#they should open a shop only selling blocks that are hard to draw

[roe-oo]

business deal

[tsukishumai]

pairing: Bokuto Kotaro x gn!reader

summary: whoever said being adult was fun obviously never had bills to pay. so when Akaashi offers up a way to earn cash fast, you jump at the opportunity. except, you never thought you’d find yourself modeling in your underwear... least of all with Bokuto Kotaro

wc; 3k+

tags; fluff, humor, college au, mentions of very slight nudity

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If anyone else other than Akaashi offered you this position, you would probably punch them right in the face.

Maybe he considers this payback for all the times he’s had to listen to you whine about your problems during your shared shifts at the cafe, or maybe this truly was his own sadistic way of attempting to provide support.

“Okay, so I know a way you can make easy money,” he started, and already those words should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but this was Akaashi. You’ve only really known him for a short time, but already you knew he wouldn’t lead you astray.

But really, the electronic shop five blocks from campus told you it would cost 55000 yen to repair your laptop monitor, so you weren’t exactly in a position to be picky. 

You had also been complaining to him for the past forty minutes -- about the broken laptop, the leaking faucet in your apartment, the textbook that cost you more than your groceries for the past month, the two hours of sleep you got last night, and your paychecks that were all but depleted once the bills were paid. He remained tightlipped throughout your whole tirade, so you suppose the least you could do was hear him out. 

“You’re not trying to sell my kidneys, right…” You mumble sarcastically, but you tilt your head to him anyway to show you were listening.

“No, sadly, it’s not quite the season for kidneys yet,” Akaashi delivers in a flat tone, “So you’re just going to have to deal with modeling.”

“Modeling?” Your reaction was harsh and loud, and you flinched away from the piercing glares of cafe regulars trying to study in peace. 

Akaashi smirks as he wipes down the steamer before replying, “Don’t worry, it’s not the kind of modeling you’re thinking.”

Your mouth dropped, and you raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms, scoffing at Akaashi incredulously. 

“Are you trying to send me to a nudie shoot?!” you whisper in almost-mock offense, but now a part of you was a little worried that your favorite coworker was a secret pervert.

To your utter relief, Akaashi just laughs. “God, no. Well, I guess, kind of?”

At this point, your head was beginning to spin. “What do you mean kind of? Just spit it out already, Akaashi.”

Akaashi finally finishes cleaning off the coffee machine just as you finished replenishing the pastry displays, and in an unusual lull in customers, he’s able to lean against the bar and give you his undivided attention.

“My art professor pays the models for her figure drawing class a pretty decent amount of money, I think,” Akaashi tells you, and your eyes begin to sparkle. “She mentioned a couple of slots being open.”

“Really?” your interest was immediately piqued, “How much money?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Enough to strike at least one problem off your list, probably.”

That was all you needed to hear. Akaashi had given you his professor’s contact information, and you sent her an email the second you had clocked out of your shift. 

Professor Nobuta was a kind woman who emailed you back with such haste, you could feel her desperation matching yours. She was candid during the entirety of your exchange, saying that her usual model had dropped out last minute and there was a spot in her class tomorrow that she needed to fill as soon as possible. Lucky for both of you, you were actually available, and details were exchanged swiftly. 

As you read over the requirements, your eyes roved over two words in a section of the email that made your eyes bulge out of your head. 

Semi Nude. 

You blinked once. Then twice. 

You had already formulated a kind rejection in your mind, ready to type your response when another section caught your eye. You inwardly groaned, dropping your head into your hands. 

She was offering you almost as much as two shifts at the cafe. 

That, alone, was enough to convince you, but the look of relief on Professor Nobuta’s face when you walked through the doors of her classroom was confirmation you made the right decision.

The seats around the classroom were nearly all filled, some students preparing their materials across their desks, and others sitting back and scrolling through their phones. The whirring of the A/C had filled the room with white noise, and you take notice of the two empty stools in the middle of the room.

“Thank you so much for signing up, L/N-san,” Professor Nobuta bowed profusely, and she gestured to a table for you to leave your things. “We’re still waiting on the other model, so take your time, and have a seat on the stool when you’re ready.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, and Professor Nobuta makes her way back to her desk. You briefly wonder if she was going to point you in the direction of a changing room, but realized the redundancy when everyone in the room was meant to stare at your half naked body anyway. 

You begrudgingly peeled off your clothes, folding them neatly before placing them in a pile on the table. Your footsteps made hardly any noise as you walked across the room, desperately trying hard to act nonchalant. 

Just as you took a seat in one of the empty stools, you heard someone pull the door open and loudly clamber inside.

“Ahh, welcome back, Bokuto-san!”

Your eyes widened at the name the professer had just yelled across the room. You brace yourself as you quickly whip your head around, and standing by the door sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck was Bokuto Kotaro. 

Student Athlete, Volleyball Star, Most Wanted Bachelor Bokuto Kotaro smiled brightly as he skipped to the table your items were placed, apologizing profusely for being late. All eyes followed him like moths, and Bokuto was the bright flame. Everyone knew him, and you often saw him walking across the quad, always greeting at least twenty people on the way. 

You could hardly hear what Professor Nobuta was saying to him, and you were now unabashedly staring as Bokuto began to strip out of his clothes. 

Bokuto was built like a marble statue -- hard lines that traveled across his chest and traced his abs must have been painstakingly carved with the utmost care by a masterful artist, and every movement he made created new shapes along his muscled body. You found yourself instantly wishing you had even an ounce of artistic talent, because it was no doubt that Bokuto was every figure artists’ dream. 

All at once, your vision was filled with gold and a sweet smile, and too late did you realize you had just been caught staring. Bokuto’s eyes don’t leave yours as he stands up straight, and struts over to you in nothing but a pair of nude briefs. 

“Alright, everyone, your timed session is about to begin,” Professor Nobuta’s voice had startled you nearly out of your seat, and you turn your head back to face the class, cringing inwardly when you noticed some were smirking at you, “Feel free to request poses from the models, as this will be a graded assignment. We only have an hour and a half, so make the most out of your time.”

You feel your body stiffen as Bokuto takes the empty seat next to you, staying silent when you feel his eyes staring at you. You might have been able to ignore this in another setting, but at the moment, about fifty students were watching him watching you -- eyes flitting up the stage down to their sketchbook as they try to decide where to begin. 

Envy coursed through you as the room began to fill with the sounds of graphite scratching against paper, wishing you could switch positions with literally anybody else in the room. You tried to relax your body against the stool, awkwardly attempting to find a natural position for your arms when you were interrupted by a throat clearing. 

Your head turns to the side, heat rushing to your face when you see Bokuto smiling at you.

“Hi,” he greets, his voice a direct contrast against the silent concentration filling the room, “I’m Bokuto!”

His knees were bent as he settled his feet on the first ring of the stool. He rests an elbow on his thigh so he can place his chin on the palm of his hand, giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response. You try to avoid the way his chest seemed to bulge even more in this position, but the furious sound of sketching says you weren’t the only one to notice.

“Bokuto Kotaro,” you say his name back, and he pulls his lips back into an even wider smile, “I know.”

You bite your lip when a student from the back requested for you to cross your legs, resting your hand against your thighs. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be talking, but Professor Nobuta didn't seem to be paying either of you any mind. 

He hadn’t said anything to you after that, but the grin remained on his lips as requests begin coming in from students across the class.

They were all fairly simple -- please position your hand like so, could you extend your leg this way, or turn your head that way. The first twenty minutes had been spent doing individual tasks and repositioning, and soon you felt yourself relaxing into your role. Your previous jitters had all but dissolved, and you figured if the rest of the session were to go on like this, then you’d be golden. 

Your eyes shift over to Bokuto, who was leaning back with such easy grace, balancing himself with his foot against the footrest. The way his body created such naturally eloquent lines made it seem as if he was born to be a sculpture, to be admired and gazed at, to invoke inspiration and creation. You weren’t sure anyone in this room was even looking at you anymore, with Bokuto acting as if he was the lighthouse in a storm, beckoning all of you to come home. 

He turns his head a second too quickly, winking when his eyes meet yours, and for the second time in less than an hour, you realize you’ve just been caught checking him out. 

Your dignity was slipping through your fingers like sand, and you clear your throat before turning your attention to a poster on the wall.

From the corner of your eye, you see Professor Nobuta stand from her desk and making her way to a student in the corner. The two whisper among each other, and you watched as the professor consults with other students before nodding her head and turning to the both of you. 

“I received a sort of direction from a few students,” she began, beckoning for the both of you to stand, “They were hoping you could do some more intimate poses.” 

You balked, nearly choking on the air in our lungs. “I-intimate?”

Professor Nobuto nodded her head enthusiastically, and you exchanged a look with Bokuto. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with — an embrace, hand holding, hands on each other’s face — get creative with it!” 

And with that, the professor sits back down on her desk and begins flipping through her phone, and the two of you are left to brace the expectant looks of the art students staring up at you. 

“This your first time?” Bokuto asks you gently, a sort of sympathetic look on his face as his eyes study your stiff posture. 

“Yeah,” you admit, and he coaxes you towards him with an outstretched hand. You hesitantly place your fingers in his palm, and for a moment, he just stood there. It took a minute for the sounds of rapid sketching to register in your brain, and you realize he’s allowing the class to take note of this pose. 

He’s standing directly across from you now, and you can feel his gaze burning trails across your body as he regards you from head to toe. You feel like an ant burning under the beam of a microscope, and you nearly burst into flames when he chuckles. 

“Nice peach,” Bokuto comments, and you nearly recoil back in surprise. The last thing you had expected from Bokuto was a comment like that, but then you notice his eyes flick back down to your underwear. 

The professor’s email hadn’t included too many rules or requirements. She only included the most important details, such as time, place, pay, dress code, and such. Stated in the dress code, you were allowed to wear undergarments of any neutral color. Today, you had chosen a simple pair of black underwear and figured it was the safest choice.

You hadn’t, however, noticed the large cartoon peach that had gracefully adorned the back of it, complete with a cartoon face that winked sparkles. Now that you were forced to stand, and the entire class got a good view for themselves. 

“Thanks,” you deadpan through gritted teeth, “It’s pretty juicy if you asked me.” 

Bokuto fails miserably to hide a smirk, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you. 

A few minutes (or eternity) later, his hand closes around yours, pulling it up to place against his cheek. He pulls you in by the other wrist, wrapping your arm around his waist as he cups the side of your neck. His other arm wraps almost completely around your middle, and he pulls you flush against his chest. 

His body was hard against yours, and you had no doubts he could feel your heart’s hundreds of beats per second. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn’t notice the sheen of sweat beginning to collect on your upper lip. 

A fire was bound to be started with how quickly everyone around began to move their pencils, and you heart races when Bokuto absentmindedly draws circles on your skin with his thumb. 

He holds you in this embrace for much longer than you anticipated, and the butterflies in your stomach were making you nauseous. His eyes are trained on your face now, the intensity of his stare making you want to shrink back, but you hold your place and return his gaze. 

His eyes narrow and squint, eyebrows wiggling as his face scrunches up in thought. 

“Do I know you?” Bokuto asks, and it was in this moment where you felt your stomach flip flop into the abyss. It was the one question you had hoped he wouldn’t think to ask you. 

Because you did know Bokuto Kotaro, but not in the way everyone else on campus knew him. 

You remember clearly the slow, dreary Wednesday morning when Akaashi Keiji asks you the same thing. 

“Uh, yeah? Of course, you know me, we’re coworkers,” you replied sarcastically, and Akaashi insists it was more than that. 

“You’re hiding something from me,” he simply states, and you inwardly thanked the customer that had walked and interrupted that moment.

But you should have known that Akaashi was not one to let things go, and after being berated the entire shift about how secrets don’t keep friends, you finally confessed.

You were a student at Fukurodani. 

Akaashi didn’t believe you. There was no way, how was that possible? He would have recognized you. But you were the year above him, and had actively avoided school sports. Because as much as you would have liked to watch your school’s Nationally Ranked Volleyball Club play and compete with super hot athletes from across the country, there was one glaring reason why you couldn’t. 

You had confessed to Bokuto Kotaro in your first year. 

And you were soundly, and absolutely rejected. 

He had every right to, of course. You were just his classmate, you didn’t even know each other that well, and he needed to focus all his attention on volleyball. It made sense.You know that now.

But to your young heart, it was world ending, soul crushing even, and it took you two years to get over your ridiculous one-sided crush. 

Now here you were, standing in front of a group of people in nothing but your underwear, with Bokuto staring at you like a fly caught in a trap.

“No, I don’t think so,” you respond, and Bokuto scoffs. 

“You’re a bad liar,” he whispers, and you find yourself grinning. 

“How would you know?” You whisper back, “You just met me.” 

“No, I definitely know you —“ 

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Nobuto announces with a smack on her desk, “That about does it for today’s session. Give some thanks to your models!”

You jump back from Bokuto as the class offers a light round of applause. The two of you bow back, and you rush over to the table as the professor approaches Bokuto. 

You leave the two of them to chat as you hurriedly put your clothes back on, hoisting your bag up on your shoulder, and nearly falling over putting your shoes on.

“Thank you for today,” Professor Nobuto sneaks up from behind, a smile on her face as she hands you a blank white envelope, “I hope I see your name on the sign up sheet again.”

You offer her a grin as you accept the envelope. “Thank you for the opportunity!”

And with that, you rush out of the stuffy room and make a bee line towards the door. 

“Hey, Peaches!” Bokuto’s voice makes you freeze from across the room, and you turn around to see him adorned only his pants. “You never told me your name?” 

With a smirk, you put your hand on the handle, walking out the door as you yelled over your shoulder. 

“I thought you said you knew me!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That was a trap, wasn’t it,” you accuse Akaashi as soon as you see him again, walking into your shift at the café just as he was about to clock out. 

His smile was almost evil, punching out as he gathers his jacket. 

“Whatever could you possibly mean, dear coworker,” he replies, and you smack him on the shoulder. 

“You had to have known Bokuto was doing that,” you seethe, glaring at Akaashi, “And you knew about… about… you’re dangerous, Akaashi Keiji.” 

He laughs, waving you off, “You said you needed help, so I offered help.”

“Oh, you conniving little —“ 

“Akaashi, you ready?” A familiar voice cuts you, making your head twist towards the door. 

A set of white and black streaked hair, a devilish grin, bright twinkling eyes — your nightmare in human form walking in. 

His eyes widen as they meet yours from across the room, and he waves a hand in the air as if you could have possibly missed the six foot three volleyball player barely fitting through the door frame.

“Hey, Peaches!” He greets cheerfully, walking and leaning against the counter, “Fancy running into you here.”

“Peaches?” Akaashi asks, and your eyes shoot him a nasty glare. 

“I work here,” you reply, and Bokuto’s eyes widen. 

“Akaashi, why wouldn’t you tell me you have such a cutie for a coworker?!” He demands of his best friend, who simply rolls his eyes and heads out the door. 

“Let’s go, Bokuto-san!”

“Akaashi! Hey, wait,” Bokuto runs one step to the door but stops and turns back, “If I come back tomorrow, you gonna tell me your name then?” 

You laugh. “I don’t work tomorrow.” 

“I’ll ask Akaashi for your schedule then!��� He screams as he runs out the door. 

The smile on your face stayed on for the rest of your shift. 

[live-the-fangirl-life]

When a Book Beckons

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Bookshop

When Aelin finds a flyer advertising a strange bookshop, she can't help but follow its cryptic directions. Why does she feel called to it? And why does the mysterious, silver-haired bookkeeper feel so familiar?

Written for Rowaelin Month 2021. Day 28: Bookshop

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Warnings: Language

4146 words

*******

The wind whistled through the narrow cobblestone street, carrying with it the sweet, honeyed smell of candied nuts, and lifting golden blonde strands of hair to dance around Aelin’s face. It blew between tilting buildings and colorful vendor’s carts selling everything from freshly cut flowers to beautiful watercolor prints.

Aelin grinned as a small group of children ran through the street playing a game and laughing as they chased each other. Finishing her last chocolate-covered hazelnut she’d bought from one of the vendors, Aelin threw away her now empty bag, and pulled out her local guidebook. It was her first time visiting this part of the country and she was determined to make the most of it. Aelin flipped to the pages about out-of-the-way, hole-in-the-wall places. She wanted to find a bakery, or a mom-and-pop general store, or a local second-hand shop, maybe?

She’d barely dragged her face out of the guidebook, trying and failing to pronounce the name of one of the local patisseries, when she noticed a folded piece of paper had gotten caught beneath her shoe.

Leaning down and brushing a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, Aelin picked it up expecting it to be an old receipt someone had dropped. She turned the crumpled piece of paper over and read the faint writing.

It was a handwritten flyer advertising a local bookshop.

Aelin loosed an excited laugh. A bookshop—it was perfect, and based on the way the flyer was drawn, this place certainly didn’t seem like somewhere her guidebook would advertise. All the better; even fewer tourists to worry about.

Although, she reigned in her giddiness for a moment, she should probably make sure it wasn’t a scam or a front for kidnappers masquerading as a shop meant to lure in unsuspecting book addicts. She laughed at herself, she was being paranoid, a bookshop was a bookshop, right?

But as Aelin kept reading the flyer for Once Upon a Page, searching for an address, her excitement quickly morphed into confusion as she read the directions on how to find the shop.

Follow the dented cobblestone until you can no longer.

The broken lamppost points your way.

Circle the fountain until you see the arrow, heed its trajectory.

If you pass the hawk’s wings, you’ve gone too far.

What the—

This had to be fake; what kind of directions were these? Whoever owned the store wouldn’t get any business if they wrote all their instructions in riddles. Just give her the address and she could figure it out from there.

She was tempted to throw the paper away and move on to the next stop her guidebook suggested.

And yet...

When she’d picked up the paper and read the name of the bookshop, something stirred in Aelin. It was a feeling deep in her gut, like she needed to go there.

Sighing, Aelin turned, trying to spot someone who might be able to give her clearer directions than The broken lamppost points your way.

An older woman with graying hair stood outside her small vendor cart overflowing with flowers. Aelin crossed the street and waited until the woman looked up from her growing bouquet.

“Excuse me? Could you tell me how to get to Once Upon a Page?”

Instead of answering like Aelin expected her to, she merely sat and narrowed her eyes, brows furrowing in confusion.

Aelin lifted the flyer to show her, “Once Upon a Page. This says it’s a bookshop around here, can you point me in the right direction?” Aelin smiled, hoping to charm the woman into helping her. “The directions here are a little hard to follow.”

The woman looked up from where she’d been scrutinizing the flyer and leaned back in her chair. In a gravelly voice, she told Aelin, “I’m sorry, dearie, I’m not familiar with that place.”

It was Aelin’s turn to look confused. “You’re not?” By the details from the flyer, it seemed like the bookstore had been around for a while. Was this woman new to the area and didn’t recognize it? She should have at least been aware of the shop if she’d lived here a while, right?

