#the silver lining of almost being completely finished though is that i guess i could start again?

[zarrocktumbles]

Feeling really emotional about Hades at the minute ☹️

[yufloria]

The Pain of Regret

CHEATER?!Soap X Fem!Reader 

A/N: Hey! Thank you so much for the support on my first fanfic it gave me motivation to finish this one faster (because the first one took me almost half a month to complete) I hope you enjoy this just as much as the first one.  

Warnings: it's my 2nd fanfic but first shot on Angst and Pain no Comfort, I guess some sexual themes? If you squint (Only once mention condom) Soap is a complete asshole in this and you kill a bunch of kids (unintentionally) 

Also: Feedback would be appreciated :3

Word Count: 3.2k

The relationship you had with Soap was … confusing to say the least. Confusing because both of you were always dancing between the line of being a couple or just friends. You always waited to see if Soap wanted anything with you, but he always seemed to keep you guessing, by spending nights together even though it was forebitten in the barracks, cracking jokes together while mending yourselves or some lingering touches that seem to drag a few seconds longer than necessary. But he never made the move towards anything else. Now it has been almost half a year in this guessing game, and you finally gathered your courage enough for you to confess to him. Convincing yourself that it is better for you to have a solid answer than always seem to walk on eggshells around him. You settled into giving him a rose and tell him verbally. You knew it was a bit cliché, but you decided to pair it with a small meaningful gift. It was a black switchblade with a small Scottish flag stud on the bottom of the handle with your initials right below it. A little too much? Maybe? But you knew his love for his country was great and you hope it was the same for you too. You wrapped the knife with some black paper and tied it with a silver cord and attached a small piece of paper simply stating, ‘I love you, Johnny’  

The reason was that one time, as you were the recently added recruit and you got captured during a mission and Soap was the first one to find you. You were about to get thrown out of a 15-story building. You were tied up in the rope that you desperately struggle

c d to get out of, but your hands were tied up behind you. Soap made the stupid mistake of shooting the enemy that was the only thing keeping you from plummeting to your death. As you were falling, Soap managed to throw himself to get the spare rope, struggled to stop the force pulling him down with you. He managed to flip himself over onto his back and press the soles of his boots against the wall and grunting in pain has he strained both of his arms to hold you steady before slowly starting to pull you up. Once he managed to see your head coming up from the floor, he managed to sit up and pull from the rope across your chest and pulled you into a bear hug after seeing your eyes rimmed with tears. Once he dragged both of you away from the broken window. He took out his black switchblade to furiously cut you out of your bindings. But on the last rope, he used more force than necessary, and it slipped from his hand off and out the window. “Ah, and that was my favorite one,” was the only thing he said before holding your head between his hands and looking at your face. He now noticed a cut on your eyebrow that caused blood to cover your right eye. “That bastard nicked you, didn’t he? Good thing he is dead now” he laughed. “Come on let's get you home and patched up,” he said before sending you a smile that made your stomach butterflies flutter. You touch over the scar that rested a little above your eyebrow. The damaged skin felt soft against your fingers smiling fondly at the memory. Content with your work, you carefully picked up the gift and placed it in your secret drawer. Before you could even think when you should give the present to Soap. Everyone in the Task Force was called out to carry out a mission on getting some information on an important cargo from the cartel.   

So, here you are, sitting perched on a church tower in the bell chamber in the dead of night. It had started to rain and become windy, both of them slowly started picking up and soon enough it felt like you were right in the middle of a hurricane. Static was the only thing that could be heard from the radio until the gruff voice of Price spoke through the noise, “Scorpion, once you see the cargo truck heading up north to the bridge. You need to take the driver out before it even gets close to the bridge. If not, we will lose track of it, and it will take weeks to relocate again, and we don’t know what’s inside. So, I advise you to take the shot once you feel it is appropriate.” “Copy that Price, I just wanted you to know that the weather is cutting communication through the radio,” you replied. Static arose again and you were the one to speak this time. “Do you copy? Price? Captain? Anyone?’’ Without hearing a response back, you started tinkering with your radio trying to get a better connection before the tell-tale sign of an engine rumbling in the distance brought you back to stay focused on the mission at hand. You faintly started to see the headlights in the distance, and you guessed that you have around 2 minutes in aligning your shot before your target gets to the bridge. “Price, do you copy? Do I take the shot?” You asked one last time into the static to confirm. You knew that the time was running out and without confirmation, you decided to take your shot.   

Everything went in slow motion as you were pulling the trigger the static cleared out just enough for you to hear, “--kids inside.” You tried to stop your actions and recollect your thoughts, but it was too late, your bullet was now on course toward its destination. The realization that they might be children inside the truck made your blood run cold. You watched in desperation as the truck tipped over the road and down the mountain side and every time you saw the truck flip over it felt like someone had punched and stabbed you in the heart. Once the truck hit rock bottom, you snapped from your frozen state and you jumped off the church tower onto the lower roof, slid down the building's side, landed on the grass with a grunt, and you sprinted towards the edge of the mountain where the team was standing. Once you ran enough to stand next to them you watched in shock as the truck exploded; the explosion was big enough for you to see and feel the small shockwave it had induced. You screamed and cried out as you fell onto your knees as you realized that there probably were children with their mothers inside the truck and instead of saving them you killed them.   

“You killed them.” Soap accused you.  

“Huh?” you looked up in pain at him.  

“Are you deaf? You fucking killed them!” he yelled louder pressing up to you.  

Hearing that the person you love the most in this world just laid all the blame of the situation on you and only you made your blood boil. You stood up and closed in up to his face.  

“Don't you fucking dare blame this all on me.” you bite out.  

“Oh yeah? And who just shot the focken driver eh?”  

“Price told me- actually ordered me that I could take the shot whenever I felt it was appropriate and that is what I did!” You emphasize by pushing him away.  

“No, you didn’t do focken anything-.”  

“Quit it you two! The damage has already been done. We need to go down there and see if there's any survivors left and return back to the base.” Price ordered by stepping between both of you sensing a fight boiling inside both of you. Then, all of you went to see if there were any survivors, but much to your despair they were none. Everything after that passed in a blur, it felt that you were viewing your vision in 3rd person as you frantically checked the countless burned bodies for a pulse. You all returned to the base in silence as you were merely a shell of yourself and went to your room to try to rest. Keyword? Tried. After what felt hours of trying, you frustrated sit up from your bed and decided to see Soap and talk to him hoping to make him see and understand your side of the story, so he doesn’t view you as the cause of the death of innocent kids and their mothers.  

You hurriedly and quietly make your way towards Soap’s room, and you faintly see an orange light seep out from the bottom of Soap’s door at the end of the hallway meaning he was still awake and hopefully it gives you the opportunity to clear the misconceptions. Once you reached the door you rapidly knocked on the door and waited. Upon knocking at the door, you hear a commotion go inside his room thinking he might have fallen you swing open the door and your eyes land on Soap’s bed, and he was naked with another woman. You stood there shocked, and they also froze into place while your eyes quickly glanced around the room. Different clothing and undergarments were spread across the room. But the last straw was when your eyes landed on a tied used condom on the floor. It triggered a huge turmoil within you and your heart shattered into a million pieces and your blood started to burn through your veins. But after a few seconds in silence, the other woman was the first one to react to cover herself and try her best to quickly change and bolt out the door. Soap did the same and right before he could chase after her he stopped in front of you. “Why are you so pissed off that I am enjoying MY free time with other women, huh? You know damn well that you and I aren't a thing and especially after the bullshit you pulled today, you are worthless to this team, and you are nothing to me. You can’t do anything that you are told, and it is basically taking care of a fucking child. I also do not understand why are you crying if you were the cause of their deaths. You are responsible for them and all the emotions you are feeling right now it is all thanks to you.” The moment those words reached your ears it felt like someone had crushed and crumbled your soul. Once you saw Soap sidestepping to leave you standing at his door you weakly grabbed his forearm and quietly whispering “I thought we had something.” He scoffs and nonchalantly said “Really? With you? Pfft! You really thought we had something? Well, let me be clear with you. Whatever you thought we had it is just work-related and nothing more.” “Then what about those nights that we spent together? Does that also mean nothing to you?” “A man can get bored every once and a while and you seem to alleviate that feeling just for a bit and that's it. Pitiful that you actually thought we were going to have something.” He simply stated while getting your hand on his arm and threw it back at you. That was the last nail into the coffin, and you don’t even bother to call him when he passes you to go after the other woman.   

Once you returned to your room you let all the tears fall like a broken dam. Your mind kept on replaying all the soul-crushing words that Soap carelessly threw at you. All the things that you thought were him giving you hints were nothing? Everything you did for him was for nothing? With that thought, new tears sprouted in your eyes, and from your bed, you saw the now dead rose and the black wrapped present teasingly looking back at you taunting you on how you were stupid enough not to see he was just using you for his mere entertainment. You got up from your bed to hold the present in your hands and that warm feeling you had every time you thought of giving it to him and accepting your advances now are completely gone. You rolled your eyes at it, ripped the note, rose apart, and threw it into the trash next to your desk. You quietly chuckled as you reminded yourself ‘It was really nothing for him huh?’ You head back to your bed sitting at the edge, the tears have long stopped but your heart still cries out in pain. So, with a heavy heart, you got yourself your secret stash of alcohol. After picking it up you put on your jacket and walk outside to the nearby forest. As you pushed open the doors, the icy freezing wind bit your nose and cheeks, and you left the walls for the night without looking back.   

“Has anyone seen Scorpion?” a voice called out in the bustling walls as Soap makes his way to the cafeteria “Ugh, what a waste of time she is,” he muttered to himself. ‘Why couldn’t Price choose a better candidate and just replace her,’ he thought. Once he got his breakfast he sat down and realized that the table seemed emptier and colder, but he couldn’t lay his finger on it. After scarfing down his food he went to the lounge room to find the Task Force acting weird and tension arose once he stepped into the room. Price was the first one to break the silence and informed him,  

“Soap, do you have any idea where Scorpion is?”  

“No sir, why?”  

“She didn’t report this morning, and no one seems to find her, and I thought you may have known something and her whereabouts.’’  

“Have you checked her room? Most of the time she is in her room after a mission so it is understandable, she might be holed up in there after her fuck up yesterday.”  

“Don't talk to her like that! Go to her room and check on her.”  

“But why me huh? You could have asked anyone before me, and you chose me?!’  

“That’s an order! Now go!”  

Soap stood in silence and stared back at Price, who just raised his eyebrows as a warning. Grumbling, Soap turned around and made his way towards your room, a path he quite remembered as muscle memory. Once at your door he knocked and called out to you, and he started to grow frustrated with the lack of response. After knocking and calling out for you the 3rd time he tried the doorknob to his surprise to know that it was unlocked. He knew you so well that you never went to bed without locking the door due to your paranoia. With the conclusion that something might have happened to you, he opened the door just to find your room empty. He steps into your room to find everything was disarranged which made his heart pump a bit faster. He started to clean up to get clues on what happened to you or where you could have gone. Then he picked up your knocked-down trash can and saw the ripped note and rose which picked on his curiosity. He then started to find the hidden message in the jigsaw puzzle of the torn paper which caused his heart to skip a beat once he read the ‘I love you, Johnny’ written in your handwriting. The lump on the bottom of the trashcan grabbed his attention which he picked up with both hands and noticed how heavy it was and ripped it apart just to see almost the same replica of his favorite switchblade that he thought was gone forever and no longer in production. He painfully started to smile as he saw the small Scottish flag and your initial on the bottom of the handle. A huge wave of sorrow washed over him as he recalled the anguished face you had when he told you all those terrible words. He remembered those huge eyes rimmed with tears and they were the same eyes you had when he saved you on your first mission, but this time, he was the cause of them, and he didn’t wipe them away.  

“Ever heard of privacy?” Your voice startled him, and he looked over your bed and see you standing at the door. You approached him with red eyes and dark circles around your eyes. He looked up at you in fear as he sees you as a grim reaper that came down to earth to collect his soul due to his sins. He quickly tried to apologize, stumbling on his words trying to find the correct words to soothe the pain he made you feel last night. You just hold your hand up to his face and told him in a voice so cold that he has never heard before,  

“Get out.” You simply told him, motioning him to leave your room  

“Wait, hold on, let’s talk about it,’’ he tried to reason with you.  

“Talk about what? You made it clear yesterday that you never wanted anything with me. Now get out!” you yelled. 

“What? I never said that and even if I did, I didn’t mean it I was drunk and couldn’t think straight. You have to understand that.”  

“Understand what?! That you got your dick wet with another woman the moment you got bored of me? And Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare. To make the excuse that you were just “drunk” and that you couldn’t think straight. Wanna know why? Hmm? Because the only people that don’t lie in this world are the kids and the drunk.” You seethe out with so much venom laced into your words so much to the point you started tearing up and your voice cracking, but you couldn’t let him see the damage he has done to you. You promised yourself yesterday to never cry in front of him ever again. With that, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, controlled yourself, and left without saying anything.  

But to him, every word you muttered to him felt like a knife was being stabbed into his heart. He didn’t even realize he started crying as he felt his hand claw into his chest as he hoped that it could go through his skin to comfort his aching heart. He tried reaching his hand onto yours to stop you from leaving but once you flinched your hand away from his touch, he retracted back his hand.   

“Don't ever fucking touch me.” That was the last thing you told him before walking away. 

A/N: HAHAaaaa! Bet you didn’t expect that did you huh? I hope you didn’t because most of the angst fanfic I have read usually when the “cheater” says that he was drunk reader just forgives him and boom happy ending. I think it is a whole bag of bull. 

A small continuation at the timeskip

[semischarmed]

The Visit

I glance at my phone. 30 minutes. 30 minutes in this chair waiting for the doctor. 30 minutes in a freezing cold examination room wearing nothing but the disposable gown the nurse told me to wear. Now, I’m normally quite patient, but I begin to worry that they may have simply forgotten about me. I sit up straight, ready to leave the chair and ask for the nurse, when my new doctor comes into the room in a rush.

“Hey, Hey! Sorry, sorry. My last patient meeting went a bit over. That alright?“ He grins and verdant eyes sparkle. The man was dreamy. I could say nothing beyond nodding in agreement. 

“Great! Glad to hear it” he beams. I feel an explosion of warmth within my chest and stomach and can’t help but smile back. 

”Thank you so much for understanding. I’m Doctor Ryan! Good to meet you.” I readily shake his hand. Firm. Sturdy. Calloused.  

“Okay great, so we’re just gonna run through your vitals, and… says here you noticed an odd mark show up near your penis?” I flush bright red in embarrassment at the mention. Unperturbed, he continues without skipping a beat “Hmmm.. we’ll definitely want to get that checked. Probably harmless, but could be something bad…  I know the nurse probably covered most of these questions and took your vitals, but [he smirks] just wanna sure we get everything checked correctly, alright?” Damn it. Doctors always have a such way with words, I can’t help but melt in their arms. I feel a numb happy sensation wash over me and again nod in agreement. He was cute, too cute. God. Of course, whatever he thought this appointment was, he was completely off. Most likely picked up the wrong sheet or something, cause I only came for some immunizations. 

Still, the man has me spellbound. I comply with his every whim as he continues running through his normal questioning. In every word, he further puts my will to sleep, with every phrase he draws me closer. To me, his every sentence has progressively slowed the world around us. Not that I’m complaining. I am adrift, motionless in his pool of questioning, sandwiched between warm ocean and sunlight. For a short few moments, I am at peace. I was practically sleeping by the time the second round of questions finished. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and break my spell slightly and I focus in on his beautiful face. “You okay there, bud?” More nods his way.

“Awesome. Let’s get started then.”

———

The physical was.. something else. We start with just an examination of my body. Pale, scholarly eyes remark on my every blemish, my every curve. It would be a nightmare in any other scenario, but in the secure glance of my doctor, I knew I was safe. Still, near his radiant heat, I could not help but get just a bit flustered. My answers are short, odd, my heart rate jumping to his vicinity.

He wiggles his stethoscope in the air. “We’re just gonna get your heart rate okay?” My mouth is hanging open and drooling slightly, but I nod. Really, it’s all I can do. Stunned to obedience. He just spoke so confidently, so assured in his examination. His tone was out of this world. It’s bright but resonant, like each word reverberated his command in my chest. His voice was no less potent. Sound-waves embrace the air with sweet honey, but an undertone of audible trust. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else, still caught in this man’s spell. Now, a handsome man gets me feeling the same way a doctor often does. But he was both. I can manage nothing beyond a smile and continue nodding “okay.” 

I moan at the touch of the stethoscope. It was ice. Penetrative, cold ice, but in his expert hands, it felt like gift from the man. I imagine the metal is a piece of him, precious metal, precious silver embedding itself in me. I want it in me forever- uh, the man, not the stethoscope. 

He grunts. Fuck. “Sorry” I say sheepishly. That moan was definitely audible then. Further embarrassment floods me, only tempered by by the tingling sense of relaxation I felt in being examined by this man. He takes the odd outburst in stride, giving a half smile before continuing. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first”. The man was a professional through and through.

---

In the middle of making sure my reflexes were still functioning, his face winces, and his upper lip trembles, immediately breaking my illusion. He lets out a quick gasp “Ah.. I.. aahhh” barely audibly. I watch as his knuckles grasp the sides of the cushion in my chair desperately, going white in the process. For the first time in our entire session, the haze cast by this man’s being is broken entirely. I feel the dullness in my mind clear as I take note of the oddness from what had just transpired. His mouth goes wide and his face scrunches up into an emotion that I can’t quite place between pain and pleasure. Maybe both? In any case, before I can even investigate further, it relaxes immediately. Emotionless. 

Then, his eyes twitch before going glassy. Doctor Ryan looked like he was about to throw up. Pleading eyes stare into my soul, but the rest of his face remains blank. I am shocked beyond shocked at this point to do anything beyond stare in disbelief while a shit-eating grin slowly paints his face. His eyes blink back to lucidity- now focused on me, and single tear pools on the corner of his left eye and drips down his cheek. He stops it with his thumb before it can drop further, before nonchalantly wrapping plump lips around it. In a slight suction noise, when he pulls the thumb out his mouth in what looks to be a deliberately seductive manner, staring intently at my face the entire time. What the fuck. 

Immediately, he returns to examining me, making no mention of what had just occurred. This time though, his movements seem just a bit erratic, a bit unrefined. I also catch brief glimpses of that same cringing face every time he moves to the next step in his examination, like he was pulling long-forgotten memories from what should be a fairly standard procedure. He repeats the physical, this time going over my every part much more slowly. Any touch, any connection we had seemed to linger just a bit longer than needed. He almost seemed... Interested? Nervous? Whatever case, with every movement, and every step, his hands get a bit steadier, actions more confident. Whatever just happened to him seemed to be over. I am intrigued, if a bit scared. He was acting suspicious. Too many things seemed to line up for me to dismiss this as just normal checkup. In lustful wishes, I invoke whatever I can, hoping I’m correct. I try to sneak a peak at the outline of his admittedly large penis in his scrubs. Absolutely Flaccid. Odd. Disappointing, to say the least. Whatever this weird, hot doctor was doing, he wasn’t getting off on it.

When he gets to my lower body, he abruptly splits my knees open, spreading my legs wide. Another moan almost escapes me. Thankfully a veil of disposable fabric separates my doctor from my now semi-erect penis. Unthankfully, I can’t help but tent the gown full mast when his ice cold hands begin to trace and snake slowly around my inner thigh. I look at him in shock and he just beams back at me like the past few minutes had not just happened. “Hmmm… great legs…” My face goes crimson and I scream internally at my own inability to control my own body. “Okay, your -hNnggg-ah cha-chart, yes. Apologies for the outburst… your chart seemed to mention some concerns about your penis? Let’s take a closer look” He states, looking up at me with a half-smile. 

“No- er, I think- ah, you got the wrong-” I can barely stammer out a response in the raw stimulation of Doctor Ryan grabbing and gently examining my cock and balls. Pleasure bloomed wherever his fingers glided over. This was a mental battle I could not win. Mind versus body. I was fighting myself, my own urges. He makes gentle cupping motions around my balls, back and forth. I look at him in bewilderment. There was no way this was just for a normal examination. He smiles pleasantly, “just checking for anything out of place… so far, so good”. Mystery solved, I guess. He slowly wraps thick fingers, encircling my cock in an embrace. Not solved. Not solved. I am rock hard. He gives a short chuckle. “Well, at the very least, your nerves appear to be working…. Blood flow looks good as well…Nothing out of the ordinary so far”. I am beet red at this point. Fuck me. I can’t even compose myself in front of this man. 

Then, Doctor Ryan gives it a tug. FUCK. 

“Holy shiiiiiit” I moan out. I turn my head away as my body quivers and gives in to a moment of divine pleasure. Betrayed by my own senses. A second, higher pitched moan escapes my now open throat, barely audible, while the a tiny bit of clear fluid spills onto the doctor’s unflinching hand. I can’t bear to look this guy in the eye. I need a new fucking doctor.

“You know, this is completely natural. Absolutely a normal human body response. Don’t worry about it” he says absentmindedly as he continues. “If anything, at least we know you can still produce, so it doesn’t look like there’s anything to worry about”. He mumbles happily. Outside my sightline, I swear I hear a licking, slurping noise. His hand, looked a bit wetter than before too.That being said, my brain has shut down from humiliation. At this point all I can manage is a blank nod. 

“Well, good news- you’re perfectly hea- Oh! Actually, do you mind?” He begins to unbutton his coat and then proceeds set it on the table beside me.  “You know it’s always a bit hot and stuffy in these rooms”. My eyes can’t help but visually eat at the feast before me. Bare chest and stray hairs poke out from his scrubs. The sleeves are taut around his massive biceps. Despite the objectively unflattering material, it can’t help but conform slightly to his muscular physique. It was pretty clear before, but it was definitely fact now. My doctor was hot as fuck. Something about his last question eats away at my my brain. It wasn’t hot at all. The room is cold, dry, sterile. Hell, this whole hospital is. It’s like he has me back in a trance though. Words smooth as silk, body like sculpture. He had a power over me, so I nod in compliance without even acknowledging how absurd the previous statement was.

“So, as I was saying... the good news is your vitals are all in line.” He laughs kindly, patting my stomach “Maybe eat a bit more protein every now and then”. The voice is warm and reassuring. My brain relaxes to the end in sight to this half dream-half nightmare. I start to get up to get changed before I realize the entire reason for the visit.

“Hey-er, wait! My Immunizations! I needed to get some immunizations done for my-“ 

“Oh?” He cuts me off, eyebrows raised. Intrigue paints his face.  

Then he leans in close, head right up to my ear until the parts of chest peaking from the hospital gown touches the stray hairs poking out from his scrubs. Until we share warmth in that cold examination room. He breathes alongside me in rhythm as he exhales.

“You…don’t need any immunizations. I do… well, I did, anyway. It’s too late for him now...But we do have something planned, for you-we’re gonna try an experimental processss. A brand new… test…just for you...” He whispers. He pauses as he continues to breathe and I feel the hot, damp air emanating from his mouth coat my ear. “We need to test you for... stimulation.” Dear God. That last word he draws out in a far, far different tone than before. It neither clinical nor polite, and it hit like a brick. There was raw emotion in that last word. Raw lust. He cups the other side of my face pulling my left cheek to touch his. Like his chest, it’s quite warm. I’m flush with redness and confusion. I gulp nervously.

His tone returns in its warmth and politeness, contrasted by the intimate position we are in. “Hmmmmm salivating...mmmm... Quite a bit actually. You’re either haven’t eaten… or… you’re hungry for something.” I can’t manage out anything coherent amidst the sensory overload. He continues confidently, “C’mon... I’m your primary care physician? Let me take care of it. Let me take care of you...” He sticks his hand down his own pants, scratching to readjust. With our chests together, I am brought to our present moment. A moment in paradise. When he ebbs, I flow. Like a dance, my chest caves in with every exhale as his puffs out. He does in turn. We were partners. His scent pours out unconfined, unfiltered by distance, concentrated in our proximity. Like rainfall and crushed grass. I could live in it. With our cheeks pressed together, I feel his every movement. Every word spoken drawn in by my inhale. These would be mine to keep. This moment was ours and ours alone. He brings up the same hand, now a bit slimier to take a whiff before shoving that sweaty, funky smelling hand right to my face. I can’t control myself and start inhaling my hot doctor. I lick the man’s hand clean. Delicious.

I continue lapping it up in silence before he finally breaks it to speak. “Mhmmmmm... that’s the stuff... Maybe if we feed you enough of this hot doctor’s cum, you’d pick up on some of his residual intelligence and figure who’s really running this man.” My eyes light up, and the pieces finally all click together in my head. I chuckle. 

“Good to see you too, Ben.”

———

“Leave it to humans to take something so beautifully sensual and twist it. He’s a bit too good at compartmentalizing. In many respects… It’s fucking hot. But, you know, when he’s in this work mode, he sees you as nothing more than sack of meat. We’re not getting anywhere with him without a little push”. Without warning, Ben pulls the doctor’s pants down and fiddles with his new dick- still flaccid. Jesus Christ it’s huge. 

“Look, even this... appendage. Yes that’s an atypical response. I mean look at me, look at this new body we acquired. I’m swimming in this human’s hormones.” He wraps his hand around and begins pumping it. “But see here, it’s still all clinical in this head. I can only get inside him so far. We need something to end this human’s resistance. We need something extra to break him out of this trance. We need raw emotion.”

Just then, the door comes wide open. It’s Austin.

As he closes the door behind him, I see his face more clearly. It’s Austin’s body, but its pilot is undeniably Ben. Austin had a certain swagger to him that my little alien buddy just can’t quite replicate.

Ryan’s mouth opens wide and I watch as his true form exits from my doctor’s mouth and shoot strait into Austin’s welcoming nose. I watch as the doctor goes lucid. His eyes go wide and he stares at me in horror before attempting to escape. Before he can, he is pinned to the ground by the far larger Austin. “Cmon man, smell this fucking body. Feel something”

“If you can’t… we’ll do it for you. We’re going for a wild ride.. relax and enjoy it.” Austin’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and I watch as he gives a crazed grin, jaws open unnaturally wide. His tongue sticks out, his head is bright red, and pulsing silver courses through now-prominent veins. Damn. My Doctor looks at me with one last pleading glance, but all I can do is moan “I want you mine.” 

Doctor Ryan lets out an involuntary scream when he notices the changes in Austin’s face, which only work to his disadvantage as a pulsating, semi-solid mass of silver falls into his open maw. Austin sticks their mouths together. Using his tongue, he maintains a steady passageway for Ben. Using his lips, Austin keeps the doctor’s pried open to forcibly receive the precious silver. Their heads bob back and forth as more and more of the slimy mass falls into doctor. I watch as a massive lumps outline themselves in his throat, then his chest, before disappearing into the depths of his body. I notice a little bit pool and spill out the corner of his mouth. When the process is over, Austin’s body falls limply to the side. I stare at the messy pile of silver goo still smeared over Ryan’s drooling mouth. Should I?

I lean over, giving my dream man a kiss. My eyes flutter at the prospect. Ugh, he’s perfect. I feel the every contour of the face of man who would soon be ours, before sucking up the excess silver an a bit of his drool in my mouth. No use putting this stuff to waste. 

In a flash, I feel ecstasy. “Jesus fucking christ” I moan, as I feel a burst of energy from within. The parts of silver which were Ben settle into me, surging me with power and I feel his thoughts reverberate in my mind. In that split second, I also feel the vertigo of looking from two bodies at once. I feel the immense pleasure of controlling two bodies at once and the parts of silver which were Austin become immediately apparent. Goddamn what a fucking power trip. Austin was mine. A quick rush of stolen confidence from my previous tormentor floods my insides and I welcome my updated sense of self. Fuck yeah. Took a part of him for me. He’s never getting this back. I stare at his body and will it up. My dominion, now. While his head still hung unconscious, I move my fingers and tingle in delight as I watch his hands follow. The moment is fleeting though, and I feel the disappointment as my vision recedes back to my singular one.”Hope you liked that” I feel Ben state in my head. “Just a taste. This piece of us you’ve ingested... I think it’s best you keep it. I find this setup beneficial to us both. We can keep in constant contact this way. You might find some residual power left over Austin too, thought probably not in the way you think… at least… not yet.“ 

Before I can question him in my head, the doctor’s body shivers awake and then spasms before letting out a primal scream. Ryan’s looked... bigger? Almost swollen. His body occupied the same space they did before, but there was a larger presence to him. His muscles pump up, obviously riled into a frenzy. “Just a little attitude adjustment, and...Goddamn easy mode, Fuck!” He faces me. His eyes are rolled to the back of his head and silvery veins pulse all over his body. Seconds later, he settles and his eyes return to focus me. “Fuck yeah, you wanted this doctor, right? Bro, you know my bod’s way better. Fuck it though, I don’t care  as I’m a part of the ride. Remember your fucking promise.” He states through gritted teeth. Unnatural coming out of the normally Angelic Doctor Ryan. 

“Your Doc’s too nice though, right? You… Ben… you deserve better. I’ll make us better for you. Look how much fucking bigger, how much more of a fucking man we are with some Austin mixed in....” I am speechless, but he’s right. The doctor now exuded a dominating presence. In any other circumstance, I’d be frightened and compliant. In the presence of Ben, I felt safe.

“Thank Ben he brought us inside this man. Mmmmmm his brain is delicious… I feel so much smarter inside him. We’re gonna fuck him up. Make him better, like you did to me. Twist his head. Make him want your cum almost as much as I do. Make him want to spread more Ben around…. Mmmm speaking of, I feel him inside me. He’s squirming into us both out and goddamn it feels good.” Ryan’s body moans Austin’s moan. “I can’t wait for you to learn how to do this... to put yourself inside me-Please! Fuck! Learn it faster! That... part of me you stole… I feel good as part of you, right? You like it in you, right? Pure fucking jock. Take good care of it…more where that came from”. It was definitely my doctor, but between the behavior and facial expressions, undeniably Austin. Well, post-Ben Austin.

“I-Arrgh” I watch curiously as the doctor’s body shivers. “Ben’s... ready for you.” He winks as his eyes briefly roll to their sockets and roll back. Austin-er Ryan’s demeanor immediately changed ”Had to do a little arranging inside this doctor. We just need one final piece. Ryan’s body ready to receive its new masters. I need you to put as much cum inside this man as you can... I really like this one, his position is useful. But his mind... it’s so vast. He’s no Austin...It’s gonna take a lot more of our genetic material to tame it.”

Austin-er Ben does pushups on the floor. He clears a few hundred before wiping his sweat all over his scrubs. Of course, despite channeling Austin’s very essence, this body is not nearly as buff or as muscular as his so I watch as Ryan is forced to push up and down beyond his limits, tears streaming down his eyes, hands and legs shaking in protest, forced smiling all the while. Previously crisp scrub are now stained, damp in Ben’s body’s perspiration. The smell this weird, hybrid mix emanated was unique. Of course, it still had the cleanliness I’d expect from a doctor. Fresh cologne and nature- exactly what I’d expect from the healthy, professional man which had previous examined me. This man before me was not the same man as before. Because, interwoven was the musk, the testosterone, the pungent stink of our deranged puppet Austin. It was altogether divine. 

“Look at this.” He states with a sneer as he does a bicep flex. His damp scrubs hug his muscle tightly, almost breaking at the seams. The bicep is throbbing. “I feel this body crying in pain and exhaustion. From his mind though... do you know how muscles are made? Tiny tears regrown stronger” A pulse of silver darts through his veins, immediately returning it to stillness. “What wonderful new information. We’re gonna use that. Fill into these layers with a bit of Ben, and a bit of you”. He starts laughing now “Doc Ryan here doesn’t call the shots…This isn’t his body anymore… It’s ours.” 

With that, Ben lifts my gown and sticks his drenched head near my already-hard cock. Fuck he’s warm. Our sweat and scents mingle and I feel my inner thighs go moist in the perspiration in the air. 

“Austin, to the forefront. Combined effort. We need him body and mind. Let us create a new Ryan,” he states. My doctor slowly wrap his thick, plump lips over my dick. Moment’s later, the man’s wet tongue slides forward. I shudder. A bit tickles in a spot just below the head and I squirm on the spot. Jesus fuck, oh- oh fuck, he’s good- he’s really good.

My shaking hands are sloppily held in place. I move them reflexively in the onslaught of pleasure. It’s like Ryan’s body was made for this. Absolute Heaven. I let out a loud moan as I continue to squirm in the confines of my position. Ben had commandeered some control of Austin’s unconscious body, and it stood there, just over me, holding my hands in place and body. Its eyes were rolled back, mouth drooling. Bits of spit dribbled to my forehead. I paid them no mind. Basically an extension of my own bodily fluids at this point anyway. Besides, whatever made Austin, Austin was mostly inside Ryan now, helping Ben add a wonderful new addition to our collection. 

Ryan’s sensual motions, His body expertly bobbing, beckons mine. Erotic symphony. I can do nothing beyond quake in my seat. I hold for as long as I can but it’s too much. This was it. First, I moan. Then, I scream. FUCK. Goddamn bliss. Sweet Release. Pure Ecstasy. I am reduced to babbling internally as I release more and more of myself inside Ryan’s welcoming mouth. Using his powerful chest, he creates a slight suction, greedily taking as much of my cum inside as he can. The body begins to choke for air, but I feel Austin and Ben smile instead and continue inhaling my cum. Their eyes only relayed one word. More. There’s not much else I could have done anyway, because I continue to spew load after load inside the man. It’s the best I ever felt, the longest it’s ever been and the most I ever given. I sit in extended euphoria, paralyzed in bliss. Logic aside, ethics aside, this was my new order. Our new order. In my mind I strive to continue on, to bring more to this light. So many delicious fucking bodies in this town. So many new ‘me’s destined, yearning for my control- even if they didn’t know it yet. That last bit might have been some of Austin’s megalomania in me.   

The phone rings at Ryan’s side and he picks it up. Someone patches in a call. 

“Doctor are you alright? We heard some odd noises“. I watch Ben in alarm. He cracks his head to the side, cock still in his mouth, and veins coursing in silver fluid display prominently in his temples. He switches demeanor almost seamlessly back. In contrast, like strings cut, Austin’s body falls over me, unmoving. I didn’t mind. I inhale his jock essence as I listen in.

“Yewph- Iw- Ehem.. I’m quiw ahwigh, *gulp*… ahhh yeah.. Apologies, Nancy this appointment is taking just a bit longer than expected. I’ll be ready soon- just need a little more time with this one.” Every word again resounds warmly, calmly, politely in this man. When Ben channels Ryan, it’s like I’m hearing the same person who examined me earlier. He was ours. I glance his way and a bit of my cum is still on his lips as he continues his conversation. He happily draws it to his mouth with a finger and sucks it clean. My cock is drenched in the doctors sweat. Fucking hot. Ben found us a real catch. “Dr. Ben” ends the call and mentally, he’s back to our present situation, back to huffing in breathless pleasure, as he continues sucking the any residual mess in me clean. He gives me a wink as he finishes. 

Ryan then stands over to Austin, and, in a reverse of the process from earlier vomits out the same silvery mass, now slick with streaks of white, back into its container. There was significantly less this time. From the still open mouth of Ryan, I watch the tiny man emerge, giving me a motion that indicated he was smiling. “I’m staying in this one a bit longer. Driving this particular specimen gives me a pleasure not wholly physical.” The mouth slowly closes and Ryan’s eyes show life again. He smiles. I look expectantly at the two of them. They begin making out. The sounds are sloppy and I can’t help but get a bit jealous. Taking note, they both stop abruptly before giving me a wink. The both speak at once while Ryan begins stripping stark naked.

“Can’t help it...You should come and stay in this room for a while. My next patient’s got quite a body we can utilize, based on this man’s memory. You still got some cum left in you? I can’t expand further without it” I nod happily. If Ben thinks he’s cute, we had to at least try. What am I saying? I can produce like a motherfucker, took part of my bully inside, made it mine. I may not look it yet, but I was alpha now.  

