cheek. “He was Dr. Mara?”

“Good! She says hi.” You giggle and let go of him. “What do you feel like eating tonight?” You ask, walking into the kitchen. He follows you and sits at the island. “Well? I’ll make whatever you want.”

“Really only one thing I’d like to eat right now.” He rests his chin on his palm.

“Okay, well if it’s takeout that’s fine. I can pick up whatever.” You weren’t picking up on what he was putting down. He sighs. “What?”

“Babe.” He gives you his bedroom eyes and your face flushes immediately.

“Oh!” You look at him and then the fridge. “Okay, but I’m legitimately hungry…”

“We can have food after.”

“Okay.” He perks up. “Where do you want me?”

“Take your pants off and go lay on the sofa.”

You do as he says. He comes over to you, and just admire your body. His thumbs spread you apart, and your hips buck up when you first feel his tongue on you. You felt bad, you should be the one tasting him, but he wanted to forget about everything and get lost in you. You feel yourself get even more turned on when you hear him groan against you. His tongue licks a flat stipe up your center, and then he lick up into you. Your hands grasp at his hair.

“Fuck.” You gasp as he swirls his tongue around inside you.

His thumb moves up to your clit and rubs slow circles on it. He was taking his time with you. That was the thing about Harry, he knew how to get you off quick, and he knew how to move at an agonizingly slow pace to get you there just the same. This was one of those time where he just wanted to savor every last bit of you. You looked down to see him nose deep, and totally in another state of mind. He pressed harder on your clit as he rubbed on it and you started to grind against his tongue.

“Feels so good babe.” You moan, throwing your head back. His free hand presses down on your stomach adding to the pressure of it all. “Harry.” You start panting his name. “Harry.” It’s music to his ears. If he could hear one sound for the rest of his life, it would be this. “Harry!”

Everything goes white for a moment, and stars come into your vision. He doesn’t let up though, he continues to suck on you. He gulped up every last bit of your release, and was hoping to give you another one until your phone rang. You saw it was your Nannie.

“Harry, fuck, I need to answer that.” He slowly lifts from between your legs and sighs. You clear your throat before answering. “Hi Nannie!”

“Hi precious girl, I got your message.”

“Will that week work for you? I know it’s short notice.”

“Nannie’s actually going to have company for a few days that week, so I don’t think it’ll work. But, if you wanna come the week after?” Your face falls.

“That won’t work, I only have this particular week off…”

“I’m sorry baby, your cousin and his kids are coming to visit, it’s their school vacation.”

“That’s alright, I’m glad they’ll get to see you.”

“Maybe you could come to Aruba again this year.”

“I didn’t think you had fully committed to going.” You perk up.

“I decided a little while ago. You should come if you can, I think your mom is planning on it too.”

“It’ll be just like last year! Okay, I’ll talk to mom. I’d need to book that like now.”

“Yeah, the airfares are decent now, I can text you the dates.”

“Okay! This’ll be so much fun, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Sorry we won’t see each other this month.”

“It’s okay, really. Aruba sounds amazing right now anyways.”

“Okay sweetie, well I need to go, but I love you.”

“Love you too!” You sigh and look at Harry. “So…I’m not going to Florida, I’m sorry. My cousins are visiting with her that week.”

“You could come with me, and stay at my hotel.” You put your hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, I would be bored out of my mind while you worked all day. It’s really short notice, I’ll just stay here.”

“What was that about Aruba?”

“She’s going again this April, and she wants me to come, so I think I will. It’s so much fun.” You stand up and pull your underwear and pants back on. “It’s not the end of the world. I won’t unpack anything you don’t want me to.”

“That’s not the point.” He sighs.

“I know. Sometimes we can’t always get what we want though, babe. Besides, it’ll be nice for us to miss each other a little, don’t you think.” You go over to the fridge and take out some carrot sticks to munch on.

“I miss you enough during the day as it is.” He pouts.

“Harry…”

“I know, I’m actin’ like a baby.”

“It’s only a week. We can FaceTime every night if you want. I can walk you through the apartment, and we can leave our phones on until we fall asleep. You can even still read to me if you want.”

“Do you have enough vacation time to go away in April?”