The woman shook her head and half of her attention went towards a new customer who’d approached the stand, quickly striking up a conversation about his children and grandchildren, obviously well acquainted with his life, before glancing once more at Aelin and saying, “I’ve never heard of it before.”

Odd. More than odd, Aelin thought as she stared at the flyer in bewilderment. But not one to back down from a challenge, Aelin was determined to find Once Upon a Page. And she wouldn’t turn down a trip to see some books. Besides, she had the afternoon free ahead of her, so why not follow some obscure, cryptic instructions to find a mysterious bookshop. This could be fun.

Aelin glanced at the first line of directions: Follow the dented cobblestone until you can no longer. She scanned the street, eyes catching on a few rows of stones that looked chipped beyond the normal wear from years of foot traffic. She followed the line of stones and grinned as she saw it continued down the next street.

As she slid her guidebook back into her bag and focused on the path ahead of her, Aelin was too excited to wonder how the directions perfectly began from the place she’d been standing.

Aelin walked for four more blocks, carefully following the narrow path of worn cobblestones. She was so focused on them that she barely caught herself from walking straight into the wall in front of her.

A dead end. She frowned; did she miss something? Or was she following some fool’s errand, and all of this was made up and she was wasting her time? Aelin pulled the flyer back out and realized she’d followed the instructions perfectly. Follow the dented cobblestone until you can no longer. Well, she no longer could, so what was the next line? The broken lamppost points your way.

Broken lamppost. Aelin swung around and saw just across the street was an old lamppost with one of its metal hooks broken and hanging at an awkward angle.

Giddy, she jogged towards it and tried to figure out where it would be pointing. The broken piece of metal? That was either pointing at the stone wall behind it or at the ground and unless Aelin was supposed to go into the sewers, then that wasn’t it. She circled the post, finally seeing a sticker on one side of a waterspout.

If she stood facing the sticker then she was also facing down one of the paths leading away from the dead end. Frowning at the image, Aelin pulled out the flyer once more. The next direction referenced a fountain, could the spout be referencing that, too?

She’d try, and if she couldn’t find a fountain, then she would retrace her steps. Aelin double-checked lamppost once more for any other obvious clue she’d missed before walking down the path opposite the sticker.

Aelin grinned as she walked. It felt like she was on some wild scavenger hunt, she loved it. And the longer she trekked, the more she felt like she was being guided—not in a bad way, more like something in her was being called to and she was determined to figure out what.

Aelin stepped out of the alley into a small open square, the center of which housed a circular fountain. It took all her might not to squeal in excitement. She figured the people minding their own business in the square wouldn’t appreciate that too much.

Circle the fountain until you see the arrow, heed its trajectory. Easy. Aelin approached the fountain and began walking only to stop almost immediately as she spied the small statue carved into the top of the fountain. It was a faceless archer with a single arrow in its sheath. Aelin followed its point and her gaze was directed to another small alley across the square.

Not hesitating, Aelin walked straight into the alley and didn’t look back.

She’d been walking for several minutes, too excited to be paying attention to details. That is, until she passed one more cross-street and came face to face with a faded drawing on the opposite building. It was an old, painted image of a hawk with its wings spread and beak open in a call.

Aelin furrowed her brows at the bird, there was something about it that pricked at her memory. She quickly pulled the flyer back out and read the last line. If you pass the hawk’s wings, you’ve gone too far.

Aelin spun around, her gaze landing on the last street she’d passed. She quickly walked back and peered down it to find a small alcove in the wall which held a single, distinct storefront.

Beaming, Aelin paused as she slowly approached Once Upon a Page. The shop wasn’t large, at least not that she could tell by the outside. A wooden door that was painted a deep, rich green and was worn with age but appeared no less inviting, stood between a single window on one side and a larger triple window on the other. Each windowpane was held within gilded edges that matched the golden script of Once Upon a Page above the door.

The lights inside were dim and Aelin had the sudden, dreaded thought that the shop might be closed. Wouldn’t that just be her luck?

Aelin twisted to tuck the flyer back into her bag, taking a deep breath. When she looked back up at the shop, she cocked her head to the side, confused, as she eyed a hand-painted Open sign hanging from the door. Strange. She hadn’t noticed that a moment ago.

Shaking off the peculiar feeling, Aelin carefully pushed on the door, smiling as it opened with ease, and listened to the light chime of a bell as it sounded through the shop.

***

Rowan sat behind the desk in the back of the store’s front room. He’d just finished making a fresh cup of tea and was letting it steep on the counter next to him as he faced the shallow shelf standing behind the desk and went to pick up the book he’d last placed there.

His fingers almost brushed the spine when the bell above the front door chimed.

Rowan’s head whipped around, eyes snapping to the sound.

Someone was here. Someone had found their way to the bookshop.

No one ever found their way to the bookshop.

Standing just inside the front door was a woman with long, golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She hadn’t noticed him yet, so he quietly left his seat and walked around the nearest shelf to get a better look. He wasn’t sure who she was or why she was here, all he knew was that not just anyone stumbled into Once Upon a Page; that, and the fact that he wished he’d thought to grab his tea before leaving his desk.

*** The moment the door shut behind Aelin it was as if the rest of the world faded away.

The inside of the shop felt cozy—inviting. Wooden shelves lined the walls and stood tall to create a meandering path through the space. Each case was piled with books and sprinkled with trinkets, figurines, and odd contraptions that Aelin couldn’t quite understand. Warm, soft lights hung from the ceiling to provide just enough glow to illuminate the titles along the walls.

Aelin blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted, taking in the soft ticking of a clock and light rustling of paper until her eyes could focus better in the dim room.

Rooms, actually. Turning in place, Aelin could see a narrow doorway on one side of the main room just up a few stairs. Taking a couple steps farther into the shop, she saw that the next room housed several shelves of its own as well. It was beautiful.

Aelin didn’t see anyone else or hear any other voices in the shop. She did, however, see a steaming mug on the front counter so she assumed whoever worked here had just stepped away.

Walking slowly towards one of the shelves, Aelin brushed off the odd sensation she’d felt once the door had closed. It was almost as if that insistent feeling she’d had earlier of being called to, had been steadied just by being in the bookshop.

She shook off the thought, it had to just be the natural calm of being surrounded by books.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Aelin cursed and spun around, her hand pressing against her rapidly beating heart. She was staring directly at a man’s chest and she had to drag her gaze up until her neck craned back to meet a pair of pine green eyes.

Eyes that were looking at her curiously from behind a pair of clear-rimmed glasses.

It wasn’t just his eyes that caught her attention, it was also his silvery hair. It wasn’t a light blonde or grey with age—not that he would be greying with age, he looked maybe thirty if she had to guess—it was purely silver. And if that wasn’t enough, when he turned his head, she saw that the side of his face was covered with an intricate tattoo.

But it was the expression he wore as he gazed down at her that had her pausing. She couldn’t name the exact emotion that flitted across his features, but between the tilt of his head, his slightly narrowed eyes, furrowed brow, and parted lips, he was looking at her like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

Then his lips quirked to the side and his eyes shown with delight before quickly schooling his features into a detached curiosity befitting a helpful store owner.

Aelin blinked, caught off-guard at the strange familiarity she’d felt and the odd way he’d looked at her.

“I, uh,” she stammered before clearing her throat and glancing at the shelves around her. “I was just browsing.”

He raised a single silver eyebrow and leaned against the shelf. When he crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his knit sweater stretched across his biceps in a manner that was far too distracting.

“Not from around here, are you?” he asked, and she heard a faint accent in his words, not the same one she’d heard the vendors and locals speaking with, but something different. Something more unusual.

It was her turn to raise a brow, “Why do you assume that?” Then she winced because as soon as the words left her lips, she knew exactly what he meant. He may have an accent different from the locals, but so did she, and the more she spoke, the more obvious it became.

He chuckled but nodded to the shelves around them, pushing off from the one he’d been using as a support. He took a few steps back toward the front counter and said, “You’re welcome to explore, I’ll be out here if you need anything.”

He took a single step before pausing and searching her face once more, “I’m Rowan, by the way.”

Rowan. He looked like a Rowan. She offered him a bright smile and simply responded, “Aelin.”

He nodded and before he turned, she saw that same unreadable emotion fly across his face. Then he was walking away.

Aelin shook herself, she was here to check out a local bookshop, not a maddeningly attractive bookkeeper.

***

As soon as he’d spoken to her, Rowan knew there was something different about this woman. Aelin.

Could she be—? No, that was impossible. Unless…

Rowan dug beneath the desk and pulled out an old book, setting it on the counter and barely holding in a cough from the small cloud of dust it produced. He started flipping through its pages, searching.

***

It was easy to get distracted once she’d focused her attention on the wall of books. There were so many—it almost seemed like every time she turned back to a shelf she’d just finished perusing, it held new books she hadn’t noticed the first time around. Aelin wasn’t sure how long she spent walking through the shelves of the main room, but at one point she found herself in front of one that provided a small opening through which she could see the bookkeeper.

There was something about him that drew her in; something that felt familiar and important, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

It also didn’t help that he’d shed his sweater.

The collar she’d spotted earlier poking out from the sweater was apparently attached to a long-sleeve button-down shirt that he’d taken to rolling up to his elbows. It exposed his tan, muscled forearms, one of which was draped with the same intricate tattoo she’d seen on his face. By the way it was reaching up his arm and disappearing beneath his sleeve, she’d bet anything it all connected.

He was hunched over the front desk, flipping through the pages of an old, leather-bound book. Strands of his thick, silver hair fell into his face, but he was too focused to notice, although she caught him huffing once to blow a longer strand out of his eyes. Every few seconds, his glasses would slip down his nose and he’d have to push them back up only to have them slip again. It was endearing.

But then he would flip the page again, causing his hands to flex and suddenly endearing became distracting.

Aelin had to bite her lip as she ducked back behind the shelf, mentally cursing because it was just so unfair that this man was that gods dammed attractive and a fucking bookkeeper. It was too much for her to handle.

She would finish checking out the shop and only on her way out would she strike up a conversation. Aelin chanced one more peek only to see him pull his glasses from his face and carefully clean them before pushing them back on.

Aelin was this close to saying ‘fuck it’ and walking up to him, when her gaze snagged on a small corridor leading away from the main room. It wasn’t the hallway she’d seen before, no—this was even more hidden. It was placed in such a way that one could only see it if they were far enough into the maze of shelves.

Something about it caught and held Aelin’s attention. The beckoning feeling she’d had on her way to the shop returned, and she’d already walked several paces towards it before she realized she’d moved.

Aelin was at the corridor and ascending the three steps that led to a small, dusty, nook without having noticed Rowan’s attention abandoning his book and intently settling on her as he watched her vanish into the hidden room.

***

Rowan watched as Aelin disappeared around the corner, her golden hair shining in the light before he carefully shut his book and rose from his seat. His gaze swept through the small shop landing briefly on the figurines of mythical creatures, rusted swords and daggers in handcrafted sheaths, and tattered maps in languages long buried.

When Rowan looked at the front door and saw the outer sign’s script read Closed, he let a small smile grow as he slipped off his glasses and rested them carefully on the counter. He turned around and gripped the handle of the door that now stood behind him. With one last glance over his shoulder, Rowan stepped through the doorway and vanished.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the small clock on the wall ticked once more before silencing.

***

The air around Aelin felt heavier as she stepped into the small, hidden nook. There was a single floor-to-ceiling bookcase on either wall with barely enough space in between for her to stand. Small lights lined the ceiling creating a halo-like glow in the cramped space.

Part of her wanted to turn around and go back to the main room, her curiosity satiated about what this small room held. But another part of her, the part that ultimately won out, felt like she needed to stay.

That feeling she’d had all afternoon—the calling, the beckoning, the draw—it all seemed to culminate here. Aelin couldn’t understand it, but she needed to. There was something here, something that was vital; she couldn’t say what or why or how, but she needed to figure it out.

Aelin eyed the books on one side of the room before spinning around and scouring the opposite shelf. They all looked similar; all aging, leatherbound editions in some language she couldn’t decipher. She looked over them all once, twice—there.

On a shelf just above eye level sat a book that looked different from the rest. While the others were covered in dust and showed signs of wear, this one was vibrant and appeared untouched, but Aelin had a feeling it was far from new. Its spine looked almost golden in the warm light.

She reached up and plucked it from the shelf.

Aelin couldn’t hold in a gasp as she stared at the book. It wasn’t just vibrant, it was glowing. It's cover shown with golden light that shimmered as she moved it. There was writing on the front in a script she couldn’t read, and it felt strangely light for its size.

That was when Aelin noticed the bookshop had gotten eerily quiet. The clock had stopped ticking, she didn’t hear the bookkeeper—Rowan—flipping through his pages any longer, she couldn’t even hear the faint sound of people from outside the store. Everything had gone silent.

For a moment, Aelin debated calling out to Rowan to see if he hadn’t stepped outside for whatever reason, but she clamped her mouth shut and returned her attention to the book in her arms.

She felt that pull again. Stronger now than it had been before.

Aelin traced her finger over the gilded symbols. Then, while carefully holding the front cover, she opened the book.

A blinding golden light surged from the open pages. It was too bright. The light filled the space around her and Aelin tried dropping the book, but her fingers wouldn’t let it go.

It was too much, too bright, too overwhelming.

The devastating glow was the last thing Aelin knew before darkness engulfed her.

***

Aelin gasped in a shuddering breath and scrambled to her feet.

She was outside. How was she outside? Why was she on the ground? And why did it feel soft?

She blinked, breathing in fresh air and urging her eyes to adjust to the brightness. After a few more moments, she gaped in stunned silence.

Everything was so vivid. The rough, brown trunks of the trees surrounding her were warm and comforting, the leaves stretching across the sky in an interwoven canopy shown like jewels, and the beams of sunlight reaching through the spaces between branches touched the soft grass beneath her feet and warmed the earth.

How had she gotten here? Where was here? What had just happened?

What was she wearing?

Aelin glanced down as her hand brushed across an odd but comfortable fabric of a loose tunic. The shirt was tucked into fitted pants which themselves were secured within laced-up leather boots.

What—?

As she lifted a shaky hand, she finally caught sight of the figure standing in the clearing a few paces in front of her.

It was him. The bookseller. Rowan.

He stood there, watching her patiently as she looked around at the unfamiliar woods. He, too, was wearing different clothing. Gone were the rolled shirt and glasses, instead replaced with attire similar to hers but much more well-worn. He even had a few weapons strapped to him, but Aelin had the feeling that he wasn’t a threat to her.

She opened her mouth to say—

She didn’t know what to say. So many questions flew through her mind that she couldn’t focus on one long enough to voice it.

A quiet flutter drew her attention upwards and Aelin couldn’t control her gasp as she watched a small winged creature wobbly fly from branch to branch. It had scales and a short little snout, and small wings barely strong enough to keep it in flight. The baby dragon cheerfully hovered under another branch before flying out of the clearing.

Aelin blinked rapidly at the spot where the creature disappeared.

She eventually drew her wide-eyed gaze back to the man standing before her. He stepped closer and smirked knowingly, amused but—relieved?

When he spoke, the deep timbre of his accent was much more pronounced than it had been minutes before in the bookshop that suddenly felt so far away.

“I knew it was you. Follow me.”

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @angelic-voice-1997 @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash @annejulianneh111 @themoonthestarsthesuriel

[lumelii]

PANDA ~|~ NANAMI x FEM!READER

Summary: Nanami and Yuuji stop into the local bakery. Nanami finds something he wants that’s off the menu.

Content warning: fluff, little bit of pining, child-parent relations, singledad!Nanami

Note: thanks again to Moni for beta-reading 🥰

word count: 1.6k

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“Daddy! Look!”

It was a bakery they had passed multiple times on the way home, living just next door to it. It was small, tucked into one half of the ground floor of the low building it occupied, sharing a wall with a pharmacy. It served reasonably priced pastries and sandwiches, as well as some of the best coffee in Tokyo. Nanami usually took Yuuji there once or twice a month and let him pick what he wanted for breakfast.

The window display was almost always the same, Nanami would have missed the slight change as he tried to juggle the various bags they had accumulated from their early Saturday morning errands if his young son hadn’t pointed it out. He looked over to see the small bag of fruit he had asked Yuuji to carry on the sidewalk, a lone apple rolling away while his son stood on his tiptoes, his nose practically pressed to the glass. 

Instead of the standard fare on the very top shelf, there was a row of buns in the shapes of various animals, with different fillings for each shape written neatly on cards next to each. Nanami had to admire the work, they were incredibly detailed. 

“It’s a panda!” Yuuji looked back at Nanami and pointed at the aforementioned bun in the middle. “Can we get one?”

Nanami caught himself before denying Yuuji outright. He had been especially good today when they were running their errands, not complaining once as his father dragged him through town and entertaining himself in the various shops without getting into trouble. And they could go to the park later so Yuuji could run off his energy. A little sugar wouldn’t kill him.

“Sure. Go pick up your bag, though.” He pointed to the forgotten paper bag.

Yuuji quickly ran to pick up the bag (as well as the apple, adding it back to the bag before Nanami could tell him no), and grabbed his father’s hand to all but pull him into the bakery. It wasn’t as crowded as Nanami would have thought for a Saturday morning, something for which he was grateful. When there was a crowd, Yuuji liked to use people as obstacles and run around and through them as fast as he could. Only the obstacles moved, and he usually ended up on his butt more times than he would have liked.

They were able to go straight to an empty table to drop off their shopping before moving to the counter, and after a few seconds, one of the workers packaging cookies turned around, and Nanami’s breath caught in his throat.

It wasn’t like the bakery didn’t have pretty women working there-there were several, ones who would shamelessly flirt and try to butter up Yuuji as a means to get closer to his father, but Nanami didn’t indulge or even notice them. He was polite, got what he needed, then left. He never played into whatever fantasies the cashier of the month decided to dream up. 

However, this time, it was hard to remind himself of that conviction when easily the prettiest worker he had ever seen there walked up to the register and smiled at him. Was she new? She had to be new, he’d never seen her before. He would have remembered seeing someone like you. 

“Hi, welcome in.” You greeted and leaned against the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Panda!” Yuuji yelled, his nose peeking over the top of the counter as he looked at you. 

“Yuuji.” Nanami scolded and picked him up so he could actually see you. “Ask politely, son.”

Yuuji smiled at him then turned to smile at you. “Can I please have a panda bun please?”

You smiled and nodded. “Of course, sir.” You replied, making him giggle. Your smile widened and you finally looked at Nanami. “And for you?”

“I’ll just have a black coffee.” Nanami didn’t think he could focus on eating without choking if you were going to be walking around the bakery.

“Me too!”

“He’ll have a hot chocolate.”

“I want what you’re having.” Yuuji pouted. Nanami sighed and turned back to the counter.

“Make mine a hot chocolate too.”