“Austin, strip down, I need some new clothes, and yours are a better fit.” Austin’s face cringes and I watch as his normal personality returns. Normal was a stretch, because he was far more subservient now than he was before this all began. Ben then looks at me with a toothy smile as he walks over to my pile of neatly folded clothes and digs out my underwear. He nonchalantly strips stark naked and then proceeds to put on my underwear. “This is a tight- Hmph!” He struggles to get each thick leg through “-ah, your clothes...Mmm! So tiny”. This results in my hot, nearly naked doctor wearing my underwear tightly. It’s pulled to its seams as it’s forced to constrict and hold together the doctor’s massive package. I watch as his cock begins to get hard, only to be restricted by the fabric. He moans at the setup. “Ayyyyeeee fuck! Fuck yeah. It feels like you’re in here, squeezing this host’s cock and ass. I’m gonna make sure he wears this forever. I’m gonna make sure this imprints our scent into this man. Look at me. Look at this muscle. Ryan..mmmmm.... all the brains and brawn in the world couldn’t help you. Every time he gets hard on, I want him to be wearing this. I want his penis to scrape this, to be bound by it, forever a reminder of who the real Ryan is now.”

Ben’s new doctor personality switches back. He politely gestures to his pile of clothes, still freshly warm before looking at me. “If you’re gonna be my assistant, you’ll need to look the part,” he states with a kind smile. I eye the warm pile, almost steaming in the residual heat. Ryan’s body licks its lips. Ben again. “Wear it. This man is ours, forever. Take ownership of that. Of those clothes. There’s so much of your genetic material embedded inside this particular specimen, at this point these are your own as much as it is his.”

I rush over to put the scrubs on, to feel the residual heat in my doctor Ryan envelop me. I relish in it. Still warm and moist with his sweat. It was like I was wearing the man myself. Of course, it fits loosely over me, and I barely pass as an assistant. He leans over to me. “smell it” he whispers. “Smell yourself. I like you better this way”. He’s right. I smell so fucking alpha in this getup. Ben then begins putting on Austin’s clothes, which are a much better fit. 

In contrast, Austin is forced to wear the remainder my clothes, which he creepily sniffs first and ends up with it fitting way too tight and revealing on him. I gesture to offer the scrubs I just put on instead, but he immediately declines in a huff, “No... I’m fucking better this way. More... complete” He moans “This was the way I was meant to be... yours... wearing this makes me feel like you’re here inside me, wearing your own clothes. I belong like this...This is your body, it misses you, and he doesn’t feel whole until you’re back home.” He pats himself. “I can’t wait for you to become this. And I’m not fucking taking no for an answer either. One day, I’m putting you where you belong- inside me so we can never be separated again. Moving around feels empty when you’re not in here doing it for me”. What the fuck did Ben do? The guy, my previous bully was horny just being near me. It felt amazing.

I silently thank Ben. Whatever Austin was rambling on about turned me the fuck on. I smiled. That piece of Austin I ingested earlier- I think his shitty vocab’s been rubbing off on me. Regardless, Austin was right- wearing him, controlling him from the inside was where I belonged. I deserved it. Deserved him. “Wait for us at home- we won’t be long” Ben instructs Austin through Ryan in a fatherly tone. Austin complies, leaving the room, staring longingly at me until he no longer could. 

Ben puts on his coat. “Well then, that’s settled. I hope your cock is ready, human, we have a full schedule of bodies to possess.“

-End of “Ben Pt. 2″-

A smarter version of me would have split this into two parts. Also, preemptive apologies to anyone in a medical profession.

[cuddlesslut]

Silence

Part Two to Home

Atsumu x Fem Redaer

Summary: Atsumu deals with the aftermath

Warnings: Angst, NSFW, Slight smut, Atsumu is an Ass

AN/ UNEDITED. this is just a portrayal of Atsumu for this work not how I actually perceive him

The will be a Part Three.

Part One: Home

Part Three: Memories

Atsumu cursed himself as you ran out the restaurant. He knew he was getting to cocky. Frustration was taking over his body as he sat back down at the table. He ran his hand over his face as let out a heavy sigh before looking up at her. Yuki ,his most recent girlfriend, sat there loss for words. He could see the tears building in her eyes. Obviously she was confused it’s not like she knew anything about you he had courted her like all the others under the disguise of being single. He racked his brain he knew he had been careless lately. Normally you’d never notice his infidelity he’d been doing it for quite sometime now and for so long you were none the wiser. He’d find some chick take her either back to her place or a hotel have his fun and be gone only repeating the same girl maybe twice at most three times if she was a really good lay. He’d make sure no marks were left and he was clean up before heading home to you his unsuspecting fiancé. Yuki was different though she was the first woman to actually catch his attention in more than just a sexual capacity. Don’t get him wrong the sex with her was amazing but he also found himself enjoying her company wanting to spend more and more time with her. He curses maybe if he hadn’t been so stupid and forgot your birthday everything would be fine. Being so pissed at the situation he failed to worry about Yuki’s feelings as she finally broke the silence.

“Tsmu I don’t get it, we’ve been together for eight months how could you cheat on me,” she sniffled tears starting to stream down her face as her usually charming boyfriend sat across from her looking at her with annoyance.

He scoffed looking at her pitiful state. If he wasn’t already so fed up with the situation he was sure he could use his silver tongue to get out of this situation and have her back at his side momentarily, but no he needed to save all his effort and false reassurances for you.

“Oh sweetheart I didn’t cheat on you,” he gave a little chuckle, “That’s was my fiancé , I’ve been with her for six years what makes you think eight months means anything, you were the side piece darling.” He saw the hurt on her face and knew he had just been a complete ass but he couldn’t find it in him to care right now although he was sure he would later. That hurt turned to anger as she stood and threw her drink in his face.

“You are an ASSHOLE Atsumu!” She yelled finally losing what composer she was keeping before storming away out the same door you had just previously exited.

Yeah I guess I am he thought as wiped his face the rag before signaling for the check. Looking at the glass that contained your ring he thought of all the Pinterest boards you had saved of rings and dresses and different color schemes. He thought of the excitement and love in your eyes when he finally proposed. He plucked the ring out of the drink before pocketing it and heading home.

As he entered your shared home he realized he had guessed right you weren’t there. He pulled out his phone, pulling up your contact and hitting call. It wouldn’t connect. He let out the breath he was holding, so you had already blocked him he thought. He walked to their room wanting to change out of his wet dress shirt. He immediately noticed the most of your drawers were empty and your half The closet was looking sparse. He wondered if you were coming back for the rest. Part of him was sure you would, you would come back where else could you go. Yet somewhere deep in his mind part of him was screaming at the idea of you being gone. But he wouldn’t let that part surface. He walked out to the kitchen noticing the box of onigiri left out along with his brother’s birthday note to you. He rolled his eyes of course Osamu remembered. That’s probably where you are ,now that he thinks about it, that or your heading to Suna that’s who you always ran to he grimaced.

Thinking back to high school when the two of you had first gotten together he had introduced you to the team. You and Suna just clicked it was like you had been friends all of your lives the way you easily laughed and joked together. He had never seen anyone pull Suna from his shell the way you had and he still hadn’t. Not a single one of the middle blockers previous significant others had ever pulled the same reaction from the stoic man as you had. It didn’t take Tsumu long to realize the fool was head over heels for you. But it’s didn’t matter to him you were completely oblivious to blockers affections, as well as the fact that you were dutifully loyal to the setter. He wasn’t worried because what was Suna compared to him.

While he figures he should call either of the two to make sure you are indeed safe, he doesn’t feel like getting a lecture right before bed. He grabs his glass of water before heading to bed. Noticing how cold the mattress is without you. It’s fine he thinks he doesn’t need you. He knew that fact from the countless woman he’d beded in the last few years. Plus he’s sure you’ll come back. He’s the only man you’ve ever loved.

———

Atsumu wakes the next morning to find the house eerily quiet. He pays little mind to it before heading off to the gym he has a game today he can’t allow himself to be distracted. The setters normal routine isn’t disrupted for the most part. Finding his team doing his warm ups. He does however run into Osamu at the gym he’s setting up his vendors stand for Onigiri Miya. His brother says nothing of you to Atsumu minus some well wishes. So you must have ran to Suna he muses. His game goes off with out a hitch securing the victory for MSBY.

He finds the house just as he left it no trace of you having step foot back into your home. He checks his phone looking for a sign that you want to talk. No messages or calls. He decides to try and check you location but it seems that your number is no longer connected to his plan. He furrows his brow it seemed like a big step but he brushes it off his mind. He had just won a big game he wanted to celebrate. Usually he’d have dinner with you either going out or indulging in your delicious home cooking, you both share smiles about the game either her gushing about her favorite moments had she attended the game which normally she’d try to make a priority, although there were times you’d have class or work and you have to miss in which you’d sit and listen to him starry eyed as he retold the highlights of the game. You look at him like he was a star shooting across the sky. But right now the kitchen was empty and the house was silent missing the awes of your praise. It was to much at the moment. The setter changes into something dashing before heading out he’ll grab something to eat and then maybe get a celebratory drink.

That’s how Atsumu found himself here at some sleek bar with a glass of scotch in his hand. He surveyed the bar watching the people around dance and talk and go about their night. He try’s not to think about the silence waiting for him at home .That’s until he spots a girl. She look kind of like you similar build although her hair is longer and a slightly different hue. He knows it’s not you but still that hasn’t stopped him before so he slides his way over to her.

“Hi there,” he smiles a charming smile. She looks up at him giving a sly smile. From here he can see her eyes they’re nothing like yours, he shakes the thought from his head. “You know your boyfriend really shouldn’t leave you all alone like this you are much to beautiful,” if he a a nickel for every time he used that line he could probably retire early. He could see a slight blush appear on her cheeks.

“I would tell him but I don’t have one Mr. — ,” she trailed off leaving an opening for his name.

“Miya,” he smiles a bright fake smile. “And you are?” He questions.

“Chiyo,” she smile subtly biting her lip as her eyes raked down his figure. It’s almost too easy he thinks to himself.

“Well Chiyo-San may I buy you a drink?” He not so subtly eyes her as well.

And that how he got here for the first time ever he brought a woman home to your bed. Their body’s mashed together. Their clothes strewn around the house leading a trail to the bedroom. The recently quiet house filled with grunts and moans. “Miya-San,”she cry’s out and he has to try not to roll his eyes. She might look like you but she sounds nothing like you. You always makes the prettiest gasps and mewls as he worked your body over. She doesn’t feel like you, he can’t remember the last time you were together like this breathless underneath him. He shakes his head trying to rid himself of the thoughts. He’s confused he never compared you before with is flings you were always separate from his mind when the slept with other women. Frustrated with his thoughts he pulls out flipping the chick ,what was her name Chizu? , over on her knees before pounding into her relentlessly pushing her face in to the mattress as he took frustrations out. Her moans get louder as his face scrunches up in annoyance. It’s not long before he’s finished them both off and she laying there breathless as he throws away the condom. He see her make herself a little more comfortable on his bed he shared with you. He cringes.

“Hey Chizu, uh it’s probably best if you get going,” he states pulling a pair of sweatpants on.

He can see the disgust on her face. “My name is Chiyo asshole!” She says grabbing her clothes on as she start out the door.

Normally he’d care that he’d at least said the wrong name. But right now he just laid on the bed staring at the ceiling. The silence was back.

———

It has been two weeks since you left. He hadn’t heard from you, you never came back for your stuff. He hasn’t heard from Suna yet either although he figures the ass is to busy trying win and mend your broken heart. It’s only been two weeks but those two weeks without you were torture. He realized very quickly how much comfort you brought to him. How much he relied on you. All the mornings you’d spend cuddled together drinking your morning coffee. Although that had been less recent while he busying himself with Yuki. He missed the delicious meals you’d cook. Or the way you’d take care of him if he’d train to hard. He misses seeing you at the desk studying away your tongue poking out ever so slightly as you concentrated. He misses your laugh that would fill the house as you watched whatever anime you were currently bingeing always asking him to join you. You were always the one looking out for him making sure that he ate and rested. Always handling the groceries and the house work. The place was a mess without you he was a mess with out you. He misses the life you brought to the his home. He’s drawn from with wallowing when he hears knocks at the door.

He’s surprised to see his brother and Suna standing on the other side.

“Hey I’ve been trying to get in touch with YN but she’s hasn’t been answering is she here?” Suna asks stepping to his house his brother following behind. Suna stops his face scrunching up at the state of the place. Osamu also notices.

“Damn Tsumu its a mess in here YN let y’all live like this?” His twin asks taking a good look at his disheveled twin. “What happened,” concern crossing his similar features.

Atsumus mind starts to reel a bit. You werent with Suna?

“YN hasn’t been with you?” He looks at the middle blocker he was hoping he knew how you were.

“No,” he states starting to get really worried. “What happened,” there was an edge to his voice.

Atsumu stayed quiet. His brother nudges him but he still looks down. It isn’t until Suna grabs him by his collar that he looks up.

“She left me.”He states.

“That makes no sense YN loves you with everything she has she wouldn’t just leave you, what happened,” Osamu questions again.

“I cheated on her and she found out,” he says. He doesn’t look up but he can feel the rage coming off of Suna and the disappointment from his twin.

“What the fuck do you mean you cheated on her!” he yelled shaking him “for how long!”

The was no use lying and trying to hide it you weren’t coming back he can tell. And even if you would he knew he didn’t deserve you.

“The past 2 years,” he chokes out. Suna let’s go of his collar in disbelief.He breaths getting ready to explain everything but he wasn’t ready when he felt a fist connect with his cheek. He was on the ground rubbing his jaw. He looked up and Suna was seething in anger. His brother looked disgusted with him.

“Where is she,” Suna demanded.

“I don’t know she left two weeks ago I figured she was with you,”

“So lets get this straight you broke her heart and she left you and you didn’t even check to make sure she was safe! Did you ever even love her,” the dark haired middle blocker screamed at his former teammate.Of course he did but he cant say that not after he never showed it. He look down he couldn’t meet his friends eyes he felt so ashamed. He heard a scoff and then the front door slam. Suna was gone. He looked up and saw his brother staring down at him.

“You’re a real piece of shit you know that,” Samu says before he follows out the door.

Sobs tear through Tsumu as he realizes he ruined everything.

He sat there on the floor left in silence.

Home Masterlist

Taglist: @momoinot @multi-fandom-fanfic

[thedeathdeelers]

Racing Hearts

[a companion piece to this gorgeous piece of Luke art brought to you by the ever talented @mamirugbee]

   It‘s a warm and quiet night as Julie lies comfortably on a sleeping Luke, the sound of his strong heartbeat thudding steadily against her ear.

   Her finger lazily traces patterns on his chest as her eyes roam the dark room, taking in the familiar surroundings of yet another hotel room. Julie had come to learn that no matter what country they were in, the hotel rooms were always the same.

   Her eyes brush over his discarded navy and black suit along with his black band tee draped over the sofa across the room, landing on the shiny helmet propped on top of the coffee table, the gloss glittering with the light of the moon shining through the slanted shutters of the window. Her gaze lingers on the various logos littered across the top of it, each one of them so familiar to her now. As her eyes take in the shape of the Sunset Curve Racing logo, her heart warms once more at the memory of Luke pulling it off earlier that day, as he swiped his sweaty hair away from his face, listening intently to the scores. She also distinctly remembers the brightness of his smile that had been visible from miles away as his name echoed through the circuit, the announcers praising him as the youngest driver to ever win the Mexican Grand Prix.

   Her eyes flick away from the helmet to rest on the trophy standing tall on the centre of the dining table tucked away in the corner of their room, the silver glint of it guiding her gaze down towards the name engraved on the plaque at its base.

   She had watched him from the base of the podium as his competitors sprayed him with champagne, his smile not waning for a second as his hat, his favourite Screams from the Attic band tee and his suit tied at his waist got drenched. The multicoloured flags behind him had flapped in the wind as he turned his gaze, searching for her in the gathering crowd. She had backed away the second his eyes landed on her, the growing mischievous smile on his face a warning sign as he started towards her, the sticky nature of dried champagne pushing her to move even further away from his approaching hands.

   She had lost of course, a smile now making its way on her lips as she remembers his arms snaking their way around her waist from the back, lifting her up until her feet were helplessly kicking the air in front of her, her squeals louder than the cheering crowd.

   Julie pulls her attention away from the day’s events and back to the quiet room she finds herself in, her eyes coming back to trace the features of the sleeping driver beneath her.

   Her heart grows tenfold as she takes in the peaceful almost boyish look on his face, sleep taking away any edge it might carry during the day. Without her permission, her fingers skim the lines of his chest, dipping past his collarbone and up his neck as they settle at the base of his jawline.

   She thanks whatever greater power brought him safely back to her after yet another successful race.

   Because truth be told, even though she had gotten better at controlling the anxiety that riddled her whenever he walked away from her and towards his car, Julie still worried about him and struggled to sit still while she watched him race to the finish line.

   Just like she was now, she often found herself wondering how Luke kept his pre-race nerves at bay as he got ready to risk his life again and again for his job - his passion. She admired for him, even if it scared the living daylights out of her.

   She always watched him as he got ready while the team, including Alex and Reggie, prepped him before he slid into his seat behind the wheel, glimpsing a look of peace settling on his features as he closed his eyes for a few seconds, shutting out the flurry of activity happening around him.

   Julie had always assumed it was due to the music pulsing through his headphones, the loud beating of the drums and heavy guitar riffs blocking out the world for just those few seconds. It was a ritual she’d seen time and time again, even before he knew she existed - but during his last few races, she’d been seeing less and less of that. The headphones themselves would be left dangling in her hands as he walked away - no music in his ears, his eyes never leaving hers.

   Maybe whatever brought on that peaceful expression to his face could help her, too.

   Her fingers move upwards once more, her thumb gently swiping against his cheek and grazing the day old stubble. Her index finger glides down the length of his nose, her hand hovering just above his mouth when she feels lips pressing into her palm.

   A giggle slips out of her before she can stop herself.

   “Did I wake you?”

   Her whispered question is met with a soft grunt, followed by a hand tightening its hold on her hip.

   “Yes. No. Maybe?” His sleepy answer brings out more laughter to bubble out, her hand retracting itself from his face to slap across her mouth.

   “I’m sorry,” comes her muffled apology.

   “No you’re not.”

   A beat of silence follows before she slips her hand off her face and settles it back on his chest.

   “No I’m not.”

   He grins at her reply, his eyes still closed.

   “How come you’re up?” His brow furrows before he cracks an eye open to peek at her. “Wait — what time is it?”

   Julie shrugs, answering both of his questions in one swift motion.

   “Couldn’t sleep?”

   “No, I’m fine I just...” She tries to think of a reason, but all she can think about is that peaceful look on his face before a race, and she suddenly finds herself itching to ask him.

   “I- I was just thinking about today, and your races in general and I...” she trails off, not entirely sure how to phrase this.

   She feels the hand on her hip give her one quick squeeze, and realises her eyes had drifted away from his gaze.

   She looks back up at him to find him looking at her with both eyes open, a curious and slightly concerned, gleam to them.

   Right. This was Luke — she could do this.

   “It’s just that I know the anxiety that comes along with having a loved one getting into a race car will never fade, especially not after...” she trails off, taking in a deep breath before continuing. “But I- I always see you do this thing before you race. Like suddenly all of the anxiety that was there just kind of...melts away?” Julie registers her words and hurries to explain herself. “I don’t mean you’re not anxious anymore! Or that you’re completely relaxed or— I don’t know how to explain this. It’s like you’re just suddenly okay? Ugh, I’m sorry I don’t know what I’m saying.” She drags her hand towards her face as she hides behind it, hoping she can blame her lack of sleep on whatever the hell that was.

   Anxiety about maybe dying just casually melting away?? Where did that come from?

   The silence that follows only causes her to worry even more, until she feels a hand rest against hers, only to then gently pull it away from her face.

   He holds onto it as she looks up at him again, his thumbs softly tracing her knuckles.

   “I know what you mean, Jules.” He tilts one side of his mouth up into a half smile before he continues. “I’ve always had this habit of losing myself to music right before the race starts — ever since I was a kid music just kind of...I don’t know, had this calming effect on me? Or no, wait.” She watches him as he screws his mouth up, his eyes looking up towards the ceiling as he tries to come up with the right words. “Okay so maybe not calm exactly, but music has always been able to help me sort out how I feel, right? And just like it can help me understand how angry or sad or happy I am, I find that if I choose the right song, the right melody or just the right guitar riff, I can almost will myself to just — feel the way I want to feel? If that makes sense?”

His eyes come back down in search of hers as he struggles to explain himself, but just like she always does, Julie knows exactly what he means.

“Yeah, it does. Music is magic like that,” she tells him, a little smile sneaking its way onto her lips.

“Exactly!” The hand holding hers squeezes once before his thumb goes back to its soothing motion. He grins down at her, a smile just as bright as the one she saw on the podium earlier today, except this one was just for her to see.

Her gaze shifts down to his nose, her next question on the tip on her tongue struggling to make its way out. Was this maybe a little too personal? They’ve been together for a few months now but there were times where it still felt so new — she’d get shy or flustered like a school girl, getting tongue tied just at the sight of his brilliant smile. She had a feeling it would always be that way with Luke.

She hoped it would be.

“Jules?”

His voice interrupts her thoughts, bringing her back to the conversation as her eyes reflexively find their way back up to his.

Before she can overthink it, the words spill out of her.

”I um- It’s just that I noticed in the last few races you’ve stopped doing that — listening to music right up until the race starts, I mean. And yet even then you still get that look on your face so I just....wanted to know why - or how - I guess.”

His expression grows soft at her words, his eyes roaming her face once, twice, three times.

“Hmm, something more magical than music came into my life.”

She waits for him to continue, to elaborate and make sense. Instead he just stares at her, as if his vague statement was all the answer she needed.

“Um..what?”

He laughs quietly at her confusion, the vibrations of his laughter reaching the ear still pressed against his chest.

Not known to be patient, Julie jokingly scowls at him, attempting to look unimpressed as he laughs at her.

“What?” She doesn’t mean to, but a slight whine slips into her tone, followed by a pout settling on her lips. This only makes him laugh even harder, her head shaking with the movement of his chest.

“Nothing, nothing.” He chuckles some more while she half-heartedly glares at him, before continuing. “I thought I was being obvious but I guess Alex was right.”

“Alex? What about Alex?”

He shakes his head at her. “Nah, never mind. He just likes to tell me how wrong I am sometimes, that’s all.”

A snort makes its way out of her before she can stop herself. “When doesn’t he...”

He chuckles once more at her words, before quieting down as his eyes flicker down to her lips.

“Luke?”

His eyes tick back up at her questioningly, a smile curling her lips at his short attention span.

Or maybe he just got distracted by her? Huh.

“You were saying about something else taking over music...?”

“Oh! Oh right, yeah sorry. Uh, I mean it hasn’t taken over music exactly — it’s more like I’ve found something else that just kind of,” he lets go of her hand as he reaches over to trace a finger down her cheek. “Better embodies the magic of music for me? Kind of like the living embodiment of it, you could say.”

Her heart starts beating a little faster at his words even as her brain struggles to comprehend his words. Was he-

“Do you get what I’m trying to say, Julie?”

Unable to speak, Julie slowly shakes her head.

The hand on her face cradles her cheek, his fingers weaving their way into her hair.

“You, Jules. You calm my nerves before a race better than any song I’ve ever added to my playlist. I-” A chuckle escapes him before he continues, “Just the thought of you brings me this sense of peace, and it just kind of settles in, pushing away at any jitters that try to shake me before a race. I don’t know how to explain it, even if it’s pretty simple to me.” He stops to stare into her eyes for a second, Julie fully unable to articulate any word or thought.

“I just close my eyes for a few seconds, and picture you. Your voice, your eyes, your smile. I picture you running towards me after a race like you did that first time, and suddenly I’m just excited to race and get to the other side so I can hold you again.”

She feels his thumb gently swipe across her cheek; up and down, up and down.

“I guess what I’m trying to say — what I thought was obvious but maybe Alex was right — is that you’re the reason I’ve been getting better in all my races, the reason I even won today. You make me a better driver, make me want to be a better person.” He tries to draw her closer, his head tilting down towards hers, lifting it off his pillow as he whispers against the crown of her head,

“I love you Jules.”

Still taken by the confession that has left her a little dizzy, Julie pulls herself closer to Luke, wrapping her arms around him as she tightens her hold on him, her face snuggling into his chest. They had already said those three words to each other numerous times before, neither one of them shy about letting the other know the true depth of their feelings.

But somehow, this felt different.

“I love you,” she mouths into the space right above his heart, pressing a kiss into his skin. She feels his fingers twitch in her hair, letting her know that he heard her, felt her, too.

Silence settles in the dark room, neither one of them moving, too happy and comfortable to ruin the moment. They both eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms, ready to conquer whatever the world threw their way - one race at a time.

fin

[hysteriium]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth​ they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them. 

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think. 

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader. 

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence. 

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief. 

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice. 

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.  

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–” 

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running. 

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper. 

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.” 

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he? 

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“No,” he smirked, petting your head. 

Curse his height. 

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?” 

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.” 

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.” 

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.” 

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath. 

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?” 

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars. 

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.   

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”  

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so. 

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!” 

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well… 

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it. 

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word– 

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you. 

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first. 

“Will this make you, uh, happy?” 

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?” 

“My being with you.” 

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’. 

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.” 

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted. 

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm. 

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.  

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion. 

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–” 

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks. 

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning. 

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling. 

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe. 

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady. 

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips. 

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold. 

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk. 

“Peach,” he cooed. 

You were going to have to reapply later. 

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him. 

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself. 

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him. 

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!” 

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with. 

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work. 

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.” 

“Hmm,” he trailed off. 

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green. 

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.  

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!” 

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed. 

“All done!” 

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.” 

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention. 

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.” 

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.” 

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.” 

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach. 

It would have to do, though.  

“Okay,” you whispered. 

He stood up now, towering over you. 

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips. 

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact. 

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

“What are you–” 

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed. 

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring. 

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days. 

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving. 

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting. 

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust. 

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.” 

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.” 

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.  

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.  

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism. 

“It’s hard not to.” 

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him. 

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’ 

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly. 

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth. 

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago. 

You fought the urge to run. 

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath. 

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand. 

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?” 

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.  

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.  

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–” 

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.” 

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out. 

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision. 

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology. 

Your stomach turned. 

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.  

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm. 

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt. 

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him. 

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset. 

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier. 

Pee-yew. 

Everyone here sucked. 

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her. 

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement. 

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.” 

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?” 

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear: 

I’m new to this. 

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation. 

Something had changed. 

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him. 

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response. 

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain. 

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment. 

“So what? What are you doing?” 

“What does it – ah – look like?” 

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away. 

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo. 

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but. 

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right. 

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it. 

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles. 

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt. 

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash. 

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.  

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean. 

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that. 

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good. 

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you. 

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you. 

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth. 

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.” 

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade. 

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.” 

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.” 

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.” 

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth. 

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation. 

Yeesh. 

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming. 

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here. 

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom. 

He smacked his lips. 

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse. 

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?” 

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side. 

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye. 

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her. 

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation. 

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?” 

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.  

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?” 

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.  

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing. 

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer. 

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut. 

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance. 

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed. 

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms. 

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.” 

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly. 

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again. 

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale. 

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.  

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.” 

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected. 

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–” 

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic. 

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”  

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness. 

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady. 

“Mine,” you whispered. 

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete. 

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand. 

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song. 

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice. 

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

Hey~~ could you write Annie x reader? What I had in mind was towards the end of s1 when Annie was trying to climb up the wall, could she try and take reader with her because they always talked about being together? Kinda like when Ymir took Historia in s2, and I really love your writings 💕 thanks~

TAsdfhjksfadh you didn’t specify whether Annie made it over the wall with the reader or not so uh I just kinda picked one lol hope you don’t mind

Also, sorry this is a little late, I've been feeling just a little sick for the past couple of days.

Prove It

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Season 3 spoilers

Category: Mostly angst, little fluff

Summary: When Annie was outed as the Female Titan, she didn’t have a lot of options on where to go. And, as the fight between her and Eren progresses, it becomes clear her best option is to flee. Yet, there’s just one thing she can’t leave without. And it seems the feeling’s mutual.

Words: 3.1K

That wicked laughter.

It rung through the empty streets of Stohess, abandoned specifically for this military operation.

The goal? To lure out the suspected Female Titan, Annie Leonhart. Your girlfriend.

At first, you were violently against participating in the operation. You weren’t going to incriminate her, that would be incredibly faithless. Really, you wanted nothing more than for her to be vindicated, and to prove the the world the the “heartless” Annie Leonhart is a loyal soldier, not the traitorous snake they started to make of her.

It got in your head, most certainly. Within hours of the first discussion, ‘Annie Leonhart’ and ‘Female Titan’ had become synonymous with each other, and you hated every bit of it. You always defended her fiercely, because you could only hear so much distasteful talk towards her before you started to broil over with rage.

So, you agreed. You were going to lure Annie down in to the tunnel and prove once and for all that she wasn’t a monster. You could clear her of suspicion, and the two of you would go back to your ordinary lives with each other.

And oh, if only that was what happened.

But you watched in horror as Annie refused to go down the tunnel. She laughed, laughed, when you pleaded with her to follow you, that all she needed to do was come along with you to be unshackled from the scrutiny and doubt.

But her feet remained planted in her rigid stance of defense.

“Y/n...” She slurred out, laughter finally subsiding. “I’m glad I could be a good person to you.”

The slope of fear seemed to lose it’s steadiness, and the drop-off into the pit of empty horror occurred when she held up her hand to her mouth, preparing herself for the bloodshed to follow.

“You’ve won your bet. But this is where my bet begins...!”

The signal flare fired, and the countless soldiers waiting in ambush jumped from all angles. You watched, wide-eyed and frozen, as they restrained her and gagged her, like muzzling a dog. But, it was no use. Her ring, the silver ring she never let you touch, sprung up a spike out of it’s side, and a quick slide of her thumb across the tip opened up a bloody gash in her finger.

And then came the lightning.

Mikasa had thrown her arms around you and Armin, dragging you down into the tunnel to get out of harm’s way of the transformation.

You knew she had finished her transformation when the thundering stopped, and chunks of debris rolled to a stop at your feet, stirred dust slowly settling itself back onto the stone ground. For a moment, everything stilled, and only the ragged breaths of Armin and the sheathing of Mikasa’s blades were audible.

And then something moved.

You weren’t sure what it was, until around the corner, the light was consumed by a large shadow, growing closer and closer and absorbing more of the sunlight until it rounded the corner.

A fingertip. Then the finger. Then the hand. An arm—and it was traveling down the hallway, fingers frozen in a pose as if it were trying to grab onto something, something it couldn’t see.

“Shit!” You let out a terrified yelp and took off running, Mikasa hot on your tail and Armin stumbling closely behind.

It sought after the three of you, until a distant thump could be heard. You whipped your head around and stopped running, noticing the hand—ever present, it’s finger stretched desperately in an attempt at grabbing something, but it was no use. You caught a glance of it’s upper arm, flush against the wall of the curve.

She couldn’t reach any farther.

You let out of a sigh of relief, falling to your knees and gazing at it. It’s shaking fingers stopped, finally, and went limp into it’s palm in defeat, before slowly pulling itself out. You had no clue whether it was trying to grab you, or Armin, or Mikasa, or if it was planning on killing you or not. Bottom line, it was unsuccessful.

But then more thunder.

It seems Eren finally got his cue, because the signature yellow hues of transformation shone even into the dark abyss of the wrecked tunnel.

The three of you took a deep breath and shared a collective glance. Before long, the unsaid instructions were followed, and the three of you scurried out of the tunnel to witness the action.

And action it was—the first sight you were greeted with upon exiting was that of Annie delivering a decisive punch to Eren’s jaw, sending him flying backwards into the streets of Stohess.

Eren returned to his feet as fast as he could, and let out a menacing roar as he charged at Annie, arms low like a football player preparing to pounce on something.

He charged, but her feet remained planted, arms bracing for impact.

You watched as the two of them brawled furiously. You didn’t even notice that Mikasa and Armin had left your side—you hadn’t moved. You couldn’t find it in your heart to fight Annie, but neither were you going to fight Eren. No, all you could do was watch, helpless.

The battle continued fiercely, absolutely wrecking the city in the process. Building were destroyed and crumpled, streets of stone completely upended as one or the other got helplessly tossed around.

It came to a head as the fight eventually progressed to a wide, open space of stone, and the two of them were fighting hand to hand, both of them looking worse for wear. You shot your ODM gear into the roof of a nearby building, watching the fight with a slacked jaw. You had no clue how Eren was even standing a chance to Annie, since you yourself had seen how skilled she was in martial arts.

Soon, though, a decisive kick to Annie shin sent debris and rocks flying everywhere. Annie lost her footing, tumbling to the ground with a thump.

And you had been so fixated on Annie in that moment that you failed to notice the debris, and it was headed right towards your face.

Something—rigid and powerful—collided with your head, and you fell to the ground instantly.

Your vision was already fading, and you watched as tiny streams of crimson flowed over the shingles and down the roof—no doubt stemming from the newly opened gash on your scalp.

The distant clinking of the rock as it tumbled down the slope of the roof was the last thing you heard, and the world around you faded to black.

---

Through the darkness, a memory flashed through your mind.

---

It was dark out, of course it was. Shadis would never let you have leisure time at all when the sun was up.

You leaned against an lone oak tree, fingers brushing through the soft grass idly. The air was cold and crisp, and a soft breeze flowed through the air, just barely enough to rustle your soft hair.

Annie sat silently next to you, shoulder brushing up against yours. Slowly, she slinked her hand over yours, hesitantly grasping at your hand. You entwined your fingers with hers, and she looked away shyly.

She often had bouts of insomnia, lying awake at night for hours, unable to get her body to relax. And, the first night she tugged at your nightshirt, waking you up to go outside with her, she fell asleep in your arms due to exhaustion almost immediately.

So, it had become an unspoken ritual from that day on. She couldn’t sleep, she’d wake you up, the two of you would go outside, and talk or busy yourselves until sleep inevitably caught up to her.

But today was different. For whatever reason, something had been keeping her up for a lot longer than usual. You knew something was weighing down on her heavily, but you weren’t going to pry it out of her.

Deciding to break the tense silence, you squeezed her hand gently, getting her attention before you spoke.

“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” You observed. You weren’t talking about the weather per-say, but the thousands of white speckled stars that dotted the sky, and the bright, full moon that illuminated the grass and dirt beneath you.

“It’s cold.” She said bluntly.

You chuckled softly, her bleak attitude was so characteristic of her.

“I guess that’s true.”

More silence.

And then she sighed, bringing your hand into her lap to cusp it in both of her palms, clinging onto it as if it were grounding her.

“What do you plan on doing later in life, Y/n?” She huffed, leaning her head backwards against the back of the tree and gazing up at the sky. “You don’t possibly plan on staying in the military your whole life, do you?”

“No, of course not.” You sighed.

“Then do you have plans afterwards?”

You paused for a minute. She raised a good point, you didn’t really think of anything after the military. Deep down, perhaps you understood that by joining the Cadet Corps you didn’t have much ahead of you. You can only survive so many brushes with death before it’s your turn to go.

“I guess not...” You hesitated, deep in thought. You swallowed a lump in your throat before changing the subject. “Why, do you?”

Even through the darkness, you could feel the shrug of her shoulders against you.

“Not really.” She muttered. “Just... stay with the MPs, make a living wage, retire somewhere in the interior, and... relax. I just wanna... find somewhere to relax.”

She paused for a second. Clearly there’s something tugging at her mind, something she wants to say. So, you sit back and wait for her to find the confidence.

“Do you promise me that... sometime, after a while in the Scouts, that you’ll come back to be with me?”

The future between the two of you was always painted with uncertainty—whether the two of you could ever truly stay together. It would be difficult, between soldiers, to be able to settle down and stay together no matter what, especially from different regiments. But you could always try.