“Yeah, I have plenty.”

“My family is probably comin’ in April for Easter.”

“That’s usually when we’re in Aruba.”

“Will you have enough vacation time for the summer? I want you to come back to England with me for a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah I should have enough. Besides, they’d probably let me flex time if I didn’t have enough. I could just work remotely over there.”

“How do you stay so calm about all this?”

“In the grand scheme it’s not a big deal.” You shrug, chomping on another carrot. “I’ll miss seeing your mom and Gemma when they come. But at least we’ll have a nice guest space for them!” You say cheerily.

“Suppose you’re right. C’mon, can’t have eatin’ carrots for dinner. How bout I make us some soup?”

“You’ve had a long day. Why don’t I make dinner, and you go play a video game or something?”

“That’d be great, some of my friends might be online.” You give him a quick kiss and get to work.

You had heard someone jokingly say once that your boyfriend or husband was essentially your first baby. You always that that was a weird thing to say because a man should be able to take care of himself. But today Harry literally felt like your baby. You felt this overwhelming need to protect him at all costs, and you knew you’d pounce on anyone what tried to hurt him.

“Oh Harry!”

“Yeah babe?” He says from the couch.

“After dinner, I’d like to return the favor.” You wink at him.

“Best kind of dessert there is, isn’t it?”

[stardew-imagines-me]

The bachelor's reacting to the scars their farmer s/o gets from the mines? I remember Sebastian once mentioning how he got a cut from a rock crab.

Elliot

* You heard another stressed sigh leave his lips, gaze burning in the side of your head as Elliot’s fingers dance along your wrist, watching the scabbing scar twist around your arm and lead to a plethora of old wounds

* “You worry me, dove,” He’s beyond stressed, he always is when it comes to your safety, and no amount of promises can ease the tension in his shoulders. You should’ve been more careful today, a bloody scrape stood firmly on your elbows and knees

* “You’ll always be beautiful to me, I’m just worried I’ll lose you someday. I’ve never been to the mines, and from the stories on your skin, I don’t think I want to be,” The mood lightens as you giggle at his exasperated face

- “The moment you saw a slime, you’d run,” You teased, and he shook his head in protest, a lopsided grin placed upon his features, and dopey jokes of mysterious ghouls fills the stressed silence that stood for minutes before

Sam

* “Woah, your scars,” Sam gasped, marveling at the bruises and cuts that framed your body, the fading scars laying broadly against your skin, some looking a little lighter than others

- “Sorry,” You said quickly, reaching out to grab your shirt again but stopping when Sam’s hand wrapped around your wrist softly, “No, they’re.. they’re really pretty,”

- “Huh?” Sam moved closer to you, sitting on your bed and placing his other hand on top of yours, “You shouldn’t feel insecure because of these,” He looked down a particular cross cut you had gotten from running away on some of your few last breaths before passing out

- “They show how strong you are, I like it,” His smile shouldn’t bring so much comfort, but it does. The feeling of shame that washed over you when you peered in the mirror, judging your scarred skin washed away and was replaced with a sense of belonging

Harvey

* “Even though I’ve stitched up most of these, it never gets easier seeing them outside the recovery room,” You looked up from where Harvey was crouched in front of you, bandages placed back into the box

- “I know,” you croaked, throat sore and hoarse from all the panicked screaming you had done while you rushed out of the mines, clenching your arms that had three deep gashes oozing blood from between your fingers

- “I always tell you to be careful, but you keep pushing every.. “thing” that’s down there, I’m scared one day I won’t be able to just patch these up!” He’s shaking, staring at the blotches of red wrapped in your white bandages, eyes skimming over the scars that dot across your legs, down your arms, over your body

* “Harvey,” Your hands land on top of his head, knocking him out of his stressed daze, “I love you,” There are frustrated tears pooling at the corner of his eyes, he refuses to look up at you but you can tell by the twitching of his fingers, he’s not mad at you

- “I love you too, but this,” He motions to your wounded limbs, “No more,”

[creampuffqueen]

Team Bonding

Word Count: 2,328

Requested by the lovely @ruby-tucker, a fic where Nova and Oscar are friends and go to the mall and eat Dairy Queen together. You ask, I deliver.