You took his money and handed him a number for the table. “Give me just a second, I’ll bring everything to your table. Make yourself at home.”

Nanami nodded and lead Yuuji away from the big display case by the register back to their table, helping him out of his heavy winter coat when he was seated safely. He tried his best to listen to his son as he talked about a dog they had seen earlier today during their shopping trip, but he was finding it very hard to focus.

His eyes kept wandering back behind the counter, watching as you made their drinks and talked with the other workers, laughing along with them at a joke someone had said. He’d never felt this kind of attraction toward another person. It was irrational. He didn’t know you. Yet he still felt that draw.

There had been other women before Yuuji had come into his life, even a few dalliances on nights when Gojou would take him out and Toji would stay home to watch the kids, just to satisfy that primal need. There was even a girlfriend at one point. But Yuuji had declared he didn’t like her after several months, and that was enough for Nanami to end the relationship. There was no point in pursuing a woman who couldn’t to get along with his son.

So why was it now, after finding contentment in being alone for so long, that all he wanted to do was go up and ask you, a complete stranger, on a date?

“You boys are lucky.” Nanami looked up and saw you were now standing next to their table, placing their to-go cups in front of them as well as Yuuji’s panda bun. “This was the second to last one.”

“Do you normally sell out quickly on the animals?” He heard himself asking, like the back of his neck wasn’t on fire right now.

“We only just started making them this week, but for the most part, yes.” You straightened from setting the food down and hugged the tray to your chest. “The red bean panda usually sells first. I suppose people are more used to the flavor.”

“What’s your name?” Yuuji asked suddenly, taking a big bite out of the head of his panda.

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled at the young boy. “What’s yours?”

Thankfully, Yuuji took the time to actually swallow his food before speaking, which was uncharacteristic of him. “My name is Yuuji.” His son said proudly. “I’m five.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Yuuji.” Your eyes turned to Nanami expectantly. “And your name?”

“His name is Dad.” Yuuji told her before Nanami could reply. She laughed, and he thought he hadn’t heard anything quite so wonderful today.

“And is that your first or last name?”

“Our last name is Nanami.” Yuuji answered again, cutting off his father as he opened his mouth to speak. “We live in the building next door.”

“Really? So I do. I just moved in. We’re neighbors.”

“Can I come visit you?” Yuuji asked excitedly.

“Yuuji, let’s not take up any more of the lady’s time.” Nanami interjected, noticing another customer had walked in, but also slightly embarrassed at his son’s oversharing.

“You’re fine, don’t worry. We already had our big morning rush.” You leaned in closer so the young boy wouldn’t hear what you were saying. “I put a shot of espresso in your cup. It should help if you need the caffeine.”

Nanami merely stared back when you pulled back and smiled again. He didn’t know how to respond to this kindness from a total stranger. You didn’t even know him, yet you spoke and cared as if you had been acquainted for a lifetime.

“Y/N!” A voice from the kitchen yelled before Nanami could open his mouth to thank you properly. “We’re almost out of spritz cookies!”

“Coming!” You yelled back and bowed slightly to Nanami. “It was nice to meet you, Dad-san.”

You were gone before he could reply. “It’s Kento.” He murmured to himself. However, Yuuji heard him and fixed him with a frown.

“Your name is Dad.” Yuuji said resolutely.

“I had a name before you came along.”

“And now it’s Dad.”

They sat quietly finishing their drinks, Yuuji swinging his legs happily as he finished his bun and watched the people coming and going in the bakery with wide, curious eyes. Nanami tried hard not to stare at you behind the counter as you worked, but his eyes kept drifting your direction of their own volition. He’d never felt this kind of pull before. He had to be imagining it. He was being irrational.

His line of vision as he watched the door to the kitchen, waiting for you to come out again after disappearing several minutes ago, was blocked when another server came up and set a brown bag with the bakery’s logo on the table. Nanami immediately picked it up and tried to hand it back.

“We didn’t order this.” He told the teenage boy.

“They’re on the house,” was all the boy said before going back behind the counter.

Nanami looked behind the counter and saw you had appeared again, now watching them. When he caught your eye, you smiled widely and gave him a small thumbs up. Looking inside the bag, there was a pair of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, along with the last panda bun. When he turned the bag to put it in with one of the larger shopping bags from their trip, the black ink of a marker caught his eye. Pulling the bag back out, he noticed the same neat handwriting from the display case.

‘Thanks for coming in, neighbor ^_^’

He was truly fucked.

tags: @oikawaandkuroostan (let me know if you want to get added to my tag list-either for this story or any of my writing!)

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 16)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2694 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 15 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Six weeks. That’s how much notice Bucky gave you until the wedding. You said yes to being his date before you had actually confirmed anything with work. The wedding was on the first Saturday in June but you would need to take off of work that Friday as well.

Technically one day off from Stark Industries wouldn’t be so bad and as predicted you were given the day easily. Unfortunately, you would have to take two days off at Metro-General and you really hoped that would be alright.

You hadn’t taken many days off since you began; a day for when you had food poisoning, another on the day of Wanda’s museum exhibit, but the hospital was a busy place and Elena was notoriously strict. Plus the more days you took off meant the more hours you would have to make up, which meant the longer it would take to fulfill your final requirement before graduating.

Once again, Marya’s words come to mind. Life will not wait for you so you needed to live it in the moment. It’s only two days.

With renewed confidence you knocked on Elena’s door and asked for the days off.

“Vacation?” she wondered.

“It’s for a wedding actually.”

Her dark eyes lit up at your answer. “Oh very nice. Where is it?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Somewhere in Long Island,” you chuckled, explaining that you were asked by a close friend to be his date.

After all these months of working together you realized this was the most personal conversation you’ve ever had with Elena. You had always tried to respect the boundaries of her as your boss but it was surprising as she seemed to open up first, letting down the guard she had carefully built up to protect herself while working in this field. Her approach carried over with her co-workers up until now.

“Mack was a close friend of mine once...” she said, turning the picture frame on her desk around towards you.

The photo showed her in the arms of a medium-brown skinned man with a dark beard and shaved head. Her whole face was smiling as she stared into his eyes and he was looking back at her like she was the only thing that gave meaning to life. Judging by their clothes you realized this was a wedding photo.

“You’re married? Since when?” You may have blurted that out a little bit louder than you expected but it was a bit of a shock considering she doesn’t wear a ring.

“Since I asked him,” she laughed. “Two years now, but we’ve been together for six and friends for a lot longer than that.”

Ahh now you understand what she was implying. “It’s not like that with me and Bucky. Well…” You bit your lip with uncertainty. “I don’t know. We’re friends and we kissed once but he’s dating other people and–”

“Yet he asked you to be his date.” She smirked, giving you a knowing stare.

Elena had given you the days off but part of you wished she didn’t. On the surface, Bucky was just a friend asking another friend for a favor but the more you thought about your history the more conflicted you felt.

From the moment he’s come into your life you’ve felt something towards Bucky. Sure his looks were undeniable but there was so much more about him. The passion he had for music matched what you felt for social work, and you connected, both of you realizing that each field plays an important role in helping people.

The more your friendship grew it felt like you were always meant to be in each other’s lives and you couldn’t imagine life without Bucky since he had become such a huge part of it. But you weren’t anything more than friends. That’s all.

The warm sun shines directly into your eyes as you exit the subway, trying your best to hear Peggy over the increased amount of people on the street. New York was always crowded but warm weather was a magnet that seemed to pull everyone out of their homes, drawing them outdoors to enjoy the beautiful day.

With Wanda on your left the three of you talk plans for Memorial Day weekend; it’s two weeks away and you’re trying to organize something for everyone to do together.

“I’m not sure if Sam has off or not yet but I do have some news,” Wanda said enticingly, biting her lip to contain her excitement. So many thoughts ran through your head as you waited for her to drop the details. “Sam and I are gonna move in together!”

“Oh Wanda, that’s brilliant!” Peggy said, her red painted lips stretching across her face in a beaming smile.

“I’m so happy for you two! When are you moving? And where?” you asked.

“His apartment is bigger so I’m moving there, hopefully by the end of the month but we’ll see. It’s hard with his schedule sometimes but I definitely want to be out as soon as possible.”

You offered assistance to help her pack and Peggy suggested making it a night with girls, with wine as a little motivation. “Yes, perfect!” Wanda agreed.

If only finding a dress for the wedding was as easy as helping Wanda move. You had already made a few trips to the department stores, trying on the perfect dress that fit like a dream and made you look incredible. Unfortunately, it cost more than your rent so it went back on the rack.

Your disappointing trip was made a little better by the promise of your friends to help you which is what you were doing now. One more block to go and you would be at the boutique you’ve never heard of before where Natasha was meeting you.

Opening the doors made you a little concerned. The place looked like it was from another planet. The glossy black ceiling stood in contrast to the bright white walls that were made up of three dimensional geometric tiles.

Silver accented the space from the large framed mirrors that leaned against the walls to the velvet pewter asymmetrically curved couch outside the dressing room. The clothes themselves looked normal at least, dresses of all kinds displayed on racks within silver frames, making them look like they were encased in glass.

Peggy and Wanda spread out to look for dresses, trying to find ones that resembled the overpriced gown you had only taken a selfie of to remember it by. Immediately you were drawn to a rack of flowy pastel colored ones, draping a few different styles over your arm.

In the middle of your search you heard Natasha call your name, and turning around to greet her you didn’t expect to see an unfamiliar face. She stood next to a man that towered over her small frame. A shock of ice blonde hair and matching bleached eyebrows caught your attention first before you moved on to his outfit, a red vest, leather pants and fur coat that seemed to only have one sleeve.

“Y/N, this is Taneleer Tivan, owner of The Tivan Collection,” she whispered the last line in a way as if you were meant to know who he was.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” you said, though his facial expression didn’t change.

Though his eyes were surrounded by a smudge of dark liner you were able to see clearly the way he looked down in disgust at the dresses you held.

“Carina!” he shouted, and a moment later a girl came running forward. She wore a white vinyl dress that looked more like something you expected the store to sell, although her outfit is much more subdued than her boss’s.

She waited in silence with her hands clasped in front of her, in what seemed like a routine she was quite familiar with. “These are all wrong,” Taneleer said to you and suddenly the dresses were being taken out of your hands by his assistant. “I have much better in my collection.”

To your shock Carina was beside you again, ushering you towards a different section of racks that had more appropriate gowns despite neither her or her boss knowing what event you were shopping for. Thinking back, the pastels might have been a bit too casual anyway.

As you perused the new section you found an assortment of beautiful dresses, some absolutely stunning ones that had you worrying about the price. Natasha can certainly afford a lot more than you but glancing down at the tag you were surprised to see how reasonable things were. You took out a few jewel toned ones to try on that caught your eye.

“Y/N, what do you think of these?”

Peggy’s soft voice made you turn around. The first dress she held up was a satin one shoulder gown in black.

“Oh I like the design,” you said, pointing to the ruffles falling from the shoulder.

The next one she held up was a shimmering emerald dress whose classic mermaid style made you feel like you should be going to the Oscars instead of a wedding.

“Peggy, that’s too formal!” Wanda chimed in, huffing as she came over with more than a half dozen sparkly dresses.

She made room on the nearest rack to hang them, excitedly showing each one off to you. The first was a gorgeous sequined dress, rose gold sparkling in the light. It was undeniably beautiful but you had reservations. You were a guest at someone’s wedding and didn’t want to draw too much attention.

“This one is similar but you’ll see the difference,” she added, holding up another rose gold sequined dress, this one with a plunging V-neckline and a low open back.

“Wanda, that’s…” You stopped yourself from saying anything, grimacing uncomfortably at the dress that was so wrong.

“That looks like a slutty prom dress,” Natasha laughed, saying the thoughts you didn’t say aloud.

Wanda scrunched her face at Natasha before continuing with the next set of dresses. They were less eye catching as the others but still in the sparkly realm. You set aside a shimmering off the shoulder dress in turquoise that looked more like the ocean glittering in sunshine. The neckline was still a bit low but the back was more appropriately cut.

Natasha handed you one dress, a stunning red gown of flowing chiffon with a beautifully embellished bodice of lace and beading. The high neck of the dress complimented the tasteful open back design.

“Okay I’m getting overwhelmed. I have to start trying things on.”

With dresses in tow you made your way inside the fitting room and closed the curtain. Natasha sat across from Peggy and Wanda, checking work emails from her phone despite it being Sunday.

“Nat, did you get your wedding dress from here?” Wanda curiously wondered as her eyes roamed the store.

Her lips pursed as she took a deep breath. “I haven’t found a dress yet. I think we might have to push off the wedding again.”

“What was that?” you said, pushing open the curtains.

Peggy’s face lit up with a smile as you stepped out in a purple dress with lace detailing on the bodice. “You look beautiful!”

Your head turned towards the larger mirrors for a second to admire how you looked in the dress before you remembered the muffled conversation you heard through the curtain.

“Wait, Tash, did you say you’re pushing off the wedding again?”

She huffed loudly, leaning over and covering the frustration on her face with her hands. When she finally lifted her head you saw the desperation in her eyes. “I’m ready to say ‘fuck it’ and go to the courthouse.”

With Natasha’s ever increasing workload you’re quite surprised she hasn’t done this already. It doesn’t seem like she and Clint have made any progress since you’ve known them.

“Forget me,” she said, waving her hand as if to push the burdensome thoughts away. “That dress is pretty but there’s no wow factor.”

You looked in the mirror, realizing she was right. The next dress you put on was the red one Natasha picked out and that one definitely wowed but not in a good way. The bodice of the dress had an uneven cut that exposed part of your sides making you feel uncomfortable.

The one shoulder dress Peggy picked out was too tight but even if there was another size you didn’t like the satin. Wanda’s sparkly dress was a maybe but you weren’t completely sold on it yet. After changing in and out of a few more dresses you started to sweat and all you wanted to do was leave.

While hanging the dress you just stepped out of back up you saw there was one more left and your eyes lit up. You don’t remember grabbing this dress but it was meant to be from the moment you slipped it on.

It was a beautiful navy blue gown, with fluttering ruffles down the modest V-neck that also mirrored the back. Compared to some of the others this was a much simpler dress but there was something about it that felt right. It fit like a dream, flattering every part of you while still allowing for movement. Weddings mean dancing and the thought of dancing with Bucky made goosebumps prickle all over your skin.

As you opened the curtain you saw everyone’s jaws drop, their eyes lighting up as you stood in front of them.

“This! This is it!”

“You really think?” you asked, looking over your shoulder to see how it looks from behind.

Peggy nodded her head, “Definitely. It’s perfect.”

“Bucky’s going to love it,” Natasha added.

You rolled your eyes, missing the knowing look the three of them shared. “Guys, this isn’t for Bucky. I want to look good for myself.”

“And you do,” Wanda said, “But he’ll also appreciate how good your ass looks in that, damn!”

Rolling your eyes as they burst out laughing, you admired yourself in the dress a little longer knowing this is the one. You went back into the dressing room with Bucky on your mind. Sure, he might stare at you all night in this dress but the truth is it doesn’t mean much more than that.

Bucky was actively dating and the only reason you’re going with him to the wedding is so he doesn’t spend a weekend with someone he really doesn’t know. Panic washes over you as you worry about the near future. What if he meets someone he really gets along with before the wedding and he resents the fact that he asked you to go. What if he uninvites you? What if–

“Hey I found a really cute clutch to go with the dress,” Wanda said through the curtain.

You finished getting dressed, grabbing the dresses you didn’t want first. Opening the curtain you found Carina waiting beside Wanda, ready to take the dresses from you. You thanked her and took the dress you were buying, holding it up next to the clutch Wanda found. It was glittering gold with a metal trim on the opening.

“Oooh I love it.”

Carina was waiting silently at the register in anticipation of you bringing everything up to pay. As you took care of that Natasha said goodbye to Taneleer, kissing him on both cheeks. You thanked him as well before leaving and his mouth curved into the slightest smile.

Late lunch with the girls went by faster than you expected and you were happy to finally be home, hanging up the dress in your closet. You knew you had shoes that would pair well with it somewhere in your closet, a search meant for another day.

Before bed you decided to text Bucky, even though part of you was hesitant about it. You typed away quickly, sending the text and turning off your phone before he could respond. From the other side of the wall Bucky smiled when he saw a notification with your name.

You: Hope your suit game is good because I just bought my dress and it’s 🔥🔥

He couldn’t wait.

PART 17

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 1: Flowers In The Window

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers, the dumb kid who was always too stubborn to run away from a fight, was never gonna allow a bunch of no-good low-lives to hassle a dame in the street, even if it was going to lead to him getting his ass kicked. For once, however, the ass kicking has an upside as the dame in question seemed particularly grateful, a fact she displays a few days later at the Stark Expo.

But it wasn’t the only encounter that fateful night that seemed set to change his life when Dr Erskine throws him a bone, meaning Steve can finally do the one thing he’s been desperate to do for years.

Join the army.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Nothing much… Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  So here it is…my take on what would have gone down so to speak should Katie have been part of the CA: TFA timeline and my contribution of sorts to the CATF 10 Year Anniversary Challenge. I’ll be trying to keep this fic as accurate to the time period and the movie as possible, just like with the other SS fics.  I really hope you enjoy this, there will be some creative license because, let’s face it, what is Fan Fic other than self-indulgence?

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

SSR Masterlist // Main Masterlist

June 1943

It started just the same as any normal Friday morning for Steven Grant Rogers. He unlocked the back of the Grocery Store on the corner of Berry Street in Brooklyn, using the entrance down the alley way reserved for staff. Once inside, he grabbed his beige coloured linen apron off the hook and smiled at the items he had to work with today. Fridays were always a treat as they took the rare delivery of freshly cut flowers ready to be sold for the weekend. This week there were boxes of bright white gardenias with their waxy petals and shiny, leathery dark green leaves, bunches of bright purple heliotrope which always reminded him of one of his mother’s scarves, and plenty of white, blue and purple asters. Steve bent down to take in the strong, vibrant fragrance of the gardenias, closing his eyes. It was easy to imagine he was in some garden somewhere, or even the middle of central park…not some little shop in Williamsberg.

“Don’t be inhaling enough of that to set your asthma off!” Mr Tromley, a kindly faced, portly man in his fifties greeted, and Steve turned to look at him, smiling a little shyly.

“I won’t Mr T,” he assured him, “they’re just so darn pretty…”

“Well set yourself a few aside.” Mr Tromley smiled, “you can take them home and sketch them.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Steve protested, the way he always did when Mr Tromley tried to slip him something for free be it scraps of meat he couldn’t sell from the counter that would be given to dogs, bread that wasn’t as soft as it had been in the morning and would be fed to the birds, milk that was going to turn, cheese that was slightly past its best. Mr Tromley ignored all his protests though, usually threatening to sack Steve if he didn’t take it. The man knew what it was like to come from a hard background, which was part of the reason he’d taken a shine to that sickly, twenty-two year old orphan with a degree in fine arts that had come begging for a job some three years ago. He couldn’t pay him much but he could do other things to make sure he got by.