She exhaled shakily, struggling to get the words out of her throat.

“I just can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you. ‘Cause... if anything ever happened to you in the Scouts...” Her voice trailed off near the end, and you assumed she was trying to plan out her next words carefully, until you heard a small sniffle pass her lips.

Surprised, you turned to face her. She was trying to fight off the tears at the corners of her eyes, lip trembling as she struggled not to cry. It wasn’t until now that you realized just how tightly she gripped your hand.

“Annie- Annie it’s alright.” You stumbled, trying to comfort her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was upsetting her—she was scared of living a life without you.

You hooked an arm around her lower back, pulling her closer to you and putting your other hand on the back of her head and guiding her to your shoulder.

“I promise you, no matter what, I’ll live. And one day, we can spend all our time together. I’ll go wherever you go, I swear.” You ran your hand through her hair, undoing the bun she kept it in and evening it out over her shoulders.

“You promise?” Her voice sounded shaky and weak, a vulnerability to it that she rarely showed. “No matter what happens to me, you’ll trust me and stay with me?”

“I promise. Of course I do.”

---

Warmth.

It was the first thing you noticed upon waking up. The second was darkness. You sat up, noticing how wet the surface beneath you was. And how how fleshy.

Your face paled in realization. You were in a titan's mouth.

You raised your arm up, cringing at the trail of saliva that connected you to her tongue.

Immediately, you searched for a way to get out. You didn't plan on leaving her behind, but you'd rather not be stuck in a place as slimy and dark as this either. However, your efforts were pointless, since her jaw was clamped shut, her teeth caging you in and preventing you from escaping. Your heart dropped a little, wondering if she didn't trust you not to run away.

Suddenly, you felt a large thump, the unexpected movement causing you to grab desperately at anything that would keep you grounded in one spot.

But then, another thump. And another, and another. It felt like running, almost, but far too slow. You pondered it for a moment, before you realized what was going on.

She was trying to climb the wall.

But then, the thumping stopped. She wasn't falling, thank god, but all movement has seized.

Hesitantly, her jaw started to open, giving ample space for you to squeeze through. A sudden thought came to you—she needed your help.

With no hesitation, you drew your blades and burst through the skin of her cheek, not even waiting for her to part for lips. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you immediately search for the source of the problem. And you found it in the brute of a soldier, Mikasa Ackerman.

The girl was perched on Annie's nose, staring down at her. A quick glance to your side and you realized, with horror written all over your face, that Mikasa had cut off almost all of Annie's fingers—one more and Annie would easily lose her grip.

You understood, as soon as Mikasa drew her blades towards Annie's hand, you only had one option.

You shot your ODM gear towards her, not even caring when the hook dug into Mikasa's shoulder, causing her to yelp in pain as she turned to you.

She wasn't even given a moment to process as you came hurtling towards her, colliding with her shoulder and sending both of you flying through the air and towards the ground—fast.

Despite the small voice telling you that it would be easier to just ditch Mikasa, to release your ODM gear and let her fall, you shot the other hook into the wall, and your momentum halted to a stop.

She peeled her arms away from their protective guard around her head, processing that the two of you had stopped before looking up to you in surprise. You looked back down at her, an expression of sorrow in your eyes. It hurt you to betray her, and all of your comrades, like this, but you knew as soon as Annie placed her trust in you by opening her mouth that you only had one choice.

"Y/n what are y—!"

"I'm sorry Mikasa!" You yelled, trying to put aside your emotions for the time being. "I can't... I can't leave her, I promised I wouldn't!"

You took a deep breath, positioning on your finger on the trigger, preparing to release Mikasa from your ODM gear's bloody grip in her shoulder. "I'm sorry..." You muttered, before pulling the trigger, watching Mikasa tumbled towards the ground, her betrayed expression still glued helplessly on her face.

You decided that it would only hurt you to look at Mikasa—engraining that image into your head would certainly plague you later on.

You finally turned to look back at Annie, and your heart picked up a couple paces at the sight.

Her head was turned to you, watching—waiting—for you, her hand outstretched in your direction. You smiled, firing your ODM and flying into the palm of her hand, quickly climbing up onto her shoulder to allow her to finish her ascent up the wall.

You turned back one last time, looking over at the destroyed city, and the furious and betrayed faces of your comrades. You sighed, turning back around. That's in the past now, you thought. It doesn't matter. I... made a promise to Annie, I can't betray her. I can't...

---

The line of trees in the distance grew closer and closer as Annie jogged forwards, having made it over the wall and all the way to the forest inside Wall Maria.

She slowed down to a walking pace as she neared the trees, kneeling on the ground before releasing herself from the nape of her titan. Steam flowed from her body as she immediately collapsed forwards, and you instantly lurched forwards to catch her exhausted body in your arms.

"Grab on." You instructed, waiting for her to securely wrap herself around you before you flew through the air and onto a tree branch, making sure you were safely out of the reach of any mindless titans before you let go of her.

She took a deep breath, leaning against the wooden trunk of the tree to recollect her strength. After all, even as a titan, the fight had done numbers to her body.

You sat there in comfortable silence for a little bit, waiting for her to catch her breath while you idly readjusted the straps to your ODM gear.

Finally, she reached over to take your hand, grabbing it in both of hers just like she had during your conversation with her years ago.

"I'm so glad..." She sighed, voice weak and wavering. "I was so scared when I opened my mouth that you would just... run off without me."

Slowly, she shifted, wrapping her arms around your neck and leaning her entire body weight on you. You could feel some of the tension leaving her body as she sighed against you, burying her nose in the crook of your neck.

"I was terrified that if you found out my real identity, you would just leave me. I don't know how I would've handled it. I was just..." She took a shaky inhale as she continued, and you felt a few wet tears against your neck. "Scared. So... So scared..."

You set a comforting hand on her back, hugging her tighter in an attempt to sooth her.

"Annie..." You cooed in her ear. "I promised you, remember? I would never leave your side. I'm gonna stay with you for the rest of my life."

Her breathing started to calm against you, your words managing to ease her worries.

"Yeah," She sighed, pulling away from you. "I shouldn't have doubted you, sweetie."

You smiled and placed your hands on her shoulders, bringing her in for a quick kiss before wiping her tears with the back of your hand.

"It's fine. Just remember," You leaned in and hugged her, exuding a warm feeling that made Annie's heart swell with love. "I'll always be on your side, no matter what."

"God, I love you so much, you dork." She muttered, heat rising to her cheeks with a content smile.

You chuckled, "I love you, too."

MAN THIS IS ASS

This is what happens when you force yourself to write with a headache whoops haha

[smallstoriesiwrite]

Second choice part 2

when the reader is use to Tenya putting them second all the time will the reader forgive him? or will she move on? better yet will she return home with long term childhood friends?

Tenya x Fem!reader

A/N: thank you so much for so much likes on my last story. yes I am adding the Marley warriors into this because a bitch adores them. this might be 4 or 5 part series. of who you choose to stay with ( im guessing Tenyas but im a hoe who loves to fuck shit up sooo you will see!!!)

NEWAYS love yo selfs and drink water <3

part one

[ 3 weeks passed by]

“Okay remember we have a 3 day weekend starting tomorrow Friday. If your going home tell me and I’ll check you out and please contact me if you have any questions. Stay safe. Class dismissed” Aizawa says

My classmates all burst into talk that bothers me completely.

God why are they so loud. I need to get out before I tell them to shut up.

Good thing I’m going Home to my family for this weekend.

I missed my parents and siblings.

Sighing I walked to Shoji

“Hey Sho ready to go?”

Shoji has been the only person talking to after the outburst that happen. He was the only one that understood the situation and was probably the only reason at times I was laughing.

“Hey y/n. Yeah I’m ready let’s head out” Shoji says while putting his hand in the lower of my back

I felt the eyes of my remaining classmates look at me and Shoji.

I looked back at them with a cold glare and said

“Got a fucking starring problem?”

“N-no” the class said in sync

I rolled my eyes and continued walking off.

“So you going home for the 3 day weekend Y/n?” Shoji said while walking toward his dorm

“Yeah I want to be home with my family and my siblings. Some down time you know?” I say

“That’s good! Not going to lie I do miss being out this school.” Shoji says while grabbing his keys to unlock his door

I see Tenya, Deku and Shoto walk by to Tenyas dorm that happens to be right next of Shojis dorm.

“Wait why don’t you come to my house this weekend!” I say

“What?! No no y/n that’s your time to be with your family I don’t want to intrude” Shoji says frantically and waving his arms.

“Sho you have meet my family before they would love you to come over” I say grabbing his keys and unlocking the door “And besides your the only person right now that doesn’t see me as a emotional shit down person. You and my family and outside school friends happen to be the only silver lining I have just now.”

Opening the door I motion Shoji in and walked in myself and shutting the door.

I put the keys on his desk and walked toward his bed and through myself on top of it

“What do you mean by your silver lining y/n? And please shut your eyes for a moment I’m changing” Shoji said

Grabbing his nearest blanket I threw the blanket over me

“Well Sho by silver lining I mean that you are kinda my sun in the middle of the hurricane. You didn’t judge me when I did my outburst. You went to go check on me hours after the incident because you knew I needed to cool down before lashing out. Hell you sit at lunch with me when your friends say not to. And you have been there for me for so much even before I dated Iida and during as well. So yes you are part of my silver lining as much as my family and friends that don’t come here to UA.” I say

I feel movement on the bed and arms wrap around me.

This took me by shock and I pull the blanket down to see Shoji almost in tears.

“SHO WHATS WRONG?! DID I UPSET-“ I say frantically pushing back a bit to cup his face

“I’m fine y/n. I’m just shocked that you would even consider me such a close friend to you.” Shoji says in his wobbly voice

“Sho. I know I don’t say it much but I do genially care about you. Like you mean the world to me. Hell my family considers you family.” I say while sitting in front of him

He smiles and attacks me with another hug

“SHOJIIIIII!!!!!” I wine out

We both turn into fits of giggles and he pulled me up

“Okay let me start packing so we can head out tonight.” Sho said walking to get his to go bag ready

I pulled my laptop out my backpack and FaceTimed my Mom to tell her Shoji is coming for the weekend

Tenya POV

It’s been 3 weeks and I can’t find the courage or strength to talk to y/n.

Have I really put her second ?!

I didn’t mean to shes everything to me.

God why am I not fighting for this!

In class I saw y/n wasn’t paying attention in class more in her little world. She does that a lot when she’s not in the mood to learn.

After Professor Aizawa dismissed us I saw Shoji and y/n walk out together. I stared because the fact Shoji had his hand on her lower back. I didn’t notice it at first until Shoto said

“Does Shoji have his hand on her lower back?!”

Our group of friends heard and turned to see y/n and Shoji walking out.

We stared for too long because the fact y/n gave us a deadly glare and walked away.

Sighing I picked up my book bag and left to my room with Midorya and Shoto.

While walking to my dorm midorya spoke up

“Hey have you tried talking to her. I know you miss her and you want to fix it.”

Sighing I respond

“No i haven’t. But I want to talk to her when she’s comfortable and not in a situation where she has to shut down and let herself be emotionally unavailable and let her thought and actions go by what her body feels at the time.”

“So a clear mind in a way. Like in the comfort of her own environment.” Shoto says

“EXACTLY!” I say

Walking to my room I see Y/n leaning on the wall and talking to Shoji.

Calmly and smoothly.

In the process of opening my door I see y/n smile a bit and I thought the world stop for just a moment.

Seeing we walk into his room so gracefully.

“Hey Iida are you there” I hear Shoto say

“AH yes yes Im here. Sorry!” I say opening the door to let the boys in

Settling down I hear Midorya say

“Iida you are still head over heels for her. Why did you ever put her second.”

Sighing sadly I sat on the floor with my head in my hands

“I don’t know. I love her. Everything she does and how she can be such a punk to everyone. But as soon as it comes to her family she softens up. The way she interacts with animals. Or when her favorite characters from her favorite anime come on the television. As well the way she is so honest with everyone and not caring what anyone says. To the way she dresses. To the way she plays the ukulele guitar and so much instruments and the way she sings so softly but with power in rock songs.”

Tears started to form in my eyes

“I didn’t notice she was hurting until 3 weeks ago. She finally broke. And as a boyfriend I should have never let her believe she wasn’t lovable. She’s so lovable. She has flaws like me. But every of her flaw is so beautiful in my eyes.”

Softly crying I hear Shoto say

“Win her back.”

Looking up i say

“How. How do I win back someone that doesn’t believe in second chances. That’s her biggest pet peeve. She has only given second chances to certain people. And even then it’s rare.”

“Show her that your worth one more chance.” Shoto says

“Your brother Iida might know a way. He’s dating y/n sister after all?” Midorya spoke up

“Yeah they have been dating for more than 4 years now. She’s been though thick and thin with him. I didn’t even know out siblings where dating till y/n sister Athena picked up y/n for a doctors appointment and I saw her. But definitely I will call my brother now!”

I say rushing to my laptop

Ringing my brother I waited for him to answer

“Hello?”

“Brother hi!”

“Hey Tenya what’s up?”

“Well I was hoping you can help me with something if you are not busy?”

“Shoot what’s up?”

“Well you know how me and y/n are not together anymore because of me not giving her time and putting her second-“

“So your finally admitting that you where putting her second when she came first. In love and time” Tensie said scolding me

Looking down with tears forming

“Yes I’d finally have to admit that I was putting her second.”

Looking up with tears rolling down I choked out

“Please I want her back”

Tensie sighed and explain the plan

[time skip to y/n house]

Y/n POV

Arriving home with Shoji I see my family waiting for us at the door.

Smiling I slung my bag over my shoulder and closed the taxi door.

Playing

I grab Shoji arm and raced to my front door

My Parents greeted us and told us to head to dinner with them

While eating dinner with retome and conversing i hear my mom say

“Y/n sweety just wanted to tell you that the Iida family will be spending the 3 day weekend with us. As well with Zeke and his friends are coming in to see you.”

I stared at my mom

“WHAT?!”

“Are you not happy?” Dad said

“I am for Zeke and the crew haven’t seen them in roughly a year. But why the Iida family.” I say mumbling the last part

“Well you so forget Tensie is my boyfriend and Kyo best friend?” Athena spoke up

“I’m fine with him coming I could care less but why the whole damn family like. It was supposed to be us family plus Shoji and Zeke and the crew.” I argued back

“They are friends as much as Zeke and the rest of your friends from Marley. They are going all to be here till Sunday afternoon understand? The house is big enough do you to ignore The Iidas if you want. Shoji will be by your side and us as well. Plus the moral support of your 7 other friends coming in to visit you.” My father States

I sighed and agreed and finish dinner and head to bed.

Dropping off Shoji at his guest bedroom that isn’t too far from my room he spoke up

“You will be fine y/n I understand you don’t want Iida around. But his brother happens to be in love with your sister and best friends with your brother. I’ll be here for you and your other friends I can’t die to meet. You have told me so much about the 7 that basically helped you train and become your friends as well.”

Sighing I leaned to the wall

“I know it’s just bad enough I see him at school and he doesn’t even try to reach out.”

Groaning i looked at Shoji

“I need to move on.”

Shoji looked shocked but didn’t say nothing

Chuckling I looked down and spoke

“Thank god Zeke and the gang are coming. I needed a break from my crazy life and they just happen to be peace but enough chaos. Your gonna love them Sho.”

Standings straight I continue

“Well Sho I atta go to bed. Tomorrow everyone arrives. I need sleep I’ll see you in the morning sweet dreams Sho. “

Shoji smiled and pats my head

“Sweet dreams as well y/n”

Smiling i walked to my room and closed my door when I heard my messages go off.

I pick it up and see from Zeke.

Zeke👑: Hey shorty we are on the train to you as we speak. Get there tomorrow around 8am I expect your famous banana pancakes.

Y/n✨: bold of you to assume I’ll be up at that time

Zeke👑: im going to tell Reiner you are mean to me 😢

Y/n✨: what is he gonna do about it?

Zeke👑: please make us food someone decided to blow most of our food money for tomorrow on blankets - Rei

Y/n✨: let me guess pieck ?

Zeke👑: yep. - Rei

Zeke👑: please? -Rei

Y/n✨: 😑fine just because you said please😫

Zeke👑: thank you see you tomorrow. Get some sleep - Rei

Y/n✨: yall too sleep well see you tomorrow

putting my phone to charge on my desk I see a picture of the gang from a year ago when I went to go visit them. smiling I looked at the picture and though "it wouldn't be so bad to move back with them."

( link to this photo. this art is not mine at all https://pin.it/7LfNDiJ )

[littlemisslipbalm]

Little Border Town Pt. II

Summary: Harry starts to find himself more and more drawn to the bookshop owner. She’s maybe not as annoying as he first thought. And maybe Harry isn’t the worst like she thought either. A little notebook, drinks, shoes, and a boat begin to show each other that. 

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck. 

ello loves,  part 2 is finally here pls let me know what you think!! barely proofread sorry... also i think theres gonna be quite a few parts to this because i keep not getting all i want to say said in each part. and im trying to keep the chunks relatively short. — also I made one direction lowkey exist bahaha

Word Count: 9.2k | Warnings: flirty fighting/banter, slowburn 

Part 1

-

The next day Harry found himself walking into the bookshop next door without really thinking about it. He hadn’t seen Y/N again for his early morning run and he had his list for her of the Paul Simon albums he already had. They hadn’t had their windows or shades open last night either so it was the first night he didn’t give her a salute and she didn’t flip him off. The jostle in routine seemed a little weird to him so as he walked through the shop's door and the bell sounded, he thought the smile on his face was because he was well rested and unbothered by anything.

Y/N had slept in this morning. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the beginning of Fall always put her in a cozy sleepy mood. She wanted to go to a pumpkin patch and watch a fire burn out in a fireplace. She wanted to listen to her halloween playlist and plan out an intricate costume with her friends. All of this was a wistful dream though. She had quickly learned that the little border town didn’t celebrate Halloween how they did in the States or any major cities. It was okay, at the end of the day, even if she was a little bummed about it. This was her new life and she would have to adapt to the new customs.

After she walked downstairs and unlocked the door, she went back over to her front counter. Yesterday, right when Harry had come in, she had found a booklet of Marie’s. It was leafed over to the point that all the pages were crinkled and dirtied from hand debris. Each page was filled with her loopy handwriting, all of it in French. She must have only liked blue pens because even if the type changed over different pages, the color was always blue. Each page was headed with a name, a customer’s name Y/N was starting to realize as she leafed through the pages. She sat back on the wooden stool she had gotten for behind the counter and propped the book in her hand. After the name of the customer there were extensive details on them. Not their purchases specifically, but their preferences, their personality, and just tidbits about any quirks they had or interesting things Marie had decided were of note.

She found many names that were now familiar to her after her few months of living in the little border town. There really weren't that many people to get to know and the tourists were starting to die down now that the school year was getting back in. After a few minutes of pouring over Monsieur Friedfrickson’s page, who lives across the street from her and runs the flower and gardening supplies shop, she flips to an even more familiar name’s page.

“Harry Styles.” The page had the name written out in strong tall letters. Marie had used a blue inky pen for his page, not a ballpoint. “Likes Music. Poetry. Love stories. Romance with a happy ending, but also likes the practical love too.” The interests are laid out plain and she purses her lips at the idea that Harry is interested in romance novels. She wondered what type of poetry he liked since Marie didn’t seem to think that had to be elaborated on. “He’s a special one,” it reads and Y/N scoffs to herself, really Marie? She reads on, “His heart is in the right place, but he’s got a mouth on him. Quick-witted and charming, but kind-hearted and sincere.” She pauses, and flicks the page back and forth, checking that it still reads Harry’s name when she gets back to it. Was she really the only one who found Harry vapid and annoying? Sure she had softened a little towards him since she had arrived, but they were by no means friends. “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually-” it reads and she mutters to herself, “Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.” “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually scared of his own shadow.” “This can’t be real!” She once again scoffs at the book and looks up to the ceiling like Marie is going to talk back to her from beyond. “His exterior persona is very strong, both physically and in his personality, but it seems like he’s just waiting for that right person that he can really be vulnerable with and let them into what he’s really thinking. He’s looking for his Angie.” Now she’s just confused. Who the fuck is Angie? She almost doesn’t finish reading the page because honestly it’s just making her mad, but there’s only a few more lines. “Lots of tattoos, why so many tattoos? Thinks he’s funnier than he is. Flamboyant Harry is best.” And beside that last sentence is a star. She tries to hold in her laughter. At least it wasn’t a complete page of praise for Harry.

Thinking back to her knowledge of Harry, she realizes that Marie must have known him for about three years. Maybe more if he had come to visit before moving there officially. She agreed with Marie that Harry had a lot of tattoos and that he thinks he’s funnier than he truly is, but she was yet to see flamboyant Harry. She knew he painted his nails and wore rings, as well as interesting clothes, but she wouldn’t say he was particularly flamboyant for any of that. That comment definitely piqued her interest. When would Marie have seen Harry where he was being flamboyant?

Her eyes scan over the page once more and realize that this book is only for the most current year. Marie re-did the customers' outlines every year. So this was this past year before Marie died. She wondered where the other books might be and if Harry’s outline had changed over time and also if her name was in the one from when she had visited. That would be interesting to read. It’s strange to read a dead person’s private musings. To her knowledge, no one else alive knew the contents of these pages and these pages seemed especially personal since they spoke of people’s lives and who they were at their core. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the chime of the door this morning when the first customer arrived.

Her eyes don’t shoot up from the page until two ringed hands enter her eye line on the counter. The tanned skin, with the gold and silver dazzling rings on each finger and the cross tattoo all register in her mind as her eyes go wide. She snaps the book shut when her eyes meet Harry’s almost ivy green eyes - they’re darker in the foggy fall light streaming through the window today. She hadn’t even turned on the lights yet in the store, the natural light being enough for her this morning. The book is clutched in her hands as Harry’s smile widens to a grin of amusement.

“What have you got there?”

There’s no cover on the book so he can’t make anything out about it. He assumes it’s some novel she’s embarrassed of and has chosen to slip the cover off of to keep anonymity of it. This assumption is why his tone is so teasing and why she grimaces at him in response. Her cheeks have also tinted themselves, she’s flustered that the man she had just been conversing about with the book was now in the store.

“None of your business.”

“I guess not.” He replies easily when she responds curtly and places the book out of sight somewhere under the countertop.

“Why are you here again?” She’s avoiding his eye contact now, feeling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been even though it was perfectly within her right to read something that now belonged to her.

Harry’s smile falters with her followed curt reply. Annoyance settling in, Harry straightens up and removes his hands from the counter. The familiar feeling doesn’t exactly feel nice, but familiarity is better than discomfort. “You wanted a list of my Paul Simon records? So you could order me one I didn’t already have?”

She looks at him curiously as the conversation comes back to her from yesterday morning and she nods. That conversation was real. “Oh yeah, I said that.” She replies, still not looking at him. “Okay,” she says when he doesn’t move or do anything. Her eyes widen, silently asking him to get on with it.

His hands shove into his pockets, searching around for a list he apparently had made. They come out empty. He pats over his jacket pockets and feels nothing but his phone and wallet, no list. “Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath. She scratches at her eyebrow and sits back on her stool, seeming like she might be waiting awhile. After a few more minutes and no produced list, she sighs. “Do you just want to go next door and grab it since you obviously forgot it?”

“I didn’t forget it…” His voice is low and he shoots a glare at her, the annoyance that had come back had now doubled.

“You did, but it’s okay if you can’t admit that-”

“It must have fallen out of my pocket!” He insists.

She rolls her eyes and stands up. Walking to the front door, she looks on the ground and then a little ways outside. “I don’t see it, just go back and get it. You probably left it in your boudoir, it’s fine.” Her tone is a little less condescending now and more understanding. She forgets stuff all the time and she really wasn’t trying to be rude when he first came in. He had just startled her is all.

He turns around to face her. Her body is now completely out in the open area of the front of the store. His head tilts and one of his loose curls flops over his forehead while he takes in her appearance. “Why do you do that?”

She wets her lips and steps closer to him, more on her way back to the counter than anything. “Do what?” She’s oblivious to what he’s taken note of.

“When you have a conversation in English you’ll swap in some words that are French. They’re easy words to figure out and you don’t do it a lot, but you’ve done it enough times for me to notice.”

“Oh...I don’t know. I prefer French to English. It’s so much sexier.” She walks closer to him and utters her next sentence as she brushes past his shoulder. His gaze follows her every movement. “Would you prefer a girl to whisper in your ear, “let’s go back to my bedroom” or “let’s go back to my boudoir.”?” Her French accent hangs in the air with the word and compared to the hard American accent she had employed for ‘bedroom’, ‘boudoir’ sounds far more dirty this time than before.

A shiver rolls down Harry’s spine, but he doesn’t let it show. She shrugs her shoulders, “I think the answer is clear.” He clears his throat in response and a smile grows on her face. “Don’t you agree, monsieur?” She leans her head into her hand now that she’s behind the counter and looks up at him sweetly. He knows she’s teasing him now, her smile more of a sultry smirk.

“Piccola diavola,” his Italian rolls off his tongue and she squints at his words. She knows “devil” but the first word troubles her - it just means little. Her Italian really wasn’t strong and it hadn’t improved that much since she’d been in the little border town. But she also wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what he had said. Harry chuckles at her confusion and relaxes now that he feels the playing field has leveled once again.

“So your list… Do you want to go grab it? Or if you can just list it off the top of your head? As enthralling as your conversation skills are, I actually don’t have all day.” She trails off again, her questions lilting from her mouth after regaining some composure.

“I wasn’t the one teasing about taking someone up to their bedroom,” he huffs. Her face colors with crimson. While she had been teasing him, she didn’t want to be called out for it.

“Wasn’t teasing…”

“So it was a serious offer?” He inquires with a lop-sided grin, changing the meaning behind her words in one fellow swoop.

“That’s not what I was saying! Shut up and give me your list.” Now her blush was all over her face and neck, and she was totally and completely flustered by Harry.  She glanced down at her hands that were fiddling with a pen and paper, ready to write his words down.

“I can either shut up or tell you my list. But it’s sadly one or the other, love.”

She groans and takes her free hand to run it over her face. “Just tell me what you already have, Harry. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles and spreads out his hands in front of them both. He crosses back to the counter and leans on it once more. They are in close proximity once again, only the counter between them now and she can feel his hot breath fan over her softly. Smells of wintergreen gum, her favorite.

She glances up at him and their eyes hook together for a moment before she tears hers away to look back at the paper. He rattles off a good amount of Paul Simon’s albums and she nods approvingly as she scribbles the names down. She would have to look through his discography to find the ones Harry didn’t have and she probably could’ve made Harry do that and then give her that list, but she didn’t. It was too late now to do that as well, so she’d just have to live with her decision.

When he finishes, she glances at him once again. His eyes are very large. A detail that isn’t really important about him is seared in her mind. They’re big and they’re staring right at her. His pupils are almost as big as his irises, it was interesting. Her eyes shift under his gaze after a beat and she straightens up again. While they went over his list, she had indulged in the close proximity, the mingling of warm breath and brushed hands as she scribbled and he pondered. She nods a farewell, “I’ll let you know when I order next, but I won’t say what album you’ll get. It will be a surprise.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” his smile snaps back to his face and he scratches absentmindedly at his side. He hesitates before exiting the store. “I have a question.”

“Don’t need my permission.”

He emits a half-laugh, half-scoff from his parted lips. “Wasn’t asking for it...How come you never go out?”

She stares at him curiously, her head tilting to the right. “How would you know I don’t get out?” She challenges him.

“There’s only one pub in this little town and I’m your next door neighbor. I know.” He’s insistent on being right.

She scoffs, but only in an attempt to cover up her embarrassment. Her skin had finally cooled from all the excitement that had happened earlier and she wasn’t in the mood to grow red once again. Today was the first day she had ever felt flustered by Harry. It was annoying, it made her feel out of control. She liked to go out well enough, maybe more than the average person. But she’d only been in the little border town for a few months and going out hadn’t been on the top of her list of things to do. Sure, it would be nice to go get a drink out in the town, but she didn’t really have anyone to go with. Meeting people wasn’t hard in the town, but there weren't many people who were her age and she hadn’t particularly clicked with anyone where she would want to go out on the town with them. It was embarrassing to face the fact that she wasn’t flourishing as much as she had hoped. She was happy, but being confronted with the truth that she hadn’t gone out yet dampened her belief in her success in the little border town.

“I - It’s not at the top of my list of priorities,” she stutters, her chin raising a little in indignance.

One of his shoulders shrugs and Harry makes a little face as if he was indifferent to her answer, even though she knew much better than that. Harry always wanted to get a reaction out of her, maybe that was all he gained from their interactions - entertainment. She didn’t know, but she didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction and left it at that. His eyes meet hers again, his stare far more intense now. “Ciao, diavola.” He simpers, repeating the little nickname. It was far more sultry of a nickname than ‘Shrimp’ but she wasn’t going to complain. She rolls her eyes in response, the only correct one at that.

-

That night, she found herself feeling pulled to journey down to the pub. It was on the Italian side and like she had acknowledged to Harry, she hadn’t been. She wouldn’t admit to anyone, especially not Harry, that his question had been what had pushed her towards the establishment when night fell. Yet, here she was. Her pants were dark red silk that matched the black tank top with red embellishments that she wore over her chest - the only part of her it really covered. Her boots were a matching black with gold metal bits, they were knock-off horsebit Gucci shoes, the closest she could get to the real thing with her modest budget. She was having to be more frugal lately, after buying her car here in September, she had really seen how little money she truly had.

The heels of her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she stalked up to the front of the bar. There was happy chatter seeping out the open door, the warm but dimmed light also flooding out along with the sounds of people within. Taking a deep breath and fiddling with the waistband of her pants for a second, she made her way into the bar. Stepping off the deep end and making the plunge. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but after months of not going there, she felt a little sense of apprehension now.

The warmth was the most surprising bit of the bar that she felt when she stepped past the threshold. Some Italian song was buzzing below the words of the patrons and she smiled at the automatic welcome she felt upon entering.

At the tables, there was a mix of younger and older patrons. At the bar, there wasn’t much of anyone. The young bartender leans across the bar to talk to another man, who had dark brown wavy hair and a dark linen shirt on. He’s seated at the bar and his back is to her so she can’t make out anymore than that. She doesn’t notice the myriad of tattoos gracing the patron’s arm that rests casually on the bar as he laughs at something the bartender had said, just for him.

She smiles, thinking it’s a cute little flirtation between the two and hates that she has to go over to break it up. Her movement gets the bartender’s attention easily and has the patron glancing her way as well. The smile she had once had falters off of her face and her eyes go wide at the realization of who she has settled herself beside. She had left a seat open between her and the man, but now she wished she had chosen a spot across the bar and simply flagged down the bartender. Better yet, she wished she had stayed home. As her smile falls away, Harry’s only grows wider. He’s grinning down at her as he moves his whole body to face her.

“Ciao!” The bartender starters, not noticing her discomfort at seeing Harry. He begins to ask what she would like in Italian, but her eyes widen even further. He’s speaking far too fast for her and she blushed in embarrassment. In her fluster, she forgets to even try French and she just stares dumbfoundedly at the handsome man behind the bar, who’s now looking at her with great curiosity. Harry has watched the entire thing and chuckles behind his glass. She has no attention span left to allow her to even try and guess what he’s drinking.

He interjects for her, actually saving her any more embarrassment, surprisingly. “She doesn’t speak Italian. She’s from the French side and new in town, so she hasn’t been able to refine her Italian.” The bartender gives a smile and nod of understanding in her way and she wishes she knew what Harry had just said. Whatever it is makes the bartender switch to French for her and her jaw goes from being dropped back into a normal position.

“What can I get for you, mademoiselle?” He transitions smoothly and she smiles, his French accent sounding practically perfect. She’s recomposed herself, but Harry is still watching her intently, like a reality television show that he can’t wait for the trainwreck finale to occur on.

After she orders, the bartender gives her a wink and then walks off to get what he needs to begin preparing her drink. Harry slides over, eliminating the courteous one seat between them. Her eyes watch the movement and she refrains from the letting out the sigh festering in her chest. She really had hoped he would not be here tonight, at least that’s what she believed. She truly felt embarrassed that the night after Harry had accused her of never going out, he had seen her out. But it also was nice not to be sitting in the bar alone. It seemed that Harry had been sitting alone at the bar before she had come in,  but she also wasn’t Harry and didn’t know how much enjoyment she would have  gotten out of being alone.

“I see my words had some effect on you.” He says out of the corner of his mouth after running his tongue over the bottom of his lip. Her scoff once again dies in her throat because she knows he’s right and he knows it too. There is no being proud right now. He essentially caught her red handed.

“Thought I’d come out and see what all the fuss was about. I see you’re alone tonight, but I assume that’s how most nights go.”

“You should know by now that is simply not true.”

“Just because you leave with someone doesn’t mean you come with someone.”

“I guess…” He trails off.

She picks up when he doesn’t seem to have any more of a response. “How do you even meet people here? Isn’t it all locals?”

“Not always. Not all of the people here are locals tonight,” He scans the crowd. “She’s visiting...So is she...that whole group actually. Look French. So we’ve got a group from Nice tonight…” He looks a bit more. “Eh, that looks like it tonight, but still. It’s plenty.” He finishes with a smirk and she grimaces, understanding the meaning behind his words.

The bartender returns with her White Russian, which Harry had cocked his head at, but had kept his opinion to himself for once. Expecting Roman to return to their conversation, Harry turns his attention back to him, but he is only greeted with the side of his head because Roman is still staring at Y/N. He coos something to her in French, that Harry can’t pick up and his nostrils flare when she emits a giggle following their exchange. The two people he was last talking to were now ignoring him to talk to each other. How rude.

After another moment without their attention, he huffs loudly. Roman seems too entranced in Y/N to notice, but her eyes slide over to him. “Yes?” She inquires, albeit disdainfully.

Harry isn’t sure what to say to her now that he’s gained her attention. He was on his second drink and her stare has made his mind go blank. All he had wanted was for her to stop flirting with Roman so that she’d pay attention to him. But he hadn’t thought of his next step yet. He takes a sip of his beer to grant him a little more time and she rolls her eyes at his action. His mind rattles through possible things to say, but every single one is coming up as not good enough.

“I used to be in a band.”

Her head tilts and she swivels more to Harry. His comment is unexpected and rather intriguing. She had expected something annoying or rude. Truly she had just expected him to say “Nothing” once he had swallowed his drink so he could distract her from enjoying her night.

“You were in a band?” She asks incredulously, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. While Harry was many things, including handsome, she just didn’t think he had the right persona to be in a band. He dressed like a grandfather most days and he tended to a little shoe shop, he didn’t come off as a guy who would enjoy traveling around performing. The constant praise would be on brand though, she conceded.

Harry nods and bites back his smile, knowing he had struck the perfect chord. “I was...it only took off in the UK but we were pretty popular.” He boasts.

“So what do you play?”

Harry’s eyes widen, expecting more of a question about the name of the band or something. “Well, it was, like, a boy band…” He says.

She was taking a sip of her drink and she contained her little laugh behind her glass. Another hum as she swallows the liquid that burns her throat a bit. “Oh. Interesting. So no instruments.”

“Well I can play a bit of guitar and piano!” He adds quickly, seeing her eyes shift away from him, like she thinks the conversation is over. “I was thinking of trying a solo thing, but then plans changed...”

“And now you’re here?”

He echoes her, affirming the question. “Now I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t miss it then?”

“Didn’t say that. I miss it at times, but this is where my life took me and I’m happy to be here. Maybe happier than I ever was in the band.” His eyes stare at the liquid in his glass and he swirls it lightly, determined to study the way it moves as he ponders something quite personal to him. He never really talked about his past with anyone here. Saying he was in a band and retrospecting that time are two very different things to share with someone. She’s just watching him now, not trying to make a quip or bug him. His demeanor shows that’s not something he’s very interested in hearing right now.