I’m not super happy with the ending of this, but I like the rest, so I think that’s good I guess. Hope y’all enjoy!

~~~~

“Nova Artino!” Nova’s wristband buzzed as Oscar’s voice sounded from it, urgent and harrying. 

“What do you want? I’m working.” Nova said back. She was busy at her worktable, taking things apart and combining them back together. She hadn’t stopped working for two days.

“I’m coming to get you. I have a surprise.”

“I can’t.” She said. “I’m getting close with this-”

“Chill out, Nova. I’m taking you on a team bonding experience.” Oscar chuckled. Oh no.

“Team bonding?” Nova yelped. “Where? And why?”

“I’m coming to get you, and you’ll find out.” He laughed. “You don’t even have to dress up. You can wear sweatpants and a hoodie, I don’t care.”

He hung up, and Nova groaned. She was reluctant to leave her project, but after taking a moment to actually look at herself-

She needed a shower. And some fresh clothes. Adrian was right, she did have a tendency to forget about herself when she was working.

Nova didn’t wash her hair, since she didn’t know how close Oscar was, and didn’t want to go wherever he was taking her and the team with wet hair. Instead she tied her dark locks into a high ponytail and donned a fresh hoodie and leggings.

Ding. The doorbell rang through the small apartment, and Nova went to answer it.

“Hello, Miss Artino.” Oscar made a dramatic bowing gesture on her doorstep, cane in hand. “Will you do me the pleasure of joining me in my quest for Dairy Queen?”

“Your quest for what now?” Nova snorted. She stepped out, wincing at the sunlight. 

“Oh my stars. Guys, she’s never had Dairy Queen!” Oscar shouted over down the stairs. Nova rolled her eyes at him, but let Oscar lead her back down to the street.

Everyone was there. Adrian, Ruby, Danna, and even Narcissa. While the redhead wasn’t really a Renegade, she was essentially part of the team. Nova liked her, she was the kind of person who one could sit in silence with and feel comfortable.

“How have we all let Oscar drag us out here?” She asked. “It’s like, what, nine in the morning?”

“Babe, it’s literally one o’clock.” Adrian chuckled. 

“Oh. Yeah.” Nova sighed. She’d completely lost track of time again.

“Anyway,” Oscar continued, “We’re all going to the mall, and we’re going to have lots of fun. And after we have lots of fun, we are going to eat ice cream until we can’t walk anymore.”

“I can’t believe you dragged me away from my work for this.”

“It’ll be fun.” Oscar assured her. “Trust me.”

So Nova let him drag her along behind him as he walked, her wrist in one hand and his cane in the other. Ruby walked close by, laughing at his dumb jokes.

“Nova, have you ever been to the mall before?” Danna asked as they arrived in the massive parking lot. 

“No. I lived in an abandoned subway tunnel for over half my life. I wasn’t allowed to go to the mall.”

“So I hate to be that person,” Oscar said with a wince, “But can you try to lighten up? Just a bit? A little? Like, a tablespoon lighter?”

Nova snorted. “Absolutely not.” Oscar made a pouty face, and Nova nudged his shoulder. “Kidding.”

“Great! Let’s go inside.” Oscar let go of Nova so he could take Ruby’s hand, leaving Nova with Adrian, Danna, and Narcissa. 

Her boyfriend offered his hand, which Nova gladly took. As they approached the building, her blue eyes widened. 

“Woah.”

She followed the others inside, looking around incredulously. The inside seemed even bigger, if that was possible. Stores were packed close together, little booths in the massive walkways between them. Advertisements were everywhere, faces of the Renegades on seemingly every surface.

“Adrian, is it weird to see your dads’ faces on literally everything?” She asked.

“I mean, yeah. Kinda.” He shrugged. “You get used to it, though.” They followed Oscar and Ruby through the thickening crowds, almost having to run to catch up.

“This place is insane.” Nova gasped. “I don’t even know what to say.” 

“I am pretty good at rendering girls speechless.” Oscar smirked. Both Nova and Ruby rolled their eyes, Nova even going as far as to punch him softly. 

“Can we please stop in the Barnes & Noble?” Naricssa begged. 

“Why not.” Oscar agreed. “We’ve got all day.”

They followed the redhead into the nearby bookstore, and Nova watched as she grabbed what seemed like one of every book in the store. She skimmed some of the titles, but nothing interested her.

She did stop, however, when she found the magazines. 