“Well if you don’t take ‘em Steve they’ll just end up withering and a-dyin’, so reckon you’d be doin’ em a kindness.” Mr Tromley shrugged “Now, my Ada has some coffee going, you want a cup before we open the doors?”

Steve glanced at the clock above the counter, more out of habit than anything as he knew full well that he arrived with an hour to go.

“Mr T that’d be swell.” He smiled.

“Okay, you get started and I’ll fetch it down.”

Steve began in the usual way, pulling some simple bouquets together, varying in size and price, ready for the busy men to pick up on their way home from work, a nice present for their dame’s for the weekend. Once the stalks and lower foliage were trimmed and stripped, he fastened and tied them in simple brown waxy paper using plain brown string. Steve always insisted on using plain wrapping as anything else would detract from the beauty of the flowers. He placed the finished bouquets into one of the green buckets of water Mr Tromley fetched from the back, before he then carefully and delicately trimmed down the remaining flowers before placing them loose in their own buckets according to type, ready for the ladies, and occasional gentleman, who had the time and desire to create their own bunches.

Impeccably organised, as ever, Steve finished his work fifteen minutes before the store was due to open. He then set about helping Mr Tromley as they arranged the buckets outside the shop window on the sidewalk, before they set up the other stalls of seasonal vegetables. There wasn’t much fruit to go by at the moment, but that was a sign of the times really. But what they did have, namely a selection of apples and oranges, they set those out ready too. Once that was done, Mr Tromley handed Steve a thick wedge of fresh bread which had been delivered that morning from the local bakery, along with some of his wife’s home-made jam which was sold from their shop. Steve took his breakfast with a mumbled thanks, averse to taking the daily handouts as ever, and Mr Tromley sighed.

“Steve, when are you going to realise that a piece of bread and jam for breakfast ain’t gonna bankrupt me?”

“I just don’t want to appear to take advantage, that’s all.” “Ah quit it.” Tromley waved his hand, shaking his head “If I didn’t want you to take advantage of it, I wouldn’t offer it would I? Now, eat that and get behind the counter.”

The morning passed much the same as they always did. A flurry of activity at opening, a steady stream of locals and regulars through to the usual peak of activity just before lunch. Like clockwork, Mr Tromley closed the doors bang on midday for an hour and Steve gathered his sketchbook along with the brown paper bag which contained his cheese and bread, and headed outside into the sun. At Mr Tromley’s instruction he selected an apple from the display and crossed the road avoiding the yellow cabs and cyclists and trams, taking up seat on the bench which sat directly opposite the shop front.  He chewed his lunch, washed it down with the tin bottle of lemonade that Mrs Tromley had filled for him earlier, and then once he had finished his apple he tossed the core over to a pigeon who instantly began pecking at it. He then untucked the pencil that was behind his ear, opened his sketchbook and resumed the detailed landscapes he was doing of the buildings surrounding the shop front. Drawing was his escape, something he did any chance he got. He dreamed one day of travelling the world, drawing all the different sights he could, but that was out of the question. Well, until he finally got into the army. With four failed attempts under his belt already, most men would have given up but not Steven Rogers. Stubborn, tenacious and plucky to a fault, he was already planning his next attempt at enlisting, this time he was going to hail from New Jersey. Well, as good a place as any.  

Steve glanced up, checking the detail of the window to the cobblers next door, and that was when he saw her, just walking down the sidewalk. She wore a red high-collared, cap sleeved tea-dress which flared out slightly from her hips and finished just below her knee. It was cinched in at the waist with a black belt, and was detailed round the hem and sleeve edges with pretty white lace. On her feet she wore a pair of simple, elegant black block heel courts with a T-bar buckle. Her hair was a silky, shiny chestnut which hung around her face in bouncy waves and she had a soft, gentle profile with high cheekbones, slightly flushed cheeks and ruby lips. She stopped outside the shop, examining the flowers with a smile, and then she looked up at the shop door and saw the CLOSED sign in the window. She can’t be from around here, Steve thought to himself, everyone in the neighbourhood knew when Tromley closed his doors and opened them, you could set your watch by it. Still, she hung around, softly picking up a gardenia and holding it to her nose, smiling to herself as she inhaled.

Steve found the innocent act breath-taking. He felt a little, well, shameful in a way, to be watching her so, intruding on what was clearly a private moment but he couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, grace personified, and he felt a little sad as she replaced the flower, gave the buckets one last look, before she continued on her way. Steve sighed, wishing to God that the shop had been open, it would have given him an excuse to maybe see her a little more closely. Perhaps talk to her. Or not as the case maybe, Bucky was always telling him how useless he was when it came to striking up conversations with ladies. But, for now, he had to settle for watching her walk away. Only he wasn’t the only one.

“Hey pretty thing…” Steve heard a voice and turned to his left where a group of men, most likely in their late teens or early twenties, had spotted her. As Steve watched he saw one of them push himself off the lamppost he’d been leaning on and cross the street towards her. The lady stopped, looking at him with her eyebrow raised. He spoke to her again, Steve couldn’t hear the conversation but a smile tugged at his lips as the lady looked the boy up and down, disdain etched all over her pretty face before she shook her head and laughed. She made to move past the kid but he reached out and grabbed her arm.

And Steve just couldn’t help himself.

“Hey!” He called, jumping up and hurrying across the street. “Let the lady go.”

“Back off, this has nothing to do with you.” The man rounded on him, looking at him before he snorted at Steve’s stature. “Besides, what you gonna do about it anyway? Runt.”

Steve took a deep breath, he was used to people looking down their noses at him, both figuratively and literally. That was part and parcel of being only five foot four inches tall. He also knew that at hundred pound give or take, he didn’t cut a formidable figure either, but he was damned if he was going to let this bully manhandle a dame in the middle of the street.

The woman wrenched her arm away from the man’s grip and glared at him, furious green eyes bored into his as she snorted and looked the guy up and down. “He’s clearly twice the gentleman you’ll ever be. Didn’t your mother ever teach you basic, good manners jack ass?”

“What did you just say?” a sudden darkness crossed the man’s face as he looked down at the woman who stood, un-yielding, clutching her purse as it hung around her shoulder.

“You heard me, well unless you’re deaf as well as ugly.” She shrugged slightly. At that Steve really couldn’t hold his face straight anymore and he felt the side of his lips curl up into a smirk. He was sure the pretty dame’s eyes flickered to his but he must have imagined it as when he stole a glance back at her she was staring straight back at the man who’d been giving her the trouble.

“Mouthy little broad you ain’t ya?” He snarled.

“Show some damned respect.” Steve shot out, and this time the man rounded on him. Steve stood stock still, his mother’s words echoing clearly in his head- you start running, they’ll never let you stop and he was aware in his peripheral that the other 2 men who’d been observing until now were starting to circle like sharks who had just had their first taste of blood.

He braced himself, ready for the inevitable fight, legs slightly apart, hands balling into fists by his side. But it was no use. He was never going to be fast enough or strong enough for one of these guys, let alone three, and as the fist connected with his face he heard a scream and a yell as he fell backwards into the display of oranges and apples which he had lovingly helped Mr T prepare before.

Steve staggered to his feet, readying himself for another hit but it didn’t come. Instead one of the guys was sent sprawling to the ground besides him, shortly followed by the other. He wheeled round to see Bucky had the one that was left standing pinned up by the collar against the brick wall to the side of the shop and Mrs T was on the door step brandishing a broom handle, a string of Italian expletives leaving her mouth.

“Get outta here!” Bucky shoved the one that he was holding harshly into the road where he narrowly avoided colliding with the side of a yellow cab. Then turns to Steve and pulls him up.

“Seriously?” Bucky groaned and Steve shook his head, dusting himself down “You pick a fight with three at once?”

“He didn’t pick a fight with any of them.” A soft voice spoke and both Steve and Bucky turned to look at the dame in the red dress who was dusting herself down as her eyes flitted from Bucky, to Steve, then back again. “He came to help me when one of those bozos was getting a little too familiar.”

“That’s Stevie, a regular Knight in shining armour.” Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair as he gave an exasperated sigh, pushing himself away from his best friend. “Especially when there’s a beautiful dame involved.”

 The lady looked at Bucky, arching an eyebrow before she looked back at Steve and he gulped slightly as for the first time he took her in properly. There was nothing else to say other than she was drop dead gorgeous. Deep green eyes that sparkled like emeralds looked back at him from a heart shaped face, nose speckled with freckles which twitched a little as she smiled revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth

"I guess I should thank you Stevie." She spoke, and Steve felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

"It was nothing...I just.." he stopped dead as she reached out and straightened his tie, long eyelashes blinking against his cheeks as she smoothed over his shoulders and dropped a kiss to his cheek.

"My hero"

Steve swallowed and looked at the woman as she stepped back, smiling at him.

“I err, it was…my pleasure.” Steve stuttered and the lady arched an eyebrow, a grin on her face.

“Interesting choice of words.”

“I mean, not pleasure, obviously. No one likes seeing a beautiful dame getting hassled, I mean woman, not that…” he shook his head, as Bucky nudged him. He was rambling, as per usual. “I err, I should…”he gestured to the shop as Mr and Mrs Tromley were now looking at the mess of fruit all over the floor.

“I’m sorry about that.” She turned to the shopkeepers who looked at her, Mrs Tromley waving her away.

“Not your fault, dear.”

“Can I at least buy some of the flowers?”  She asked, a little shyly. “That is what I actually wanted to do after all.”

“Of course, Steven, can you…” Mr T nodded to Steve and then his eyes fell on Bucky “James Buchanan Barnes, what are you doing here?”

“Got a week or so’s furlough, Mr T and Ma sent me for some stuff, I gotta list.” he nodded, fishing it out of his pocket.

Tromley took it from him, scanned it and then turned to walk into the shop, beckoning for Bucky to follow him. Steve’s eyes followed his friend’s broad back as Bucky paused in the doorway and stopped, turning back to the woman. Steve groaned inwardly, he knew that face, Bucky was about to turn on the charm and she was no doubt going to fall in a pool at his feet, just like most of the other girls in the neighbourhood.

“You’re not from round here, right?” Bucky asked.

“What makes you say that?” She countered with a question of her own, looking Bucky up and down as she spoke.

“Never seen you before.”

“Know all the girls in Brooklyn, do you James Buchanan Barnes?” She asked, and Bucky gave a chuckle as she repeated his name to him and winked.

“Only the pretty ones.” “Well I suppose with most men joining the army the moment, even the pretty ones can’t be choosers.”

At that Steve let out a snort of laughter as Bucky blinked in surprise. “Ouch.” He gave a little scoff and shake of his head before he turned to walk into the shop.

“He always like that?” The lady looked at Steve who took a deep breath and smiled a little.

“Yes Ma’am. And to be honest it normally works.” Steve glanced at Bucky before he looked back at the woman who was looking at him, her eyes twinkling. “Most girls just can’t seem’ta say no!”

“Well, I’ll let you into a secret.” She grinned and leaned closer to Steve. “I’m not like most girls.”

Steve swallowed again, nervously brushing a hand through his hair as she straightened up and smiled at him. “I’m Katie by the way, seems only fair you know my name seeing as I know yours.”

“I err, that’s a pretty name.” Steve smiled and then inwardly cursed himself again.

Pretty name? Really? That’s the best you can do?

“Thank you.” She giggled, and then she turned to the buckets “So errr, do you wanna make me a bouquet Steve? Something pretty for my room.”

Glad of the distraction, Steve nodded and turned to the various bunches of flowers. “I err, I noticed you were admiring the gardenias, so…” “You were watching me?” she spoke and Steve looked at her, ready to start protesting that wasn’t what he’d been doing when he spotted the glint in her eyes and he shook his head giving a sigh. She grinned “I love gardenias, lilies are my favourite but gardenias are pretty too.”

“Yeah we don’t have any lilies, unfortunately.” Steve shrugged “They were my Ma’s favourite too.”

Steve set about gathering a generous bunch of flowers as she instructed him to make it a large bouquet and then she followed him into the shop where he wrapped them in brown paper and string as Bucky was leaning against the counter, chatting to the Tromleys, Mrs Tromley laughing loudly at something he’d said.

“You are a cad, Bucky Barnes!” She looked at him, shaking her head “Isn’t it bad enough you joined the army? You’ll give your ma a heart attack one of these days.”

Bucky shrugged “It wasn’t so bad, he never caught me. Even on a bum ankle I was faster.”

“You been caught in places you shouldn’t be again Buck?” Steve looked at him and he shrugged, grinning.

“You know me, Stevie!”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Steve rolled his eyes before he tied off the bouquet with the string and then handed it to Katie. She smiled.

“You have talented hands.” She spoke gently and Steve flushed once more, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, he’s good with them.” Bucky spoke and Steve glared at him. Katie turned to look at Bucky again, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Makes a change, in my experience most men don’t know the first thing about how to use them.”

Mrs Tromley choked a little on her coffee as she looked at the younger woman, flashing her a wink. Katie bit her lip, her mouth curling up into a small smile as she rummaged in her purse, pulling out a small leather wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

“No charge.” Mr Tromley spoke suddenly but Katie shook her head.

“I insist, I was responsible for your display getting trashed, least I can do is pay for these.”

“Oh trust me,” Mr Tromley smiled, “seeing you put that toe-rag into them was worth it.”

“Yeah, you had some pretty vicious moves for a dame.” Bucky looked at her and she shrugged as Steve frowned.

“Wait, you…” “Don’t look so surprised.” Katie smiled “A girl should always know how to defend herself. But if I’m honest, it’s always nice to have a man do it for you.”

At that she smiled and slapped some money down on the counter, stepping back. “Keep the change in insist.”

Mr Tromley looked at her, then at the note, his mouth falling open a little.

“Thank you again Steve.” She picked up the bouquet. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so, I mean…yeah…come back soon.”

She smiled and with a final look in his direction she left, the bell ringing as the door opened and shut behind her. There was a pause until Bucky turned to Steve.

“Come back soon?” he looked at him “Really? That’s the best you could do?”

Steve groaned. “Piss off Bucky.” He shot, giving a yelp as Mrs T swatted at his head.

“Language, Steven!” She scalded, as Mr T chuckled and slid the money she’d left to Steve across the counter. Steve blinked and looked at it, before he shook his head. Mr Tromley glared at him.

“You don’t take that you’re fired.”

With a groan Steve folded the $5 note up and slid it into the pocket of his slacks. Mrs Tromley muttered something about going to check on her scones which were in the oven upstairs and Mr Tromley headed into the back, leaving Steve and Bucky alone.

“You know, that dame was practically begging for you to ask her out on a date.” Bucky picked up the paper bag containing the groceries he had come for and Steve looked at him, snorting.

“You’re joking right?” the smaller man shook his head “Dame’s like that don’t want a guy like me.” “Clueless.” Bucky shook his head “Absolutely fucking clueless.” Steve watched him head to the door, before he stopped and turned back. “Oh that reminds me. Ma’s expecting you about 6 for dinner. She’s making meatloaf and told me that if you refuse she’s gonna, and I quote.” Bucky cleared his throat and spoke in a light, airey impression of his Ma, “march round to his house and drag him outta that apartment by his ear.”

Steve rolled his eyes well naturedly. He hadn’t been to the Barnes’ for dinner for a week so he wasn’t surprised Winnie had sent Bucky with an invitation that was more of an instruction than anything. “Okay, thanks Buck.”

Bucky gave him a salute before he headed out of the store, whistling to himself. Steve took a deep breath, shook his head and turned back to his work, pushing all thoughts of the stunning young woman in the red dress out of his mind.

*****

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” She taunting voice of his opponent rang in Steve’s ears as he staggered to his feet. This wasn’t how he’d planned his trip to the movie theatre going, not one iota. But when the loudmouthed asshole had done nothing but show total disrespect to those fighting overseas as the infomercial was showing, his temper had gotten the better of him and once more had led to him getting into a fight. As far as Monday’s went, this one was pretty crappy.

Which of course he could never walk away from.

“I can do this all day.” Steve huffed, swinging his fist at the guy again. The jerk easily blocked Steve’s feeble punch with his arm, delivering a huge jab with his left which sent Steve sprawling straight into the side of the trashcan from which he’d picked up the lid before. As Steve lay dazed, he heard a familiar voice breaking through the fog.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.” Bucky yanked the guy backwards by his jacket, shoving him a little down the alleyway. The guy swung at Bucky who dodged it almost lazily, before delivering a punch of his own, placing a firm boot up the guys ass as he retreated hurriedly. Watching as he scooted away, Bucky turned to Steve who was stood with his hands on his knees, steadying himself.

“Sometimes, I think you like getting punched.”

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve replied, pressing the heel of his palm to the cut above his eyebrow, wincing a little from the various blows he’d taken.

Bucky said nothing, instead he bent down to pick up the enlistment form that had fallen from Steve’s pocket and with a sigh he glanced at it.

“How many times is this?” His eyes scanned the information and he arched an eyebrow “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”

Steve ignored him, and then for the first time looked up at his friend to see him stood tall in his full army uniform. Which could only mean one thing. “You get your orders?” he frowned a little.

“The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

Steve sighed, great. Just what he needed to hear. “I should be going.” He shook his head dejectedly.

Bucky looked at him sympathetically before he smiled, and looked an arm round his shoulder, pulling him closer in a friendly gesture as they both began to head back down the alley towards the main road.

“Come on, man, it’s my last night! Gotta get you cleaned up.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“The future.” Bucky handed Steve the newspaper he was holding. Steve opened it to see the ad for the World Exposition Of Tomorrow.

“Buck…” he began to protest but Bucky stopped him.

“Seriously? My last night before I ship off to bust Nazi’s and you’re already tryin’a bail?”

“No, I just…” “Stevie!” Bucky whined. “Since I got my draft last September, I’ve hardly seen you other than when I’ve been home…”

“I know, but…” “No buts, man! I mean who knows when I’m gonna see you again now I’m actually being sent into combat and not just back to Camp McCoy. You know, London is a little further afield than Wisconsin “

“I’m well aware of that.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“So come on! Let’s go, have some fun. Cut loose a little. It’ll do you good.”

Steve looked up to see Bucky’s eyes shining with mischief, his handsome face grinning at him and he rolled his eyes “Fine, but you’re buying the hotdogs.”

“What else is new?” Bucky grinned, grabbing Steve in a headlock and ruffling his hair a little.

“Jerk.” Steve said furiously, pushing him away.