She experimentally puts a finger on his knee when it seems that he’ll never raise his gaze from his glass. His eyes move down to the tiny pressure he feels and sees her painted nail poking in to him. His tongue darts across his lower lip as he raises his head to meet her eyes. He notices the sparkle in them, she finds amusement in the childish gesture and so does he.

“I do miss the stage though,” he admits, smiling more now. “Performing. It was like nothing else.” Instead of a sad state of mind, his look is far more wistful now and she actually feels the smile growing on her face.

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime, then.” She says resolutely after taking the last bit of her drink and then pushing the glass across the bar. Roman had wandered off, much to Harry’s pleasure, but now they both needed another round so she was looking for him.

Harry slides over a chair so that they’re sat side by side. He had originally done it to reach across her for a napkin, but then hadn’t retreated to his original seat after he was successful. They talk as they drink, but most of it seems to be flirtatious teasing even if neither of them recognize that fully. Harry just wanted her attention earlier and now he found that he wanted to keep talking to her all night. It was a Friday and usually he would be looking for someone to take home. The group of women at a table that he had observed were visitors would be a perfect place to start his quest, but that wasn’t on his mind. He liked watching the different shades of blush Y/N’s face kept turning as she drank more and how silly she was getting with each passing drink.

She was enjoying her time out, she had only gotten wine drunk in the confines of her little home since she’d been in the little border town. And that endeavour was all by herself. It was much more fun when you had someone to talk to, so joking around with Harry was a nice surprise. She no longer felt embarrassed about showing up after he had teased her for never going out earlier today. Now she felt empowered, like she could come to the bar whenever she pleased. He was nicer than she had realized. His hand was quick to encircle her back respectfully when she laughed a little too hard at a joke and began to tip off her stool. His smile was genuine and his eyes didn’t flit over her body more than once. His jokes were funnier than she had first thought or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding her mind, that one she wasn’t sure about. But, truthfully, Harry was exceeding expectations tonight and being a stand up human being for once, in her eyes.

A couple at the end of the bar, locals, watched on as the shoemaker and the bookkeeper threw back their heads in boisterous laughter and placed their hands on each other chastely. The older women smiled to themselves as Y/N smacked Harry’s bicep after an especially cheeky joke he told her. They were going to have a field day with this interaction once they told their friends tomorrow morning.

After drink three, she definitely felt drunk. Not completely out of it and can’t walk drunk, but I haven’t drank anything stronger than wine in months so three cocktails are kind of hitting me drunk. And because of that buzz that’s enclosed her mind and body, it makes perfect sense to her that Harry’s hand is resting casually on her knee as they talk. It also makes perfect sense to her to cross her legs, causing two things to happen. Harry’s hand shifts up further on her thigh and her boot is now dangling right next to Harry’s shin. The fabric of his cream linen trousers look especially soft and so the next logical move in her mind is to rub her foot against the fabric. She hooks around her foot easily and the patent leather of her shoe slips softly against the pant leg that flows over Harry’s calf.

He hums lowly at the feeling, but makes no other notion to acknowledge what she is doing. After the hum he gets back to the story he’s telling her about his boat. She had been extremely interested in the boat initially, but not she was transfixed on the feeling of the fabric slipping past her boot. When he shifts his leg, absentmindedly or not, she almost squeaks because this movement has Harry’s foot brushing around her ankle. The footsy was occurring without any acknowledgement of it besides small sounds the two had made in their chests. No knowing looks, just the presence of each other’s bodies against one another.

He had switched to a Manhattan after his second beer for some reason that she didn’t ask, but he was enjoying it nonetheless. When she slipped her foot against his calf, it had sent a spark of electricity from the point of contact up to his alcohol muddled head. It felt nice so he went with it.

Around midnight the two of them were practically in each other’s laps, nursing their fourth round. Brains a million miles away while their glassy eyes stared at each other. Harry’s arm nestled around her waist while hers played with the stir stick in his glass. Their heads inches away, closer than they’d ever been before.

Somehow they decided they should walk home about then. Maybe Harry had checked his phone and decided he was done. Maybe she had glanced at the clock above the bar and realized she needed to go to bed. Either way, they slammed down the last bits of their drinks and stumbled into the street. With only each other to hold them up, they had some trouble gaining their balance. They could walk just fine if they wanted to be serious, but Harry kept trying to step literally on her toes and she kept throwing all her weight into his side. Both of their actions would cause them to stumble one way or another along the empty streets. Their blurred minds thankfully didn’t get them lost, but the travel time back to their places was far greater than the travel time to the bar initially.

Finally arriving at the border of Italy and France, their shops and homes, she stared up at Harry under the glow of the streetlamp across the street. His hair looked more dark brown than his usual caramel chestnut in the light. His linen outfit billowed across his pectorals that were exposed. A tan golden color that he seemed to maintain from his frequent runs and trips on his boat. His jaw had a bit more stubble on it now, his morning shave no longer sleek on his skin. His mustache was still the most prominent bit of facial hair he had and she wondered what he might look like without it. She also thought if she’d ever kissed a man with a mustache, her mind was pretty sure she hadn’t.

As she stared, she moved from his side and took a step closer to her door. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her and bringing her attention to his eyes. He dropped her hand and stepped closer to her. They had been laughing about some weird encounter she had in Nice the other week. But now their laughter had faded out, the conversation all but forgotten.

“Hi.” She says meekly.

“Hi,” Harry laughs.

“I had fun tonight,” she muses and takes a step forward. She began swinging her arms back and forth, rocking on her feet. She felt antsy now that it was so quiet. The silence made her realize it was really just her and Harry together right now. Which wasn’t unusual, they had been alone together plenty of times. Maybe it was the time of night, but it felt far more intimate to her this time which made her squirm a little. Why was she nervous with Harry right now?

Harry nods and laughs again at her actions. “Yeah, you’re not so bad.”

Neither of them realized the proximity of their bodies until her hand swung a little higher and hit Harry’s hip bone. “Oh! Sorry!” She moves to take a step back, but Harry grabs her hand once again and tugs her even closer. Bringing them chest to chest under the lamp light. Her eyes flicker between where their bodies touch and Harry’s face. He’s looking down at her sweetly, gently. She feels safe with the way he’s looking at her. The warmth radiating from him was a nice contrast to the dark cold of night. The open expanse of skin that lived between the two sides of his mostly unbuttoned shirt seemed to have the most heat coming off of it. He had a jade cross that hung between the two muscles and she almost reached out to play with it. If it hadn’t been so dark and she hadn’t been so inebriated she would have realized the color matched his eyes almost exactly.

He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, but for some reason it feels like he might kiss her. The mood that was set by their surroundings made it sound right. Romantic even. Her lips look precious too, plump and puckered, flushed from alcohol and the brisk night air. They look a little glossy too from the last time she had wet them. He wanted to feel them for himself. His head ducks to move his lips to touch hers.

Upon registering his movement, she moves her hand from his grasp and places it on his chest, causing him to take a small step back.

“I think...I think this should be goodnight, Harry.” She breathes out. She’s trying to clear her mind enough to have conviction in her decision.

After a little intake of air, less than a gasp, Harry agrees, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Her hand slips from his warm chest, immediately curling in on itself to maintain the warmth his body had just provided. She watches her tendons in her hand ripple before looking back at Harry with heavy eyes. He doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with her, but she’s determined to leave on a good note.

“Thank you, Harry.” He looks up from beneath his lashes at his name, like a shy toddler. “You gave me the push to face a fear of mine.” With her final words she crosses the little distance between them once again and places a chaste kiss to his cheek. Immediately, his cheek flushes and she can feel the heat beneath her lips, as well as the light prickle of his stubble. Harry swallows, causing his Adam's apple to bob quickly, at the contact. His senses get overloaded with the sweet kiss and the smell of her perfume. It all swims through his consciousness.

She smiles as she pulls away and then turns to let herself into her place without another word. Once unlocked, she gives one last glance to Harry who’s also busying himself with opening his door. She doesn’t see that his free hand is caressing over his cheek where her lips had just been.

-

The next day, she woke up and groaned feeling the stiffness in her body. Especially her head. Oh god, her head. It was like she was back in college, but worse because she wasn’t as young. At least she didn’t have to roll out of bed for an 8 am lecture. For that, she was thankful. Still, the pounding needed to stop or subside at least. Grumbling, she threw her legs off the side of her bed, the fuzzy socks she had slipped on in her drunken stupor settled on the hardwood. She dragged her body to her window and raised the shade. Her window was fogged from the difference in temperature outside and in her room. Kneeling down, she began to pull open the window, in need of the cool fresh air on her clammy skin. Three drinks, or was it four? She couldn’t remember, either way, it was too many.

Her eyes glanced around the view of the window. It wasn’t much since it was so close to the building right next door. Peaking up, she could see the already clouded sky. To the left she could see the street and to the right was more buildings. The scene most easily accessible was the window right across from her. The shade was mostly closed, a little bit of the floor could be seen where Harry hadn’t lowered it completely. It was just the same hardwood as what she sat on staring back at her. She sat there, breathing in the crisp morning air. After a night of drinking, she usually woke up rather early, today was no different.

It dawned on her, far too slowly, that a pair of feet had entered the plain hardwood scene she had been staring at outside her window. A tiny stage now filled with two matching characters. The pair of feet were tanned and large. Little tattoos seemed to be sprinkled both on the toes and the ankles of the feet. She couldn’t read them even if she tried. But upon realizing what these feet might be doing, she had been discouraged from staring any longer. Still, her brain was foggy and her body was not nearly quick enough to hide her from view as the owner of the feet did something to open his shade as well. Then, once again, like deja vu, she was staring at her naked neighbor. Thankfully, this time, he had briefs adorning his hips to keep covering the part of him that would keep her up for weeks trying to forget again. The briefs were, just that. Brief. Low on the hips and barely touching his thighs, it seemed they really only existed to keep that one appendage covered. Still, she had to tear her eyes away from the lower half of his body and let the embarrassment wash over her when she met his eyes.

The knowing smirk of his has him nibbling at the inside of his cheek. She had been checking him out. It was a nice confidence boost after last night. The awkwardness of her stopping him from kissing her had him spiraling in his mind when he went to bed. He didn’t know why he had even tried to kiss her in the first place, probably just because he was drunk. Yeah, he was drunk and feeling needy on a friday night. That’s what it was and she had been there.

He’d have to thank her today for putting a stop to that colossal mistake. They were barely just friends, he hated to think what would happen if he’d done something so reckless as to kiss her out of the blue. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought in the back of his mind that he had gotten the vibe from somewhere. Why else would his drunken mind tell him to kiss her under the glow of the lamp light. He thought back to the bar and what they had talked about. He wouldn’t categorize it as overly flirty. He thought back to their physical interactions at the bar, okay, maybe his hand on her thigh and her playing with his drink was a little flirtatious. But that could be boiled down to him being close to hear her in the bar and her idle fingers wanting something to do while she was drunk. The footsy, though. He wasn’t sure if he could explain that one away. Instead, he would choose to ignore it. If he didn’t think about it, did it actually happen? Was it something he had to worry about? Not in his mind.

Returning his focus to the girl in the window across from him, his smirk was now fully fleshed out on his face. She was still sitting on her knees as Harry looked down at her and if they were in the same room this might have seemed like a rather compromising position. Her cheeks were still red, noticing the difference in height, she clambered to her feet.

“G’morning,” Harry’s voice is groggy and deep. Scratchy almost from the alcohol he had drank last night. It rings through her ears lowly and seems to have her blushing even more. It’s a different feeling than how his voice used to make her feel.

“Hey,” She clears her throat before responding, not wanting her morning voice to crack in front of Harry. Usually she would talk to herself a bit or sing along to her music before going downstairs, not wanting her first customers to hear her as if she just woke up. For some reason, she makes a little wave along with her greeting, feeling especially awkward at this moment. Harry chuckles and repeats her motion. His large hands mimicking the same daunting motion makes her laugh and releases some of the nervous energy she had been holding in her body.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he openly flirts, placing one hand on his naked torso and the other against the frame of the window, leaning towards her. His movement flexes just about every muscle in his body and she keeps her eyes trained on his face, determined not to be caught gawking once more.

A roll of her eyes and she’s back to staring straight into his green ones that he’s still blinking awake. “It’s almost like we’re neighbors.”

He scrunches his nose at her deadpan. “You’re no fun,” he mutters.

She sighs, “I’m fucking hungover after last night…” and runs a hand through her tousled hair.

Her foot rests itself over her other, causing her hip to just out slightly. The movement of her body that accentuated her curves and her words have Harry blushing now. The red flowers at the center of his chest and begins to spread up his neck and cheeks. He’s once again presented with the almost kiss last night.

“Big night out for you,” he laughs, “I’ll admit I don’t usually drink that much, bit of a lightweight myself.”

She only hums in response, her fingers beginning to twiddle with the hem of her t-shirt. It reminds her of what she is precisely dressed in. The big t-shirt and tiny pajama shorts that Harry can’t even see are the only things on her body besides the socks on her feet. She glances down at her legs and takes in the expanse of fleshy skin that is showing just below the shirt. Harry’s eyes follow hers and admires the skin there, wondering what it would feel like underneath his big hands.

“I should probably start getting ready for the day,” She says finally, shaking herself from the random thoughts flitting around her mind about bare thighs and the man across from her. “Are you open today?”

Harry emits a noise from the back of his throat at her question. He draws his arm back from the window and stands up straight. His head tilts as he thinks about her question, his mind still muddled this morning.

“Er..no, actually. I was planning on going out on the boat today, switching my closed day to today instead of tomorrow. Why?”

“I’m in need of shoe repair,” she smiles, her eyes catching the glimmer of the sun starting to peak out. Harry swears it’s her eyes genuinely sparkling on their own accord. “But if you’re out today, it can wait.” She begins to walk away from the window to go to another room in her apartment.

“No!” Harry steps forward, but is restricted by the screen, which keeps him from falling out of his window. She swivels around, looking at him curiously. “I can - you can just come over. I’ll fix it up for you before I head out.”

“Really?” She’s truly surprised that Harry would do such a nice thing for her. She knew they were getting along better, but for him to open shop just for her repair seemed overly nice.

“I mean,” and Harry’s once again blushing under her gaze and he’s hoping she can’t see it. “What are neighbors for?”

“I guess,” she’s still unsure. He seems like he’s nervous, his body tenses and one of his hands twisted in his curls. Harry’s so weird. “Thanks.”

-

She jogs the short distance from her front door to Harry’s once she’s ready. The pair of deep teal almost navy loafers she needed new soles in - she was pretty sure - in hand. A red pinstripe blouse half buttoned falling over her figure perfectly, hugging the right spots and flowing over the others. She’s in white jeans today that are flared slightly but also cropped. As it gets closer to Halloween she keeps having to remind herself not to dress festive and it’s a struggle everyday.

When she reaches the door, it doesn’t open. The cream door doesn’t budge as she tempts the handle with her free hand. She looks between the handle and the inside of the shop. Her eyes search for Harry’s figure. She had been inside his shop only a handful of times, never for a repair before. Maybe less than a handful, once to check it out and once again when she thought she needed a new pair of shoes and then decided against it. Oh, and that one time she went over to yell at him about something. Maybe the planters, maybe the shade, she couldn’t remember anymore.

Now that she thought about it, she had been in the bookshop once more. Two and a half years ago when she had visited the little border town for the first time. It was a little fuzzy for a memory, but she was sure she had at least peaked into the shoe shop after her lengthy visit with Marie the second day there. It looked just as it did now, maybe it used to be a little more vibrant, but she couldn’t be sure. She remembered an older man in the shop greeting her in Italian and her offering her sad ‘Ciao’. Back then she was even worse at Italian. He had looked at her with kind eyes and a sweet smile. It was a similar lopsided grin that she had now grown accustomed to on another man’s face. After beckoning her over to him the old man had turned away from her and shouted into the back of the store in quick Italian. It blew over her head completely. There must have been someone in the back of the shop who he had talked to. She was sure of it, because after she had perused the cute boots and shoes he kept, she saw a swish of hair coming around the counter. It was just as she was turning around to exit the shop, after she had bid farewell to the man she now connected as Joe. Whoever it was had long hair and was tall, slinking out into the main shop floor. The mysterious stranger was whoever Joe had shouted to in the back.

Y/N wasn’t the quickest when it came to timelines and how people could change over time. She didn’t connect the year she had visited with the year of someone else's arrival or the same chestnut waves cascading around someone’s face, just now much shorter. It made perfect sense who would be in the back of the store, but for some reason the idea of time and hair length were standing in this girl’s way. Oh well, maybe Harry would spell it out to her someday.

Harry finally rounds the counter that separated the back room to the front. The shoe shop was set up a little different from the bookstore. Her counter was right when you came in while Harry’s was about halfway through the shop. He shakes his head and laughs at her expression. The sound brings her out of her memory as well as a grimace on her face.

“Sorry, I was a million years away.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘a million miles away’, love.” Harry continues chuckling while correcting the girl in front of him.

She holds up her pair of shoes, ignoring his teasing. “Fix my shoes, shoe man.”  

His smile drops and he walks back from the door. His feet taking back steps as he beckons her into the interior of the shop. When they reach the corner, he takes the shoes from her hands and places them between their bodies. The teal loafers stare up at them. Harry inspects them, a serious expression falling over his features. His brows scrunch together slightly, the wrinkles in his forehead growing more prominent as he examines the shoes. Large hands reach out and begin to finger over the patent leather on the top and the leather soles. After a few minutes of silent deliberation, he places down one of the shoes and then holds the other up as if to showcase it.

“These,” he juts out the shoe in his hand, “need new soles. What did you do to ‘em?”

“I wear them a lot.” She insists while Harry looks on quizzically.

“I’ve never seen you wear these.”

Her brow quirks at his comment. “I wore them a lot before I got here,” she corrects. “They’ve been feeling wonky every time I try to wear them, must be because they need new soles.”

Harry nods, now satisfied with her answer. He hums, regarding the teal shoe in his hand once again. “Alright.”

She looks at him confused once again. “Alright what? Can you fix them?” What does he mean by ‘Alright’? “I’ve honestly missed wearing them these past few months.”  

Harry bites his tongue, a quip ready to be voiced. He’d gotten so used to fighting with her, he was confused how it had slipped away all so easily. His fear of them not talking if they stopped fighting didn’t seem to come to fruition so he could rest easy on that front. But now he was going to have to retrain his brain not to be rude after every comment Y/N made.

“Yeah, of course.” He sighs, placing the shoe next to its mate and then turning his face to her. She had been chewing on her bottom lip, actually worried for her shoes. They really were her favorites. She’d had them forever and it would be heartbreaking if they had to be thrown out. If she couldn’t wear them though she was almost sure she’d just let them collect dust in her closet rather than dispose of them if it really came down to it.

“But it’s like a good amount of my day to replace soles…”

Her face falls, but she tries to hide it. She knew Harry was doing a favor by taking a look right now. If he could fix them it didn’t matter when he did it. What he says next though truly throws her off. No normal enemy-ship turned somewhat friendship overnight would engage in what Harry was about to propose. If any such relationship other than her and Harry actually existed.

“Do you want to come out on my boat today?” His brow arches, his lips in a soft smile, he’s being genuine.

“Why would I do that?” Her brows raise along with her voice, taken off guard by his suggestion.

“More fun waiting for me to fix your shoes on a boat than in your shop.” He says simply before taking the shoes and placing them in a little cubby hole behind the counter for safe keeping. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” Her expression doesn’t change. “Just say yes,” He pleads now.

She sighs, “Fine.” All of the reasons not to go out on Harry’s boat are at the forefront of her mind, but she still finds herself saying yes easily. His pleading really wasn’t necessary to get her to agree. The bookstore could live with being closed today, it wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

[lisbonsteresa]

You’re Once (In Any Lifetime)

🥳 🥳 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY( @eddiediaz)!!!!  🥳 🥳  (little late is better than never fingers crossed. a little something for my drew crew bestie who i have never yelled at, cajoled into watching a show, or threatened with a knife emoji. hope you like the...kind of au of the au of the - let’s just call it the 7th generation of an au 😘)

                                 ___

“She’s lingering again.”

“Call a spade a spade Bess.” George grumbled as she entered the kitchen with an armful of dirty dishes. “At this point she’s loitering.”

Nick glanced up from where he was reviewing that month’s order form at the prep table with a slight grin. “Don’t know if you can go that far. I mean she did pay for her dinner.”

“Oh please,” George shot back with a roll of her eyes. “It’s been 45 minutes since she paid her bill and she’s still nursing that iced tea like it’s a long island.” As if she knew they were talking about her, the redhead in the corner booth looked up from her glass and gave a small, unsure smile across the sparsely-seated dining room in their direction. She did not receive any in response.

“What I don’t understand is why she keeps coming here, of all places. I mean it’s not like our food is good.” An offended grunt came from Bess’s right, and she spun around to see the Claw’s cook pressing a burger to the grill with a wounded expression. 

“Oh no, Charlie,” she backtracked frantically, hands held out in a feeble attempt to placate the older man. “I just meant compared to what they must have at the yacht club.” 

Charlie gave a noncommittal shrug, apparently forgiving the unintended slight before moving down the line where he hopefully missed Bess’s whispered  “Or anywhere else…”

“Guys, come on.” Ace cut in, voice calm and measured even as he scrubbed determinedly at a rusting lobster pot. “It’s not like we don’t have other customers keeping us here. What’s so bad about Nancy lingering a bit?” 

“The fact that she’s not just ‘Nancy’, Ace.” George admonished as she tipped her dishes into the full sink in front of him, raising the water level until it sloshed dangerously close to the edge. “She’s Nancy Hudson. You know how the hill-toppers treat us townies -”

“When they’re not wheeling and dealing in back rooms to screw us over while they’re sitting pretty in their ivory towers.” Nick interrupted, his attention still on the sheet in front of him.  

“Exactly.” George gave her boyfriend an appreciative look as she leaned up against the prep table next to him. “And now what, I’m supposed to be happy that one of them deigned to grace us with her presence?” 

“Yes, and I had to take her hill-topper order.” Bess lamented, pouting near the line window until she noticed Nick looking at her with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“You know you’re a hill-topper, right Bess?”

She turned towards him, her expression scandalized and defensive. “That is completely different, Mr. Multimillionaire.” (Nick held his hands up in amused defeat). “I only just became a Marvin; I wasn’t born and raised a hill-topper, unlike some people.” 

“Besides,” she glanced back across the dining room with an insulted wrinkle of her nose, “the Hudsons and Marvins are long-standing enemies; it was humiliating to have to serve one of them.”

“The Hudsons and Marvins, maybe, but not you and Nancy.” Ace countered, leaning the lobster pot against the back of the drying rack before reaching into the increasingly murky water to start on George’s dishes. “You two barely know each other.”

Bess paused, playing with her necklace and staring into space as if considering this fact for the first time. “Well, I guess that’s true…"

“And she’s been spending her gap year here in town volunteering and helping Hannah Gruen set up a scholarship with the Historical Society.” Ace continued with a glance over his shoulder at Nick.

“I mean, that’s great, but -” Nick stopped, eyes narrowing “wait, how do you know that?”

Ace’s hands paused their motions, just for a fraction of a second, before he resumed rinsing a plate and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Must’ve seen it in the paper somewhere.” He muttered offhandedly. “And -”

“And nothing.” George cut him off, crossing her arms across her chest with a scowl. “A few good deeds don’t change the fact that this time next year she’ll be 300 miles away with a full ride to some Ivy League school just because of her last name, and the rest of us will still be stuck here cleaning grease traps in an old clam shack.” Ace’s shoulders tensed more and more with every word that left her mouth. “And since when did you start defending Hudsons anyway?”

“I’m not defending the Hudsons, I’m defending Na-” Ace spun around to face the room and froze, realizing that his raised voice had turned three sets of interested eyes in his direction. (Well, four, if you counted Charlie.) “I’m not defending anybody.” he continued after a beat. “I’m just saying you can’t help who your family is, and at least she’s trying to be better than hers. It wouldn’t kill you guys to try and see that.” 

No one said anything - this was the most upset any of them had seen Ace get since the time that nor'easter put a tree branch through Florence’s windshield. “Anyway, dishes are done; I’m gonna take my break.”

He tossed the towel that had been slung over his shoulder down onto the counter and stomped down the steps towards the storeroom. The back door slammed shut a moment later, and the others turned back towards the dining room to see that Nancy had at last abandoned her iced tea and was heading towards the exit with the air of someone in a rush trying very hard to appear relaxed.

“So…” Bess began, her eyes flicking back and forth between Nancy’s booth and the door. “when do we tell him we saw them making out by the loading dock last Thursday?”  

“I say we make him sweat for a bit.” George said with a shrug as she straightened and headed out to clear the table. “Serves him right for thinking he could keep something like this from us.” Bess and Nick shared an amused smile behind her, then got back to their own work.

If any of them noticed that Ace arrived back from his break 20 minutes late with his hair in disarray, they kept it to themselves.

                                   _____

“Great. I’m going to be picking seaweed out of my hair for a week. Thanks a lot Bess.”

Bess paused her efforts to wring out her dress to shoot an incredulous look in George’s direction. “I’m sorry, how is this my fault!?”

“It’s my birthday George!” Came the response in a mocking imitation of the Brit’s accent. “Just close for inventory George! It’ll be fun George!” 

“Well excuse me for trying to enjoy a nice beach day!” Bess shot back. “How was I supposed to know we’d be attacked by that kelkey-whatever??”

“Kelpie.” Nick corrected, stopping the bickering for a moment while all three turned their attention towards the redhead kneeling in the sand and frantically running her hands over a soaking wet and slightly dazed Ace. “That’s what you called it, right?”

The second Nancy realized she was being addressed, her hands dropped from Ace’s body like they had been burned. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, a kelpie. They’re Scottish horse spirits that drag their victims underwater and devour them. That silver necklace Bess had was its bridle, and -” she paused, looking around to see the others staring blankly at her. 

“Sorry.” Her voice sounded almost sheepish. “I volunteer over at the historical society a lot, and there’s some…interesting stuff in their archives.” Another moment passed. No one’s expression changed.

“…Anyway the bridle can be used to control it, so I think it attacked you to try and get it back. And since you didn’t know what it was, it just seemed easier to grab it and toss it then try and explain why it was making the giant horse spirit angry.” She finished with a weak grin, as if she’d been explaining the weather and not the most terrifying thing most of them had ever seen. 

No one spoke for a while longer, and then Bess’s quiet  “Oh.” broke the silence. “Well…okay. For a second I thought you just really didn’t like my necklace.” 

The tension broken, the others looked at her with varying levels of amusement before she let out a gasp and turned to address Nancy directly. “Wait my cousin Cassidy gave me that last night! You don’t think…”

“I don’t think she knew what it was.” Nancy replied with an almost fond smile. “When the historical society got the request to put the necklace in one its deposit boxes, the record just said it was a Marvin family heirloom; brought over aboard the Governance.”

“And the kelpie followed it all the way here?” Nick asked, eying Nancy sideways as he tried to shake water out of his ear.

She shrugged. “There are some records that say kelpies are bound to follow their bridles, wherever they go. They can’t leave the water though, so it could have gotten into the bay and then…gotten lost, I guess.” Bess was already nodding along as if everything Nancy was saying made perfect sense. “We didn’t realize the necklace was anything out of the ordinary until Cassidy came to request it and Hannah thought she recognized it from her research.”

“Well good thing she did, or this might’ve been Bess’s last birthday.” George smirked. “Never thought I’d say this,” she continued, ignoring her friend’s offended huff and turning towards Nancy, “but I’m glad you were around, Hudson.”

“Thanks.” Nancy sounded like she wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or insulted by the statement. “I was looking for you guys, actually. When we realized what the necklace was, we called Cassidy and she said she’d given it to you for your birthday, and since you were coming to the beach Hannah and I were worried that getting it too close to the water might -”

“Wait, how did you know we’d be at the beach?” Bess interrupted.

Nancy stilled, her eyes darting over to a still-groggy Ace then back to the others so quickly that they might have missed it had they not been watching her so closely. “I must have overheard it the last time I was at the Claw.” Her voice was measured; almost deliberately calm. “When it’s slow there your voices tend to carry.” 

Bess and Nick gave each other an uneasy sidelong glance at Nancy’s implication, while George’s expression grew into something approaching begrudging respect. “Anyway,” Nancy stood, brushing sand off her pants and looking anywhere but in Ace’s direction, “I should get back to Hannah and let her know everything’s okay. See you around.”

She turned and started heading towards the parking lot, and Ace watched with worried eyes as his friends had a rapid fire non-verbal conversation. Bess nodded towards Nick, who responded with a shrug. They both looked over at Ace with small smiles, then turned to George; Nick with one eyebrow raised in question and Bess with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. George glanced at Ace before letting out a labored sigh and rolling her eyes as she called down the beach: “Hey Hudson!” 

Nancy turned, hands twisting in the strap of the messenger bag. “You wanna meet us at the Claw after we get cleaned up?” George asked. “We’re closed for inventory - it’d be a good place to talk about all…this.” (Bess cleared her throat pointedly.) “And we have cake for Bess’s birthday.”

The smile that bloomed on Nancy’s face was beaming, even at a distance. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

                                 ______

It had been three weeks since the kelpie incident, and for all intents and purposes, Nancy had settled in as the fifth member of their little group. She and Bess had gotten along almost immediately, despite some awkward encounters when they had run into family while together. 

Nick had warmed to her considerably once she started helping him with his plans for a youth center in town. (It certainly hadn’t hurt that she’d ‘misplaced’ her grandfather’s application for the building on Spring St. until Nick’s bid had already closed). 

And while George and Nancy bickered almost constantly, they (usually) did it with smiles on their faces. If asked, they might not call each other ‘friends’, but they were definitely heading in a good direction. 

The first Friday afternoon of July found them sprawled out across the dining table of Nick’s loft, brainstorming ideas for that year’s ‘Still Summer at the Bayside Claw’ event. (Or rather found most of them. Truth be told, Bess’s focus might have been more on her online shopping.) They’d been working for an hour or so when a noise like the rapid honking of a clown nose suddenly interrupted the conversation.

“Shit,” Ace muttered, grabbing his phone and snoozing the alarm, “I’m going to be late for Shabbat.” He gathered his things in a rush, exchanged a quick “Bye” and kiss with Nancy, then froze. 

His eyes moved rapidly between the others - Nancy’s wide-eyed panic; George’s look of shock and disgust; Nick’s eyebrows shooting up his forehead; Bess’s almost giddy expression - before seeming to make a decision.

“Uh…Nick,” he croaked out before anyone could react any further, making his way over to where his friend was sitting with an air of forced normalcy and kissing him like it was something he did every day. “thank you for having me.”

“See you tomorrow, Bess.” He continued, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek, causing a giggle to escape her barely-maintained composure.

He turned towards the other end of the table, eying George the way an antelope might eye a lion. “George -”  

“Don’t even think about it.” She cut him off with a glare.

“Right. ‘Course.” He glanced around the room one last time as he backed towards the door, eyes skipping over Nancy as if he was afraid of what his expression might reveal if he focused at all on her. “Um, have a good night everyone.” And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him as his rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway.

A minute passed in complete silence, then another. 

Nick looked absolutely mystified, his fingers stuck halfway to his lips like he couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened. George’s grimace was slowly turning into an amused smirk, and Bess looked seconds away from breaking into complete hysterics.

Another minute passed before Nancy, staring at the table with a face almost as red as her hair, broke the silence. “So…how long have you guys known?”

“Since before the kelpie incident.” George answered bluntly, while Nick shook off his daze and turned his attention towards Nancy and Bess took a calming breath and tried to bite back her laughter.

“Oh.” 

Nancy’s eyes darted between the table and the door as if trying to decide if it would be worse to try and explain herself or just cut her losses and run. “Ok, well, we were going to tell you, we just -”

“You can relax Nancy.” Nick cut in, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch, but finally turned to see an understanding smile on his face. “You wouldn’t be here right now if any of us still had a problem with you.”

Bess nodded rapidly, reaching across the table to cover one of Nancy’s hands with her own. “You make Ace happy, and that’s what really matters to us."

A wobbly smile began to grow on Nancy’s face, before she blinked and turned towards George with apprehension and a bit of challenge in her eyes. 

George’s expression stayed firm until Nick cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but the grin she gave Nancy was genuine.“Plus I guess you’re not horrible.”

That pulled a laugh from Nancy, even as she blinked back touched tears she knew George would make fun of. “Thanks guys. I really appreciate that.”

(To say Ace was confused when she walked into the Claw the next morning and kissed him in the middle of the dining room would be an understatement, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Practice Makes Perfect.

Word Count: 3.2k.

Commissioned by the lovely @furudolove.

Pairing: Yandere!OC/Reader.

TW: Death, Light Gore, Blood, Graphic Injury, Mentions of Kidnapping, Implied Stalking, Slight Sociopathy/Apathy, Implied Anxiety, Obsessive mindsets.

Her smile was familiar.

Or, familiar might’ve been the wrong word for it. Cozy in the way a hotel room was, stiff and sterile, but repetitive and recognizable, too. Reassuring like a disinterested family, soothing like the buzz of a broken streetlamp, relaxing like being so utterly, completely, absolutely lost, there was nothing you could do to possibly make things worse than they already are. It wasn’t off-putting, but it wasn’t welcoming, either. She didn’t feel intimidating, and yet, you still wanted to keep your distance, like a mouse might from a docile housecat. To stay bundled up in your little corner off the coffee shop, your coat pulled over your chest and…

And then she glanced up, and something in your brain short-circuited.

You really should’ve stopped staring earlier.

Instantly, your eyes shot back to the wooden tabletop in front of you, to the mug you’d almost forgotten, steam still rising off the top. She was a barista, after all, she was working, and the last thing she needed was some creep staring her down for the better half of the last thirty minutes, if only because of that uncanny, unidentifiable resemblance to something you couldn’t name. You weren’t a regular, but she felt new, still awkward with the machines and robotic with costumers, but you couldn’t say you were any better. You’d hardly said a word to her, aside from your order, and you didn’t plan to, not if you could help it. You’d never been good at that kind of thing, and you had a feeling your luck wouldn’t improve with someone so…

Someone like her.

Not that you’d been all that lucky with much of anything, lately. Hell, you were only here because you’d missed your train, and the next wouldn’t arrive for another hour, at least. There were more pressing things you could focus on, like the early shift you had tomorrow, how late you were going to get home, the busted lock on the door of your apartment, but it was easier to hate the rigid schedule that hadn’t bent to your will, the sidewalk that’d been just a little too crowded let you squeeze your way through peacefully, the light snowfall that meant you couldn’t wait at the station, regardless of how badly you wanted to bunker down on an uncomfortable, freezing bench and stubbornly glare at the tracks until you found a way to turn-back time and avoid such a trivial problem entirely. It was easier to focus on the barista, how her black hair fell in front of her face as she worked, how your fingers twitched, moving reflexively to push it back. It was an invasive kind of intimacy, the type that was as unearned as it was unwanted. Irrational and irritating, despite your attempts to brush it off.

Downing the rest of your drink, you forced yourself to stand. The station would be better, and fresh air would help to clear your mind, to stop you from paying attention to things that didn’t need attention. You tried to start towards the door, but you hardly made it a full step before something caught the back of your collar, tugging you back into place. There was a brief pause, a second that stretched out just a little too long, but hesitantly, you managed to turn around, only to be met by the smiling face you’d been simultaneously inspecting and avoiding. Only to be met by her, the barista, the girl you’d been all-but leering at, since you walked in.

Reflexively, you moved to apologize, but she was already talking, already forcing another paper cup into your unoccupied hand. “On the house,” She explained, in place of a proper greeting. You didn’t mind. You couldn’t really say you expected one, not from her. “It’s cold out there, and you’re starting to look like you could use it.”

There was a playful lull to her voice, a hint of something that balanced on the line between an insult and a genuine show of sympathy. You could only bow your head, your eyes suddenly glued to the floor. “I could, honestly,” You managed, the words coming out meeker than you would’ve liked. If she noticed, it didn’t seem to dampen her mood, her grin only growing broader as you went on. “Thank you…”

“Anya,” She finished, her smile never faltering.