“Guys, look at this.” They all glanced over to what she was pointing at.

A picture of their team was on the cover of a magazine. Nova remembered when they’d done this, only because Simon and Hugh had practically begged them. Most of the pictures had turned out bad, but apparently not all, since they were currently the advertising for a magazine she’d never heard of.

“Wow. I look like shit.” Danna snorted. “Why did you guys let me out of the house that day?”

“No, you look pretty.” Narcissa said earnestly. 

“Well, I know who looks pretty good in this.” Oscar grinned. He puffed out his chest, and Nova waited for the self-centered comment, but instead,

“Ruby. You look smoking, babe.” Ruby laughed and blushed, giving her boyfriend a gentle kiss on the cheek. 

“I’m gonna buy it.” Nova said with a devilish grin.

“Nooooooo.” Everyone groaned. Nova just flounced off to the register, magazine in hand.

She bought it, and ten minutes later completely regretted her decision. Why had she wasted her money on a stupid magazine she wasn’t even going to read when there was a literal carousel in the mall.

“Nova, have you ever ridden a carousel before?” Oscar asked.

“Yeah, they had one in the park for a Christmas festival one year.” She replied. “This one is way bigger.”

“C’mon,” He laughed, “This one is great.”

“I don’t have any money.” She sighed. “I spent it on the magazine.”

Her friend handed her a dollar, and Nova made to give it back, but he pushed her hand away. “It’s a dollar, Nova.”

So she let him push her towards the register, and she let him nearly shove her hand at the cashier to take the money and give her the carousel token. And after, she let Oscar drag her to the gate.

“Isn’t this kinda childish.” Nova asked, squirming uncomfortably. The only people on the thing were kids, or parents with young children. Not a teenager in sight.

“What does it matter?” Oscar laughed. He squeezed Ruby’s hand. “If they judge us, so what?”

The animal seats were moving up and down as cheery music blared, and Adrian took her hand. “What animal do you want?” He asked her with a smile.

Nova had to let it pass a few times before she decided. “I want the giraffe.”

“To make up for her height.” Oscar called over his shoulder. 

“Rude!” Nova said back, though there were no bite to her words. Instead, she started laughing.

The carousel stopped a minute later, and the kids clambered off. Leaving the team, plus the large amount of new children that had gathered behind them to go on.

Nova put her token in the gate, and it swung open. She followed Oscar as he and Ruby ran, hand in hand, to their chosen animals. She got to the giraffe and pulled herself up, finding herself next to Naricssa on the elephant next to her. Danna had a wolf, and Adrian had gone with the typical pony. 

When the ride started, Nova was nearly thrown off as it lurched forward. She clung to the metal giraffe with a yelp, wishing there was some sort of seatbelt. Especially as it started moving up and down.

Ahead of and beside her, she could hear her friends whooping and cheering. Even quiet Narcissa laughed happily, throwing her hands in the air.

Nova, on the other hand, held onto the moving animal for dear life. It was only after taking a moment to realize that she was hardly two feet off the ground that she felt comfortable enough to lessen her death grip.

The spinning motion was exhilarating, and she found herself getting into it. Why were these things supposed to be just for kids? Nova let out a loud cheer as the giraffe rose and fell in tune with the music.

It was all over far too soon, and Nova and her team tumbled off the ride with wobbly legs all around. Oscar was laughing nearly hysterically as he clung to his cane.

Nova leaned against the gate, the other hand clutching her belly from her laughter. “That was amazing.” She managed to get out.

“I knew you’d like it.” Oscar said with a grin. 

They managed to leave the area with only one minor issue, when Ruby toppled into Adrian, sending them both sprawling to the tile floor in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Nova helped Ruby up, and Danna took care of Adrian, and they all got to a table to sit.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Oscar started, “But I’m gonna need some ice cream.”

“If I eat ice cream I will puke all over you.” Danna groaned. 

“Good thing I’m not making you eat it. Nova, come with?”

Nova tried to protest, but a moment later she was being dragged away by Oscar, Ruby, and Adrian. 