*****

A couple of hours later the two of them entered the Expo, Steve taking in the sights around him. It was crazy busy, a buzz of excitement around the air and it was hardly surprising. Howard Stark, the guy at the centre of it all was somewhat of a celebrity. He’d founded his company some four years ago at the age of twenty-two, and it had grown from strength to strength, with numerous pioneering technological advances to his name. Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited to see the latest and no doubt flamboyant invention the guy had come up with, but his mind was still on his failed Army application, the feeling of inadequacy exacerbated even more by the fact Bucky was going to be leaving him behind to serve his country, something that Steve felt he should be doing right along with his best pal.

Sensing his brooding nature, Bucky nudged him and opened his mouth no doubt to make some wise crack, but Steve shook his head.

“Buck, just don’t”

“I don’t see what the problem is.” Bucky shook his head as they wandered down the steps towards the main pavilion area “You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York.” Bucky grinned, and Steve sighed heavily. Yup, there it was. “You know, there’s three and a half million women here.”

“Well, I’d settle for just one.” Steve muttered and Bucky grinned, Steve allowing a little smile to spread across his face at his own joke.

“Good thing I took care of that.” Bucky grinned and waved to two girls, a blonde and a brunette, who stood a few feet away and Steve stopped dead as one of the girls waved back, calling out to Bucky.

Great, here we go again.

“What did you tell her about me?” Steve groaned. “Only the good stuff.” Bucky smirked as they walked towards the girls, Steve brushing his hand through his hair, making sure it was as tidy as he could.

Bucky introduced the girls as Connie and Bonnie. It was obvious from the start that Connie was the one Bucky was trying his luck with, although to be fair Bonnie might as well have been with Bucky too for all the attention she paid to Steve. As they wandered into the Pavilion, Steve stopped to purchase a bag of sweets before he followed on behind the other 3, glancing around at the various exhibits.

“Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow.” The expo announcer spoke “A greater world. A better world.”

There was a little bit of murmuring from people in front of them as they stopped, glancing at the large stage in front of them which was currently dark, but then there was movement, music struck up and Connie grabbed Bucky’s arm in excitement.

“Oh, my God! It’s starting!” She squealed and yanked on Bucky’s hand, pulling him closer. As Steve stood behind them he saw the stage light up to reveal a row of women all dressed in black and white striped waistcoats, short jackets and top hats. One of them walked across the front of the stage, smiling as she spoke into a microphone

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!”

Smooth and cool as a cucumber, Howard Stark strode onto the stage, taking off his top hat, whilst he smiled, handing it to the announcer before kissing her as the crowd cheered. Howard smirked a little, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket which he used to dab at his mouth before he addressed his audience.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” at that point Steve held the small paper bag over towards Bonnie who looked at it, then him, almost scathingly as Howard continued his speech. “What if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?”

“You know…” A vaguely familiar voice spoke and Steve looked up from where he had been examining his bag of bonbons, wondering what was wrong with them, to see the woman from the shop a few days ago, Katie stood to the side of Bonnie. She was dressed in a simple grey dress which sported a pencil style skirt, with a light blue cardigan covering her shoulders. “When a gentleman offers you a sweet and you don’t want one, there’s really no need to be such a rude bitch about it.”

Her eyes were narrowed as she gave Bonnie a scathing look. Bonnie floundered a little as Katie reached out, dipping her red nailed, manicured hand into the paper bag and taking a bonbon. In doing so, she jostled Bonnie forward a little with her elbow, and turned to the stage, popping the bonbon in her mouth, giving Steve a little wink. Steve felt his cheeks flush as Bucky turned, his attention drawn to the slight scuffle behind him. He saw Katie stood next to Steve and he grinned.

“Hey Dollface!” Katie turned her head and looked at Bucky as Steve rolled his eyes. However, just like at the shop, she payed Bucky no attention other than a flick of her eyebrow, before her eyes moved back to the stage, Steve doing the same to see that Stark was now stood by some sort of podium.

“With Stark robotic reversion technology, you’ll be able to do just that.” Howard spoke, and with that he turned to fiddle with a few switches on the podium and the car started to hover ever so slightly off the ground. Steve felt his mouth drop open in awe as in front of him Bucky let out an astonished mumble.

“Holy cow!”

But he spoke too soon, as the jets making the car hover suddenly malfunctioned and the car fell back onto the stage with a loud crash, sparks flying out round it.

Bucky turned to look at Steve, smiling as Steve’s eyebrows raised, and besides him, Katie gave a snort.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Howard laughed, leaning on the bonnet of the car.

“Few years my ass.” Katie mumbled and Steve looked at her.

“What?”

“Nothing, doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Listen, I gotta go-”

“Oh, ok.” Steve tried not to sound disappointed but Katie smiled at him softly, cutting him off.

“Meet me at the Cider cart in an hour.”

“I err…” Steve stuttered, before he frowned. “You sure, you wanna meet me?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have said so.” Katie grinned. “One hour, don’t you dare be late.”

“Yeah, an hour, got it.”

Not quite able to believe his luck, Steve watched her go, smiling to himself before he glanced around and his eyes stopped on the familiar Uncle Sam poster pointing at him, with an arrow directing him to a recruitment centre. What the hell, he had nothing to lose…and an hour was plenty of time. Decision made, he followed the signs and jogged up the steps into the building, pausing to take a look around as people were milling in the carpeted hallway.

“Come on soldier!” a woman giggled at her male company, pulling him away from a mirror making him look like a soldier. Once he was gone Steve stepped in front of the mirror but he was too short to fill out the face. His shoulders slumped and then suddenly, a strong hand gripped his right and Bucky chuckled.

“You’re kind of missing the point of a double date.” He said, shaking his head as Steve stepped away, turning to face him “We’re taking the girls dancing.”

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.” Steve replied, hands dropping into his pockets.

“What, you had a better offer? From Dollface?”

“Her name is Katie.”

“Oh my God I’m right!” Bucky laughed. “Good for you, Punk!”

Steve rolled his eyes and then watched as a man strode past him in an Army Uniform and when Steve looked back at Bucky, his friend’s face now sported an exasperated expression as he’d clearly realised what Steve was planning. “You’re really gonna do this again?”

“Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.” Steve answered with a little shrug.

“As who? Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” Bucky’s voice was frustrated and Steve gave a little smile.

“Look, I know you don’t think I can do this, but I’m more-“

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war!” Bucky cut him off.

“I know it’s a war. You don’t have to tell me that-“ “Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.” “What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal-“

“Yes!”

“-in my little red wagon?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” Steve argued, shaking his head.

“I don’t…” Bucky protested once more and Steve cut him off.

“Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Right. Cause you got nothing to prove.” Bucky said gently and Steve took a deep breath. But before Bucky could say anything else Connie called out to him.

“Hey, Sarge! Are we going dancing?”

Bucky turned back to the girls, his arms held out to the side. “Yes, we are.” With that he turned back to Steve, shaking his head a little, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” He instructed as he started to walk away.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve shot back and Bucky shook his head, giving a snort.

“You’re a punk.” He walked back towards Steve and hugged him goodbye.

“Jerk” Steve said gently slapping Bucky’s back. “Be careful.”

With a pang of sadness, Steve watched his best friend walking away, not quite sure when they’d see each other again, if indeed ever. He licked his lips and then called out to Bucky once more. “Don’t win the war till I get there!”

Bucky stopped and saluted him before he strode down the steps, “Come on girls. They’re playing our song.”

With a deep breath, Steve headed into the recruitment centre, past an older gentlemen in a brown suit. He was given the usual forms to fill out, this time going with Ohio as his place of birth-thanks for that one, Buck- and he was shown to the medical examination room. After the short physical was over, he was just fastening the sleeves of his long shirt up again when a nurse walked into the room and whispered something inaudible to the doctor.

“Wait here.” The Doctor turned to him, moving to the curtain.

“Is there a problem?” Steve asked, frowning a little.

“Just wait here.” The doctor repeated his instruction before he walked out.

Steve paused for a second, glancing over his right shoulder at a sign warning against lying on enlistment forms before he glanced at the curtain, cold dread filling him. Shit, Bucky was right, they’d caught up with him. Jumping down off the bed he sat heavily in a chair and began to pull on his shoes when someone entered the cubicle. He glanced up and saw a Military Police officer looking at him and he swallowed a little nervously. But before he could say anything another man entered, the man Steve had walked past about forty minutes or so previously in the foyer, and he was clutching a file in his hands.

“Thank you.” The man spoke to the Police Officer who left, pulling the curtains closed behind him. Steve watched as the man turned to face him, his hands behind his back. “So, you want to go overseas.” The man pulled the file from behind him, opening it “Kill some Nazis.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dr. Abraham Erskine.” The man closed the folder and walked over as Steve stood up, shaking his hand “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

“Steve Rogers” Steve nodded, noting the man’s accent as he placed the file on the medical bed and started to look through it. “Where are you from?”

“Queens. 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany.” He adjusted his glasses as he glanced at Steve “This troubles you?”

“No.” Steve replied honestly, shaking his head.

“Where are you from, Mr. Rogers?” Erskine asked, resting both his hands on the bench “Mmm? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities.”

“That might not be the right file.” Steve began to try and get out of whatever trouble he was in but Erskine was quick to cut him off.

“No, it’s not the exams I’m interested in. It’s the five tries.” Erskine closed the file, picking it up “But you didn’t answer my question.” He strode over and stopped in front of Steve “Do you want to kill Nazis?”

Steve glanced to the side before he looked at Erskine “Is this a test?”

“Yes.” The man replied bluntly and Steve took a deep breath, before he answered as honestly as he could.

“I don’t wanna kill anyone.” He shook his head, raising his eyes to meet Erskine’s “I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”

“Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is the little guy, huh?” Erskine smiled before he turned to leave “I can offer you a chance” he said, whipping the curtains open “Only a chance.”

Steve couldn’t believe his ears. Was this Doctor guy actually telling him he’d done it, that he’d finally made it into the army? He had no idea what the Strategic Science Reserve was, or why Erskine had questioned him so, but right now he didn’t care.

“I’ll take it.” He said, hastily grabbing his belongings and following Erskine out.

“Good.” Erskine placed the file down on the desk and picked up a stamp, before replacing it and reaching for another “So where is the little guy from, actually?”

Steve smiled “Brooklyn.”

Erskine smiled back, stamped the form before closing the file and handing it to Steve. “Congratulations, soldier.”

Steve hastily opened it up and did a double take as he saw the stamp was a 1A this time, not 4f. He let out a deep breath and glanced up to thank the man, but he’d already left.

“You’ll be sent your papers and instructions shortly” Another man spoke to him, taking the file off him and handing him back the recruitment slip. Steve nodded. “Be ready, the SSR are on a schedule.”

Steve nodded, before he was shown out of the room. Still in a daze he clutched the piece of paper in his hand and wandered back to the area where he’d left Bucky before. And then he remembered Katie.

Shit.

He hastily made his way outside the building and headed back to the pavilion, weaving his way through the crowds. He found the cider cart and saw her waiting, chatting to the man behind the counter, her brown hair hanging round her shoulders, rouged lips which curled up into a smile as she spotted him approaching.

“You’re late.” Katie looked at him and Steve flushed. “I was beginning to thing you’d stood me up.”

“I wouldn’t do that, my ma taught me better.” He gave her a small smile “I was just...” he waved his enlistment paper at her and she frowned a little

“You enlisted?”

He nodded “Yup.” “Wow.” Katie blinked, “Erm, congratulations, I guess. Is that the right word?”

“It is when you’ve tried and been rejected several times already.” Steve shrugged before he snorted “Story of my life.”

“That girl before was fuckin’ rude.” Katie’s eyes narrowed and Steve blinked at the profanity coming from her mouth before she rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact I swore means I’m gonna go to hell.” She snorted “If it does, then I got that particular ticket a long time ago.”

“Sorry, I was…” he took a deep breath. “For such a pretty woman you certainly…er…”

“Have a filthy mouth?” She asked and Steve snorted, shrugging as he looked away, his lips curling up into a crooked smile as he raised his eyebrows. She leaned closer to him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered “You have no idea.”

Steve swallowed at the blatant innuendo causing her to laugh at him even more before she nudged him with her elbow “Come on soldier, what do you want to drink?”

Soldier…that was the second time in ten minutes he’d been called that, and Steve liked it much more coming from her. He watched her for a second before he realised he was staring and she jerked her head towards the stall.

“Cat got your tongue, Stevie?” She grinned and he took a deep breath. “What do you want?”

“Erm, an ale…please…hang on.” He began fishing in his pocket but Katie gently wrapped a hand around his wrist.

“No need.” She smiled, as the man behind the counter held out the ale for Steve along with a cup of cider for her. She took it with a thanks and smiled, taking a sip. “Put it on the tab, will you?”

The stall attendant snorted and nodded “Whatever you say, Katie.”

She turned away and started walking slowly over to an exhibit, Steve falling into step besides her.

“How does he know ya?” Steve asked. Katie looked at him as she swallowed a sip of her cider

“Because I work here,well, I do at the moment.” She smiled as Steve looked at her blankly “I helped organise this.” She waved her hand around.

“You work for Howard Stark?”

“In a fashion.” Katie shrugged. “Now come on, I’m not working now and I wanna see how everything looks.”

They walked around the expo grounds, taking in the sights and various attractions. Steve was surprised to find his awkwardness ebbing away with each minute he spent in Katie’s company. She was down to Earth, easy to talk to and made him feel comfortable about himself…although his good spirits might have also been due to the fact he’d finally made it into the army. His meeting with Dr Erskine had baffled him a little, all truth be told, but he’d liked the man. There was something about him that told Steve he could trust him, and Steve was normally a pretty good judge of character.

By the time they’d done pretty much a lap of the main area of the Pavillion, stopping to examine The Synthetic Man in great detail, Steve was surprised to find that he’d spent over an hour with a woman who hadn’t been seeking to lose him at the first opportunity, quite the opposite in fact. On more than one occasion he noticed men looking in her direction, then to his with puzzled expressions on their face, and he had to admit was it the other way round he’d also probably be slightly surprised to see them together. She was a good two inches taller than him, but he was used to that, she was pretty, vivacious…well out of his league all things considered. But she was good company, and he was thoroughly disappointed when they seemed to be heading back towards the place they’d started, signalling their time together was likely coming to an end.

“So, do you need to find Barnes or…” she looked at him and Steve chuckled.

“Er no, no. He’ll be busy.” Steve shrugged

“What, he just ditched you for those girls?” Katie frowned.

“No, not entirely. I ditched him, well, I went to join the army. He doesn’t approve.” Steve finished, explaining slightly.

“Approve of what?”

“Me signin’ up.

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t think I can cope.” Steve shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly a healthy kid so…”

“Well they let you in so you can’t be that bad.”

Steve wrinkled his nose and shook his head slightly. “Some doctor in there offered me a chance, what can I say? Said that there were so many big guys fighting, maybe they needed a little one.”

At that Katie stopped walking and looked at him. “Wait, it was a doctor that accepted you?”

“Yeah,” Steve frowned

“You mean one of the Medical Recruitment Officers?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve’s frown deepened “He was with some Scientific Division.” He looked at Katie, who was looking right back at him, her eyes wide “Wait, is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing, just surprised me a little, that’s all.” She looked around, as if she was searching for someone and Steve watched her, a little confused as she chewed her lip with an air of contemplation before she looked back at him, her green eyes locking onto his with a softness in them that made him go weak at the knees, well, weaker than normal. “Thank you for keeping me company tonight Steve, I had fun.”

“Me too.” He said earnestly. “Hey, if you want, I mean only if you want, we could maybe meet up again, you know, before I get my posting?” At that Katie’s face fell and Steve sighed, he’d blown it. She’d only asked him to accompany her round he expo out of politeness, duty even as a thank you for his intervention on the street a few weeks back, and now he’d put her on the spot. “It’s okay.” He started to back track. “I get that you’re probably busy and get asked that all the time…”

“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head “I’d love to go out with you Steve, but I leave town tomorrow. I’m needed back at, well, my other job.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve popped a shoulder up, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, I err…good luck. With whatever that job is.”

Katie laughed. “It’s me who should be wishing you good luck, trust me.” She cocked her head before she took a deep breath. “Just remember Steve, the world needs men like you, be a shame if we lost you all in the war.”

At her compliment he felt himself once more flush, and the heat in his neck rose even more as she leaned down and pressed her lips softly to his cheek. She pulled back a little, locking her eyes onto his and he swallowed, the lump in his throat now only rivalled by the one he was starting to feel in his slacks. And then, he had no idea how it happened but her lips were suddenly pressed to his. He froze momentarily, but then he went with his instinct and mirrored her movements, his eyes fluttering closed. Her hands gently curled over his shoulder, his automatically falling to her hips, shaking a little against the fabric of her dress as the kiss deepened slightly, the warm edge of her tongue flicking at his lips. He parted his mouth a little, allowing her to curl her tongue against his, a movement that made him shudder and he was beyond disappointed when she pulled away. She smiled against his mouth, her nose bumping his slightly as his cheeks felt hotter than the sun. He knew he was blushing, furiously, having just had his first proper kiss in the middle of a huge exhibition, but Katie seemed completely nonplussed as she smiled at him.

“For luck.” She whispered, stepping back slightly, before she turned and headed away, casting a glance back over her shoulder at him, flashing him another cheeky little wink. “See you around.”

Steve floundered a little, mouth gaping as he watched her disappear into the crowd, and with a final shake of his head and a deep, steadying breath he headed for the exit.

*****

 As it turned out Steve didn’t have long to wait for his posting at all. The following day he received his papers assigning him to Camp Lehigh in New Jersey as part of his recruitment to the SSR’s “Operation Rebirth” programme, whatever that was. He assumed he’d receive more details upon arrival. It wasn’t that which surprised him the most however, it was the date upon which he was ordered to report. Wednesday. As in, tomorrow. Whilst it didn’t give him much time to prepare, it didn’t bother him too much. He had meagre belongings anyways and anything he didn’t want to take with him he packed up into smaller boxes with the help of Bucky’s teenage sister Rebecca, Buck’s dad promising to keep it safe for him until he got back.

Winnie was beside herself when Steve broke the news that he too was enlisting, but she wished him well and made him promise to write. As did the Tromleys, who both took the news even worse than Bucky’s family had. Ada having first burst into tears then hugged him so hard he thought she was going to crush him half to death, whilst Mr Tromley had shook his hand and warned him that if he didn’t come back alive, with all 4 limbs, he’d kill Steve himself.

The morning rolled round ridiculously fast and both the Tromleys and Mr and Mrs Barnes insisted on seeing him off.  Once more Ada and Winnie hugged him tightly before Mr Tromley and Mr Barnes shook his hand, the latter promising Steve he would sort out everything with his landlord, taking the key to his small apartment in the tenement building where Steve had lived in all his life. Steve felt a little pang of emotion at that point, this was the last physical tie he really had to his mother but he took a deep breath letting it go slowly. She’d been dead now for seven years and anything that remained of hers in the building was all safely stored.