“Call me Anya.”

~

You recognized her eyes, too.

Dark, just teetering on the shade where brown begins to blend with back. You might’ve said she looked distracted, but that wouldn’t be right – if anything, she seemed a little too concentrated. You were better about your staring, this time, but it would’ve been impossible not to look over you shoulder occasionally, not to throw a glance in her direction as you ducked behind a rack of magazines. It was a pathetic effort, really, an unnecessary one. It was a corner store, not her bedroom. You were shopping, not setting up hidden cameras. You’d gotten here before her, and you would’ve left if she hadn’t come in, if you could just put a strange resemblance aside and manage to act like a normal, functional human being. That’s what you should do, really. It’s what anyone else would do, whether or not there was the smallest, tiniest, most insignificant chance she’d see you and think, quietly and to herself, that you were a creep.

But, you weren’t someone else. And you really, really didn’t want her to think you were a creep.

So, hiding behind the magazine rack it was.

Currently, you were staring down a display cooler, trying to blend in with the background or melt into the fluorescent lights. You wanted to make yourself less noticeable, to shrink into your jacket and disappear, but that wasn’t an option – you were sure you already would’ve abused the privilege, if you had it. You just had to wait her out. You just had to—

“Another rough day?”

You just had to die. That was it, you just had to die.

At least she didn’t seem uncomfortable, inviting herself into your personal space before you could make the mistake of invading hers, choosing to stand just a little too close, her shoulder nearly touching yours. “Is it that obvious?” You muttered, your voice still low, like you were still trying to hide. A fox, still trying to walk on the leg it’d already chewed off. “I wasn’t really planning on running into anyone, this late.”

You said it like the two of you were friends, like it even made sense that she’d taken time out of her night to talk to you. Instantly, you regretted opening your mouth at all, but Anya only laughed. “I’d offer you another coffee, if I could,” She quipped, nudging you gently, her tone still unbothered, as if she made a hobby of confronting near-strangers. She might’ve, for all you knew. She felt like the kind of person who did. “A little company can’t hurt, though. I’d like to think I’ve gotten good at this kind of thing.” There was a pause, and enviously, you scanned over a dented energy drink. “Lots of training, y’know? People say I have a common face, makes it easier for people to talk to me.”

You allowed yourself a small sigh, a wave of relief washing over you. She must’ve been used to it, the strange stares and that distorted attraction, but you still tried to keep your eyes in front of you, on the sleeve of her silver coat as she reached up, toying with the cooler’s handle. “I don’t really have a lot to say,” You conceded, reluctantly. “It’s just been a tough week. My karma’s been off or something – nothing just seems to go right. Not that anything’s gone that wrong, either.” It was one of the few advantages of living such a small life. If you had the time to worry about whether or not the same girl would recognize you twice, you couldn’t have had much to worry about in the first place. “I’m just… a little stuck, I guess. It’s like I’m treading water, but I still know I’m going to drown, eventually.”

You caught her reflection in the clouded glass, an expression similar to guilt passing across her features and disappearing just a quickly, fading into a small, understanding smile, so unabashedly sympathetic, it almost felt practiced. “Like the universe has a bounty on your head.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I wouldn’t take it that far.”

“Things can always get worse.” It was a declaration, shameless and unabashedly pessimistic, the kind that forced the tension in your shoulders to dissolve and your nerves to settle in the pit of your stomach, if only out of respect for her confidence alone. “But, no one should have to die alone. If you want to walk me home, we could try to stave it off for another twenty minutes together.”

If it were anyone else, any other stranger, you probably wouldn’t have agreed. You hadn’t been making excuses – it was late, closer to sunrise than sunset, and if your luck was going to get any worse, wondering around the city probably wasn’t the best idea. But, there was something about the way she asked, like she already knew you’d say yes, like she already trusted you enough to know you would. You didn’t want to disappoint her. You didn’t want to break whatever golden, idealistic expectations she’d managed to form, in the handful of days since you’d met.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” You admitted, letting her hook her arm around yours, pulling you closer to her side as you fought to keep your focus on the ground, willing the heat rushing to your cheeks to cool. “If it’ll keep me alive, I mean.”

There was only a smile in response, bright enough to let you overlook that, despite already moving to drag you to the cashier, she didn’t actually have anything to buy.

“I’ll do my best, this time.”

~

You could’ve sworn you’d seen her apartment before, despite knowing you’d never taken a step past the threshold.

Admittedly, you probably should’ve made more of an effort to change that before springing at the first opportunity to move in. Despite her confidence, Anya liked her privacy, and she always seemed to prefer your place over hers, taking every excuse you offered to spend the night or hand out or, on one special occasion, try and fail to surprise you with a romantic dinner. It almost felt unreal, trying to navigate the strange, empty halls, a cardboard box in your arms and your eyes burning, a side-effect of the white walls and the hanging fluorescent lights, complicated metal fixtures she seemed a little too fond of. You’d have to ask her about that, later on. You doubted your vision would last, if the entire apartment was like this.

“Already lost, babe?”

Your heart raced at the sound of Anya’s voice, but not like it used to, not out of pure, nervous tension. This was a nice sensation, a more pleasant sort of unease, leaving your cheeks flushed and your tongue failing as Anya draped herself over your shoulders, her own crate already thrown into whichever black room she decided it belonged in. She’d wanted to help, but with the Spring heat and how much time the two of you had spent cleaning out your last place, neither of you seemed capable of getting much done. “Can you blame me?” You asked, leaning back and melting into her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you lured my back to your empty, bleached out murder den.” There was a pause, a slight hesitation on your part. “Which is not what happened, right?”

“Oh, no, not until I see how unbearable you are to live with, at least.” You huffed, attempting to shrug her off, but Anya only laughed, her arms dropping to your waist and her cheek coming to rest against your back. “I mean, I should be the scared one, if anything. After what happened to your apartment—”

“It was just bad luck,” You interjected, already embarrassed. “This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“An entire building burning down is not ‘bad luck’.” She sounded annoyed, but her faux exasperation was half-hearted, at best, a sentiment only backed up by her breathy sigh, all poorly veiled relief and numbed exhaustion. “It’s just a miracle you weren’t home. When you called me, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d do if…”

She trailed off, but you knew what she meant. You were still in a state of shock, honestly, still stuck in the same distant headspace you’d been in when you first saw the smoke rising into the air and the caution tape surrounding your neighborhood and the crowds, and you couldn’t imagine it was any less gruesome for her. “It’s not all bad,” You offered, reaching back, running your fingers through her hair idly. “If you hadn’t wanted to go on a date that day, I might’ve actually been—”

You didn’t get a chance to finish. Above you, something creaked, the sound of metal scraping against metal as a fuse fizzled and popped, an electrical static that fell silent just a moment too soon. You barely got a chance to consider moving before you were thrown on the ground, Anya on top of you and a mangled pile of glass and wires scattered across the floor behind her, the invasive light of the hall suddenly dulled into something grey, something absent. It took you a moment to process it all – the cracked floor tiles, the ache forming in the spot where your chest hit the ground, but Anya was quick to recover, a stifled laugh slipping past her lips before she could swallow it back. You might’ve been tempted to do the same, if your tongue hadn’t suddenly felt so heavy.

You might’ve been able to take it as lightly as she did, if the sound hadn’t been so familiar in such an awful, terrifying way.

It was difficult to speak, but you managed, the words coming out faltered and breathless. “I can’t… A-Are you alright?”

“You’re alright,” She mumbled, more to herself than for you.

“I’m fine, as long as you’re alright.”

~

Somehow, you felt like you’d heard her voice before.

Her smile was familiar, as were her eyes and the unnerving emptiness of her apartment, but you felt like you’d heard her voice before, like you’d listened to her, like you’d lied with your head in her lap and you’d heard her, not just something similar, not just an imitation you could convince yourself wasn’t the real thing. It was personal. It was real. It was Anya, even if you knew it couldn’t be. Even if you knew it wasn’t supposed to be.

Even if it had to be, and you were beginning to realize it could never have been anything else.

Anya was trying to be gentle, today. You couldn’t blame her, you��d be gentle if you found her like this, at the bottom of a staircase in a pool of her own blood, bones shattered and ribs cracked and body so twisted, you weren’t sure how she’d even recognized you. Still, there was an exhausted lilt in her voice as she crouched by your side – or, what she must’ve thought was your side, at least. “I knew this would happen.” There was a pause, a spark of agony that flittered across your scalp as she reached down, combing her fingers through your hair lazily. “Took a week longer than last time. Getting you back to my apartment is usually a turning point, but… different rules for different run-throughs, I guess.

“This isn’t the worst thing I’ve seen,” She went on, not bothering to wait for a response she knew wouldn’t come. “Car accidents are usually bloodier. You’ve gotten gutted a couple times, usually a day or two after we’re supposed to meet, and when you get caught in that fire…” She trailed off, and you tried to take a deep breath, something in your lungs ripping and spilling out, as a result. “I had to pull you out of a train crash, once. A fucking train crash. You hated trains, a few cycles ago.”

Anya let out a huff, something between a sigh and a groan, but if she had more to say, she didn’t bother offering more than a parting kiss to your bruised forehead, forcing out a whimper so cracked and so pitiful, you could hardly bring yourself to acknowledge as human. “I’ll see you next time, sweetheart.”

A blocked heel pressed against the crack in the back of your skull, and Anya’s weight shifted with a small, practiced grace.

It hurt, for a moment.

But then, it didn’t.

~

You looked a little different at the start of every cycle.

Anya didn’t mind. You were still you – beautiful, lovable, endearing you, regardless of the color of your jacket or what drink you chose, the day the two of you were predestined to meet. It didn’t matter if you were a little more jittery than you were last time, a little less willing to meet her eyes as she took your order, she could look past that. Whatever gap existed between the two, she could bridge it. Whatever hesitancy dozens of bloody, gory deaths might’ve instilled in you, she could help you overcome it, she could choke it out of you until only admiration was left, the same love she felt for you.

Of course, her goal was your survival, to protect you and get close to you and make sure you shake off whatever awful curse you seem to be under, but Anya found that a relationship was the best way to do that. She’d tried keeping her distance, manipulating individual factors rather than keeping you out of harm’s way directly, but that’d been about as effective as the time she’d locked you in her bedroom and attempted to take a more forceful approach to keeping you safe. She needed to keep a firm hand, not a strangle-hold. She needed to be outgoing, not intrusive.

Part of her was a little worried, albeit not nearly worried enough. She’d been the shy one, the first time the two of you met, stuttering and plain and completely unimportant, and you’d been confident, care-free, a far-cry from the paranoid, anxious shell you’d taken to hiding in, lately. She still loved you, obviously, she doubted she could ever stop loving you, but you were different. She was different, too. Both of you were.

But, Anya couldn’t seem to bring herself to care.

She smiled as she finished writing, reading over the number written onto your cheap, disposable paper cup, her name underneath it, punctuated by a row of hearts, for good measure. You wouldn’t call, she already knew, but Anya wasn’t feeling as patient as she usually was, she didn’t want to wait as long to skip to the fun part of her little routine. It was the least she could do to experiment. If she got lucky, you’d be desperate enough to ask for her help, after a little prodding. And, if she wasn’t, it’d be fine. She was sure of that. It’d always be fine.

She knew what to do if she made a bad impression, if she said the wrong thing, if she decided she couldn’t trust you with your own safety, anymore. You’d already abandoned her over and over again, died and left Anya to smooth over the damage…

She was sure you wouldn’t mind if she chose to be a little selfish, this time around.

[bvccy]

Tenderness and Ferocity | 1. The First Day

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Hydra!Reader Fic Synopsis: The Winter Soldier is starting to make stupid mistakes in the field, which is Bucky's way of trying to wrest back control and sabotage his handlers. Hydra brings a new doctor to figure out what's wrong with him and fix it. As she spends time with him, she becomes fond of the Winter Soldier, and he becomes fond of her. Bucky has other ideas. Or, a fic in which the Winter Soldier is the good guy and Bucky is actually the bad guy. Inspired by two imagines [1] [2] from @hushyourimaginationistalking (can be spoilery). Warnings for this chapter: None Word count: 2386 Read on AO3: [link] [Fic Masterlist] [Next Chapter]

"There resides infinitely more good in the demonic than in the trivial man." — Kierkegaard

Away from the world and beyond the scrutiny of common knowledge, secreted away into a methodically manufactured nothingness, in a damp room in a concrete fortress, a flock of doctors busied around the returned Soldier — The Asset. Or, today, the Problem.

As they performed the standard tests and checks and tinkered at the dents in his mechanical arm, he sat quietly, personless. Underneath all that, he was expecting another "corrective calibration", another session where everything hurt until it went blank. His whole body was expecting it, tight with muscle-memory that ran deeper than his own with horrors he no longer had access to.

He had almost failed his mission, he completed it by dumb luck alone. He knew it, and his handlers knew it. What was left of his ego had bitterly learned long ago that his successes were due to the brilliant doctors, but the failures were his own.

Nevertheless, there was no fear in him — at least, not at the level that was present, that watched the doctors taking readings off the machines, recording his vitals in their notebooks, checking his restraints against the cold metallic chair. But there were parts of him where the real fear still lived. He could not bring it up, and examine, or control, but he felt it stirring in the pit of his mind.

At the periphery of his consciousness, he knew what they were thinking: those failed parts of himself had gotten in the way, had compromised his mission; like a bad reflex in the wrong direction at the worst moment. So they were going to try harder this time, keep trying, keep trying, until they cleaned up all that was left of his dissenting self at the bottom of his brain.

The Soldier waited for them to begin, like last time, and the time before that. But some were talking to each other, some were sitting down and waiting, others were drinking their coffee... They were doing things they weren't supposed to do, and the part of him where the fear settled was starting to itch. What was different about this time?

Get out get out get out.

When he heard the echoes of a walking pair come closer, saw their shadows licking up the wall beyond the foggy lab door, and saw them stop to talk right outside, the Soldier didn't think, nor feel, nor react, and for once it wasn't because the Soldier didn't do that, but because he made a conscious effort not to.

He didn't miss the guarded gaze shared between the nurses securing his legs, but then they got up, and with the rest they gathered their gadgets and scopes and manila folders and ambled out of the room. The pair outside waited for them all to leave, exchanged some parting words, then one of them went inside with him and the other closed the door with a hiss and a click: locked.

The Soldier had never seen this doctor before. Was that what she was? She did wear a lab coat, with the Hydra insignia pinned to her lapel, a standard issue name tag, and had in every other way the look of all the rest of them.

The way she looked at him that first time, scanned him from a safe distance as she clung to her folders like a lifeline, told him she had never seen him before, at least not up-close. But her eyes didn't linger on his metal arm — so she knew about it? They didn't stay anywhere very long, though she did direct a second's worth of a frown at his naked chest — oh, were they supposed to have dressed him up for her?

She took a deep breath, thinking so loudly he could almost hear it, then took a solid step forward in a straight line toward him. Her scent could reach him now, a sweet and stinging perfume that was familiar but now unrecognisable, with fresh notes on her throat and warmer aftertastes lingering in her hair, which was clasped back in a tight French twist. Underneath that, soap and bitter coffee, the sterile air of the facilities, and freshly ironed cotton. She looked right at him, and through him. Perhaps she did not like how his eyes followed hers. She seemed afraid, but of him?

Of failure.

She came to a stop at the table by his side and busied herself arranging her files. Her shirt looked standard issue: white, pressed, keeping its form rigidly while her tight chest fluttered underneath. Her waist held her up stiffly, unmoving, as she bent slightly forward. Her straight black skirt went down to her knees. Her legs were clad in imperceptibly thin stockings, tapering in black doeskin shoes.

The Soldier's gaze caressed its way back up to her face to find her disapproving look waiting for him. He looked back without shame, taking in her elegant little features gentled by large eyes, a soft mouth, lashes that left spiderweb-shadows on her cheeks under the clinical light.

She kept her eyes on him unwavering as she stepped back and around to face him, to look at him from the other side, then closer, then back again. She was examining him like all the others did - like an object - but he didn't mind. Her attention melted the fear away.

Finally, she got closer, and with a touch made to gentle a wild animal tilted his head back and up. She stood to his right where his flesh arm was, checked his pupil dilation with a little light, checked his pulse with her fingers, his blood-oxygen with a pinch at his thumb — he could have told her the other doctors already went through this with him.

But why tell her anyway?

And just like that, she was back to not looking at him. She finished her check-up and turned briskly back to her papers. He noted her face had moved first and her body followed — disgust, avoidance; ah, did he smell? They never did prioritise cleaning him after a mission.

"Can you speak?" she asked, looking straight at him again.

"Yes."

"What are you?"

"Soldier."

"What am I?"

"Doctor."

"Sit up straight... Now close your eyes."

He heard her step closer, heard her stop right in front of him, between his spread legs. Her voice was so close now, and much too soft.

"I'm going to touch the sides of your face. You will tell me if it feels the same."

She lightly ran the tips of her fingers from his temples, down his cheekbones, down the hollowed stubbled cheeks, ending at his chin, then back up and down again.

"Same?"

"Yes."

"Keep your eyes closed. I'm going to make small sounds with my fingers next to your ears, you will tell me which side it's on."

"Right. Left. Right. Right."

"Open your eyes now."

He caught sight of her just as she stepped back.

"Did they finish the repairs on you?"

He looked at his left arm and saw everything was closed back up. "Yes."

"Alright. Make fists with both of your hands, and hold them up, like this. Alright, now keep them steady and don't let me press them down."

She tested his right fist, then his left, her hands barely covering the span of his knuckles. Both fists were steady as rocks against her efforts.

"Now, close your eyes again. Can you touch your thumb to your index on your right hand? Good, now go through all the fingers, touch the thumb to the fingertip... then back to the index. Good. Now your left hand, keep your eyes closed."

He could hear her throat work to swallow at the clink-clink of the metal digits.

"Alright, stop."

She stepped back to the table, picked up a little silver hammer with a rubber head, then came back to his side. "Keep your right arm relaxed, I'm just going to check your reflex."

She pressed her dry, cold thumb to the inside of his elbow and tap-tapped against her finger, his arm bouncing slightly in its confines.

"Alright, now I'm going to do something a little silly. But you won't laugh at me, will you?"

"No." His dry delivery didn't put her much at ease.

Moving to his left side, she did the same thing to his metal arm. She tapped the little hammer over her thumb, where the inside of the titanium elbow was, and tapped and tapped.

"Makes sense I guess..." she said to herself when nothing happened.

As she ran her tests on him, he could feel her relax, noticed her start to speak not just at him but to him, like other people spoke to each other. The Soldier wasn't sure it was smart of her to drop her guard like that, but he couldn't begrudge it. He wanted to speak to her like a real person too, but the want knocked itself against a wall.

She worked her way around him, back to a desk, sat down primly, opened a folder, crossed out some boxes on a yellowed piece of paper... He watched her openly, sliding his gaze down to her tightly-crossed legs and back up, but was not too fixated on the ornamental parts of her to not notice her swallow hard and squeeze her pen as she became instinctively aware of being looked at.

"I'm going to ask you some questions." she said without looking up. "Do you know where we are?"

He had to think for a second for this one. "Headquarters Alpha 3."

"What's the nearest town?"

"I don't know."

"What country are we in?"

"I don't know."

"What day of the week is it?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know what year it is?"

"No."

She wrote something down and sighed — she wasn't disappointed, was she? After all, he didn't need to know those things. But when she looked back up, she didn't seem upset with him. She even smiled at him a little, he almost smiled back.

"There are some more tests I want to run, but I can't do that with you tied up. We'll have another session, if it's approved."

He didn't nod, didn't blink, didn't betray the hope he felt at the anticipation of being trusted. Even untied, she would be safe with him, he wouldn't hurt her. Did they know that? Did she know that?

A knock on the door grabbed her attention. Too eagerly for his liking, she jumped up and opened it.

"Done?"

"Yes, I'll just get my things."

Standing just a step inside the room, the Director looked straight at him, then turned his attention back to her, waiting.

They stepped outside together, but by negligence or uncaring left the door ajar. He listened on as they whispered to each other.

"So?"

"Both hemispheres seem very well coordinated, as well as I can tell considering the arm... There seems to be no... leakage of anything from one side or the other, or from previous missions. To me, the Asset seems fully functional. But I need more tests to assess the state of his memory."

"What's the problem?"

"As I suggested in my proposal, Sir, the methods used in the Project affect his explicit memory, but the implicit memory isn't really addressed. I need confirmation."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means we should probably schedule..."

"No, what you said about his memory."

"Oh, well... As I wrote to you, Sir..." She took a pause to swallow her words. "Explicit memory is... the things you can bring forward in an instant, that you can talk about. But if you were to... if you were to smell a perfume, for example, and you suddenly remembered it because it was what your mother wore when you were a child, that's implicit memory. It stays in the brain but you don't know it's there unless there's a stimulus. And because it's there, it can still influence what you do, even if you don't realise it..."

"I see. Couldn't our equipment fix it?"

"I don't think it can be calibrated for something like that. Such memories are usually connected to real functions, like muscle memory or the senses. And besides, wiping him repeatedly probably resets his integration level, which can be counterproductive... especially if he was predisposed to higher disintegration before the serum."

"So what do you need?"

"First of all, he might need to be kept... er, thawed, at least for a while."

"If your little experiment is a failure, we're gonna waste valuable time on him."

"It's just that it isn't good to freeze and unfreeze even an ordinary slab of meat, let alone a complex animal like that. It could be connected to the malfunctions they're reporting with his behaviour. Not to mention the lack of REM sleep, which makes it even worse for stabilising his thinking, his reflexes..."

"Alright, we have empty cells we can keep him in."

"And for the next session, if it's approved Sir, we should maybe have a brand new room. Not this lab, and not somewhere where he's locked down. Subjects usually form underlying associations with common environments, it impedes the process."

"I fear we might be spoiling him, you know. His own 'suite', his own lounge now, no more cryo, and I don't know when the last time was that he saw a woman..."

"Certainly he sees them all the time on missions, Sir."

"Yeah, through a scope. Will that be all?"

"One more thing... if it's possible, to not have surveillance during the sessions, Sir..."

"And why would you ask for that?"

"In case I need to apply unethical methods."

"'Though I can respect that, don't you think you're asking for a bit much?"

"Oh, please Sir."

The Soldier could hear the smile in her voice, the deliberate lightening of the tone to something girlish, and through the fogged glass he saw her brush a hand over the Director's elbow, just quickly enough to stay professional. The armrest under his bionic arm started creaking in his grip.

"I'll keep it all under budget, I promise. Oh, and could we maybe arrange to have him washed more often?"

"I'm going to leave before you ask for dessert. You better deliver."

"Yes, Sir. Hail Hydra."

"Hail Hydra."

[acciowests]

From Lorcan With Love

WORD COUNT: 1707

SUMMARY: A "From Lukov With Love" inspired ice hockey x figure skating AU featuring Lorcan Salvaterre and Elide Lochan from "Throne Of Glass"

Lorcan and Rowan arrive early for training and walk in on a figure skater finishing her session. It isn't until she falls that Lorcan rushes forward, helping up the woman he learns is called Elide and immediately begins to fall for her charms.

"You know, you didn't have to wake me up this early, right?" Rowan drawled as they pulled into the Orynth Rink parking lot. With their first game of the season taking place next Friday, Lorcan Salvaterre - Goalkeeper of the Terrasen High Hawks - had booked out the rink for three whole hours of practice. Along with being Lorcan's best friend, Rowan Whitethorn was also the captain of the Hawks, their school's ice hockey team. Despite having napped for most of their journey, Rowan's brows were furrowed in a tired frown, his lips in a thin line as he stretched in his seat.

The capital's Ice Rink mainly housed ice skating: including singles figure skating, pairs ice dancing, as well as the annual sectional competitions and sometimes the national one also. None of that meant much to Lorcan, he just knew the Orynth Rink also showcased professional Hockey Teams, such as the Orynth Stags; a team he had dreamt of being a part of since he started his ice hockey journey at seven-years-old.

"Stop complaining, old man," Lorcan chuckled, smirking at the silver-haired boy. "Get the bags from the trunk will you?"

Sticking up his middle finger noncommittally, letting it fall into his lap, Rowan climbed out of the car, rounding toward the back of the vehicle. Lorcan switched off the engine and stepped outside. Grabbing the gym bag full of their gear, Rowan hauled it over his shoulder as Lorcan locked the car, the two boys walking through the parking lot and toward the rink.

The changing room was empty, as Lorcan expected, and the two boys changed in comfortable silence. They pulled on their team jerseys: deep green with silver writing that displayed their name and number. Paired with sweatpants and their elbow and shoulder pads, as well as their shin guards, the boys shoved their bags into the lockers, along with their phones, and headed out to the rink. Walking off the ice with skates on had always felt weird, even with the skate guards that protected the blade. Heading down into the stadium, Lorcan's eyes locked onto the lone figure skater within the rink. The clock overhead told him she still had fifteen minutes left, which meant he and Rowan had fifteen minutes of waiting.

Slumping down into a seat, Lorcan set his elbows against his knees, leaning forward and watching the petite, raven-haired girl dance across the ice. Beside him, Rowan drummed his feet lazily, Lorcan ignoring him completely as he listened to the sound of her blade across the ice.

When, and if, he saw figure skaters, they were always wearing glittery costumes in shades of reds, purples and blues. And though he was sure most skaters did dress down for practice, the girl before him looked like she dressed in the dark. Which, if she had booked a three hour practise, she just might have. Ignoring the grey leggings and burgundy sweater showing a Perranth Skating Club logo, she skated as though she was in front of thousands. Each turn was sharp but smooth, each of her jumps or leaps landing perfectly - to Lorcan's untrained eye, anyway.

"I was thinking we could do some new drills. As captain, I reckon we have a good shot this season. I think we could rank high, come out on top," Rowan started, interrupting Lorcan's gaze.

"Right, yeah. If the others even get here," Lorcan sighed, not that he minded. He was much enjoying his time watching the beautiful skater.

"Chill out, Lor. There's still five minutes, they'll be here," Rowan insisted, nudging Lorcan's shoulder.

Shrugging, Lorcan turned to face the rink, just in time to watch the skater turn back into a jump. She took off from the back outside edge of her skate, using her toe pick to help her spin twice, and just as her foot hit the ice, her ankle gave way. An echoing thud rang out around them as she hit the floor, her thigh and butt slamming down onto the ice as she fell.

Before he even realised what he was doing, Lorcan stood, rushing down the rows of seats and towards the rink. Removing his skate guards and tossing them to the side, Lorcan stepped onto the ice, skating over to the girl who was now curled up, a hand against her thigh and stretching a leg out before her.

"Hey, you okay?" Lorcan called, coming to a stop beside her and offering her a hand, "That looked like a pretty nasty fall."

The girl chuckled, rubbing her thigh once more and taking his hand. Her palm was surprisingly soft, cold enough to send a shiver through him as she gripped tightly. Hoisting her up, Lorcan didn't miss the wince that slipped between her lips. Before he could say anything, she shook her head, "It's fine, it's just my ankle."

As she stood before him, Lorcan tried not to smirk at the immense height difference between them. At least a whole foot. Instead, he just nodded, "Well, that jump looked pretty hard. From what I've seen you're a pretty good skater. You shouldn't let one fall get you down."

"Not good enough. I should be able to do that jump in my sleep. There's no way I'm going to win sectionals like this," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her left hand, Lorcan realised, was still in his. She hadn't put her ankle back down onto the ice, instead, she rested it against her other foot, off the ground where there was no pressure on it.

"What happened? Is it just a strain?" Lorcan asked, hoping he wasn't being too curious. His eyes were drawn to the flush of her cheeks, bright red against the pale shading of the rest of her face. With her mop of black hair against glowing skin, she looked ethereal.

"I wish," she scoffed, "No, I broke it a few years ago and it never healed properly. I lost my axel completely, had to relearn my entire program and make all the moves easier. I already lost regionals, I can't afford to lose sectionals too," she explained, her chest rising and falling.

"Well, how long until sectionals? Maybe with some assistance, and physiotherapy on your ankle, you might be able to win?" Lorcan suggested, watching the girl's eyebrows slowly furrow as she looked up at him. They were thick and black, arching over her face and defining it fiercely.

"You don't know when sectionals are?" she asked, as though it was the most obvious question in the world.

Lorcan chuckled, shaking his head, "Oh, no. I'm not a skater. I play ice hockey."

The girl blinked, her eyes widening, "Oh... Oh my god, I'm so sorry. You probably have no idea what I was just talking about, do you?"

Lorcan couldn't help but laugh, loving the way the girl's lips curled into a smile as he did so, "No, but it's fine. I can tell you're very dedicated. I'm Lorcan, by the way, Terrasen High Hawks."

"Terrasen High? Wait, Lorcan as in Lorcan Salvaterre?" she asked, brows raising. Lorcan knew he recognised her. He could have sworn she was in the year below him, he would remember her face anywhere.

"The one and only. You're a junior, right?" he replied, helping her skate back across the rink and toward the entrance. She reached for her skate guards as he remained on the ice. Slipping his hand to her elbow, he helped her balance as she stepped back onto the stone ground.

"Right. Elide Lochan, Perranth skating club," she smiled, sticking her hand out. Lorcan shook it happily, loving the warmth that radiated from her like electricity.

"Perranth is lucky to have you represent them," Lorcan smirked, biting down on his bottom lip. There was something about the girl before him, something that made him feel completely giddy inside. If his teammates saw him like this...

Elide rolled her eyes. Chocolate, Lorcan noticed, the perfect shade of swirly hazelnut. "Now you're just being kind!" she laughed, a melodic sound that he wished he could capture forever, "Thanks, by the way, for helping me up. I probably would have just laid there until my session was over."

Lorcan grinned, something he didn't do too often, "Well, you're lucky I was here. Couldn't have you catching a cold, can we?  I heard hypothermia is a killer."

Pressing her lips together, Elide shook her head slowly, "No, I suppose we can't."

With an obnoxious slam, the doors to the rink swung open. The remainder of his team poured out, dressed and ready for their training session. A blur of green and silver, plus the grey, black and navy blue of Adidas sweatpants. Gavriel was at the front, the oldest on the team, his golden hair tied back in a bun and a grin on his face as he reached Rowan.

Rowan stood, patting Gavriel's shoulder and moving down the rows of chairs. "Lorcan," he called, heading toward the equipment cupboard in the corner of the rink, "Help me get the stuff out!"

They always borrowed sticks and pucks from whatever rink they were training at. Lorcan only used his own stick for final games, an object of good luck. They would also have to drag the goals out, setting them up to actually have something to shoot at.

Offering Lorcan a smile, Elide stepped back, rocking on her good foot, "So, I guess I'll see you around then?"

If he had his phone to hand, he would have asked for her number right there and then. But, he didn't. As she turned to walk up the steps toward the changing rooms, Lorcan called, "We have a game next Friday, will you be there?"

Elide stopped, looking over her shoulder and smirking, "Depends, are you inviting me?"

Pushing down the chuckle that tickled his throat, Lorcan nodded, "I am, and maybe we could hang out afterwards... Just the two of us?"

"Sure, sounds fun. See you Friday, then," Elide confirmed, turning almost immediately and rushing up the stairs.

Lorcan watched until she completely disappeared from view. He could smell the cinnamon and elderberries scent that lingered in her wake. Elide Lochan. Friday couldn't come sooner.

* * *

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[bevioletskies]

meet me halfway (across the sky)

summary: Video calls back home were a rare treat for Apollo, considering how busy his life in Khura’in could be. Catching up with Trucy, Athena, and Phoenix was one thing. Getting a sudden call from Klavier was another. And talking to Klavier every day for hours about everything they never knew about each other was possibly the most unexpected thing of all.

word count: 12k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day five of seven (prompt: "parallels"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

Mild spoiler warning for Spirit of Justice, along with implied spoilers for Dual Destinies. Fic title is from the song Meet Me Half Way by Kenny Loggins.

“Uh, Mr. Wright, you’re way too close to the screen. Can you sit back a little?”

“Oops - sorry, Apollo! Still not used to this kind of technology, heh.”

“Sheesh, Daddy, you make yourself sound ancient - ”

“Ah! Did you guys start already? Attendez-moi!”

Chuckling, Apollo leaned back in his seat and waited while the three of them rearranged themselves in front of their webcam. He’d missed this, this camaraderie that he didn’t quite have with his current companions in Khura’in. There was something immensely comforting about it, about every time he managed to schedule a video call with everyone back home. It didn’t happen as often as they would’ve liked, given how busy they all were, how tricky the time difference could be, but when it did, it was the best part of Apollo’s week.

“Hey, guys,” Apollo said, waving sleepily. “What’s been going on?” He leaned closer, peering at his screen. “...Athena, why do you have a banana sticker on your forehead?”

“Why don’t you have a banana sticker on your forehead?” Athena retorted, peeling hers off with a flourish. “Anyway, everything’s been sehr gut! We’ve had, hm...I think four clients since we last talked? All acquitted, of course!”

“Anything interesting?” Apollo asked. “I’ve had twelve clients, myself.”

Phoenix frowned. “I’m...not so sure that’s a good thing. Are you getting enough sleep? I can’t imagine you having that many cases and not mixing them up. Keeping track of evidence alone must be a nightmare!”

“It’s been...a process,” Apollo said diplomatically, trying not to think about the dozens of folders he had on both his desktop and his actual desk that needed to be sorted in a way that made some semblance of sense. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Wright, I-I’m fine!”

“Famous last words,” Trucy huffed. “Polly, you need rest! We want you back home in one piece, after all.”

“At least I’m not accepting odd jobs anymore,” Apollo chuckled. “I don’t mind helping someone set up their internet or move their couch every now and then, but I can’t do everything.” He startled suddenly at the sound of his phone going off. “Oh - sorry, one sec.” His brows knitted together when he read the call display: Klavier Gavin.

“Apollo? Is something wrong?” Athena asked, concerned.

“I - uh…” Apollo hesitated, unsure of what to do. “I’m gonna mute myself for a second, hang on.” He did just that, then answered his phone. “Gavin? Are you...wait. Did you call me by accident?”

There was a long, lingering silence. Then, “Ach, I only just realized what time it is where you are. I should’ve texted first, ja?”

“Yeah, probably,” Apollo said, laughing awkwardly. “Is this, uh, urgent? It’s just - I’m in the middle of a video call, so…”

“Nein, nein, not all!” Klavier’s voice was too loud, too sharp. Apollo didn’t need to see his face to know what that meant. “You know what? Forget I called, it’s nothing.”

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” Apollo protested, frowning. “If you wanna talk for whatever reason, we can - ”

“I have somewhere I need to be, anyway, so, er - Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Forehead.” Klavier quickly hung up before Apollo could get a word in edgewise. He stared at his phone, perplexed, before unmuting himself. The others looked as confused as he was.

“What happened?” Phoenix asked.

“...Prosecutor Gavin called me?” Apollo shook himself a little. “I’ll get back to him later, so - anyway, what were we talking about?”

_____

Three days passed before Klavier responded to the inquiring text message Apollo had sent him after he’d finished talking to the others. He still didn’t seem ready to talk about it - whatever it was - but he did suggest they do a video call of their own, to which Apollo agreed. Something about Klavier’s behavior was bothering him, and he was more curious about it than he expected to be.

“Forehead? You’re staring, achtung. I know I’m handsome, but you should really keep those eyes of yours under control. They’re going to get you in trouble someday, I’m sure of it.”

“I - ” Apollo’s eyes narrowed. “Really, Gavin? That’s how we’re starting this?”

“It was you who started it,” Klavier said petulantly, his tone not unlike a five-year-old’s. But really, Apollo couldn’t stop staring - not because of Klavier’s looks; he’d long made peace with how attractive he thought Klavier was and how much he didn’t want Klavier to know, but because of how tired Klavier seemed. Apollo had expected him to be in his usual “uniform”, his silver jewelry and perfect makeup and impeccably styled hair. Instead, Klavier was wearing an oversized sweater, his hair up in a loose topknot, his face completely bare. He still had that lazy, slightly flirtatious smile on his face, but he was slouching quite a bit, his arms loosely wrapped around his propped-up knee. With his cracked lips, acne scars, and hunched shoulders, he looked more human than Apollo had ever thought possible.