They pulled her towards another store, which Nova concluded must be the “Dairy Queen” Oscar was talking about. Why? Because it said ‘Dairy Queen’ in giant, bold letters in front of the store.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted a Dairy Queen Blizzard.” Oscar said. Nova turned to the others, but both Ruby and Adrian nodded enthusiastically.

“Fine. What flavors do they have?”

“Every flavor. All the flavors.” Oscar gestured to the large menu as they approached the counter. “Whatever flavor you desire.”

“Do they have just regular vanilla?” Looking at all the choices, Nova felt a bit overwhelmed. 

“I mean yeah, but you can go get vanilla anywhere. Only Dairy Queen has… let me see.. Heath Caramel Brownie.” Oscar chuckled, and pulled Nova along with him.

“I’m gonna get you a cookie dough Blizzard.” He said after another moment’s thought. “You’ll like it.”

“Why are you making all my choices for me?”

“Because this is a team building exercise, remember? We’re building trust.” Oscar put his hand on her shoulder. “Do you really think I would get you something to eat that was bad?”

They made it to the counter, and Oscar ordered the ice cream for him and Nova. Ruby and Adrian got their own, and they moved to the line waiting for their food.

“How come you didn’t bother Ruby about getting something plain?” Nova complained. “A chocolate dipped cone-”

“Because I’m his girlfriend, and he knows not to mess with me.” Ruby laughed. 

Oscar and Adrian joined her, and Nova glared at all three of them. “You are all awful people. How dare you.”

“Order for Oscar.” The worker called. And even with his cane, Oscar beat Nova to the counter. The worker tipped the two cups of ice cream upside down, and Nova’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. What the-

However, the ice cream was so thick that it stayed, and the worker handed Oscar the cups and two spoons. He turned back to Nova and handed her hers, and she gave him a sidelong glance as she took a bite.

“Oh.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Oscar nudged her. “Say it.”

“It’s pretty good. You were right.” Nova sighed.

“Ooh! She said it! Adrian, your girlfriend just said I was right! Imagine that!” He laughed at Nova’s glare, and the two of them walked back to the table where Danna and Narcissa were.

Narcissa already had her nose in a book, and Danna was leaning back with her feet on the table. They sat down, and Nova took another bite of ice cream.

Oscar was practically shoveling his in his mouth, but Nova decided to take her time. She chewed thoughtfully on a piece of cookie dough, and smiled at Adrian and Ruby when they returned.

They all descended into light conversation, Danna stealing the magazine from Nova and continuing to chuckle over their picture. Nova took a large bite of ice cream, and-

Oh sweet rot.

Her entire brain was exploding. She nearly dropped her spoon as she reached to clutch her forehead, eyes welling up at the sudden pain.

“Oh, shit, brainfreeze?” Oscar asked. Nova couldn’t answer.

After a few grueling, painful moments, the fire in her head ceased, and Nova leaned back, groaning. 

“What was that?”

“Brainfreeze.” Adrian said sympathetically. “Happens sometimes.”

“It felt like my head was being split open by a mideavel torture device, how can you be so calm?” She yelped.

“Have you never had a brainfreeze before?” Osca asked curiously.

“No.”

“It sucks, but it’s not, like, deadly. I think. I’m pretty sure.” He licked the back of his red spoon. “Just happens sometimes.”

She was reluctant to take another bite, but after a few licks and nothing happened, Nova finally finished her ice cream. 

And just like that, Oscar’s ‘team bonding experience’ came to an end. Ruby left first, finishing her chocolate-dipped cone and giving Oscar a quick goodbye kiss. Adrian was next, and Danna and Narcissa left together, Danna helping her girlfriend carry all her books home. 

Which left Nova with Oscar.

“I’ll walk you home.” He offered. “I mean, I’m no Adrian Everhart, but-”

“Okay, you dork.”

He grinned, and stood up. “Alright then. But before we leave, was this fun?”

“Yeah.” Nova admitted.

“Are you glad I dragged you away from your very important work?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

They didn’t say much else, instead walking back to Nova’s apartment in comfortable, companionable silence.

~~~~

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