No, Steve had absolutely no doubts about what he was doing. This was all he had ever wanted, to follow in his father’s footsteps and so, at six am on the 16th June 1943 Steve Rogers boarded the Army bus that arrived at the bus station to take him and a number of other recruits to New Jersey, leaving the place he’d called home for his entire life behind.

**** Chapter 2

[imagineabrighterworld]

Psy-Cutie pt. 1

Summary // Mind Jack is an S-ranked villain who always manages to evade capture. You are a florist working in the city and never really minded what was happening around you. You kept an ear open for more relevant news, but you never heard of Mind Jack or his schemes. This works in Hitoshi Shinso's favor as he crashes into your shop one day, injured and unable to take care of himself. Lucky for him, you are just the healer he needs.

A/N: Based loosely on the song American Beauty/American Psycho, hope you enjoy! ^^

- - -

Hitoshi knew two things when he woke up in an unfamiliar bed.

One. He was in pain.

Two. He was safe.

He knew he was safe with clear surety because if the person who saved him knew who he was, he would have on handcuffs and a muzzle rather than a blanket and bandages.

-4 hours earlier-

Twisting the dial of his mask, Hitoshi tests the new vocals he had acquired.

"Help me! Please Akane!" The voice of a 45 year old woman echoes in the room, bouncing off the concrete walls. The voice belonged to Hiromi Sasaki, the wife of a broker who had ties to several Pro Heroes in the Coruscant district. She had been a thorn in Hitoshi's side what with her providing new equipment and upgraded tech to superheroes. Last month he had nearly been foiled by a beam that concentrated a hypnotic ray. But now he had the perfect plan to get rid of her.

Or rather, get rid of her clients privacy.

"Hiromi! Are you here?!" Akane yells from afar, finally catching up to him after following the sound of her wife from blocks away. Now that they were in a closed and controlled area, Hitoshi felt no need to continue this game of cat and mouse.

"How precious." His voice rings out. "You really do love her don't you. If only that love was enough to keep her safe." He steps out from his spot behind a pillar, looking at the now frozen broker who stood still at the doorway. Her eyes were wide open, a blank canvas.

He stalks forward, lowering his mask into the folds of his capture weapon. "You're going to listen to me now." Hitoshi beckons her with a finger, walking backwards to a single chair. "Come. Let's go over the terms of our agreement."

The woman sits down on the rickety chair, showing no signs of fear as it buckles under her weight.

"From now on, you'll be attaching these to all the equipment you sell to your heroes." He unties a small bag from his waist and tosses it onto her lap. They were tracking devices. "If you get caught, your wife will not come back from what I'll do to her."

Nothing, nothing showed on her face that she was listening, but he knew his instructions ran clear. He could feel his control taking over. His quirk had evolved since his time at U.A, no longer was his brain washing temporary, no, he could give long term instructions. It was very, very useful. An evolution he was sure his old classmate would have loved to jot down. But today wasn’t a day for lamenting old friendships he already burned.

Bang!

His focus snaps to the wall next to him, the concrete was beginning to crack as a barrage of fists pummeled into it.

Shit.

"Don't forget what I told you." Hitoshi pulls his mask back into place, cutting off his connection to the broker, not sparing another second to watch her as he bolts to the farthest window with his capture weapon in hand.

Breaking through the glass he sends the end of the scarf to a faraway pole, using it to swing onto a nearby building. He curls into a ball and tumbles to lessen the impact on his joints before sprinting across the rooftops. Narrowly he evades the paralyzing bullets of police officers on the ground, shouting to the heroes who were hot on his tail.

It was fun, in a way, they were finally making it fun for him after being so easily put down.

But the heroes were prepared for him. Finally, they learned to bring proper backup.

"Mind Jack!" The hero Racer yells from the rooftop next to him. The hero beside them creates a ramp of metal, allowing Racer to send themselves flying onto the rooftop he was currently on.

Hitoshi coils his capture weapon around Racer's leg as they fly midair, twisting them around and throwing them into the new hero behind him. The group that had begun to accumulate was a mixture of A and C ranked heroes, which normally would be easily handled by himself. But he was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of a telekinetic that sent him plummeting into the ground and through the floors below him.

“Damn!” His scarf wraps around the exposed edge of a steel pillar poking out of the concrete floor, allowing him to swing out of sight from the heroes that continued their path downward where they assumed he had fallen. But it didn’t mean he was safe.

All he remembers is the cold wind rushing past him as he breaks through the window of the thirtieth floor and freefalls to the unforgiving ground.

- Now -

Now he was staring at a pitcher of water with slices of lemons and leaves of mint.

Just where did he land?

"Oh you're awake!" A voice chimes in from behind a curtain. He squints at the fuzzy shadow, making out something round and human shaped.

A hand grabs the curtain and pulls it aside, the roundness now obviously a ceramic pot and the human shaped figure.. A very cute human.

He tilts his head as he watches you balance the pot of dirt on your hip, your cheeks smudged along with your gloved hands.

Who were you?

"You scared me earlier! I almost didn't get to you in time." You place the pot on a chair and pull up a stool from the vanity against the wall, crossing your legs as you sat down. "My quirk is a little reckless, so I was afraid I might hurt you more than help you. But you're a sturdy one."

"What is-!" Hitoshi cringes at the pain in his throat, reaching up a hand to cup his jugular. It felt like crushed glass was grinding against his vocal cords.

You stood up at the sound of his voice, already preparing a cup of water to give to him. "My quirk? It's repel. I can repel anything, living or non-living- but the force I exert can change from moment to moment if I'm not careful. So when I saw you falling, I had to use it in small bursts to keep you from smacking the pavement too hard."

Well, he was asking for your name but he took the water anyway, looking it over for traces of a sedative. Deeming it clean, he mouths a quick ‘thank you’ before drinking.

Using the opportunity to collect clues on what kind of person his host was, Hitoshi takes in the sight around him. A pitcher of water on a chipped black nightstand. Macrame potted plants hanging by an open window. A wardrobe with a sweater peeking out. A worn beige carpet on vinyl floors. Photographs of friends and family. Clippings of plants and dried out flowers in picture frames. 

Nothing out of the ordinary. Safe.

A part of him wanted to cringe. How long had it been since he was around something so ordinary? He didn’t live in places long enough to decorate it. He didn’t leave windows open, chancing a police officer spotting him. He didn’t have any of these things you had.

“So..”

He turns his attention back to you.

“Would you happen to be Hitoshi Shinso?”

His grip on the cup tightens instinctively. Without his voice to activate his quirk, he settles on relying on his physicality. Hitoshi reaches instinctively for the scarf around his neck-

But it wasn’t there.

He settles on a nod, preparing to bolt out of the bed should you try screaming for help. Even without his scarf, he was prepared to scale the walls if he had to.

However, it isn't a yell of fear that he is met with. Surprise floods him as he watches your face light up with a smile. You lean forward with your hands tucked under your thighs. “Really?! I watched you in the U.A sports festivals when I was a teenager! You were amazing!”

Without knowing it, his hand raised from his neck to his face, covering his mouth as you continued on, a warmth building in his cheeks.

“I live pretty far away, but I took a trip to U.A. for my second year, and to see you take down students twice your size was so cool! You really worked hard after the first festival and it showed-“ A blush of your own takes root on your face. You scoot your seat backwards. “Ah- sorry about that.. I didn’t mean to be so forward.”

He shakes his head, looking at you with much softer eyes. He was a villain. And had been a villain after leaving amid his third year at U.A. He didn’t regret his decision and never cared for the love the media gave his former classmates. He didn’t need praise or the affection of strangers. He didn’t care about any of that.

But to hear someone praise him for his hard work, and to hear someone put him in such a light? To hear that someone saw him as more than his quirk?

Hitoshi could get drunk on your words alone.

“You don't mind..? I understand if it’s creepy. I've met fans of Deku who even I was uncomfortable next to.”

Once more he shakes his head, unbothered by your enthusiasm. In fact, he liked it. More than he thought he would.

Was this why heroes strived to be popular? The warm feeling it brought? Or was it because it came from you? Someone so blissfully ignorant of what he has done. 

You still saw him as a hero.

A hero.

“Oh! I need to get back to the shop! Your fall left some of my pots smashed, I need to clean it up before someone gets hurt.” You get to your feet and take his now empty glass, refilling it before handing it back. “Take your time,I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” 

And just when he thought you couldn't get any better, you stumble on your way out, drawing out a squeak from your lips.

He was truly and utterly whipped.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 1: Flowers In The Window

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers, the dumb kid, too stubborn to run away from a fight, was never gonna allow a bunch of no-good low-lives to hassle a dame in the street, even if it was going to lead to him getting his ass kicked. For once, however, the ass kicking has an upside as the dame in question seemed particularly grateful, a fact she displays a few days later at the Stark Expo.

But it wasn’t the only encounter that night that seemed set to change his life when Dr Erskine throws him a bone, meaning Steve can finally do the one thing he’s been desperate to do for years.

Join the army.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Nothing much… Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  As part of SSB’s 1st Birthday, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ sent me and ask asking what would have gone down so to speak should Katie have been part of the CA: TFA timeline. So here it is, my take!  I’ll be trying to keep this fic as accurate to the time period and the movie as possible, just like with the other SS fics. I’ve gleamed the dates and timeline from good old google and a wonderful post that flipped up on my timeline which can be found here.

I really hope you enjoy this, there will be some creative license because, let’s face it, what is Fan Fic other than self-indulgence? I’ve been dying to write something like this for ages. All of it will be written from Steve’s point of view because…well, just because.   Huge thanks to my beta readers @southerngracela​ and @icanfeelastormbrewing​ who both found time in their hugely hectic schedules to check this over. That said, any mistakes are my own. I’ll probably spot them once posted but, whatever!

HAPPY 1 YEAR BIRTHDAY to STARK SPANGLED BANNER!!!! 

SSR Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist 

June 1943

It started just the same as any normal Friday morning for Steven Grant Rogers. He unlocked the back of the Grocery Store on the corner of Berry Street in Brooklyn, using the entrance down the alley way reserved for staff. Once inside he grabbed his beige coloured linen apron off the hook and smiled at the items he had to work with today. Fridays, were always a treat as they took the rare delivery of freshly cut flowers ready to be sold for the weekend. This week there were boxes of bright white gardenias with their waxy petals and shiny, leathery dark green leaves, bunches of bright purple heliotrope which always reminded him of one of his mother’s scarves, and plenty of white, blue and purple asters. Steve bent down to take in the strong, vibrant fragrance of the gardenias, closing his eyes. It was easy to imagine he was in some garden somewhere, or even the middle of central park…not some little shop in Williamsberg.

“Don’t be inhaling enough of that to set your asthma off!” Mr Tromley, a kindly faced, portly man in his 50s greeted, and Steve turned to look at him, smiling a little shyly.

“I won’t Mr T.” he assured him. “They’re just so darn pretty…”

“Well set yourself a few aside.” Mr Tromley smiled “You can take them home and sketch them.”

“Oh, I couldn’t” Steve protested, the way he always did when Mr Tromley tried to slip him something for free be it scraps of meat he couldn’t sell from the counter that would be given to dogs, bread that wasn’t as soft as it had been in the morning and would be fed to the birds, milk that was going to turn, cheese that was slightly past its best. Mr Tromley ignored all his protests though, usually threatening to sack Steve if he didn’t take it. The man knew what it was like to come from a hard background, which was part of the reason he’d taken a shine to that sickly, 22 year old orphan with a degree in fine arts that had come begging for a job some 3 years ago. He couldn’t pay him much but he could do other things to make sure he got by.

“Well if you don’t take ‘em Steve they’ll just end up withering and a-dyin’, so reckon you’d be doin’ em a kindness.” Mr Tromley shrugged “Now, my Ada has some coffee going, you want a cup before we open the doors?”

Steve glanced at the clock above the counter, more out of habit than anything as he knew full well that he arrived with an hour to go.

“Mr T that’d be swell.” He smiled.

“Okay, you get started and I’ll fetch it down.”

Steve began in the usual way, pulling some simple bouquets together, varying in size and price, ready for the busy men to pick up on their way home from work, a nice present for their dame’s for the weekend. Once the stalks and lower foliage were trimmed and stripped, he fastened and tied them in simple brown waxy paper using plain brown string. Steve always insisted on using plain wrapping as anything else would detract from the beauty of the flowers. He placed the finished bouquets into one of the green buckets of water Mr Tromley fetched from the back, before he then carefully and delicately trimmed down the remaining flowers before placing them loose in their own buckets according to type, ready for the ladies, and occasional gentleman, who had the time and desire to create their own bunches.

Impeccably organised, as ever, Steve finished his work 15 minutes before the store was due to open. He then set about helping Mr Tromley as they arranged the buckets outside the shop window on the sidewalk, before they set up the other stalls of seasonal vegetables. There wasn’t much fruit to go by at the moment, but that was a sign of the times really. But what they did have, namely a selection of apples and oranges, they set those out ready too. Once that was done, Mr Tromley handed Steve a thick wedge of fresh bread which had been delivered that morning from the local bakery, along with some of his wife’s home-made jam which was sold from their shop. Steve took his breakfast with a mumbled thanks, averse to taking the daily handouts as ever, and Mr Tromley sighed.

“Steve, when are you going to realise that a piece of bread and jam for breakfast ain’t gonna bankrupt me?”

“I just don’t want to appear to take advantage, that’s all.” “Ah quit it.” Tromley waved his hand, shaking his head “If I didn’t want you to take advantage of it, I wouldn’t offer it would I? Now, eat that and get behind the counter.”

The morning passed much the same as they always did. A flurry of activity at opening, a steady stream of locals and regulars through to the usual peak of activity just before lunch. Like clockwork, Mr Tromley closed the doors bang on midday for an hour and Steve gathered his sketchbook along with the brown paper bag which contained his cheese and bread, and headed outside into the sun. At Mr Tromley’s instruction he selected an apple from the display and crossed the road avoiding the yellow cabs and cyclists and trams, taking up seat on the bench which sat directly opposite the shop front.  He chewed his lunch, washed it down with the tin bottle of lemonade that Mrs Tromley had filled for him earlier, and then once he had finished his apple he tossed the core over to a pigeon who instantly began pecking at it. He then untucked the pencil that was behind his ear, opened his sketchbook and resumed the detailed landscapes he was doing of the buildings surrounding the shop front. Drawing was his escape, something he did any chance he got. He dreamed one day of travelling the world, drawing all the different sights he could, but that was out of the question. Well, until he finally got into the army. With 4 failed attempts under his belt already, most men would have given up but not Steven Rogers. Stubborn, tenacious and plucky to a fault, he was already planning his next attempt at enlisting, this time he was going to hail from New Jersey. Well, as good a place as any.  

Steve glanced up, checking the detail of the window to the cobblers next door, and that was when he saw her, just walking down the sidewalk. She wore a red high-collared, cap sleeved tea-dress which flared out slightly from her hips and finished just below her knee. It was cinched in at the waist with a black belt, and was detailed round the hem and sleeve edges with pretty white lace. On her feet she wore a pair of simple, elegant black block heel courts with a T-bar buckle. Her hair was a silky, shiny chestnut which hung around her face in bouncy waves and she had a soft, gentle profile with high cheekbones, slightly flushed cheeks and ruby lips. She stopped outside the shop, examining the flowers with a smile, and then she looked up at the shop door and saw the CLOSED sign in the window. She can’t be from around here, Steve thought to himself, everyone in the neighbourhood knew when Tromley closed his doors and opened them, you could set your watch by it. Still, she hung around, softly picking up a gardenia and holding it to her nose, smiling to herself as she inhaled.

Steve found the innocent act breath-taking. He felt a little, well, shameful in a way, to be watching her so, intruding on what was clearly a private moment but he couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, grace personified, and he felt a little sad as she replaced the flower, gave the buckets one last look, before she continued on her way. Steve sighed, wishing to God that the shop had been open, it would have given him an excuse to maybe see her a little more closely. Perhaps talk to her. Or not as the case maybe, Bucky was always telling him how useless he was when it came to striking up conversations with ladies. But, for now, he had to settle for watching her walk away. Only he wasn’t the only one.

“Hey pretty thing…” Steve heard a voice and turned to his left where a group of men, most likely in their late teens or early twenties, had spotted her. As Steve watched he saw one of them push himself off the lamppost he’d been leaning on and cross the street towards her. The lady stopped, looking at him with her eyebrow raised. He spoke to her again, Steve couldn’t hear the conversation but a smile tugged at his lips as the lady looked the boy up and down, disdain etched all over her pretty face before she shook her head and laughed. She made to move past the kid but he reached out and grabbed her arm.

And Steve just couldn’t help himself.

“Hey…” he called, jumping up and hurrying across the street “Let the lady go.”

“Back off, this has nothing to do with you.” The man rounded on him, looking at him before he snorted at Steve’s stature. “Besides, what you gonna do about it anyway?”

Steve took a deep breath, he was used to people looking down their noses at him, both figuratively and literally. That was part and parcel of being only 5 foot 4 inches tall. He also knew that at 100lb give or take, he didn’t cut a formidable figure either, but he was damned if he was going to let this bully manhandle a dame in the middle of the street.

The woman wrenched her arm away from the man’s grip and glared at him, furious green eyes bored into his as she snorted and looked the guy up and down. “He’s clearly twice the gentleman you’ll ever be. Didn’t your mother ever teach you basic, good manners jack ass?”

“What did you just say?” a sudden darkness crossed the man’s face as he looked down at the woman who stood, un-yielding, clutching her purse as it hung around her shoulder.

“You heard me, well unless you’re deaf as well as ugly.” she shrugged slightly. At that Steve really couldn’t hold his face straight anymore and he felt the side of his lips curl up into a smirk. He was sure the pretty dame’s eyes flickered to his but he must have imagined it as when he stole a glance back at her she was staring straight back at the man who’d been giving her the trouble.

“Mouthy little broad you ain’t ya?” he snarled.

“Show some damned respect.” Steve shot out, and this time the man rounded on him. Steve stood stock still, his mother’s words echoing clearly in his head- you start running, they’ll never let you stop and he was aware in his peripheral that the other 2 men who’d been observing until now were starting to circle like sharks who had just had their first taste of blood.

He braced himself, ready for the inevitable fight, legs slightly apart, hands balling into fists by his side. But it was no use. He was never going to be fast enough or strong enough for one of these guys, let alone 3, and as the fist connected with his face he heard a scream and a yell as he fell backwards into the display of oranges and apples which he had lovingly helped Mr T prepare before.

Steve staggered to his feet, readying himself for another hit but it didn’t come. Instead one of the guys was sent sprawling to the ground besides him, shortly followed by the other. He wheeled round to see Bucky had the one that was left standing pinned up by the collar against the brick wall to the side of the shop and Mrs T was on the door step brandishing a broom handle, a string of Italian expletives leaving her mouth.

“Get outta here…” Bucky shoved the one that he was holding harshly into the road where he narrowly avoided colliding with the side of a yellow cab. Then turns to Steve and pulls him up.