“How’ve you been?” Apollo asked, ignoring him. “I’m surprised you called. I haven’t heard from you in, like. Three months? Four? I swear, I’m losing all sense of time here.”

“Well, it’s not like we had a habit of talking in the first place, ja?” Klavier pointed out. “But...to borrow a phrase, I’m fine, though the courts have been so boring without you here. I almost miss the ringing ears I got after every single one of our trials.”

“Har, har,” Apollo drawled. “Congratulations, you and everyone else have broken me down into exactly two personality traits: sarcastic and loud. Are you proud of yourself?”

“You forgot ‘oblivious’,” Klavier supplied helpfully.

Apollo blinked. “...to what?” He blinked again. “Wait - ”

“Too late,” Klavier interrupted gleefully, beaming. “You’ve proven my point beautifully.” Apollo glared; not five minutes in, and he was already prepared to hang up. “Anyway, I’ve been sehr gut, for the most part. Work has been keeping me busy. You?”

“I’m pretty settled here by now,” Apollo said, shrugging. “It’s rough, y’know, trying to rebuild an entire legal system as the only defense attorney in the country, but, uh...at least I’m not completely alone. And as nerdy as it sounds, I’m actually really liking the work. Not the stress - that, I could do without - but the fact that I get to be a part of this big...thing. It’s exciting, I guess.”

“It’s not that nerdy,” Klavier reasoned. “Nerdy is reading law textbooks at night, under the covers. As a child.”

“...is it weird that I actually did that?” Apollo asked, wincing.

Now it was Klavier’s turn to blink, stunned. “Wait, really? I was talking about me.”

“Oh.” Apollo shifted in his seat, surprised. “Never would’ve guessed. I mean, obviously, I know you became a prosecutor at seventeen, but I just assumed you were a musical child prodigy and...I dunno, switched career paths at some point.”

Klavier let out a soft laugh. “Again, you flatter me, Herr Forehead, but I’m not a prodigy of any kind. Just some good old-fashioned hard work, you know?” He then frowned very slightly. “Though...I’ll admit, I’m not sure how much of my standing at the prosecutor’s office also came down to good old-fashioned nepotism. After all, Kristoph…” He trailed off, unwilling to say more.

Apollo shuddered. Even after all this time, he couldn’t get his former boss’s maniacal laughter out of his head. “Right, um...oh, have you had any interesting cases lately? Athena was telling me she had a literal gravedigger as a client - no prizes for guessing where the victim’s body was discovered…”

The next hour seemed to fly by surprisingly quickly, with the two of them exchanging light-hearted anecdotes about work. As it turned out, they’d both had many interesting cases since the last time they spoke. It wasn’t until Apollo could barely keep his eyes open that he realized what time it was.

“Ach, don’t let me keep you,” Klavier said when Apollo yawned for what seemed like the hundredth time in a row. “You have work in the morning, I’m sure.”

“Wait, but - ” Apollo yawned yet again “ - but we never got around to...whatever it was you were calling about the first time. Your so-called ‘nothing’.”

Klavier’s expression sobered instantly, his mouth pulling back into a hard line. “I’m not going to bother lying to you, Apollo. But I’m not interested in telling you, either. So let’s leave it at that, ja?”

“I...oh.” Apollo nodded, feeling somewhat chastised. “Fine. Fine, we don’t have to - but if you wanna, y’know, catch up again sometime, let me know, okay? I’ve got time to talk. Er, I think.”

Klavier laughed, surprised, though his eyes were still wary. “Do you actually...miss me, Forehead?”

“You really know how to ruin a moment, Gavin,” Apollo sighed, shaking his head. “Anyway, talk to you later...maybe. Haven’t decided on whether I actually want to anymore, jerk.”

Klavier continued to grin. “Auf Wiedersehen, baby.” Apollo tried not to think about how the last word had made him shiver.

Weeks went by before Apollo heard from Klavier again, a few days after he’d had a two-hour long call with Trucy. Apollo’s voice was a bit hoarse from all the talking he’d done - not to mention how angry he’d gotten in court just yesterday after a particularly smug witness tried to take over the entire trial - but nevertheless, he was surprised at how happy he was to see Klavier, a feeling he was mostly unfamiliar with.

“Do you have a cold?” Klavier asked. “Your voice sounds a bit strained and raspy.”

“My brain feels strained and raspy,” Apollo groaned. He then paused; for some reason, the exchange sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. “It’s nothing, I just got pissed and yelled at someone in court yesterday. Not my finest moment, I’ll admit.”

“But isn’t yelling your default?” Klavier smirked. He looked more relaxed than last time, the tension in his face less noticeable. “I hope the rest of the trial went well, at least.”

“Oh, it didn’t,” Apollo said, snorting. “But...past’s in the past. I have too many cases to deal with to bother worrying about one crappy witness. My client was acquitted, I got the real culprit, you know the deal. It’s all starting to blur together, to be honest.”

“It sounds like you need to get out more,” Klavier suggested, not unkindly. “Is there any sort of...nightlife in Khura’in? Recreational activities, maybe? Don’t make me bother Fräulein Detective and get her to drag you to a bar every now and then.”

“We go out to eat or drink sometimes,” Apollo replied, shrugging. “But...I dunno. I don’t really have the time to take up a new hobby or whatever. My free time is for eating, sleeping, and catching up with people back home.”

“Fair enough, though you really should lighten your workload,” Klavier said sagely. “It’s not like you took cases every day when you were here, ja? I know Khura’in needs your help, but what good are you to them if you’re burnt out?”

Apollo’s eyes widened slightly, stupefied. Then, he tried - and failed - to stifle a laugh. “Okay, Dad. Sheesh, you sound like Mr. Wright trying to give me a pep talk.” He sat back in his seat, loosely running his fingers through his hair. “Fine, then, question for you - when’s the last time you took a day off?”

“I went to visit my parents last Saturday,” Klavier answered after taking a moment to think. “They needed help cleaning and packing away some of...some of his things.” He visibly swallowed, though he tried to hide it with a sharp cough. After some consideration, Apollo decided not to comment on it.

“That’s hardly a day off,” Apollo retorted instead. “I mean, it’s technically not work, but - wait. Do you usually work on weekends, too?”

“Natürlich,” Klavier replied, confused. “Do you mean to say you don’t?”

“No, I - I work on weekends more than I should,” Apollo admitted. “But it’s kinda hypocritical of you to tell me to get out more when you don’t have much of a life, either, y’know. Also, are you seriously telling me you don’t have, like. Other things to do? People to see, places to be? Not that spending time with your parents is a bad thing, I-I mean, it’s cool that you do, it’s just...well.”

Klavier averted his eyes, reaching across his desk to pick up his mug of tea. He took his time with it, drinking at a leisurely pace, before finally speaking again. “Do you actually care to know, Forehead? Or are you just asking to ask?” he said evenly.

“I…” Apollo found himself caught off-guard by both the question and his own answer. “No, I actually wanna know. ‘Cos it’s just - it’s not what I imagined. I’ve seen all the headlines and photos and stuff, so…”

“Ah.” Klavier smiled ruefully. “From the early Gavinners days, I take it? Back when I had Daryan around to be my bad influence? Nein, that’s not exactly my style anymore. I already feel too old for that kind of scheisse. Now, I do these things out of obligation, you know? Work parties, family events...nothing too wild. Not when I’ve been involved in too many scandals. Better to lay low than to put myself out there again, ja?”

“I...I see.” Apollo went quiet for a moment, ruminating. He couldn’t help but notice Klavier had neatly avoided the word “friend”; he was starting to wonder how many he actually had. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time Klavier had ever mentioned anyone outside of people that Apollo himself already knew.

“You’re staring again, Forehead.” Klavier leaned closer, resting his chin in his hands, a wicked grin plastered across his face. “There’s no one nearly as pretty as me in Khura’in, I take it? Don’t worry, I’d be surprised if there was.” Apollo said nothing, instead lifting a hand from his own mug of honey lemon tea to flip him off. Klavier merely laughed in response, delighted.

_____

After that, the gap between video calls went down from a few weeks to a few days. Neither of them knew why, but somehow, they’d come to a silent agreement that they were going to talk once or twice a week about nothing in particular. However, Apollo still hadn’t quite figured out why Klavier had called him the first time. Initially, he suspected it had something to do with Kristoph, given that the Gavins were finally starting to pack up his things. Maybe Klavier had visited him recently, or maybe he’d reminisced a little too long about their shared childhood, whatever that looked like. But when Apollo had asked, Klavier had simply shrugged it off.

“It’s no secret that even thinking about thinking about Kristoph puts me in a foul mood,” Klavier had replied. “But I haven’t seen him lately, nein. I’m done, I’m - I just want to move on with my life, without his shadow lurking in the darkness.”

Not all their conversations were so heavy, though; once they’d finally caught up on everything they’d missed out on over the last several months, their topics turned mundane, even silly. Apollo never expected to spend one of his precious free Saturday mornings arguing with Klavier, of all people, about breakfast, of all things, but here he was.

“Yes, I’ve had instant ramen for breakfast, what of it?!” Apollo had exclaimed defensively. “Add an egg, some bacon bits...what’s your problem?”

“My problem is your sodium intake,” Klavier had protested. “Bitte, tell me you eat actual fruits and vegetables from time to time. Tell me you have some semblance of a balanced diet and your stomach hasn’t just turned into a toxic wasteland.”

Apollo wasn’t sure why he was talking to Klavier so often, so suddenly, in all honesty. Part of him supposed it was because Klavier just happened to be there - after all, he seemed freer to talk than Phoenix, Trucy, or Athena, and he wasn’t bad company when he wasn’t not-so-stealthily insulting Apollo in court. But another part of him, the part he desperately wanted to ignore, felt oddly comforted by Klavier’s probably-fake accent and his too-wide smile. Klavier’s presence in his small, chilly Khura’inese bedroom almost made him feel like he was back home.

“Have you seen the others lately?” Apollo asked one evening, bundled up in the thickest blanket he could find. There was a draft coming in from somewhere that he had yet to take care of, and neither Datz nor Ahlbi were too interested in checking it out, either. “Or...I dunno. Watched any of Trucy’s shows?”

“I’ve only seen them around at crime scenes and the courthouse,” Klavier replied. Apollo couldn’t stop himself from sneaking a peek over Klavier’s shoulders at his surroundings in curiosity. For once, Klavier was sitting on his bed instead of at his desk or in what was presumably his home office. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to have a huge, ostentatious-looking bedroom that was probably bigger than Apollo’s office. “Things have been...busy at the Gavin estate. I don't have much time to socialize with colleagues.”

“Busy?” Apollo echoed, sitting up. “More cleaning, you mean?”

“My parents aren’t retired, but sometimes, they act like they are,” Klavier said wryly. “They want to remodel so many rooms - the kitchen, the conservatory, my old playroom...so I’ve been going home quite a bit these days, helping them with the little things. It was nostalgic, seeing all the toys I used to play with. Feels like a lifetime ago, achtung.”

“What was your thing?” Apollo asked. “Beanie Babies? Barbie Dreamhouses? Legos? Wait, let me guess - you had one of those Fisher-Price piano playmats, didn’t you? Don’t even lie to me.”

“I would never own something so tacky,” Klavier protested; he almost seemed offended. “Nein, Mama was all about wooden toys - blocks, cars, dollhouses, kitchen sets - it’s very aesthetically pleasing. With the occasional soft toy, ja, but we never had plastic.”

“Interesting,” Apollo said, humming. “Same here, no plastic for us. Only, uh - not for the same reasons. More out of...necessity.”

“Oh.” Klavier’s expression softened. “Ja, I suppose in your...situation, you wouldn’t be able to get new things easily.” He then smirked. “Now I’m trying to imagine you and Herr Sahdmadhi as children. I can’t picture either of you with dolls or teddy bears.”

“Try actual frogs and actual bunnies,” Apollo said, sinking down further into his chair. “We were outdoorsy kids, believe it or not. Scraped knees and sunburns and all. But now, uh, good luck dragging me away from air conditioning and indoor plumbing. You couldn’t pay me to abandon my weighted blanket.”

“Picky, picky,” Klavier teased, grinning. “I don’t blame you, though. I’m too comfortable with being comfortable to like change. Though...I suppose that’s not really up to us, is it? Changing?”

“How philosophical of you,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes. “It’s not that deep, Gavin, I’m just saying I’m not interested in sleeping outdoors again anytime soon. One instance of me waking up with ants in places that you definitely don’t want ants was enough.” He then chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “And honestly, who does like change? It’s like when I get a new client, right, and every time, something changes on me. Evidence, circumstances, logic...hell, it’s your fault sometimes!”

“When did this become about me?” Klavier chuckled, still smiling.

“Isn’t everything?” Apollo shot back. “It’s like you have this...this uncanny ability to turn any normal conversation into an opportunity for you to wax poetic, just so you can sound cool. If you ask me, it’s more dorky than anything else.”

Klavier’s mouth dropped open. “...Apollo Justice, are you calling me a dork?”

“Maybe I am, Klavier Gavin. What are we, Prosecutor von Karma?” Apollo snorted. “Sorry, Gavin, but between you and her, I think I know which one of you is actually German.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m very German,” Klavier protested, wagging an accusing finger at his screen. “Both of my parents grew up in Germany; they only came to the States so they could get their master’s. They had me learn German by watching Janoschs Traumstunde and Die Sendung mit der Maus, and Mama taught me how to make spätzle and schupfnudeln and reibekuchen - ah, and my favorite dessert? Bienenstich.”

Apollo held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I believe you. I just think your accent’s a little...questionable. You sound like someone who got too overconfident in their dedication to Duolingo.”

“Ach,” Klavier said, laughing. “Anyway, do you mean it? Am I really...dorky?”

“Wow, you’re even more hung up on that than I thought,” Apollo teased, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing as well. “Though I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Image is a big deal to you, after all. Yes, Gavin, you’re a huge dork. How can you not be when you say shit like - like ‘tell me you share my angst, Herr Forehead’ - ”

“And you think my accent is terrible,” Klavier mused, sighing. “So sue me, I like to embellish. I like a little romance in my language - it makes life more interesting, you know? Though I suppose you wouldn’t understand, being the kind of person that you are. You wouldn’t know romance if it asked you to dinner.”

“Ugh, that reminds me.” An involuntary shudder went through Apollo’s entire body. “I had a client ask me out a few weeks ago. Like, seconds after I got him acquitted. As if that was all he was thinking about while the judge declared him not guilty.”

Klavier went still. “...really? What happened? What did you say?”

“I said no, obviously!” Apollo exclaimed, loud enough that he briefly wondered if he’d accidentally woken up his neighbors. “He wasn’t a murderer, but he was still a shitty person. Besides, shitty or not, it’s kind of an unspoken thing to not date clients and co-workers, isn’t it?”

“Ja, of course,” Klavier said, waving a hand aimlessly. “I’m just...surprised.”

“That someone was interested in me? Thanks, Gavin,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes.

“That someone thought it was a good idea,” Klavier corrected, mouth twisting into a slight frown. “You’re perfect...ly acceptable, Forehead. As a, ah, person to go on a date with, I mean.” He cleared his throat; it seemed to get stuck quite often these days. “Anyway - surely, he didn’t think you would agree!”

“I dunno what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all in the first place,” Apollo sighed, shivering once more. “At least Ema got a good laugh out of it.”

Klavier straightened up, his expression quickly returning to normal. “How is she, by the way? I can only imagine that Khura’in is completely covered in luminol by now.”

“She’s adjusted pretty well, though she’s used to living overseas,” Apollo shrugged. “Her Khura’inese needs some work, though. Er, not that mine’s much better, I’ve been gone for too long. It’s coming back to me...slowly. Very slowly.”

“Sometimes I forget that you speak another language, too,” Klavier remarked. “Considering your grasp of English…”

“My English is fine, thanks,” Apollo huffed; it seemed like he couldn’t go one conversation without wanting to stick his tongue out at Klavier like they were unruly children on a school playground. Or, alternatively, flipping him off like they were fighting over the last parking spot. “Just ‘cos I don’t get all fancy with it - ”

“Here we go again,” Klavier sighed, dropping his chin into his hands. “And you say I make everything about me, hm?”

“Two-way street, Gavin. Two-way street,” Apollo said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Besides, that’s...it’s kind of our thing, isn’t it? Poking at each other until someone gets legitimately pissed? Usually me, but still.”

“I didn’t know we had a ‘thing’,” Klavier said, cocking his head in curiosity. “Tell me more about this ‘thing’ of ours, bitte.”

“See? There you go again!” Now Apollo’s neighbors were definitely awake; he didn’t have to look out the window to know that their lights were coming back on. “You can’t go two seconds without being...smarmy about something. It’s like a bad habit of yours, and I know a thing or two about bad habits.”

“What’s yours?”

Apollo blinked. Klavier had asked so suddenly, so immediately, that he’d barely heard what he’d said. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your bad habit,” Klavier elaborated. “I know you were talking about spotting other people’s tells, but I’m more curious about yours. You’d think that, since I get on your nerves so easily, I’d be able to see it myself, but…” He shrugged, still smiling. It was one of those indiscernible expressions of his that frustrated Apollo so much, the kind of bland, indifferent smile that seemed to mean anything and nothing at the same time. The kind of smile Klavier had in court as he reviewed the facts of the case, or when he ran into Apollo at a crime scene, or even when he talked about not talking about his brother.

“I...I, uh, never really thought about it.” Apollo hummed, thinking it over. “Messing with my hair, I guess? I’ve definitely, literally pulled my hair out before whenever I’m, like. Nervous. Stressed. Worried. Or, y’know, all of the above. I even had a crooked hairline in high school ‘cos I used to do it all the time.”

Klavier lifted his head from his hands, looking at Apollo in awe. He was quiet for so long that Apollo almost asked him if his internet connection had cut out, only to watch Klavier fuss with his bangs, then push them back completely, exposing his hairline, near-identical to what Apollo’s used to look like. It was only then that Apollo realized he’d never seen Klavier with his hair completely up. Of course, he’d seen Klavier do ponytails, braids, even space buns if he was feeling particularly stylish, but his bangs were always swept over his left eye. Now, he could see why.

“...oh.” Apollo wasn’t sure what to say. “I...I see. Is that, uh, recent?”

Klavier nodded shortly, then briefly turned away to grab a hair tie from his bedside table. He held the hair tie between his teeth while he gathered up his hair and twisted it into a neat knot; Apollo tried not to stare at the fullness of Klavier’s bottom lip, sticking out in a perfect pout, as he did. “Can I tell you a secret, Herr Forehead?”

“Oh - er - okay, abrupt change of topic there,” Apollo muttered, more to himself than to Klavier. “I guess so. What’s up?”

“I...haven’t decided how I feel yet about my parents remodeling our family estate.” Klavier’s tone was casual, but Apollo knew by now that it meant nothing. “I know why they’re doing it, I just don’t know why they’re doing it now. Nothing has changed, you know? They’re still working, I’m still working...Kristoph is still in prison.”

“Well, I don’t...know your parents or anything,” Apollo said carefully. “But i-it could be, like, a healing process thing. Starting fresh and all that, you know? But maybe it’s really not that deep. Maybe they literally just felt like, hey, now’s the right time to renovate. You could ask ‘em.”

“Ah - nein, I couldn’t inconvenience them like that,” Klavier said, chuckling awkwardly. He was already starting to mess with his hair once more. “If I expressed anything other than my complete support, they would stop immediately. And they’ve already sacrificed so much for me, I would never...I can’t…”

“Gavin,” Apollo said softly.

“It’s just a few rooms.” Klavier inhaled sharply. “What does it matter? It’s not like I live there. If Mama wants to turn our playroom into a crafting room, it...it makes sense.”

Their conversation, understandably, didn’t last too long after that. Apollo crawled into bed, still wrapped up in his blankets, with over a dozen trains of thought trekking through his mind, more of them about Klavier than he wanted to admit. He’d never thought of Klavier as an inherently private person - at times, he seemed almost too open to speaking his mind - but now, he could see that in some ways, he had been completely wrong.

_____

Unlike before, a few weeks passed before they had another video call. Klavier was wearing a muscle tank this time, his hair scraped back into a messy bun, his bangs perfectly placed. Apollo found himself more than a little distracted by the broadness of Klavier’s shoulders, by the length of Klavier’s neck. “Entschuldigung for last time,” Klavier said smoothly, by way of greeting. “Let’s not have me treat our conversations like my therapy sessions, ja?”

“It’s fine, Gavin,” Apollo reassured him. “One comment about how you’re feeling is no big deal. If you wanna talk, then...talk. Honestly, I’m a huge law nerd, and I could talk about Khura’inese legal practices all day, but, uh, I could definitely use a conversation or two that’s about something completely different.”

Klavier nodded, seemingly thinking it over. “...I like your hair.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “...and I like your shirt. What, are we on a shitty speed date? C’mon, you can do better than that!”

“Ach, you didn’t let me finish,” Klavier protested, chuckling. “I just meant...I like your hair like this. It looks...soft. Less severe. Something that would be nice to touch, you know?”

“I...oh.” A pleasant tingle went up Apollo’s spine. Klavier’s voice was low, warm, especially through his headphones. He brushed his hair back behind his ears, ducking his head slightly so Klavier wouldn’t notice the heat rising in his cheeks. “Trucy introduced me to some new hair products a while back. Said it was stuff she uses to make her hair look extra shiny under the stage lights. Er, n-not that that’s why I’m using it, just...it’s nice to treat myself every now and then.”

Klavier suddenly perked up. “Speaking of treating yourself, that reminds me - you know the best way to help you with all that stress and tension you’re dealing with? A gut massage. Surely, there are some facilities like that in Khura’in, ja?”

Apollo fixed Klavier with a withering look. “...Gavin, we just had a revolution here, like, six months ago. Getting a massage and a facial is hardly anyone’s priority right now, believe me. It’s not like the legal system is off in its own little world, y’know? The economy, the sociopolitical order…everyone considers themselves lucky that they can go about their day-to-day lives, but luxury goods and services? Not here, not yet.”

“Shame, though I can’t fault Khura’in for having its priorities in order,” Klavier said, frowning slightly. ���Well, if I ever get bored enough and feel like hopping on a plane, maybe I’ll come visit and give you a massage myself.”

“I’m not paying for your ticket,” Apollo retorted, his cheeks reddening once more. “And are you even qualified?”

“I always massage Papa’s shoulders whenever I go to my parents’ house,” Klavier mused thoughtfully. “He gets sore from all the gardening he does. You should see our estate garden; it’s like something out of a fairytale.”

Apollo’s nose twitched. “I’m, uh, I’m sure it does. Hey, so - tell me about your parents. You’ve mentioned them a bunch of times, but I don’t actually know that much about them.”

“High school sweethearts,” Klavier said with an almost dreamy smile on his face. “The old-school kind, slipping love letters into each other’s bags between classes and all that. Now, they’re both college professors at the same school. They both act like practical, no-nonsense people, but the truth is, they're both romantisch at heart.”

“And then passed that on to you,” Apollo nodded. “Makes sense. They sound adorable, actually.”

“I never had a high school sweetheart of my own,” Klavier sighed wistfully. “I can’t imagine how...all-consuming that must feel. To be so young, to be so sure that this one person, the only person you’ve ever loved, will be the only person you’ll ever love.”

“I guess that’s where we differ,” Apollo said quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, surprised at himself. He wasn’t sure where his comment had come from, why he’d blurted it out loud without a second thought. “I, uh, I had...something like that. Someone like that.”

“...oh.” Klavier furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “What happened?”

Apollo ducked his head, unable to look Klavier in the eye. “...you know what happened to him.”

Klavier’s eyes widened in realization. “Ach - Apollo, I’m so - ”

“Don’t, I - don’t,” Apollo insisted, a lump forming in his throat. “It’s not, uh. It’s not something I really wanna talk about.”

Klavier seemed unable to speak for a moment, his eyes shining with pity. Apollo hated it, hated how genuinely sorry Klavier looked, as if he had anything to do with it at all. Klavier opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “...I’ve written songs about my parents, actually. Not that you’ll find them on any Gavinners’ albums, just little love ballads that I played at their anniversary parties and vow renewal. They were big hits with my extended family - the one I wrote when I was ten years old is an absolute classic.”

“I’m sure it was,” Apollo chuckled, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “How about now, you write anything recently?”

“Barely a tune since the Gavinners disbanded,” Klavier admitted. “I haven’t felt all that inspired lately. Maybe someday it’ll come back to me, but right now...nothing. Nichts.”

“Good luck, I guess,” Apollo offered. “By the way, what’s with the tank top? Is it that hot over there already?”

“I’ve always been hot, Forehead, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Klavier said, grinning victoriously at the almost too obvious bait.

Apollo groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I will hang up on you someday, Gavin, don’t think I won’t.”

_____

The gap between video calls quickly dwindled down from a few days to no days at all. Text messages were constant, to the point where Apollo had to sheepishly ask Nahyuta how to upgrade his phone plan. Even phone calls started to increase in frequency; Apollo was starting to think he heard Klavier’s voice more often than he heard Ema’s, and they often spent entire days in each other’s presence.

“How do you feel about peaches?” Apollo asked, his phone carefully sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he deftly navigated his way through the farmer’s market, nearly tripping over a stray dog as he did so.

“Great emoji,” Klavier replied semi-seriously, though Apollo could tell he was trying not to laugh. “Although...Forehead, if this is your subtle way of asking me for my opinion on Call Me By Your Name, I’ll have you know I never learned how to play Capriccio sopra la lontananza del suo fratello dilettissimo. Now, Zion Hört Die Wächter Singen, on the other hand - ”

“Need I remind you, I only speak English, Khura’inese, and college-level Spanish?” Apollo interrupted, shaking his head. “Anyway, peaches are basically a delicacy here. Sucks for me, since I’m allergic to stone fruit.”

“Same, I can only eat them cooked. I love a good cherry pie,” Klavier hummed. “Did you remember to get kale this time?”

“Yeah, I got a huge bundle of it right here,” Apollo said, jostling his wicker basket loudly enough so Klavier could hear. A few market patrons turned to look at him strangely. “Thanks again for the tip, by the way. I’m still getting used to cooking stuff that’s not instant or frozen, so roasting vegetables is a total game-changer.”

“Glad to hear you’re eating actual fruits and vegetables now,” Klavier replied, chuckling. “So, I had a case go kaput today. Thought you might want to hear about it.”

“Obviously!” Apollo said, lighting up. “What did you do?”

“Achtung, why do you think it was my fault?” Klavier protested, his laughter warm in Apollo’s ear.

“Isn’t everything?” Apollo shot back, laughing as well. “Seriously, what happened? Can’t be as bad as...literally anything that’s happened to me.”

“Nein, not quite,” Klavier agreed. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t up against Athena or Herr Wright. Some rookie, I think; I was going to go easy on them. That is, until the defendant, apparently overcome with guilt, decided to bring their own decisive evidence to prove that they did, in fact, kill the victim.”

“No!” Apollo exclaimed. More market patrons turned in his direction, glaringly so. He shot them apologetic grimaces, then ducked behind a watermelon display. “Really? Like, are we talking fingerprints, photographs…”

“Everything, Forehead, everything. I couldn’t have convicted them better myself,” Klavier remarked. “Obviously, I take no joy in celebrating crime, especially murder, but ach, I consider that one of the highlights of my career. The only thing that would’ve made it better was if you were there. I can picture your dumbfounded expression now.”

“You’re terrible,” Apollo informed him, with no real bite behind his words. “But...not gonna lie, that’s kind of incredible. I feel bad for the defense, though. I’ve been screwed over by clients before, but usually not that badly.” He then heard a sharp wuff somewhere by his feet; he glanced down to see the dog he’d nearly tripped over before was now sitting on top of his toes, looking up at him with literal puppy-dog eyes. “...uh, hello. Did you need something?”

“What’s that?” Klavier asked.

“Oh - sorry, not you, Gavin. A stray dog just came over to say hi, I guess.” Apollo crouched down, taking care not to tip his basket. “Hey, buddy. I’m not the one to beg for food, if that’s what you’re looking for. All I can offer is, like, a belly rub.”

“Wait, switch to video, I want to see this,” Klavier pleaded, laughing again. Sighing, Apollo turned on his camera, then aimed his phone at the dog, who was now rolling over onto its back, its tail thumping enthusiastically against the cobblestone. “Ah, what an adorable hündchen! Go on, Forehead, don’t make him wait.” Sighing yet again - at Klavier, naturally, not the dog; he could never begrudge the dog - Apollo carefully set his basket down, then began rubbing the dog’s belly, smiling at the adorably goofy look the dog gave him in return, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, his eyes closing in utter bliss. “Hold still for a moment, bitte? I want to make this my contact photo for you.”

“Gavin, I swear - ”

“Uh, Apollo? What are you doing?”

Apollo startled at the sound of a new voice; his eyes widened when he looked up and realized who it belonged to. “Ema! He-e-ey, wh-what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ema replied, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you petting a dog while video-calling Gavin at the farmer’s market?”

“...because I can?” Apollo offered meekly, straightening up. He quickly hung up on Klavier before Ema could attempt to talk to him, silently noting the need to send him an apology text later. “Hey, um - th-there’s a discount on tangyuan today, you wanna go all out and split the cost with me?”

Ema continued to eye him suspiciously. “Sure. But please don’t insult my intelligence - you can’t just distract me with snacks, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Apollo sighed, giving the dog one last pat on the head before leading Ema across the market, towards the aforementioned snack stall. “We just...we talk sometimes. What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing, if you guys just do video calls every now and then,” Ema said. “But here you are, shopping for produce and chatting with Gavin at the same time. It’s...a little domestic, don’t you think?”

“D...domestic?” Apollo echoed, scratching the back of his neck.

“I just didn’t think you and Gavin had that kind of relationship, that’s all,” Ema continued, shrugging as she popped a grape from her own basket into her mouth. “Listen, I couldn’t care less about that guy. But you’re my friend, so...I have to ask. Is something, y’know...going on there?”

“Wh - no, no, no, o-of course not!” Apollo ducked behind Ema the second he felt the glares of the market patrons turn to face him, again. He was starting to think he wasn’t going to be welcome back for a couple of weeks, at least. “I - he - we’re friends! It’s kinda new, b-but we’re friends. Just friends. He’s, like...pretty decent when he’s not being obnoxious in court. Or at a crime scene...or just in general.”

Ema snorted, reaching over to steal a strawberry from Apollo’s basket next. “I think it’s time you hop off that bicycle of yours, Apollo, because you’re obviously backpedaling.”

“Tortured metaphor, but okay,” Apollo muttered, glowering at her.

“How’d you guys end up talking in the first place, anyway?” Ema asked, chewing noisily. “I can’t imagine you were the one to initiate it.”

“It...I’m not sure, actually,” Apollo admitted, slapping her hand away before she could steal his entire carton of freshly-picked strawberries. They were probably more expensive than all the vegetables he’d purchased, combined. “Gavin called me a while back, seemed embarrassed about it, and then hung up. I asked him later what was going on, we started doing video calls and stuff, and then it turned into a thing, but…I never figured out why he called the first time. And I don’t think there’s any point in asking.”

“Fair enough, though I gotta admit, I’m still curious. For scientific purposes, of course,” Ema added, humming to herself. “Maybe he...no, there’s no way.”

“You know something I don’t?” Apollo asked, nudging her. “What happened to ‘I couldn’t care less’?”

“Believe me, I really couldn’t,” Ema retorted, elbowing him back. “Surprises me that you have enough to talk about, though. I mean, it’s Gavin.”

“Hey,” Apollo protested; suddenly, he felt weirdly defensive of Klavier. Again, it wasn’t a feeling he was too familiar with. “We have more in common than you think. It’s not all just - just guitar riffs and hair tosses with him.”

“If you say so,” Ema sighed, clearly uninterested in pursuing the topic any further. “C’mon, let’s pick our flavors already. And if you short me on black sesame, I will be taking those strawberries of yours.”

Later that evening, Apollo was cocooned in his usual plethora of blankets, poring over the evidence for three separate cases - honestly, the autopsy reports were starting to blur together, which explained why, for a moment, he thought one of the victims had somehow ended up with a bullet hole in their stomach from being stabbed with a blunt object - when his phone went off. He immediately perked up when he read the call display. “Gavin, hey. Sorry again about earlier, you know how Ema is.”

“Keine Sorge, you already apologized,” Klavier replied. “That’s not why I was calling, in any case.”

Apollo frowned slightly, putting Klavier on speakerphone and nestling his phone among his files. “Oh? I, uh, I thought you were just calling to chat.”

“Ja, we can talk about whatever we feel like after, it’s just - I had a question for you.” The deep breath Klavier took before speaking again made Apollo nervous. “Are you homesick?”

“...huh?” Apollo wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been that. “Well, I mean. Yeah. Yeah, obviously. Khura’in was my home once, so it’s not like I’m in a completely new place, but it’s...yeah, I miss being back home, traffic jams and heatwaves and all. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Klavier said innocently, in that sort of tone of voice that made Apollo want to reach through the phone and strangle him. ��You’ll find out soon enough.”

“There’s either no reason, or a reason that I’ll learn soon enough. Pick one, Gavin,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. All he got in response was warm, throaty laughter that sent pleasant tingles down his spine. “Fine, don’t tell me. So, what’re you up to?”

“Just got back from my morning run.” There was a rustling of sound on Klavier’s end that suggested he was still walking around somewhere, presumably inside his apartment. Apollo could only imagine how sweaty he still was, how his skin glistened in the mid-morning sun - and now, he realized belatedly, he wasn’t sure if it was something he should be thinking about at all. “You know, after all this time - I still hate it. Running, I mean.”

“Then why do you do it?” Apollo said, trying not to laugh. “Though to be fair, I feel the same way. Athena used to make me run laps around the agency’s neighborhood sometimes ‘cos I need to ‘improve my cardiovascular health’ or whatever. Never got any good at it.”

“I do it because it’s good for me, but achtung, I wish I actually liked it,” Klavier sighed. “The fresh air, the endorphins, it’s all gut and well, but you know what I can’t stand? Sweat-soaked hair. Sore ankles and stiff knees. Don’t get me started on the sunburns, ach.”

“Okay, old man,” Apollo chuckled. “You sound like a guy twice your age, you know that?”

“I’m not the one who once said they were starting to prefer blander foods over spicy foods - calling me an old man, mein Gott, the disrespect - ”

A few hours later, Apollo was fully curled up beneath his duvet, head resting on his pillow, eyes closed, with his phone tucked under his ear. Neither of them had spoken in a little while, though Apollo could hear Klavier humming under his breath while he worked on clearing out his email inbox. “...you really should take a day off, Gavin.”

“You first,” Klavier said without missing a beat. “Don’t trick yourself into thinking you have to take every case in the country, ja?”

“Same to you,” Apollo mumbled; he was starting to drift in and out of consciousness. “You’re working, like...stupidly long hours. It’s not like you’re the only prosecutor in the district.”

There was a long pause. “Mama said that to me the other day. She told me I should live a little.”

“And she’s right,” Apollo yawned. “Anyway, I’m not gonna get into this again. And it’s not like you have to do anything major, just...take a day off. Go get a massage or whatever. Hang out with friends, go on a date, I dunno.”

“Go on a date, right,” Klavier drawled sarcastically. “Easier said than done, ja?”

“What, is it the fame thing?” Apollo asked, eyes snapping open in curiosity.

“It’s the, ah. ‘Trusting people’ thing.” Klavier let out a quiet laugh. “After convicting mein Bruder, after convicting someone I thought was my best friend...who’s to say any future romantic partner of mine wouldn’t end up facing that same fate?”