“Seriously?” Bucky groaned and Steve shook his head, dusting himself down “You pick a fight with 3 at once?”

“He didn’t pick a fight with any of them.” A soft voice spoke and both Steve and Bucky turned to look at the dame in the red dress who was dusting herself down as her eyes flitted from Bucky, to Steve, then back again. “He came to help me when one of those bozos was getting a little too familiar.”

“That’s Stevie, a regular Knight in shining armour…” Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair as he gave an exasperated sigh, pushing himself away from his best friend. “Especially when there’s a beautiful dame involved.”

 The lady looked at Bucky, arching an eyebrow slightly before she looked back at Steve and he gulped slightly as for the first time he took her in properly.  She was gorgeous. Deep green eyes that sparkled like emeralds in a coal mine looked back at him from a heart shaped face, nose speckled with freckles which twitched a little as she smiled revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth

"I guess I should thank you Stevie." She spoke, and Steve felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

"It was nothing...I just.." he stopped dead as she reached out and straightened his tie, long eyelashes blinking against his cheeks as she smoothed over his shoulders and dropped a kiss to his cheek.

"My hero"

Steve swallowed and looked at the woman as she stepped back, smiling at him.

“I err, it was…my pleasure.” Steve stuttered and the lady arched an eyebrow, a grin on her face.

“Interesting choice of words.”

“I mean, not pleasure, obviously. No one likes seeing a beautiful dame getting hassled, I mean woman, not that…” he shook his head, as Bucky nudged him. He was rambling, as per usual. “I err, I should…”he gestured to the shop as Mr and Mrs Tromley were now looking at the mess of fruit all over the floor.

“I’m sorry about that.” She turned to the shopkeepers who looked at her, Mrs Tromley waving her away.

“Not your fault dear.”

“Can I at least buy some of the flowers?”  She asked, a little shyly “That is what I actually wanted to do after all.”

“Of course, Steven, can you…” Mr T nodded to Steve and then his eyes fell on Bucky “James Buchanan Barnes, what are you doing here?”

“Got a week or so’s furlough, Mr T and Ma sent me for some stuff, I gotta list.” he nodded, fishing it out of his pocket.

Tromley took it from him, scanned it and then turned to walk into the shop, beckoning for Bucky to follow him. Steve’s eyes followed his friend’s broad back as Bucky paused in the doorway and stopped, turning back to the woman. Steve groaned inwardly, he knew that face, Bucky was about to turn on the charm and she was no doubt going to fall in a pool at his feet, just like most of the other girls in the neighbourhood.

“You’re not from round here, right?” Bucky asked.

“What makes you say that?” she countered with a question of her own, looking Bucky up and down as she spoke.

“Never seen you before.”

“Know all the girls in Brooklyn, do you James Buchanan Barnes?” she asked, and Bucky gave a chuckle as she repeated his name to him and winked.

“Only the pretty ones.” “Well I suppose with most men joining the army the moment, even the pretty ones can’t be choosers.”

At that Steve let out a snort of laughter as Bucky blinked in surprise. “Ouch.” He gave a little scoff and shake of his head before he turned to walk into the shop.

“He always like that?” the lady looked at Steve who took a deep breath and smiled a little.

“Yes Ma’am. And to be honest it normally works.” Steve glanced at Bucky before he looked back at the woman who was looking at him, her eyes twinkling “Most girls just can’t say no!”

“Well, I’ll let you into a secret.” She grinned and leaned closer to Steve. “I’m not like most girls.”

Steve swallowed again, nervously brushing a hand through his hair as she straightened up and smiled at him. “I’m Katie by the way, seems only fair you know my name seeing as I know yours.”

“I err, that’s a pretty name.” Steve smiled and then inwardly cursed himself again. He really had no idea how to talk to dames.

“Thank you.” She giggled, and then she turned to the buckets “So errr, do you wanna make me a bouquet Steve? Something pretty for my room.”

Glad of the distraction, Steve nodded and turned to the various bunches of flowers. “I err, I noticed you were admiring the gardenias, so…” “You were watching me?” she spoke and Steve looked at her, ready to start protesting that wasn’t what he’d been doing when he spotted the glint in her eyes and he shook his head giving a sigh. She grinned “I love gardenias, lilies are my favourite but gardenias are pretty too.”

“Yeah we don’t have any lilies, unfortunately.” Steve shrugged “They were my Ma’s favourite too.”

If she noticed the use of the past tense verb when speaking about his mother she didn’t say anything, but really what would she say? They’d met literally about 5 minutes ago. Steve set about gathering a generous bunch of flowers as she instructed him to make it a large bouquet and then she followed him into the shop where he wrapped them in brown paper and string as Bucky was leaning against the counter, chatting to the Tromleys, Mrs Tromley laughing loudly at something he’d said.

“You are a cad Bucky Barnes!” she look at him, shaking her head “Isn’t it bad enough you joined the army? You’ll give your ma a heart attack one of these days.”

Bucky shrugged “It wasn’t so bad, he never caught me. Even on a bum ankle I was faster.”

“You been caught in places you shouldn’t be again Buck?” Steve looked at him and he shrugged, grinning.

“You know me Stevie…”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Steve rolled his eyes before he tied off the bouquet with the string and then handed it to Katie. She smiled.

“You have talented hands.” She spoke gently and Steve flushed once more, rubbing the back of his hands.

“Yeah, he’s good with them.” Bucky spoke and Steve glared at him. Katie turned to look at Bucky again, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Makes a change, in my experience most men don’t know the first thing about how to use them.”

Mrs Tromley choked a little on her coffee as she looked at the younger woman, flashing her a wink. Katie bit her lip, her mouth curling up into a small smile as she rummaged in her purse, pulling out a small leather wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

“No charge.” Mr Tromley spoke suddenly but Katie shook her head.

“I insist, I was responsible for your display getting trashed, least I can do is pay for these.”

“Oh trust me.” Mr Tromley smiled, “Seeing you put that toe-rag into them was worth it.”

“Yeah, you had some pretty vicious moves for a dame.” Bucky looked at her and she shrugged as Steve frowned.

“Wait, you…” “Don’t look so surprised.” Katie smiled “A girl should always know how to defend herself. But if I’m honest, it’s always nice to have a man do it for you.”

At that she smiled and slapped some money down on the counter, stepping back. “Keep the change in insist.”

Mr Tromley looked at her, then at the note, his mouth falling open a little.

“Thank you again Steve.” She picked up the bouquet. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so, I mean…yeah…come back soon.”

She smiled and with a final look in his direction she left, the bell ringing as the door opened and shut behind her. There was a pause until Bucky turned to Steve.

“Come back soon?” he looked at him “Really? That’s the best you could do?”

Steve groaned. “Piss off Bucky.” He shot, giving a yelp as Mrs T swatted at his head.

“Language Steven!” she scalded, as Mr T chuckled and slid the money she’d left to Steve across the counter. Steve blinked and looked at it, before he shook his head. Mr Tromley glared at him.

“You don’t take that you’re fired.”

With a groan Steve folded the $5 note up and slid it into the pocket of his slacks. Mrs Tromley muttered something about going to check on her scones which were in the oven upstairs and Mr Tromley headed into the back, leaving Steve and Bucky alone.

“You know, that dame was practically begging for you to ask her out on a date.” Bucky picked up the paper bag containing the groceries he had come for and Steve looked at him, snorting.

“You’re joking right?” the smaller man shook his head “Dame’s like that don’t want a guy like me.” “Clueless.” Bucky shook his head “Absolutely fucking clueless.” Steve watched him head to the door, before he stopped and turned back. “Oh that reminds me. Ma’s expecting you about 6 for dinner. She’s making meatloaf and told me that if you refuse she’s gonna, and I quote.” Bucky cleared his throat and spoke in a light, airey impression of his Ma “march round to his house and drag him outta that apartment by his ear.”

Steve rolled his eyes well naturedly. He hadn’t been to the Barnes’ for dinner for a week so he wasn’t surprised Winnie had sent Bucky with an invitation that was more of an instruction than anything. “Okay, thanks Buck.”

Bucky gave him a salute before he headed out of the store, whistling to himself. Steve took a deep breath, shook his head and turned back to his work, pushing all thoughts of the stunning young woman in the red dress out of his mind.

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” the taunting voice of his opponent rang in Steve’s ears as he staggered to his feet. This wasn’t how he’d planned his trip to the movie theatre going, not one iota. But when the loudmouthed asshole had done nothing but show total disrespect to those fighting overseas as the infomercial was showing, his temper had gotten the better of him and once more had led to him getting into a fight. As far as Monday’s went, this one was pretty crappy.

Which of course he could never walk away from.

“I can do this all day.” Steve huffed, swinging his fist at the guy again. The jerk easily blocked Steve’s feeble punch with his arm, delivering a huge jab with his left which sent Steve sprawling straight into the side of the trashcan from which he’d picked up the lid before. As Steve lay dazed, he heard a familiar voice breaking through the fog.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.” Bucky yanked the guy backwards by his jacket, shoving him a little down the alleyway. The guy swung at Bucky who dodged it almost lazily, before delivering a punch of his own, placing a firm boot up the guys ass as he retreated hurriedly. Watching as he scooted away, Bucky turned to Steve who was stood with his hands on his knees, steadying himself.

“Sometimes, I think you like getting punched.”

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve replied, pressing the heel of his palm to the cut above his eyebrow, wincing a little from the various blows he’d taken.

Bucky said nothing, instead he bent down to pick up the enlistment form that had fallen from Steve’s pocket and with a sigh he glanced at it.

“How many times is this?” his eyes scanned the information and he arched an eyebrow “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”

Steve ignored him, and then for the first time looked up at his friend to see him stood tall in his full army uniform. Which could only mean one thing. “You get your orders?” he frowned a little.

“The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

Steve sighed, great. Just what he needed to hear. “I should be going.” He shook his head dejectedly.

Bucky looked at him sympathetically before he smiled, and looked an arm round his shoulder, pulling him closer in a friendly gesture as they both began to head back down the alley towards the main road.

“Come on, man, it’s my last night! Gotta get you cleaned up.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“The future.” Bucky handed Steve the newspaper he was holding. Steve opened it to see the ad for the World Exposition Of Tomorrow.

“Buck…” he began to protest but Bucky stopped him.

“Seriously? My last night before I ship off to bust Nazi’s and you’re already tryin’a bail?”

“No, I just…” “Stevie!” Bucky whined. “Since I got my draft last September, I’ve hardly seen you other than when I’ve been home…”

“I know, but…” “No buts, man! I mean who knows when I’m gonna see you again now I’m actually being sent into combat and not just back to Camp McCoy. You know, London is a little further afield than Wisconsin “

“I’m well aware of that.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“So come on! Let’s go, have some fun. Cut loose a little. It’ll do you good.”

Steve looked up to see Bucky’s eyes shining with mischief, his handsome face grinning at him and he rolled his eyes “Fine, but you’re buying the hotdogs.”

“What else is new?” Bucky grinned, grabbing Steve in a headlock and ruffling his hair a little.

“Jerk.” Steve said furiously, pushing him away.

A couple of hours later the 2 of them entered the Expo, Steve taking in the sights around him. It was crazy busy, a buzz of excitement around the air and it was hardly surprising. Howard Stark, the guy at the centre of it all was somewhat of a celebrity. He’d founded his company some 4 years ago at the age of 22 and it had grown from strength to strength, with numerous pioneering technological advances to his name. Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited to see the latest and no doubt flamboyant invention the guy had come up with, but his mind was still on his failed Army application, the feeling of inadequacy exacerbated even more by the fact Bucky was going to be leaving him behind to serve his country, something that Steve felt he should be doing right along with his best pal.

Sensing his brooding nature, Bucky nudged him and opened his mouth no doubt to make some wise crack, but Steve shook his head.

“Buck, just don’t”

“I don’t see what the problem is.” Bucky shook his head as they wandered down the steps towards the main pavilion area “You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York.” Bucky grinned, and Steve sighed heavily. Yup, there it was. “You know, there’s three and a half million women here.”

“Well, I’d settle for just one.” Steve muttered and Bucky grinned, Steve allowing a little smile to spread across his face at his own joke.

“Good thing I took care of that.” Bucky grinned and waved to two girls, a blonde and a brunette, who stood a few feet away and Steve stopped dead as one of the girls waved back, calling out to Bucky.

Great, here we go again.

“What did you tell her about me?” Steve groaned. “Only the good stuff.” Bucky smirked as they walked towards the girls, Steve brushing his hand through his hair, making sure it was as tidy as he could.

Bucky introduced the girls as Connie and Bonnie. It was obvious from the start that Connie was the one Bucky was trying his luck with, although to be fair Bonnie might as well have been with Bucky too for all the attention she paid to Steve. As they wandered into the Pavilion, Steve stopped to purchase a bag of sweets before he followed on behind the other 3, glancing around at the various exhibits.

“Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow.” The expo announcer spoke “A greater world. A better world.”

There was a little bit of murmuring from people in front of them as they stopped, glancing at the large stage in front of them which was currently dark, but then there was movement, music struck up and Connie grabbed Bucky’s arm in excitement.

“Oh, my God! It’s starting!” she squealed and yanked on Bucky’s hand, pulling him closer. As Steve stood behind them he saw the stage light up to reveal a row of women all dressed in black and white striped waistcoats, short jackets and top hats. One of them walked across the front of the stage, smiling as she spoke into a microphone

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!”

Smooth and cool as a cucumber, Howard Stark strode onto the stage, taking off his top hat, whilst he smiled, handing it to the announcer before kissing her as the crowd cheered. Howard smirked a little, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket which he used to dab at his mouth before he addressed his audience.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” at that point Steve held the small paper bag over towards Bonnie who looked at it, then him, almost scathingly as Howard continued his speech. “What if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?”

“You know…” a vaguely familiar voice spoke and Steve looked up from where he had been examining his bag of bonbons, wondering what was wrong with them, to see the woman from the shop a few weeks ago, Katie stood to the side of Bonnie. She was dressed in a simple grey dress which sported a pencil style skirt, with a light blue cardigan covering her shoulders. “When a gentleman offers you a sweet and you don’t want one, there’s really no need to be such a rude bitch about it.”

Her eyes were narrowed as she gave Bonnie a scathing look. Bonnie floundered a little as Katie reached out, dipping her red nailed, manicured hand into the paper bag and taking a sweet. In doing so she jostled Bonnie forward a little with her elbow, and turned to the stage, popping the bonbon in her mouth, giving Steve a little wink. Steve felt his cheeks flush a little as Bucky turned a little, his attention drawn to the slight scuffle behind him. He saw Katie stood next to Steve and he grinned.

“Hey Dollface.” Katie turned her head and looked at Bucky as Steve rolled his eyes. However, just like at the shop, she payed Bucky no attention other than a flick of her eyebrow, before her eyes flicked back to the stage, Steve doing the same to see that Stark was now stood by some sort of podium.

“With Stark robotic reversion technology, you’ll be able to do just that.” Howard spoke, and with that he turned to fiddle with a few switches on the podium and the car started to hover ever so slightly off the ground. Steve felt his mouth drop open in awe as in front of him Bucky let out an astonished mumble.

“Holy cow.”

But he spoke too soon, as the robots making the car hover suddenly malfunctioned and the car fell back onto the stage with a loud crash, sparks flying out round it.

Bucky turned to look at Steve, smiling as Steve’s eyebrows raised, and besides him, Katie gave a snort.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Howard laughed, leaning on the bonnet of the car.

“Few years my ass.” Katie mumbled and Steve looked at her.

“What?”

“Nothing, doesn’t matter.” she shook her head. “Listen, I gotta go-”

“Oh, ok.” Steve tried not to sound disappointed but Katie smiled at him softly, cutting him off.

“Meet me at the Cider cart in an hour.”

“I err…” Steve stuttered, before he frowned “You sure, you wanna meet me?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have said so.” Katie grinned,  “1 hour, don’t you dare be late.”

“Yeah, an hour, got it…”

Not quite able to believe his luck, Steve watched her go, smiling to himself before he glanced around and his eyes stopped on the familiar Uncle Sam poster pointing at him, with an arrow directing him to a recruitment centre. What the hell, he had nothing to lose…and an hour was plenty of time. Decision made, he followed the signs and jogged up the steps into the building, pausing to take a look around as people were milling in the carpeted hallway.

“Come on soldier!” a woman giggled at her male company, pulling him away from a mirror making him look like a soldier. Once he was gone Steve stepped in front of the mirror but he was too short to fill out the face. His shoulders slumped and then suddenly, a strong hand gripped his right and Bucky chuckled.

“You’re kind of missing the point of a double date.” He said, shaking his head as Steve stepped away, turning to face him “We’re taking the girls dancing.”

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.” Steve replied, hands dropping into his pockets.

“What, you had a better offer? From Doll face?”

“Her name is Katie.”

“Oh my God I’m right!” Bucky laughed “Good for you, Punk!”

Steve rolled his eyes and then watched as a man strode past him in an Army Uniform and when Steve looked back at Bucky, his friend’s face now sported an exasperated expression as he’d clearly realised what Steve was planning. “You’re really gonna do this again?”

“Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.” Steve answered with a little shrug.

“As who? Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” Bucky’s voice was frustrated and Steve gave a little smile.

“Look, I know you don’t think I can do this, but I’m more-“

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war!” Bucky cut him off.

“I know it’s a war. You don’t have to tell me that-“ “Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.” “What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal-“

“Yes!”

“-in my little red wagon?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” Steve argued, shaking his head.

“I don’t…” Bucky protested once more and Steve cut him off.

“Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Right. Cause you got nothing to prove.” Bucky said gently and Steve took a deep breath. But before Bucky could say anything else Connie called out to him.

“Hey, Sarge! Are we going dancing?”

Bucky turned back to the girls, his arms held out to the side. “Yes, we are.” With that he turned back to Steve, shaking his head a little, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” He instructed as he started to walk away.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve shot back and Bucky shook his head, giving a snort.

“You’re a punk.” He walked back towards Steve and hugged him goodbye.

“Jerk” Steve said gently slapping Bucky’s back. “Be careful.”

With a pang of sadness, Steve watched his best friend walking away, not quite sure when they’d see each other again, if indeed ever. He licked his lips and then called out to Bucky once more. “Don’t win the war till I get there!”

Bucky stopped and saluted him before he strode down the steps, “Come on girls. They’re playing our song.”

With a deep breath, Steve headed into the recruitment centre, past an older gentlemen in a brown suit. He was given the usual forms to fill out, this time going with Ohio as his place of birth-thanks for that one, Buck- and he was shown to the medical examination room. After the short physical was over, he was just fastening the sleeves of his long shirt up again when a nurse walked into the room and whispered something inaudible to the doctor.

“Wait here.” The Doctor turned to him, moving to the curtain.

“Is there a problem?” Steve asked, frowning a little.