“...oh.” Apollo’s face softened; part of him wanted to see Klavier’s expression, while another part of him had the feeling it was better this way, to only hear the slight rasp, the slight crack in Klavier’s voice as he spoke. He could only imagine the noticeable twitch in Klavier’s eyes, the forced smile on his lips, that he’d seen a surprising amount of times over the past few months. “I see. I-I get it. Not like I’m any good at trusting people, either.”

Klavier went quiet again. “Apollo?”

“I...oh. Yeah?” He couldn’t remember the last time Klavier had called him by his actual name.

“Be honest with me, ja?” Klavier murmured. “When we talk every day, when we text and chat and send each other silly things...is it something you actually like doing, or...or are you just bored?”

Apollo snorted. “Oh please, you know my schedule. I couldn’t be bored if I tried.” He nestled deeper into his pillow, yawning. “Nah, you’re...we’re friends. Talking to you is like...part of my routine now.”

“You mean it?” Klavier asked. He sounded so uncertain that it made Apollo’s heart ache.

“I don’t send stupid memes to just anybody, you know,” Apollo teased. “And look, I’m not pretending like this isn’t weird. If you asked me a year ago if I could see myself talking to you on a daily basis, I would’ve said, y’know, ‘never in a million years’. But things are different now, so...yeah. You’re not so bad, Gavin.”

“Ah, danke. What high praise, coming from you,” Klavier drawled, laughing. “But really, I’m glad to hear it. I...wasn’t sure if I was bothering you. When I called that first time, I suppose I had my answer. Then after that, I never really knew for sure.”

“Now you do,” Apollo affirmed, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling too much.

“Now I do,” Klavier echoed, satisfied. “So, how about you, Forehead? Any clients ask you out again recently?”

“No, thank god,” Apollo said, shuddering. “Besides, I’m, uh. I’m not exactly looking to date right now, either. I’m...I’m pretty good with how things are going at the moment. Maybe after I get back. Thinking about thinking about dating, I mean.”

“Smart.” Klavier’s voice was so clear, so warm, that it almost sounded as if he were in Apollo’s bedroom, too. Apollo briefly wondered what it would be like to have Klavier visit, to wander the farmer’s market with him, to take evening walks along the river and watch the fireflies together, to go through an endless number of cases with him by his side. He had to admit, it didn’t sound half-bad. Better than half-bad, really, not that he was going to say so out loud. “Long-distance is never easy. The time zones, the uncertainty, the inability to truly be together...I can only imagine.”

“Right,” Apollo hummed, his eyes drifting closed once more. “I can only imagine.” When he woke up the next morning, he found a text message waiting for him - a screenshot of Klavier’s home screen; its background was a photo of Apollo and the friendly dog. sehr süß, Klavier had texted, and the hündchen isn’t so bad, either. It was too early, in Apollo’s opinion, for his heart to be racing this quickly.

_____

Almost four months to the day since they started talking, Apollo arrived at the post office with a delivery slip in hand, visibly confused by its earlier presence on his front door. “Was this really meant for me?” he managed to ask in his steadily improving Khura’inese. “I never ordered anything from the United States. Just paying customs would make me broke!”

“It really is for you, Mr. Justice,” the receptionist replied. Apollo watched, stunned, as she dragged a crate-sized package out from behind her desk. “You must have people who really love you back home, sir.”

“I...w-wow.” Apollo didn’t know what to say. “Er, do you have someone who can help me bring this back to my office?”

Twenty minutes later, Apollo was sitting on the floor of Justice Law Offices, embarrassingly sweaty and sore from how much effort it had taken him and one of the post office employees to haul his delivery here. Groaning, he reached for his pocket knife, then carefully sliced through the tape, unwrapping the enormous package layer by layer. When he finally reached its actual contents, he sat back on his haunches, stunned by the sheer amount of items inside.

The package consisted of two sturdy boxes; one was labeled with Ema’s name, so Apollo took it out and set it aside. He then opened the one that bore his name, only to find it was packed surprisingly tight. Boxes and boxes of his favorite snacks that were too expensive to import to Khura’in, well-loved copies of his favorite manga that had clearly been taken from his apartment back home, thick stacks of the most obnoxious California-themed postcards known to humankind with handwritten notes on their backs - before Apollo knew it, his eyes started to well up with emotion. Finally, at the bottom of the box, cushioning the other items nicely, were a few of his sweaters and hoodies, some of which still had a few stray Mikeko hairs on it.

“Oh,” Apollo said faintly, wiping his eyes hastily despite being completely alone. Then, he frowned. “Wait, what is…” He pulled out the only item of clothing he didn’t recognize, an unusually large hoodie in a familiar shade of purple with an embroidered rose on its breast pocket. Stuck to its left sleeve cuff was a sticky note; Apollo peeled it off and began to read what was on it.

herr forehead,

wear this the next time you go out, just in case you run into that hündchen again. It smells just a little bit like my parents’ dog - and like me, if you’re into that sort of thing.

alles liebe, klavier

Later that day - well into the evening, really - Apollo was eating dinner at his desk, rummaging through a hefty stack of police reports, when his laptop pinged, reminding him he had a scheduled video call that was about to start. Grinning, Apollo turned on his webcam, his heart pounding in anticipation. “Hey, Gavin. So, what do you think?”

“What do I think about - oh.” Klavier’s mouth fell open. “You’re...I didn’t think you were actually going to wear it.”

“Is, uh...is that a bad thing?” Apollo asked, suddenly nervous.

“Nein, nein, not at all! You look...achtung, you look good,” Klavier said hoarsely, swallowing. He then cleared his throat; his cheeks were flushed pink, much to Apollo’s delight. “Bitte, stand up for me? I want to see how long it is on you; it’s amazing you haven’t completely disappeared inside of it.”

“Asshole,” Apollo said affectionately, getting out of his chair and taking a few steps back so Klavier could see. He smoothed out the front of the hoodie, realizing belatedly that its hem only just grazed the tops of his bare thighs. “Er, don’t mind my legs. I-I’m wearing shorts underneath, I swear!”

“I don’t mind at all,” Klavier replied, cocking his head. His eyes were darkening, shining with something that Apollo couldn’t quite identify. “Have you worn it outside yet?”

“Nah, not yet. I was actually planning on wearing it to bed since it’s kinda cold, and this thing’s the biggest thing I have,” Apollo admitted, sitting back down. At Klavier’s exaggerated eyebrow raise, he groaned. “Shut up. Don’t make it weird.”

“I said nothing,” Klavier teased, dropping his chin into his hands. “So, did you like our care package? Trucy reached out to me on the same day you ran into that hündchen and asked if I had anything to contribute. I also sent Ema some old Gavinners’ merchandise, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh, I heard about it from her, alright,” Apollo chuckled, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Amazing how you manage to continue torturing her from several continents away. Maybe that’s your real talent.”

“To be fair, I was also the one who got her the beaker shot glasses and the glow-in-the-dark periodic table blanket,” Klavier pointed out, laughing as well. “I think all would be forgiven if she knew that was me.”

“So she gets new stuff and I get hand-me-downs, huh? I see how it is,” Apollo said, tucking his knees into his chest and yawning. “Seriously, though, thanks. This thing smells like that cologne of yours I don’t like.”

“And the backhanded compliments continue,” Klavier said, amused. “I hope you feel a little less homesick, at least.”

“Oh, I’m more homesick than ever,” Apollo snorted. “But I appreciate the care package, really! Having all this stuff here is amazing. It’s just...well. Stuff isn’t, uh...it’s not exactly a substitute for people, y’know?”

Klavier nodded thoughtfully, his smile sympathetic. Apollo took a moment to look at Klavier, to really look at him, and see how he was doing. He looked good; his skin had a glow to it, and his eyes and hair seemed to shine a little brighter than they had the very first time they’d talked. Klavier was bare-faced more often than not - aside from his tattooed eyebrows and eyelash extensions - though he seemed to be experimenting with his hair here and there, occasionally sporting different styles of ponytails, braids, and updos. It almost made Apollo forget how sullen he’d looked four months ago.

“Is that why you’re staring again?” Klavier asked, smirking. “Are you finally ready to admit you miss me, Forehead? That you miss my charming personality and my devastatingly good looks?”

“So what if I do?” Apollo huffed. He then frowned at Klavier’s wide eyes. “...what?”

“Nichts, it’s just - you do realize you just said you actually miss me, ja?” Klavier said disbelievingly. “Do you really mean it, or...or are you just saying that?”

“I-I...well.” Apollo shot him a small smile. “Yeah, Gavin, I miss you. Thought that was, uh. Kinda obvious by now.”

Klavier grinned victoriously; he looked seconds away from pumping his fist into the air. “Achtung, I knew it!”

“And the dorkiness continues,” Apollo said mockingly, rolling his eyes. “I mean it, how did you convince an entire generation of teenagers that you were cool? You go around saying crap like ‘let’s rock with these documents’ and ‘you have to get on up in order to get on down to prosecuting’ - are you an internationally-renowned rockstar, or an awkward dad trying to connect with his teenager through the power of classic rock? What’s next, Gavin, you gonna go buy a lawnmower and some cargo shorts? Fire up the grill and wear a kitschy apron?”

“Mein Gott, you’re vicious sometimes,” Klavier sighed, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Ich vermisse dich auch, by the way. I think I've been...a little more obvious than you.”

“Maybe,” Apollo hummed. “But hey, I’ll take it. It’s nice to feel appreciated for once.”

“When do you think you’ll be coming home?” Klavier asked.

“I’m, er...I’m not sure,” Apollo said hesitantly, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t think I was gonna be sticking around for this long to begin with, and now it’s...it’s gonna be the rest of the year, at least. Maybe even another year on top of that.”

“You...you think so?” Klavier’s voice was small. Nothing about his expression seemed remotely cheerful now.

“It’s not like I can leave whenever I want to,” Apollo shrugged, sighing. “Khura’in needs more defense attorneys before I could even begin to consider it, and that’s not gonna happen overnight. Not with their deeply ingrained feelings towards ‘em.”

“Wait - you’re not still in danger, are you?” Klavier asked worriedly, his voice suddenly filling with urgency. “No threats, no death sentences - ”

“I-I’m fine, Gavin, don’t worry,” Apollo reassured him. “It was a little touch-and-go there for a minute, back at the beginning, but everything’s fine now. Trust me, if something was going on, you would’ve heard about it earlier.”

“Gut,” Klavier said, satisfied. “After all, if something were to happen to you…” An odd expression flitted across his face, too quickly for Apollo to catch, though he had his suspicions. “Well. Trucy would be devastated, natürlich.”

“Right...just Trucy, huh?” Apollo murmured, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. “What about...oh, I dunno. Athena would be upset for sure. Can’t forget Mr. Wright, either.”

“Nein, definitely not,” Klavier said, clearing his throat. He paused before speaking again. “Forehead, do you ever wonder what Herr Wright really thinks of you?”

“Sure, all the time,” Apollo admitted. “We didn’t, uh...well, let’s just say we didn’t start off on the best foot, you know that. Why?”

“Because I do, too,” Klavier confessed. “Ach, I want to go the rest of my life not thinking about mein Bruder and all the lives he ruined, all the lives I helped him ruin, but - ”

“Gavin, that’s not what happened and you know it,” Apollo said gently. “And I’m not exactly sure how Mr. Wright feels about you, but I seriously doubt he still has a problem with you. He probably just feels a little, y’know, awkward. You guys went seven years without knowing the whole truth, after all.”

“Ich weiß, ich weiß, it’s just…” Klavier laughed bitterly. “...I’d like to go at least one day without worrying about what someone else thinks of me. Just one.”

Apollo suddenly found himself wishing he could reach through the screen and pull Klavier into his arms; it wasn’t the first time, and he knew it wasn’t going to be the last. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me. You already know what I think about you.”

“Do I really?” Klavier teased, though he still looked somewhat worried.

“Yeah, sure,” Apollo replied, smirking. “You’re the most insufferable person I’ve ever met. And, uh...I wouldn't have it any other way. I think.”

Klavier laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “You have a way with words, Forehead, you really do.”

“Thanks,” Apollo drawled, chuckling. “So, today’s case went about as well as expected - meaning it didn’t go well at all…”

_____

Khura’in was beautiful year-round, Apollo mused as he walked alongside the riverbank, but it was especially picturesque in the height of spring, during the month of May. He’d woken up unusually early today, especially given it was one of his very rare days off, not to mention the fact that he’d stayed up late last night, talking to Trucy, Athena, and Phoenix. For whatever reason, he had felt like taking his breakfast - anpan and a warm thermos of green tea - outside, while the sun was still rising. It was a peaceful backdrop for the start of what he hoped would be a peaceful day.

Yawning and stretching, Apollo dropped down to sit in the long grass, the worn-out toes of his boots grazing the water’s edge. He lifted his saddlebag off his shoulders and set it aside, raking his fingers through his hair. It was getting quite long in the back, he noted, but he didn’t care enough to cut it. Before he could take his first bite of his anpan, his phone started to ring. “...Gavin? What’s up, aren’t you going to bed soon?”

“I just wrote a song for the first time in ages, so I’m too alert to sleep at the moment,” Klavier admitted, his voice deeper and raspier than usual, sending shivers up Apollo’s spine. “I’m surprised you’re awake, too. It was only when I started calling you that I realized you were probably still in bed.”

“Felt like catching the sunrise for once.” Apollo turned on his phone camera, then switched it to the rear-facing one so Klavier could see what he was seeing. The entirety of Khura’in, it seemed, was momentarily bathed in a warm, yellow-orange glow. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“It’s wunderschön,” Klavier remarked, awed. “Almost makes me wish I was in Khura’in.”

“I wish you were here, too,” Apollo said quietly. His eyes then widened. “Er, I-I mean - ”

“...Apollo?” Groaning internally, Apollo fumbled with his phone, reluctantly switching to his front-facing camera so he could shoot Klavier a nervous smile. He could see now that Klavier had turned on his camera, too; he appeared to be sitting on his bedroom floor, leaning up against a window, his face illuminated by moonlight. Somehow, his blue eyes were even brighter in the darkness, the angles of his jaw and cheekbones sharpened by the shadows. Apollo’s breath hitched as he was momentarily rendered speechless. “Achtung, you still manage to surprise me after all this time.”

“I-I said nothing!” Apollo said hastily. “You’re - I - i-it’s early, I don’t know what I’m saying!”

“If you’re planning on staying for even longer, I really should come and visit, ja?” Klavier continued, his grin equal parts sleepy and teasing. “For one thing, I can finally make good on that massage I promised you, get all that stress and tension out of your body. I could also bring you more of my clothes, since you seem to really like that hoodie of mine.”

“What would you even do here, anyway?” Apollo asked, momentarily looking away so Klavier wouldn’t see how red his cheeks had gotten. “There’s no nightlife, barely any recreational activities...not to mention the wi-fi kinda sucks. Besides, it’s not like you’re allowed to prosecute in Khura’in.”

“Let me be your co-counsel,” Klavier offered. “After all, if Herr Blackquill can help Athena, why can’t I help you?”

“That...would be kinda interesting, actually,” Apollo admitted. “And where would you stay?”

“WIth you, natürlich,” Klavier replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “After all, if you want me there, I should be as close as possible. I’d make the perfekt roommate, you know. I can cook for you, clean for you...it’d be domestic, nein? Like I’m your stay-at-home husband or something.”

Apollo shivered again. Despite his distaste for his lyrics, Klavier certainly had a way with words. “You wouldn’t be...I dunno, bored out of your mind? Things are definitely slower here compared to California, you know.”

“The change of pace would be nice,” Klavier said diplomatically. “And I certainly wouldn’t complain about the company.”

“Well, uh, sorry to break up your super-specific fantasy, but I think I’m actually pretty close to getting out of here,” Apollo said, trying not to linger too much on his own mental picture of what Klavier had described. “Another few months, maybe? Six, at most. And since it’s sorta unknown, I wouldn’t recommend booking plane tickets anytime soon.”

“Really?” Klavier perked up. “You’re coming home? Have you told the others?”

“Yeah, I talked to ‘em last night,” Apollo said, setting his phone down by his bag so he could finally take his first bite of anpan. “It’ll be weird once I return, that’s for sure. I’ve been in Khura’in for exactly one year, right down to the day, but...well. It’s definitely grown on me, even with all my...my mixed feelings about it. Though I, um...I guess those mixed feelings are more about a person than a place, and he’s...he’s, well...you know.” He swallowed thickly, reaching for his thermos and taking a generous gulp of his tea.

“Any regrets?” Klavier asked softly.

“About Khura’in, or d’you mean in general?” Apollo asked, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his nervous laugh.

“However you’d like to interpret it,” Klavier said, gesturing aimlessly. “I can be generous sometimes.”

“Yeah, real philanthropist, you are,” Apollo retorted, chuckling. “Well, you know I’ve had days where, like. I feel like I shouldn’t have stayed behind, after all. Like I’m way in over my head, and..like I’m not...not good enough. Like I’m just winging this whole thing, which is scary, ‘cos it’s like the entire country’s future is in my hands, and I can’t just - I can’t improvise. I can’t make it up as I go along, I-I have to know it. Do it, be about it. Make it my whole life, you know?” He stopped to take a breath; the sympathetic crinkle of Klavier’s brow was more welcome this time. “But no, I don’t regret sticking around. I just wish I’d gotten some closure.”

“Closure?” Klavier echoed.

“Yeah, there’s...I’ve got stuff I wish I’d been able to do or, or say before I ended up living here for twelve months,” Apollo confessed. “It’s not like I knew I was moving here when I did, so...it’ll be nice to head back home and settle in and...and get all of that out of the way.” He took a few more bites of his anpan as they ruminated in their shared silence. “How about you? Any regrets about, well, anything?”

“Me?” Then, to Apollo’s surprise - though maybe not to his surprise, given all that had been said and done between the two of them, just the two of them - Klavier let out a bitter laugh. “Always.”

Apollo’s face softened. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly, nein,” Klavier said, visibly shuddering. “Just once, I’d like to not drag our conversation down. Ach, and I used to think you were the buzzkill. Now look at me, ja?”

“Don’t worry about it, Gavin,” Apollo insisted. “I get it, you - you feel things really intensely. I know that now, and, uh. Well, I do it, too. And we hold it all in and we don’t say anything ‘cos there’s bigger things to worry about, a-and then it’s like...like a dam breaks. Like everything just comes rushing at you all at once. There’s no way of stopping it, as much as you want to, and when it’s finally over...you never know how to feel about it. Because it’s not cut and dry, i-it’s not black-and-white, it’s just...it just is. So you move on, ‘cos there’s nothing else you can do about it, and you keep going. And then it starts all over again.” He let out an awkward laugh. “Or, uh, or maybe I’m just describing what a trial feels like.” Apollo glanced back at his phone, only to see Klavier staring at him in wonderment. “...er, too much?”

“Not at all, it’s just...you’re always full of surprises,” Klavier murmured; he almost sounded impressed. “That was incredibly astute, especially for you.”

Apollo wilted. “...thanks. Glad to know you think so highly of my intellect.” Still, Klavier’s warm laughter managed to get him to crack a smile. “So, you said something about writing a new song? How’d that go?”

“I had a burst of inspiration, you might say,” Klavier said, nodding. “Like my muse sat beside me on the piano bench and hummed a melody in my ear.”

“That sounds more creepy than anything else, but okay,” Apollo snorted. “Can I hear it?”

“Nein, not yet,” Klavier replied mysteriously. “When the time is right, ja? Besides, it’s...it’s a bit personal.”

Apollo shifted slightly in his spot. “Personal, huh?”

“It’s about...someone who means a lot to me, and something I’ve been meaning to say to them,” Klavier said carefully. “Because...I’ve been looking for closure, too. And possibly, if I do it right, I might also get a new beginning. Does that make sense?”

“It’s a little cheesy, but, uh, yeah. Makes sense.” Apollo pulled his knees into his chest, resting his chin on top of them with a quiet exhale. “Do I know this someone of yours?”

“Ja, definitely,” Klavier murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And they’re not mine, but...I want them to be.”

“I...I see.” Apollo felt his own pulse pounding in his ears, so loudly that he could barely hear his own voice. “Hey, Gavin, I - I wanted to - there’s something I’ve been wanting to say, and...and I…”

“What is it?” Klavier asked, sitting up, hopeful.

“Well, I...no, n-never mind.” Apollo cleared his throat. “Probably should, um. I should probably save it for when we see each other in person.” Klavier leaned back, disappointed. “Anyway, you, uh, you should probably sleep now if you wanna be awake enough for work. Unless you take the day off like I did.”

“I might actually consider it,” Klavier chuckled. “And we’ll talk tomorrow, ja? Or later today for you, I suppose.”

“Definitely,” Apollo confirmed, nodding.

Something in Klavier’s eyes seemed to shift then, something Apollo couldn’t quite understand. It happened more and more with each passing day, with every conversation, and Apollo wasn’t sure if he was ready to figure out what it meant, if it meant something other than what he hoped it meant. “Du siehst wunderschön aus in diesem licht.”

Apollo blinked. “Sorry?”

“Never mind,” Klavier said, a sleepy grin stretching across his face. “Guten Morgen to you, Herr Forehead.”

“And goodnight to you, Gavin,” Apollo replied, waving briefly before ending the call. He sat in silence for a few minutes, finishing his tea and enjoying the sun’s warmth. Then, he stood, stretching his arms over his head, and smoothed out the creases in his pants and what was now his oversized purple hoodie. “Someday,” he mumbled to himself, slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning back in the direction of the bazaar. “Just...not yet.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fifth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the second of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. However, as I mentioned in the top notes, day seven is a sequel to this one, so look out for it! This is the second-longest fic of all my Klapollo Week fics, and for good reason - I could've easily included an endless number of random conversations and made this fic twice as long if it weren't for the posting deadline. One of my favorite things about writing Klapollo is their back-and-forth, so I love writing fics where they simply just...talk, and hang out. And I know it's definitely a concept that's been done before, but someday, I wanna write my own version of "Klavier visits Apollo in Khura'in and they fall (more) in love". That might end up being my longest Klapollo fic yet 😜

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Shadow & Smoke***

Pablo Schreiber x Reader x Lewis Tan

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, SMUTTTT, DO NOT READ AT WORK

Words: 5k

Summary: Eh.  🤷🏽‍♀️

Note: So this is a mixture of two firsts for me. This was inspired by the song Mr. Man by Alicia Keys. How did I do? 

I hope you guys enjoy this. Thank you so much for reading!   ❤️ 

 If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT and REBLOG. ❤️❤️

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

 The nights were starting to blend together. It wasn’t that you were bored, but there was a routine in place that you’d become—too accustomed to. You were the type of woman who liked routine and normalcy, but you also liked the unpredictability that life sometimes offered. Being the girlfriend of one of the most, if not the most powerful and dangerous man in the city meant that you were always on his arm.

 Pablo liked to bring you along to business deals he needed to close. You thought it was to show you off, but it was really a more tactful reason than that. He did it to sift out who had the potential to be disloyal. His logic was if any of them dared to ogle you while he was there, then they’d have the balls to fuck him over in business.

“There’s a thin line between loyalty and disloyalty, and usually the deciding factor in it all came down to a pretty face.”

 If he wasn’t bringing you to handle business, you were being whisked to surprise shopping trips, extravagant trips, delectable eateries that charged a ridiculous amount of money for their dishes. Usually, every night, you were on his arm at one of his clubs as he showed his face and ate up all the adoration and respect one in his high position brought.

 You’d met him as a liquor sales rep almost four years ago. You walked into one of his clubs with the intent to convince him to purchase some of the alcohol you were peddling. From almost the minute he sat down, you were attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? The man was almost seven feet tall, built like no one’s business, had haunting hazel eyes, and such a hypnotizing aura around him. He spoke, you listened, he smiled you gawked, he licked his lips, you shifted in your seat.

 By the time you got up to leave the club, he’d bought you out of everything, easily meeting and exceeding your quota for the month. His reason was he had to have you free for him because he hated competition of any sort. That was when you got the first glimpse of the man he was—a force to be reckoned with. An hour after you left, he’d already called you and scheduled himself for dinner that night. One dinner led to lunch the next day, then dinner that night, and a whirlwind weekend trip to France where you found out just how much of a force to be reckoned with he was.

 Flash forward four years later, and your role in his life had only increased, and your understanding of his role in the city among the mayor, governor, senator, and other heavy hitters had fully sunk in. Pablo “Shadow” Schreiber was at the top of the food chain. Everyone was either terrified of him or wanted to be with him.

 “You look incredible tonight, sweetheart.”

 Glancing to your left, you found Pablo’s eyes. Within them, there was a hint of mischief as well as a whole lot of desire. You leaned close to his face leaving barely an inch.

 “You’re welcome to look, daddy,” you replied a little above a whisper.

 At the mention of that word, Pablo’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip as his eyes dropped to yours. Deciding to tease him, you trailed your tongue over your bottom lip, knowing that the long-wear lipstick you wore would stay in place. Pablo’s groan sounded closer to a growl, and with the sound, the heat in his eyes intensified.

 “Be careful, sweetheart.”

 “Boss.”

 Like clockwork, one of his henchmen interrupted. It was always a thing. The two of you would create this bubble of teasing and desire only to have it be popped by someone who needed something from him. You were attention-starved.

 Pablo looked from you and to Leo, his third. When Leo got his attention, he leaned down to whisper business. Rolling your eyes, you looked away and around the club. That was when you saw him. he was across the club leaning against the bar. In one hand, he held a drink and clasped between his pointer and middle finger was something rolled and lit. You couldn’t tell if it was a cigarette, a blunt, or something else.  Something said it was your second guess.

 You watched him raise the crystal glass to his lips. The smoke danced around his face creating an element of mystery that completely intrigued you.  From what you could see, he was checking out the club and the women inside. His eyes danced from one to the other, never resting long. Either none of them was what he liked, or he was searching for something—someone specific.

 When he brought the rolled substance to his lips, you watched as he took a long puff. Before he released it, his eyes moved to your area of the club. Clutching your drink glass, you watched him, unsure if he were looking at you. The stranger turned his body in your direction and slowly blew out the smoke. If he was mysterious before, he was now ten times so. Slowly the smoke cleared, and it was then you got a good look at his face. He was gorgeous.

 It had been a while since a face was able to stop you in your tracks. None had since Pablo’s. You lifted your glass to your lips and slowly drank down the Whiskey. The ice cubes in your glass gently bounced against your lip, giving you a slight chill as the heat of the alcohol deliciously burned you. As the liquid slinked down your throat, your eyes remained locked with the stranger at the bar.

 Time seemed to stop. The air became thick, so thick it was almost difficult for you to get a full breath. When you saw his tongue snake out to wet his lips, your eyes dropped to his mouth. A small smirk spread across his lips, and you could feel the smug coming off of him.

 Almost unconsciously, your tongue peaked out of your mouth and slowly traced the path around the rim of your glass. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Dipping your tongue into the glass, you used it to scoop up an ice cube to suck on. Gone was that small smirk. It was now a full-on grin. He was sexy, and though you knew you shouldn't be doing this, especially with Pablo right beside you, you couldn’t help it. He’d left you wanting for too long.

 Once the ice cube had melted, you looked away. His eyes were too hypnotizing, and the longer you looked into them, the more you wanted to risk Pablo’s wrath. Pablo gently rubbed your exposed thigh before he got up and walked off with Leo and Laith. You’d learned early that he was always busy, and his free time was not as plentiful as one would think a boss’s would be. You’d also learned that everything in his life took balance. You must have gotten spoiled when you were his top priority for the first two years.

 He went above and beyond, ensuring that you knew your value to him. He went to great lengths to make sure you felt special, loved, and prized above all else. He did this with small, romantic gestures as well as grand displays and deeply satisfying intimate moments. By year three, he’d incorporated more and more work, more and more business trips. Every month he was on a plane. Depending on the reason for the trip, you’d be right beside him on the private jet, but four out of ten times, you were left under the watchful eye of Levi, his brother.

 Pablo looked back at you as he walked off. The look spoke volumes, and it was loud. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the glass he left behind and finished it. The music in the club and the patrons were your only entertainment for a while. When you looked back to the bar, the stranger was gone. You were left with an annoyed feeling that mixed with your slight arousal. You made a note to give Pablo an earful once you got home. If he was hell-bent on keeping you around, he’d better start acting like it.

 After twenty or so minutes, you’d had six fingers of Whiskey, and you were feeling better than a little nice. You were still alone at your table under the watchful eye of two of Pablo’s henchmen. Every so often, when a song came on that you liked, you got up and made your way to the VIP dancefloor. This was where the girls of the men Pablo employed hung out. You never mixed with them. You always got the feeling they either didn’t like you, or they wanted to be you--literally. Whatever it was, it always made you uncomfortable.

 “It’s both.”

 You looked back and found Danika, Levi’s long time girlfriend. The figure-hugging white dress she wore clung to her like a second skin. It matched perfectly with her ankle strap silver heels. She winded her hips to the music and smiled widely.

 “When did you get here?”

 “Maybe five minutes ago. Levi couldn’t allow me one night of quiet,” she informed.

 You closed the space to her. The two of you kissed cheeks like bougie wives did, only it wasn’t fake with the two of you. she and Levi had gotten together about the same time you and Pablo got together, and both of you found solace in each other because you both could relate to what the other was going through. When you were left alone because of Pablo’s trips, more times than not, she would be too because Levi would go as well.

 “They don’t like you, and they want to be you. it’s the same with me.”

 The two of you glanced at the group of girls huddled to your right and simultaneously rolled your eyes.

 “They think if we weren’t in the picture that Levi and Pablo would fuck them,” Danika voiced louder then necessary. She was putting them on notice.

 “Not knowing that even if we weren’t in the picture, they’d never look twice at them. There’s filet mignon, and there’s Kobe beef. Why chew on filet mignon when Kobe melts in your mouth?”

 The girls were trying not to look at you, but you knew they heard her. Danika had no chill and always spoke her mind. Pablo always thought that when you were together that you wouldn’t get into too much trouble. Little did he know Danika was not the angel she pretended to be. She’d gotten you into your fair share of trouble—trouble he knew about and trouble he didn’t.

 The two of you danced together when the song changed and played off each other. In no time, it was as if no one else in the club mattered. While you were wrapped up in the song and the buzz you were feeling from the Whiskey, you saw him again from the corner of your eye. This time he was in a shaded part of the club that was cloaked in dark color. The hues of red and purple decorated his skin but illuminated it enough for you to make out some of the detail. He was incredibly handsome.

 Before you knew it, you were dancing with Danika while eye fucking the man. You didn’t know what the hell had come over you. Never in the four years had you behaved like this with anyone else but Pablo. He was the only one who could bring out this wanton side of you—or so you thought. When Danika shrieked out with the change of the song, you looked away from him. You began to wonder if you should make a move.

 Glancing around the club, you clocked each of Pablo’s henchmen. His brother, Levi, his number two, was sitting watching Danika, who was now undressing him with her eyes. You knew any minute she’d go over, and they’d be practically fucking in the club. Danika pulled you close to her and whispered.

 “You have an audience.”

 Glancing at her, she coyly nodded her head over to the stranger. You tried not to smile, but it was useless.

 “Ah, you’ve noticed. He’s cute.”

 “D, stop.”

 “Why? It’s true.”

 You giggled and rolled your eyes but took a quick peek in his direction again. His eyes hadn’t left you.

 “I can distract Levi if you want to--.” She winked.

 “D! Stop it! That’s insane.”

 “Why? You’re not dead. Plus, what Shadow doesn’t know--,” she trailed.

 This was the kind of trouble Danika was good for. She was like the devil on your shoulder. You knew she’d fooled around on Levi and had heard stories of the fooling around Levi occasionally did when he felt that itch. Neither were stupid, but both were crazy, so they kept their misdealings on the low. You, on the other hand, had never fooled around behind Pablo’s back. You never had a reason to.

 As your eyes met the gorgeous stranger’s again, you bit your bottom lip. Until now, you thought. You caught the eye of Pablo walking back to the table. Leo was still beside him, yapping away, but he also had two other men surrounding him. he was still talking shop. Annoyance flared through you with a vengeance. Danika walked to Levi and sat on his lap before her lips met his. You walked back to the table and sat. You felt his eyes on you with every step you took.

You sat beside Pablo and tried to get past the unexpected thoughts you were having. Five minutes passed, but still, the thoughts persisted. When you looked up, the stranger was again in the shadows. Fuck it, you thought before you stood and took a step.

 “Where you going, sweetheart?”

 Painting a sugary smile on you responded. “Bathroom, baby.”

 Pablo nodded, but you felt him watching you. He was a secure man, but he was a possessive one. You walked through the crowd; all the while sneaking peeks at the stranger. You turned the corner and walked down the dark corridor that led to the bathroom. You knew this club like the back of your hand.

 Once inside the bathroom, you stood in front of the mirror and focused on toying with your hair. By the time you got to twelve, the door had opened, and in walked the stranger. You locked eyes from the mirror, and you damn near buckled. He was even more beautiful than you thought. His eyes were so brown and so damn penetrative that you decided to have his face between your thighs then and there.

 As if reading your thoughts, he locked the door and, in the same breath, pushed up behind you. You could feel his hardness pressing into your ass. His hands gripped your body, one at your breast, the other at your hip. The way he held you felt possessive like he owned you. The only one to have ever held you like that was Pablo. This was a man who knew what he wanted and took it. Pablo was that caliber of a man as well. It was intoxicating.

 His lips fastened onto your neck and immediately found your spot. When you felt his teeth graze your skin, you pulled away and glared at him through the mirror. Another smirk spread across his face. In seconds he’d had you turned around so you faced him. When his lips crashed to yours, he wasted no time delving his tongue into your mouth. Almost instantly, he took control of the kiss, and almost instantly, your lacy thong was drenched.  

 As if sensing this, you felt his fingers graze your inner thigh until it connected with your sex. You gasped on his mouth, which permitted him even more access to your mouth. Fuck, you thought. You were losing control of this situation. Pulling your lips from his, you looked at him. The fire in his eyes had heat rushing through you. You watched as he slipped his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off. Once his fingers were clean, he moaned.

 “You’re as sweet as you look.”

 Grabbing his shirt, you pulled him to you, but instead of claiming his lips, you began pushing his head lower. He knew what you wanted. In seconds he hoisted you into his arms and began lifting you higher into the air as if you weighed an ounce. One he’d placed you on his shoulders, he used his teeth to pull your thong to the side before he began his feast.

 “Fuck!”

 Slapping your hand across your mouth, you groaned and mumbled another curse into your palm. It was clear from the start he had no intention of going slow. The fast flicks of his tongue had your back arching, and the soft nibbles he dropped in had your free hand tangling in his hair. When you felt your back press onto the cold surface of the bathroom, you moaned again. You didn’t dare remove your hand from your mouth. You didn’t trust yourself. The stranger between your legs used both his hands and pried your thighs apart, so he was holding you against the wall spread like French doors.

 The thick pad of his tongue slowly licked you from opening to clit. When he got to your clit he sucked it into his mouth. He wasn’t gentle, and the increase in suction had you feeling the first stirs of your orgasm.

 “Yes, yes, right there. Fuck! Oh my god!”

 Feeling a scream coming, you plastered both your hands across your mouth to lessen the volume. He dipped his tongue into your core, and you lost your shit right then and there. When you began shaking, he didn’t slow down. He picked up the pace. You couldn’t believe someone could fuck a pussy with their tongue so quickly. After every three or four dips, he sucked your clit into his mouth as if he was a hoover vacuum.

 Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you knew you were seconds from coming. Without warning, you gripped his head and hugged it to your sex as you came. He moaned and slurped your flesh, accepting every drop you gave.

 “Shit, shit, Shiiiit!”

 If anyone busted the door down, you would have the hardest time explaining this away. There would be no way. Slowly his lips and tongue slowed their devil work, allowing you to come down. As if to keep you on your toes, he nibbled your clit every so often. The action always had you gasping, gripping his hair tighter and arching back every so slightly to finish with a satisfied moan.

 When he pulled his face back, his jaw was drenched, and there was a glistening layer of your juices outlining his mouth.

 “A man could get drunk off this sweet pussy, sugar lips.”

 Jesus Christ, you thought as new wetness with fresh arousal washed through you. His eyes dipped between your legs, and a grin spread across his face.

 “Wet for me again already?”

 Your gear watched vibrated, indicating you’d gotten a message. Glancing at it, you saw Danika’s message.

 MSG D: You have twenty seconds to get back, or your cover is kaput.

 “Fuck,” you groaned under your breath as you began wriggling in his arms.

 He lowered you to the floor then stepped back, giving you a little space. You fixed yourself as best you could and tried to ignore the wetness between your legs.

 “I take it reciprocity is dead.”

 You looked at him and dropped your eyes to see him holding his crotch. He was mouthwateringly hard. Part of you wanted to see what he was concealing behind those pants, but if you were caught, you knew Pablo would beat him to a pulp or worse.

 “Unfortunately, there’s no time. Thank you though, I really needed that.”

 You walked to the door, and as you passed him, you gently tapped his cheek.

 “Glad I could be of service.”

 You quickly rushed out the bathroom, and down the corridor, you’d walked down back to the main hall of the club. As you rounded the corner, you met three of Pablo’s men.

 “Everything okay?”

 “Perfect,” you answered with a smile before you pushed past them to make your way back over to Pablo, relishing in the decrease of tension in your body. It had been too long, indeed.

 The rest of the night progressed as it usually did. Pablo finished up the business thirty or so minutes before you left. The beautiful stranger with the skillful mouth was nowhere to be found. The two of you then made your way home. While in the car, Pablo’s hand found the space between your thighs.

 “I’m sorry about tonight.”

 “You know if work is the only important thing to you, then maybe we need to have a conversation about where that leaves us.”

 His grip tightened, making you flinch.

 “Y/N, come on,” Pablo began.

 “You haven't touched me in almost two months. If you’re not fucking me, who are you fucking?”

 Your words were laced with hidden poison. He knew it. Instead of speaking again, you both remained silent.

 When the car pulled up to your half a block townhouse, you walked ahead of him as he got updates from his men posted around the property. You were still pretty relaxed from your bathroom tryst, but you were angry with him as well. Once you made it to your shared bedroom, you stripped and got into the shower.

 A little less than halfway through, you felt Pablo’s hands around your midsection. Ignoring him, you continued soaping your body and paid no mind to his growing appendage that was pressing into your back. When you were out of heels, he towered over you like a giant. He kissed your neck and down to your shoulder then brought his lips back to your neck. He knew what he was doing, and he knew you knew as well.

 Pablo’s hand crept down your stomach to where your thighs met.

 “Pablo--,” you warned.

 “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know I’ve been neglecting you. I’m sorry.”

Slowly his finger circled your clit, and it didn’t take long for your desire for him to unfurl.

 “Let me make it up to you,” Pablo whispered before he turned you to him. he kissed you with heat, passion, and intensity, all of which you felt tonight in that bathroom. In seconds Pablo had lifted you into his arms to his height and lowered you onto his throbbing cock.

 Both of you sighed, but the moment of savoring was short. Pablo took control of your body, moving you along his length with expert strength. People didn’t fear him for no reason. He was a beast of a man in stature and disposition. What started as slow deep strokes turned to frenzied shallow thrusts. You knew then this was not going to be a tender reacquaintance of your bodies. It was going to be the opposite.

 Pablo pressed you against the tile of the shower and dipped his tongue into your mouth to entangle with yours. His kiss commanded your surrender. You knew when you gave in, you wouldn’t be disappointed, so you did. Pablo groaned once he felt your surrender. It was then he sunk into your heat to the hilt. The scream you let out was loud, and it only fueled him further.

 Pablo pounded into you. Each time your bodies connected, the force of his stroke had your body bouncing up only to drop back onto his searing cock.

 “Fuuuuuck, daddy!”

 A growl escaped him before he turned and walked out of the shower to bring you back to your bed. When he dropped you onto the sheets, he flipped you onto your stomach and slammed back into you.

 “Aaaah!”

 “Mmm. Daddy missed you, sweetheart!”

 His voice was tender, but the way he pummeled your pussy spoke of something else. He was on a mission.

 “Don’t ever say that shit to me again. do you understand?”

 No words. Not liking it, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back so your back had the perfect inward arch.

 “I can’t hear you, sweetheart. Do you—understand?”

 You vigorously nodded. He was so deep you couldn’t muster any words.

 “Words, Y/N.”

 “Yes, daddy. Yes!”

 “Good girl.”

 As if this was a reward for your compliance, he rotated his hips, so you felt every inch of his desire as it marked every crevice inside of you. You doubted anyone had ever made you feel this good.

 Your moans, pants, and groans melded together. The sounds filled your room, and you knew anyone outside could hear you. It turned Pablo on even more to know that everyone could hear how good he was fucking you. You didn’t care who knew how good he made you feel. When he began jackhammering into you, you saw stars and clenched around him as your orgasm violently ripped through you.

 “Fuck me!”

 On command, he did just that to the point where you became hoarse, and you didn’t know what day it was. When you couldn’t take another orgasm, you dropped to the bed, but Pablo kept plowing into you. His stoked became sloppy, and you knew he was close. When he came, he grunted loudly, nearly terrifying you with the loudness of it. He thrust forward as if he were trying to rip you apart. The feel of his love inside of your canal nudged you over the edge to your final release. Pablo dropped kisses along your back before he rolled off of you to lie on his back. That was how the two of you fell asleep. Both too exhausted to even cover yourselves.

 The next day when you woke up, your body hummed with satisfaction. After checking your messages and emails, you took a quick shower and wrapped in one of your robes, then made your way down to breakfast. You were starving. It was a regular sight to see several of Pablo’s men through the house; you never batted an eye to it. Often times, they spoke and nodded their heads in respect as you passed, and you always reciprocated that politeness. There was no need to be a bitch.

 When you made it to the dining room, you saw Pablo already sitting there.  When he saw you, he smiled softly. You walked over to him and bent, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. When you began to back away, he dropped his hand to your ass and held you there to deepen the kiss. You both moaned quickly, getting lost in each other. All was forgiven.

 “Good morning, sweetheart.”

 “Good morning, baby.” Pablo kissed you once more, and as you were moving to the seat beside him, he pulled you to the space in front of him on the table. Your ass had the china clattering loudly.

 “What’re you doing?”

 “I’m hungry.”

 That was all he said before he pushed you back onto the table and spread your thighs.

 “Pablo--,” you began before the rest of your sentence fluttered away once his lips connected with your sex.

 A soft moan escaped you, and any protest faded. You rested on your elbows and enjoyed the feel of him between your thighs.

 “Mmmm, yes, baby. Fuck, that feels so good.”

 Pablo knew just what to do to set you on fire and what to do to tease you. he was in the mood to tease you. After a few minutes of teasing, you wanted more and had no problem letting him know. You gripped his head, held his hair, and began rocking your sex across his mouth. Pablo moaned and allowed you to use his face to your delight. Every few swipes, he slurped your flesh, sending shivers through your body and bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

 “Mmm, yes, daddy, right there.” You looked at him, and your eyes met. The man was temptation. His hand crept up to grip your breast as he forcefully sucked your clit into his mouth.

 The action had you remembering the bathroom at the club.

 “Mmm, shit, baby. You’re gonna make me come.”

 You bucked across his mouth and closed your eyes to fully enjoy the pleasure he was giving you. In a matter of seconds, Pablo’s intent shifted from teasing, and seconds later, you were coming. He moaned and lapped up every drop.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

 “Wow, when you said to come over for breakfast, I thought you meant pancakes and eggs, not sugar and spice.”

 Your eyes flew open at the new voice. From upside down, you couldn’t believe your eyes. You closed them and opened again, but the sight was the same.

 “Around here, sugar and spice is the only thing ever on the menu,” Pablo replied.

 He kissed your inner thigh then tapped it. Snapping out of your frozen state, you sat up, fixed yourself, and chanced a look back. As sure as the sun was shining, the stranger from last night was standing at the other end of the table with a satisfied grin on his face.

 “You took your time getting over here,” Pablo said as he walked over to him.

 You watched the two men embrace as manly men did. The whole time you stood there, stunned and speechless. Your boyfriend was chatting up and laughing with the man you’d allowed to bury his face between your thighs.

 “Come here, sweetheart.”

 On shaky legs, you walked to the two men, all the while gripping the collar of your robe.

 “Y/N, meet my best friend, the one man I trust with everything next to Levi,” Pablo informed. With every word, your eyes widened.

 The stranger held his hand out to you with a smile. “Lewis,” he said.

 Fighting the shock, you took his hand and shook it. “Although the pleasure is all yours, I’m glad to finally meet you,” Lewis teased. You knew his words had a double meaning. Instead of speaking of it being nice to meet him too, the only thing in your head was the repetitive thought. 

You’re fucked.

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

Lee’s Note: Hopefully this was good, I’m still trying to find my groove again. How was this intro to Lewis and Pablo?  😬

[i-am-dead-inside-666]

Apologies

Steve/Tony(+Bucky)

Summary: Steve and Tony make up and a cute stuckony moment. Wow that’s a crap summary.

Warnings: some angst I guess but mostly fluff. Bad language.

Please don’t post this on other platforms without my permission. Thanks 😊

Nobody cared. Tony knew that, he'd been hiding in his lab for six days now, not coming up for showers or to sleep, barely eating. The only regular schedule he kept to was the hourly coffee renewal. Cold coffee reminded him too much of lazy mornings with.. Steve... soft cuddles and whispered nothings, mugs forgotten on their side tables.

He hadn't seen another human in over a week. He'd passed out in the lab several times, from lack of food and drink, or just pure sleep-deprivation, he didn't know.

Nobody had been to check on him, because that had always been Steve.

He'd always been there to pick him up, striding into his lab with confidence that only Captain America could hold. Sweeping Tony's exhausted body against his chest, he'd carry him up to their bedroom, where he'd hold him tightly in his arms until Tony felt a little bit less broken than before.

But Steve wasn't there anymore, no one was.

So he huddled in the tiny gap under his desk, his stomach twisted into so many knots that he could barely breath. His hands pulling at his hair, as though they had a mind of their own, his nails clawing painfully at his scalp.

His chest was hurting so badly, and he wasn't sure whether it was from where Steve had slammed his shield through the arc reactor, or the fact that it was Steve that slammed his shield through the arc reactor.

He loved Steve so much, and the pain at him abandoning him, like everybody else in his life, it made him feel completely worthless.

A low whirring noise dragged him from his thoughts, forcing himself to relax his hands, he loosened the grip he had on his hair and looked up. Through teary eyes, he watched as Dum-E nudged his chair out of the way and rolled closer to him.

"hey Dum-E." Tony managed to whisper, a small smile stretching his cracked lips. The robot cocked his claw, almost like someone would do when they were confused, then he pushed forwards until Tony reluctantly lifted his arm up and let the robot nuzzle against his side.

"...I know.. I miss him too." His trembling voice was barely heard audible over the blaring music that he was definitely not using to try and drown out his self-destructive thoughts.

Squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to stop anymore tears from escaping, he twisted his fingers back into his hair and tucked his head back between his knees.

————————————————————

"I don't want to be here long, I'm just grabbing some stuff." Steve muttered, more to himself than to Bucky as he hurriedly grabbed clothes from the wardrobe he and Tony used to share.

"Yeah whatever punk." Bucky answered, absentmindedly glancing around the room. His gaze settled on the neatly made double bed, too neat. His brow furrowed and he stepped forward, Steve was too busy rummaging through something to notice him.

He let his metal fingers trail lightly over the bed covers, concerned at the layer of dust that had accumulated there. There were two bedside tables, one on each side of the bed, in various states of disarray.

The one on the opposite side of the bed must have been Steve's, as he could see several half finished drawings scattered by the base of the lamp.

However it was the one nearest to him that drew his attention, it was much much messier than Steve's. There were several coffee stains on the surface, and Bucky couldn't help but roll his eyes, coffee was apparently the only thing the genius ever drank.

He was vaguely aware of the other objects cluttering the table, but his gaze was fixed on the nondescript flip phone, placed with almost inhuman precision so that it lined up perfectly with the frame of a picture.

The frame was facedown on the side table so that the picture it contained couldn't be seen. Glancing over his shoulder to check what Steve was doing, he had practically climbed half way inside the wardrobe, making Bucky grin despite himself.

Turning back to the bedside table, he ever so gently lifted the frame up, gasping softly at the beautiful scene captured behind the glass.

Steve and Tony, both in perfectly tailored suits, posed for the camera, the former holding the latter bridal style with ease. Bucky's heart fluttered at the dopey smile on Steve's face as Tony planted a firm kiss on his cheek.

Both of them had their left hands thrust towards the camera and Bucky's breath caught in his throat, matching silver bands glinted on their fourth fingers. Steve never told him he and Tony were actually married.

Confetti rained around the happy couple, a mix of red, blue and gold, celebrating the colours of the two superheroes. The confetti was suspended in the air around the two, reminding Bucky that that's what this was, a special moment from the past, from a happier time.

His ears pricked suddenly, detecting the slight increase in Steve's breathing, decades of living as the Winter Soldier had given him unparalleled senses.

He turned, the frame still clutched tightly in his new metal arm that had been anonymously delivered to him and Steve's hideout. The moment Steve had opened the package, he'd burst into tears and refused to leave his room for three hours. Yet he still insisted that Bucky use the arm, even if his smile strained slightly every time he set eyes on it.

Steve's face was almost as pale as Bucky remember it from the 40s, coupled with his wide eyed stare and trembling hands, he could almost believe they were the same person.

"I'm sorry I- I was just- looking." He anxiously tried to explain, gesturing half heartedly towards the messy side table.

The blonde blinked slowly, as if pulling himself from the depths of a dream, "It's.... fine." He waved away Bucky's poor attempt at an explanation, trying to hide the way his voice cracked.

"No it isn't." Bucky replied in a much more measured tone, gauging his friends reaction. Steve's jaw went from slack to so tight that Bucky was afraid he heard his teeth crack.

"Everything is fine." He ground out, stiffly turning back to his suitcase and aggressively beginning to stuff everything he'd pulled out of the wardrobe into it.

"You didn't tell me you guys were married."

The only response he got was a shrug and a murmur he could barely make out. "wasn't important."

Bucky sighed, gently placing the picture back down, upright this time. He made his way to the end of the bed and perched there, softly tugging on Steve's shoulder until he huffed and joined him, falling heavily onto the bed.

Back in the tower, back in this room, back on this bed, all the memories Steve had been suppressing came rushing back to the front of his mind. Almost without thinking, he leant his head down to rest on Bucky's shoulder.

He couldn't help but miss the feel of Tony's, softer and lower, Buck's were.... harder, tough cords of muscles beneath his shirt. Both were comforting and familiar, but he couldn't have both... could he?

The former Winter Soldier was momentarily taken aback by the sudden contact, and he stiffened. He couldn't help it, seventy years of being conditioned to fear human touch.

A pang of guilt shot through him, as he could tell he'd managed to make Steve feel worse because as soon as he realised he'd tensed up, Steve had bolted upright, like a child caught doing something wrong.

Quickly wiping his tears from his cheeks, he mumbled, "M'sorry, I shouldn't have brought you here Buck, we can leave.. I'll send Nat to grab my stuff later."

Knowing he'd crossed some sort of line, Bucky simply nodded, watching from the bed as Steve returned to rooting through the chest of drawers.

Finally, curiosity got the best of him, "Watcha looking for now?"

"My dog tags." Steve muttered, slamming his fist on to the drawers, wincing at the audible crunch. "I- I gave them to Tony." He swallowed thickly, "But they aren't here."

"Where else could they be? The kitchen? The-"

"Lab!" Steve exclaimed, finishing Bucky's sentence for him. "Fuck." He swore, clenching his fists tightly to stop himself from punching something, anything.

"Then go get 'em." Bucky prompted, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes as Steve's jaw practically fell open.

"Wh-what?!" He spluttered, "You- want me- to go up to my husband who I left and- and- say hey, uh- yeah, sorry to intrude, but you know that really important meaningful thing I gave you- yeah- I want them back." Steve raised his voice to a dramatically high pitch, earning another low sigh from his exasperated boyfriend/friend whatever they were.

"Do you love him?" Steve's eyes practically fell out of his head at the question, shifting slightly on the bed Bucky continued, "Lemme rephrase, do you love him more than you love me?"

"I- what?!"

"I see the way you look at him. You.. you don't look at me like that." He continued, wincing as Steve's features contorted in pain.

"Buck I-"

The brunet stood up so that the two were eye level, even that jarred Steve for a moment, his words dying in his throat, he was so used to looking down....

"-don't feel bad," Steve frowned, forcing himself to stop thinking about Tony, to focus on Bucky's next words.

"I- I've been wanting to talk to you about this anyway.." Bucky trailed off, thinking about how to phrase his next sentence, "I know we used to talk about us back in the forties, and- it really is a dream come true that we got a chance to figure- this-" he gestured between them, "out, but- you aren't- you aren't happy with me.."

Glancing sadly back at the photo, he couldn't help the low sigh that left his lips, "You love Stark- Tony." He corrected himself.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Steve pressed his palms against his temples. "You're right!" He yelled, "But you're also wrong! So fucking wrong!"

The vein in his jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth, alerting Bucky to just how annoyed he was. "I'm... wrong?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yes I love Tony! But I also love you! And- and- I can't choose!"

"Well maybe you don't have to.." Bucky thought out loud, Steve's gaze snapped towards him.

"What?"

Bucky shook his head, "Nothing, it doesn't matter, just- go talk to him you punk."

A bittersweet smile creep crept up Steve's face, "Shut up jerk." He retorted, making his way to the door, he paused for a moment in the doorway, hesitating. Impatiently, Bucky waved him away, ignoring Steve as he rolled his eyes.

Thoughts raced through Steve's head at a million miles an hour as he walked down the hall, what if Tony didn't want to see him, what if he was mad at him, hell, if Steve were him he'd be mad at himself-

He was at the doors to the lab way before he was prepared, he could already hear Tony's music through the doors.

Steve didn't realise his fists were clenched until he forced himself to relax, exhaling sharply as he examined the crescent shaped indents in his palms.

Taking a shaky breath to steady himself, he cast his eyes towards the ceiling, an old habit that he could never shake. "Ja- Friday? Could- um- could you let me in please?"

"I'm sorry Captain Rogers, Mr Stark has removed you from the system. I am unable to grant you access to the lab."

Steve's frown deepened, what could he do now? Break the door down?

Friday's smooth voice interrupted his internal monologue, "Although, if the door to the lab was accidentally left unlocked, technically I wouldn't be allowing you access."

A small grin lit Steve's face up, "I knew I liked you." He chuckled under his breath, tugging on the door which slid open with ease.

"Tony? Are you here?" Steve asked hesitantly, as he stepped into the room, his words nearly inaudible over the music.

His gaze swept over the empty room, he waited a moment before moving towards the bombsight of a desk opposite him. He subconsciously kept his footsteps light, a habit he'd picked up trying not to wake Tony if he'd fallen asleep in the lab.

He reached the desk, glancing over the papers scattered across it, he paused as he recognised the blueprints for Bucky's new arm.

Tearing his eyes away, he was almost ready to pack it in and leave, but as he turned, his enhanced eyesight caught the sliver of steam rising from the coffee mug.

The line between his brows deepened and he let his knuckles drag across the porcelain, nearly hissing at the heat. Since when did Tony drink his coffee that hot?

Then it hit him. Hot coffee, Tony must still be here, he wouldn't have been able to sneak past Steve. A low sigh slipped through his lips, he knew exactly where Tony was.

Rounding the desk, he gently pushed the chair to the side, crouching down to peer into the foot space beneath the desk.

What he saw made his heart shatter and his eyes well with tears. Sure he'd seen tony like this before, huddled beneath his desk, shaking, crying, pulling his hair hard enough to keep him grounded.. and every time he saw him like that, his chest ached, but this time, this time he knew that he had caused this, Tony was in pain because of him, and that hurt.

Tony's grip on his dark locks loosened, and he turned towards the sound of Steve's voice, his watery eyes widened, "Steve?"

Hearing Tony's broken voice was the last straw and the tears he'd previously managed to hold back fell from Steve's baby blue eyes, spilling down his pale cheeks.

"You're not real." Tony finally mumbled, pressing his palms over his eyes and shaking his head. Steve barely heard his whisper, but he did, and his hand tightened, his fingers pressing dents into the desk where he gripped it.

"Friday. Pause the music." He growled, anger at himself seeping into his tone. Tony looked up at the sudden silence, his stare blank as he seemed to look straight through Steve.

His gaze sharpened suddenly, bloodshot eyes meeting Steve's with such intensity that the super soldier nearly flinched. "I know you're not real!" He snapped, "Now get out of my head."

Tony waved his hand in dismissal, mere centimetres from Steve's nose. He made an attempt to crawl out from under the desk, nearly tripping over Dum-E. Steve quickly moved backwards out of his way, watching Tony as he stood up and attempted to straighten his clothes.

The brunet refused to look in Steve's direction, he simply offered a small smile to Dum-E. Steve jumped up as Tony turned to walk towards a separate bench, picking up a small and hunching forward over a delicate piece of machinery.

"Tony- please.. I really am here." Steve tried again, desperation creeping into his voice. Tony hesitated, sure, he'd hallucinated seeing Steve before, but never like this, it never hurt as much as this.

He turned slowly, screwdriver still clutched tightly in his fist, his fingernails pressing deep enough into his palms to draw blood as he cautiously stepped towards his husband.

He was on edge, waiting for this hallucination of Steve to turn on him, slam his shield into his chest, say something horribly hurtful and horribly true or simply wait until he could almost touch him, and then vanish.

Steve's eyes flicked between the sharp object Tony was gripping like a lifeline, and his face, so full of pain and hurt that Steve's stomach twisted with guilt. Not wanting to scare the skittish engineer, he froze.

Tony bit his lip as he edged nearer, taking in Steve's rigid posture, neither of them even dared to breath.

The hand that wasn't gripping his screwdriver moved, almost subconsciously towards Steve's face, trembling as his fingers followed the sharp line of his jaw. A frown creased his brows at the rough stubble there, the screwdriver slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor, although neither of them acknowledged it.

"You're really here?" He asked, uncertainty making his voice waver slightly. Steve nodded slowly, searching Tony's deep brown eyes for any hint of forgiveness or understanding, "I'm here Tones."

"Don't. Call. Me. That." Tony hissed, withdrawing his hand suddenly. He tore his eyes from Steve's, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I don't care if you're really here! Get the fuck out of my lab!"

"Tony-" Steve corrected himself, "Don't push me away- I swear I feel so bad about- about Siberia-" he cringed as soon as the word left his mouth, leaving a bitter taste in its wake.

Shivers shook Tony's body, spreading out from between his shoulder blades as every single memory he'd been struggling to repress came flooding back.

His parents. He was looking at his parents, after so long, he'd nearly forgotten what they looked like, how beautiful his mum was.

He knew what was coming, but he couldn't help but flinch as the car careened off the road, smashing into a tree.

He watched, barely breathing as The Winter Soldier ripped his life apart. Hatred burned like acid in his stomach, but not towards Bucky, not even towards The Winter Soldier, but towards himself.

For nearly thirty years, he'd hated his father, hated him for every time he was 'too busy' to spend time with him.

Hated him for every time he compared him to Steve.

Hated him for drinking that little bit too much and slapping him around.

But all that blame for his mother's death, was completely misplaced. Tony's heart ached as he recalled his fathers last words from the video.

"Maria- my wife- please help my wife..... Sergeant Barnes?"

"-ny- breathe- come on- follow my breathing." Steve's voice cut through Tony's panic and he realised that he could feel the steady thrum of a heartbeat beneath his fingers.

Biting back sobs, Steve pulled Tony's body against his chest, moving slightly so that Tony's head could rest against his broad shoulder.

"Come on Tony, I'm sorry- you're in the lab with me. Remember. Follow my breathing." The feel of Steve's warm, familiar shape wrapped around him comforted Tony as he struggled to control his erratic heart and heavy breathing.

"I'm sorry- please don't leave me- stay please- I don't wanna.. don't wanna be alone-" Tony mumbled, eyes still unfocused and slightly glazed.

"No- I'm sorry Tony. I- I screwed up big time." Slowly, Tony's breathing evened, but he let quiet, listening to Steve's explanation.

"Me and Buck weren't exactly accepted in the 40s. So we stopped ourselves, pretended we didn't have feelings for each other. And then I went into the ice and I thought I'd never see him again."

He sighed heavily, subconsciously running his hand down Tony's side, "I really love you baby, I swear I thought I'd completely moved on. But then he came back." Steve's face twisted into a grimace, "And all those old feelings came flooding back- an' I couldn't lose him again-"

His voice broke at the end, and he dropped his head into the crook of Tony's neck, his shoulders shaking.

"I'm sorry." He cried, tears soaking through Tony's T-shirt. Blinking back his own tears, Tony carefully extricated himself from Steve's tight embrace. He didn't pull away entirely though, simply twisted himself in Steve's lap until they were facing.

He carefully cupped Steve's jaw, tilting the soldiers face so that their equally teary eyes met. His thumb rubbed small circles over the rough stubble as he contemplated his next words.

"I understand why you did it.... which makes it even harder I guess, 'cause I know I'd do the same for Rhodey." Tony sighed, "I can't forget about this, not yet... it still hurts too much." He rubbed at his chest slightly, his gaze softening when Steve's face fell.

"But I can forgive you." He finished, blue eyes meeting brown as though they were seeing each other properly for the first time.

Steve was rendered breathless for the second time in less than half an hour, as Tony's hand snaked round the back of his head, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Neither of them moved for several long, tense moments, they simply stared into one another's eyes, mapping their faces out in their minds as they recalled every reason why they fell in love in the first place.

Then Steve moved, leaning forward to capture Tony's lips in a slow and cautious kiss, his large hands sliding up Tony's side, rucking his shirt up and tugging him closer to his chest.

Relaxing into Steve's arms, Tony's eyes slid shut and he melted into the familiar feeling of Steve's lips against his own. He smiled into the kiss as Steve's tongue swept along his bottom lip, easily working its way into his mouth and pushing between his teeth.

They kissed until they ran out of oxygen, breathing heavily and in sync as they pulled away.

Tony tilted his head forward so that his forehead rested against Steve's, his eyes still closed as he caught his breath.

"I missed you." He confessed, peering through his lashes at Steve, "And I'm sorry for screaming."

The blonde chuckled softly, "I did deserve it." His face turned serious again, "I am sorry, Tony."

Just as a smug grin crept up his face, Tony chose that exact moment... to faint.

Panic gripped Steve's chest for a moment as the brunette slumped against his chest, then he heard Tony's stomach grumble loudly, and felt the ribs poking through his shirt.

"Oh Tony." He sighed, rolling his eyes as he easily scooped the shorter man into his arms and striding out of the lab.

"Wh-" Tony's sleepy mumble made a smile tug at the corner of Steve's lips, even as he had to tighten his grip when Tony attempted to wriggle out of his arms.

"M'fine- gerrof!" He growled, pushing against Steve's broad chest, "S'fine you apologised, you can go now- put me down!"

So Steve did, dropping Tony onto one of the kitchen stools so that he was sat at the island, facing Steve as he started pulling ingredients out of the cupboards.

"What are you doing?" Tony groaned, placing his chin in his hand to stare at Steve.

Steve ignored the question, asking one of his own, "When was the last time you ate?" Glancing over his shoulder, he sighed in exasperation as Tony shrugged, mumbling an off handed, "I dunno."

"Jeez Tones, have you thrown all my food away? He complained, throwing his arms up in annoyance.

Tony shrugged again, "I don't like your rabbit food." He fastened his gaze on the floor, "And it reminded me too much of you."

Steve tensed at Tony's mumbled statement, turning around to stare at him as he continued, "Didn't know if you'd be coming back anyway."

"Tony-"

The brunet sighed, "Don't, I told you, I get it." He muttered, half way off of the stool before a large hand landed on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

"Sit. Down." Steve snarled, "We are not discussing this now. I am making you some healthy, nutritious food. Then you are going to brush your teeth, get in the shower and go the fuck to sleep. Cause no offence but you look like shit."

Tony rolled his eyes but remained seated, brushing Steve's hand off his shoulder, "Language." He mocked, trying to lighten the mood.

A low chuckle left Steve's throat, and he moved back towards the stove, cracking several eggs into a bowl and beginning to whisk them.

Tony stifled his own giggle, glancing around the kitchen as his stomach growled again, his eyes drifted over the door and he stiffened.

Watching Tony's eyes widen in fear, Bucky felt guilt settle on his shoulders. He edged his way out of the doorway, avoiding eye contact with Tony as he cleared his throat quietly.

Steve whipped round at the noise, "Uh- Buck- I.. we were just..." he gave up when he saw Tony's judgemental stare from the corner of his eye, he gestured awkwardly at the omelette, "Food."

"Right, do you want me to go? Natasha sent the quinjet over." Tony's face crumpled at the mention of the red headed spy's name, remembering the sharp sting of betrayal that stabbed his chest every time he thought of her.

Steve glanced worriedly at Tony, "Ah- no. It's fine," he slid a plate across the island and Tony frowned in disgust, trying to ignore the super soldiers presence somewhere behind him.

"Steve- it's green." He pointed out, prodding it suspiciously with his fork. Steve rolled his eyes, dropping into the seat opposite Tony, "It's got spinach in it you baby, just eat it."

"Keep rolling your eyes and you might find a brain somewhere back there."

"Shut up. Not all of us are geniuses ya know," Steve shot back, his Boston accent creeping into his voice.

"Evidently." Tony snarked, stabbing his omelette again. "Oh for fuck sake!" Steve cursed, trying to hide his grin as he yanked the plate towards him and snatched the fork out of Tony's hand.

Bucky smiled at how quickly the two of them fell into what he assumed were old habits, trading sarcastic comments like sweets at Halloween.

"I don't need you to cut my food up. I'm not a baby Steve. And watch your language."

Steve frowned, shoving the plate back towards Tony with his omelette now in bite sized pieces. Tony pulled another disgusted face, but grudgingly started eating anyway.

"Buck do you want one?" Steve asked, standing up and grabbing a couple more eggs, they were large ones, but still sat easily in the palm of his hand.

Bucky hesitated, decisions had always been difficult for him after... hydra, but this one was the worst he'd ever faced.

Sure Steve, why wouldn't I wanna sit down to a nice meal with you and your husband, oh yeah, your husband, you know the guy you cheated on with me and then left half beaten to death in a freezing bunker. Could this get any more awkward?!

"Um-" he hummed, silently hoping that someone would make the decision for him. Steve smiled tightly, noticing Bucky's discomfort, he pointed at the seat next to Tony, "Sit down, I'll make you one.

Apparently it can get more awkward! Why, why would you sit me next to him, it's not like we tried to kill each other like a week ago. Bucky felt like face palming, was Steve really an oblivious asshole or was he actively trying to start a fight.

He cautiously moved towards the stool that Steve had gestured at, trying to ignore the way Stark shifted away from him, shoulders tensed.

Measuring his breathing helped calm him slightly, in, out, in, out, four even breaths later and he was sliding into the seat next to Tony.

They sat together in silence whilst Steve finished cooking another omelette, sliding it onto a plate and across the island.

"Eat up ba-" Steve blushed, cutting himself off as Tony's grip tightened around his fork, the metal grinding against the porcelain of the plate. "-ucky. Bucky." He tried to save himself, his face redder than a beetroot.

A loud yawn broke the silence that followed, and both Steve and Bucky turned to stare at the sleepy engineer. When he noticed their stares, he shot them both a cold glare, "What? I'm tired ok." He snapped.

Steve grinned, "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Stop treating me like a baby Steve. I can take care of myself." The blonds eyebrow quirked at Tony's statement.

"Really? When was the last time you actually slept in your bed?" Tony flushed, "You used to pass out in the lab, quite often if I remember correctly."

"Is this your long winded way of getting me into bed? Cause I hate to tell you, but you might wanna up the romance a bit." Tony sassed, sliding off his stool and stumbling towards the door.

Steve laughed, "Gimme a sec while I put this stuff away." He scooped the eggshells off the side of the counter and moved to put them in the bin. Whilst he was busy cleaning up, Tony continued to stagger away from them.

He'd barely made it three steps before his knees buckled and the ground rushed towards his face.

Suddenly, strong arms were wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides, caging him into a broad chest. Tony gasped softly, his nose inches from the floor, "Thanks babe." He mumbled, twisting in the tight grip so that he could look up at- BUCKY?

Tony felt heat rise up his face, "Uh- I thought you were Steve?" He squeaked, sounding more like a question than a statement, he smiled weakly as he met Bucky's deep brown eyes.

"Hmm, you're cute when you blush." Bucky muttered without thinking, staring down at the small man trapped between his body and the floor.

"Um- do you two want me to leave? Give you some privacy?" Steve cut in, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

Bucky jumped as though he'd forgotten Steve was in the room, he glanced over his shoulder, ignoring Tony as he wriggled between his arms.

"Um sorry that bambi here hasn't figured out how to walk properly yet." He stated, a teasing edge to his words, before Tony could even blink, he was cradled like a baby into Bucky's chest.

There was an arm hooked beneath his knees, and another on lower back which held him steady, the metal cool against his hot skin, even through the material of his shirt.

Tony could hear Steve's heavy footsteps follow them as he was carried into the bedroom and dropped unceremoniously onto the bed. He bounced onto the soft mattress, a low uff pushing past his lips at the shock. Bucky couldn't help but grin, pushing a stray hair out of the billionaires face and tucking it behind his ear.

Steve smiled softly at the two of them, pulling the corner of the duvet back so that Tony could snuggle beneath it.

Without thinking, he leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Lingering for several moments, he eventually pulled away, opening his mouth to ask Bucky whether he was ready to go, when a hand circled his wrist.

Tony blinked up at him sleepily, "Please stay." He whispered, tugging the super soldier back towards the bed.

Steve shot a wary glance at Bucky, who was laughing silently at the confusion on Steve's face. "It's fine jerk, I'll go meet 'tasha on the quinjet."

"Nah uh." Tony's childish pout was directed at Bucky, making the assassins heart melt at the pleading looks in his doe brown eyes and sulkily stuck out lip.

"You... want me to stay?" He hesitated, surely this was overstepping at least 100 boundaries.

"Please." Tony whined, his eyes seeming to get wider and cuter the longer they were fixed in Bucky's.

Steve chuckled, "Oh dear, you've made the mistake of looking into his puppy dog eyes. He knows they get me every time." Bucky finally managed to tear his eyes away from Tony's, to realise that Steve had stripped into his boxers and was sliding in to the bed next to Tony.

The two stared at him expectantly and he shuffled, rubbing the hairs at the back of his neck, "I dunno, is there even enough room in the bed? I-"

"I'm not going to sleep until you join us." Tony sulked, folding his arms across his chest.

Bucky sighed dramatically, his hands awkwardly fumbling as he yanked his hoodie over his head along with his T-shirt. He opted to leave his sweatpants on, and slowly edged under the covers.

The bed was plenty big enough for all three of them, with enough room for Bucky and Steve to be able to comfortably stretch out. Tony sighed in satisfaction, nuzzling his head int Bucky's chest as Steve curled around him.

Cautiously, Bucky brought his metal hand up from where it rested against the covers, he loved his new arm and he made a mental note to thank Tony for it tomorrow. He'd been working especially hard on learning to control his strength.

Now wanting to scare Tony or himself, he moved at the pace of a snail to rest his fingers in the engineers thick locks. Amazingly, he could actually feel the hair against his hand, and ever so gentle, he began to play with the soft brown hair, smiling at the content hum it earned him.

Bucky stayed awake for much longer than both Steve and Tony, the latter passing out minutes after Bucky had started playing with his hair. Steve took longer to fall asleep, but as Bucky lay perfectly still, he listened to the blonds breathing get slower and steadier.

Looking down at the two men cuddled up next to him, he couldn't help the warm feeling of hope that spread through his chest. A small smile curling his lips, he let the soft exhales of his friends lull him to sleep.