“Just wait here.” The doctor repeated his instruction before he walked out.

Steve paused for a second, glancing over his right shoulder at a sign warning against lying on enlistment forms before he glanced at the curtain, cold dread filling him. Shit, Bucky was right, they’d caught up with him. Jumping down off the bed he sat heavily in a chair and began to pull on his shoes when someone entered the cubicle. He glanced up and saw a Military Police officer looking at him and he swallowed a little nervously. But before he could say anything another man entered, the man Steve had walked past about forty minutes or so previously in the foyer, and he was clutching a file in his hands.

“Thank you.” The man spoke to the Police Officer who left, pulling the curtains closed behind him. Steve watched as the man turned to face him, his hands behind his back. “So, you want to go overseas.” The man pulled the file from behind him, opening it “Kill some Nazis.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dr. Abraham Erskine.” The man closed the folder and walked over as Steve stood up, shaking his hand “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

“Steve Rogers” Steve nodded, noting the man’s accent as he placed the file on the medical bed and started to look through it. “Where are you from?”

“Queens. 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany.” He adjusted his glasses as he glanced at Steve “This troubles you?”

“No.” Steve replied honestly, shaking his head.

“Where are you from, Mr. Rogers?” Erskine asked, resting both his hands on the bench “Mmm? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities.”

“That might not be the right file.” Steve began to try and get out of whatever trouble he was in but Erskine was quick to cut him off.

“No, it’s not the exams I’m interested in. It’s the five tries.” Erskine closed the file, picking it up “But you didn’t answer my question.” He strode over and stopped in front of Steve “Do you want to kill Nazis?”

Steve glanced to the side before he looked at Erskine “Is this a test?”

“Yes.” The man replied bluntly and Steve took a deep breath, before he answered as honestly as he could.

“I don’t wanna kill anyone.” He shook his head, raising his eyes to meet Erskine’s “I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”

“Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is the little guy, huh?” Erskine smiled before he turned to leave “I can offer you a chance” he said, whipping the curtains open “Only a chance.”

Steve couldn’t believe his ears. Was this Doctor guy actually telling him he’d done it, that he’d finally made it into the army? He had no idea what the Strategic Science Reserve was, or why Erskine had questioned him so, but right now he didn’t care.

“I’ll take it.” He said, hastily grabbing his belongings and following Erskine out.

“Good.” Erskine placed the file down on the desk and picked up a stamp, before replacing it and reaching for another “So where is the little guy from, actually?”

Steve smiled “Brooklyn.”

Erskine smiled back, stamped the form before closing the file and handing it to Steve. “Congratulations, soldier.”

Steve hastily opened it up and did a double take as he saw the stamp was a 1A this time, not 4f. He let out a deep breath and glanced up to thank the man, but he’d already left.

“You’ll be sent your papers and instructions shortly” Another man spoke to him, taking the file off him and handing him back the recruitment slip. Steve nodded. “Be ready, the SSR are on a schedule.”

Steve nodded, before he was shown out of the room. Still in a daze he clutched the piece of paper in his hand and wandered back to the area where he’d left Bucky before. And then he remembered Katie.

Shit.

He hastily made his way outside the building and headed back to the pavilion, weaving his way through the crowds. One bonus to being small was that it made it easy to do so. He found the cider cart and saw her waiting, chatting to the man behind the counter, her brown hair hanging round her shoulders, rouged lips which curled up into a smile as she spotted him approaching.

“You’re late.” Katie looked at him and Steve flushed. “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.”

“I wouldn’t do that, my ma taught me better.” He gave her a small smile “I was just...” he waved his enlistment paper at her and she frowned a little

“You enlisted?”

He nodded “Yup.” “Wow.” Katie blinked, “Erm, congratulations, I guess. Is that the right word?”

“It is when you’ve tried and been rejected several times already.” Steve shrugged before he snorted “Story of my life.”

“That girl before was fuckin’ rude.” Katie’s eyes narrowed and Steve blinked at the profanity coming from her mouth before she rolled her eyes “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact I swore means I’m gonna go to hell.” She snorted “If it does, then I got that particular ticket a long time ago.”

“Sorry, I was…” he took a deep breath “For such a pretty woman you certainly…er…”

“Have a filthy mouth?” she asked and Steve snorted, shrugging as he looked away, his lips curling up into a crooked smile as he raised his eyebrows. She leaned closer to him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered “You have no idea.”

Steve swallowed at the blatant innuendo causing her to laugh at him even more before she nudged him with her elbow “Come on soldier, what do you want to drink?”

Soldier…that was the second time in 10 minutes he’d been called that, and Steve liked it much more coming from her. He watched her for a second before he realised he was staring and she jerked her head towards the stall.

“Cat got your tongue Stevie?” she grinned and he took a deep breath “What do you want?”

“Erm, an ale…please…hang on.” he began fishing in his pocket but Katie gently wrapped a hand around his wrist.

“No need.” she smiled, as the man behind the counter held out the ale for Steve along with a cup of cider for her. She took it with a thanks and smiled, taking a sip. “Put it on the tab, will you?”

The stall attendant snorted and nodded “Whatever you say, Katie.”

She turned away and started walking slowly over to an exhibit, Steve falling into step besides her.

“How does he know ya?” Steve asked. Katie looked at him as she swallowed a sip of her cider

“Because I work here…well, I do at the moment.” She smiled as Steve looked at her blankly “I helped organise this.” She waved her hand around.

“You work for Howard Stark?”

“Kinda.” Katie shrugged “Now come on, I’m not working now and I wanna see how everything looks.”

They walked around the expo grounds, taking in the sights and various attractions. Steve was surprised to find his awkwardness ebbing away with each minute he spent in Katie’s company. She was down to Earth, easy to talk to and made him feel comfortable about himself…although his good spirits might have also been due to the fact he’d finally made it into the army. His meeting with Dr Erskine had baffled him a little, all truth be told, but he’d liked the man. There was something about him that told Steve he could trust him, and Steve was normally a pretty good judge of character.

By the time they’d done pretty much a lap of the main area of the Pavillion, stopping to examine The Synthetic Man in great detail, Steve was surprised to find that he’d spent over an hour with a woman who hadn’t been seeking to lose him at the first opportunity, quite the opposite in fact. On more than one occasion he noticed men looking in her direction, then to his with puzzled expressions on their face, and he had to admit was it the other way round he’d also probably be slightly surprised to see them together. She was a good 2 inches taller than him, but he was used to that, she was pretty, vivacious…well out of his league all things considered. But she was good company, and he was thoroughly disappointed when they seemed to be heading back towards the place they’d started, signalling their time together was likely coming to an end.

“So, do you need to find Barnes or…” she looked at him and Steve chuckled.

“Er no, no. He’ll be…busy.” Steve shrugged

“What he just ditched you for those girls?” Katie frowned.

“No, not entirely. I ditched him, well, I went to join the army. He doesn’t approve.” Steve finished, explaining slightly.

“Approve of what?”

“Me signin’ up.

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t think I can cope.” Steve shrugged “I wasn’t exactly a healthy kid so…”

“Well they let you in so you can’t be that bad.”

Steve wrinkled his nose and shook his head slightly “Some doctor in there offered me a chance, what can I say? Said that there were so many big guys fighting, maybe they needed a little one.”

At that Katie stopped walking and looked at him. “Wait, it was a doctor that accepted you?”

“Yeah,” Steve frowned

“You mean one of the Medical Recruitment Officers?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve’s frown deepened “He was with some Scientific Division” he looked at Katie, who was looking right back at him, her eyes wide “Wait, is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing…just surprised me a little, that’s all.” She looked around, as if she was searching for someone and Steve watched her, a little confused as she chewed her lip with an air of contemplation before she looked back at him, her green eyes locking onto his with a softness in them that made him go weak at the knees, well, weaker than normal “Thank you for keeping me company tonight Steve, I had fun.”

“Me too.” He said earnestly “Hey, if you want, I mean only if you want, we could maybe meet up again, you know, before I get my posting?” At that Katie’s face fell and Steve sighed, he’d blown it. She’d only asked him to accompany her round he expo out of politeness, duty even as a thank you for his intervention on the street a few weeks back, and now he’d put her on the spot. “It’s ok.” He started to back track “I get that you’re probably busy and get asked that all the time…”

“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head “I’d love to go out with you Steve, but I leave town tomorrow. I’m needed back at…well, my other job.”

“Oh, ok.” Steve popped a shoulder up, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, I err…good luck. With whatever that job is.”

Katie laughed “It’s me who should be wishing you good luck, trust me.” She cocked her head before she took a deep breath “Just remember Steve, the world needs men like you, be a shame if we lost you all in the war.”

At her compliment he felt himself once more flush, and the heat in his neck rose even more as she leaned down and pressed her lips softly to his cheek. She pulled back a little, locking her eyes onto his and he swallowed, the lump in his throat now only rivalled by the one he was starting to feel in his slacks. And then, he had no idea how it happened but her lips were suddenly pressed to his. He froze momentarily, but then he went with his instinct and mirrored her movements, his eyes fluttering closed. Her hands gently curled over his shoulder, his automatically falling to her hips, shaking a little against the fabric of her dress as the kiss deepened slightly, the warm edge of her tongue flicking at his lips. He parted his mouth a little, allowing her to curl her tongue against his, a movement that made him shudder and he was beyond disappointed when she pulled away. She smiled against his mouth, her nose bumping his slightly as his cheeks felt hotter than the sun. He knew he was blushing, furiously, having just had his first proper kiss in the middle of a huge exhibition, but Katie seemed completely nonplussed as she smiled at him.

“For luck.” She whispered, stepping back slightly, before she turned and headed away, casting a glance back over her shoulder at him, flashing him another cheeky little wink. “See you around.”

Steve floundered a little, mouth gaping as he watched her disappear into the crowd, and with a final shake of his head and a deep, steadying breath he headed for the exit.

 As it turned out Steve didn’t have long to wait for his posting at all. The following day he received his papers assigning him to Camp Lehigh in New Jersey as part of his recruitment to the SSR’s “Operation Rebirth” programme, whatever that was. He assumed he’d receive more details upon arrival. It wasn’t that which surprised him the most however, it was the date upon which he was ordered to report. Wednesday. As in, tomorrow. Whilst it didn’t give him much time to prepare, it didn’t bother him too much. He had meagre belongings anyways and anything he didn’t want to take with him he packed up into smaller boxes with the help of Bucky’s teenage sister Rebecca, Buck’s dad promising to keep it safe for him until he got back.

Winnie was beside herself when Steve broke the news that he too was enlisting, but she wished him well and made him promise to write. As did the Tromleys, who both took the news even worse than Bucky’s family had. Ada having first burst into tears then hugged him so hard he thought she was going to crush him half to death, whilst Mr Tromley had shook his hand and warned him that if he didn’t come back alive, with all 4 limbs, he’d kill Steve himself.

The morning rolled round ridiculously fast and both the Tromleys and Mr and Mrs Barnes insisted on seeing him off.  Once more Ada and Winnie hugged him tightly before Mr Tromley and Mr Barnes shook his hand, the latter promising Steve he would sort out everything with his landlord, taking the key to his small apartment in the tenement building where Steve had lived in all his life. Steve felt a little pang of emotion at that point, this was the last physical tie he really had to his mother but he took a deep breath letting it go slowly. She’d been dead now for 7 years and anything that remained of hers in the building was all safely stored.

No, Steve had absolutely no doubts about what he was doing. This was all he had ever wanted, to follow in his father’s footsteps and so, at 6am on the 16th June 1943 Steve Rogers boarded the Army bus that arrived at the bus station to take him and a number of other recruits to New Jersey, leaving the place he’d called home for his entire life behind.

[mintsuke]

Aspectabund (k.s.)

(adj.) letting or being able to let expressive emotion show easily through one’s face and eyes

In which; you’re only ever taught that all yokai are evil, until Kita Shinsuke proves you otherwise.

WC; 7.8K

Warnings; Violence, Minor deaths, Mention of Kita’s tongue but implied

A/n: An addition to my Yokai!AU and a “subtle” request from a lovely anon! If you haven’t already, read my first work of this AU for Suna (link here!). Lmk what you think and if I should write for any other characters <3

+I last minute started adding more stuff lol, so some parts might be kind of unedited and have mistakes so I apologize.

References to Nurarihyon no Mago <3 (and a Hisoka reference if you catch it ;’))

For the majority of your life, your family nearly talks your ear off concerning the dangers of the existence of yokai, also termed ayakashi. Any member of the (L/n) clan were countlessly taught that these strange, supernatural monsters and spirits were all evil and only existed to bring harm and strife to the human race. They fed off of terror and most times humans. 

Onmyoji were humans that had evolved in order to use their innate spiritual power to fight back and exorcise such apparitions. Any and every sightings and encounters with the supernatural were to be taken care of. 

For you, you followed after your father and brother without question, promising to bring honor to your family. 

Dressed in your school’s uniform still, you leaped to dodge the swing of the monstrous imp’s fist. The impact crushes the ground, kicking up pieces of debris that fly in all directions. 

“Nimble little thing!” The imp growls in frustration at your swift movement, “I’ll have your head and heart on my dinner plate soon!”

“Dinner plate?” You repeat, snapping your fingers to materialize a palm-sized paper with ink strokes written over the front, “That’s quite classy for your kind, I commend you.”

Brandishing the parchment, a pale yellow aura engulfs it momentarily before extending into a long pole, a curved blade fixed at the top. 

“As much as I’d like to sit here talking, I’ve really got to head over to the conbini before they sell out of the pork buns!” 

The imp lunges, arm wound back in preparation to attack as you take a stance with your halberd held behind you, other hand flashing another parchment. Roaring, he shoots his fist forward to make a grab for your body, but you shift on your feet quickly, turning to evade before stepping firmly on the concrete and swinging the pole upward in a half figure-eight motion. His arm comes flying off as you circle it around to finish the shape and drag the blade across his bulky torso. 

Viscous, dark liquid pours from the wounds, the imp roaring in pain as his other hand swings around in a hook. Spinning the pole, you holding it firmly to the side to block the strong punch that sends you skidding across the pavement. 

“I’m going to enjoy eating you, you bitch!” 

With a flick of your wrist, you shoot the paper out and it easily attaches to his fist. Crackles and sparks of electricity emit from it, causing him to grunt at the temporary paralysis. Quickly, you kick off, arm winding back before moving in an arc to sever his head from his bulky body. It falls with a heavy thunk on the pavement before his body dissipated into steaming black miasma.

“Ahh... I’m all dirty now,” You sigh hopelessly at the blood splattered over the material of your uniform. Surely the employees of the local conbini wouldn’t question the mysterious stains. 

You snort as you head home instead, the halberd long disappeared as you walk along the stone path past the large gates and into your home. 

“I’m home,” you mutter as you slip off your shoes in the foyer, placing it against the raised platform leading to the rest of home (facing towards the door).

A smile graces your face at the sound of soft pattering of hurried footsteps. Stepping onto the raised flooring, you’re welcomed by a small body leaping up into your arms. You giggle at the little boy, dressed in the onmyoji white garments. 

“You look disgusting.”

You snap your head up to the male, also wearing the same clothes, standing at the doorway. 

“It was just a small scuffle, onii-san,” You grin cheekily with a small bow that he mirrors. 

Shuji, the eldest, snorts while Kou, the youngest, beams up at you. 

“Nee-san, good work as always!” 

“Thank you Kou-kun,” You smile down at the boy as he separates from you. 

The stark difference between your two brothers is amazing, but you wouldn’t want them any other way. Kou always seemed to look at you with starry eyes, amazed by your skills. Shuji was a tough love. He was the doting big brother that didn’t like the idea of you taking after the family business, but at the very least you were able to defend yourself from yokai. It was more of protective older brother things. 

The next night, you find yourself in the conbini you had meant to raid for pork buns. Humming joyfully to yourself as the worker puts your order into a brown paper bag, you don’t notice the wobbly lady whose body is stretched and bulging in different places that are hidden under her massive coat. 

To others, she might’ve looked like a city-folk with her prim hair-do and manicured nails. All the way out here in Hyogo, however, she definitely looked out of place slithering into a small conbini like so. 

“Men...” She shudders in delight, tilting her head up while her eyes stare down at the other customers in the store. 

You don’t cast her too much of a second glance as you pay for your pork buns. The curious thought of what  someone like her was doing over here in the countryside crosses your mind, but you ignore her anyway. 

Shouts arise as a male customer walks past her to leave, and with a flick of her arm, his head comes clean off and sprouting with blood. A woman shrieks in surprise as the body drops to the floor, motionless.

Head snapping towards the commotion, you gawk as her arm stretches, hand seizing the poor cashier by his neck. Retracting, his body is flown across the mart and towards the entrance. The woman makes a display of shoving her nose into the back of his hair before exhaling loudly with content.

“Mm simply exquisite! Much more refine than the city!” She bellows as the nails on her other hand dig into his arm. The man is kicking the air frantically, screaming in pain as he claws at her hand crushing his neck. Ripping off skin and heavy strands of muscle from his forearm, as easy as if he was made of string cheese, she nearly releases a salacious moan before devouring it. Disgust churns in your stomach at the obnoxious smack of her lips and loud chewing. 

“Fuck,” you curse as the other customers cower and take the cashier’s sacrifice as a distraction to run outside to safety. They trip over each other, forcing themselves through the small opening the sliding door can allow. 

The woman’s mouth widens, incredibly so, to swallow the cashier in one gulp (his pleas muted once her mouth closes around the remnant of his shoe. She ignores your presence and turns to exit the shop, in favor of the men that had run outside. Her arms stretch like rubber, flinging around like a lasso, and latch onto their heads like gum. 

With a flick of your wrist, a talisman appears in your hand. Heading outside as well, the paper burns brightly with a familiarly pale yellow aura before extending and materializing into a large wooden bow. It was a long bow, similar to the length and style of the traditional bamboo of the hankyu bow, appearing like the branch of a tree.

“Stop!” You call out after her, straightening out your bow arm and aiming it steadily in the path of a fleeing customer. Reaching toward the arrow rest, with your index and middle finger extended, you carefully draw back as you trace the materialization of an arrow shrouded in bright aura until you reach your lower face. Taking in a deep breath, shoulders falling lax as you follow the path of her whip-like arm. You release just before she can snag his head, causing the arm to sever at the point of contact. 

She shouts, the remains of her arm spewing with dark blood as her eyes turn towards you.

“You... You’re one of them!” She growls, “I’ll make sure to savor you, cute little onmyoji! Ripping your skin off, then each muscle one by one!” 

Quick drawing, the arrow is much smaller this time as you release it at her, but she dodges easily. 

“That puny little arrow won’t work on me!” 

Your eyes widen as her body splits; a dark body, covered in mouths with shark-like teeth, emerging and taking over her human-like form. More arms sprout from this form, mouths wide and baring their teeth at you. 

What was a yokai like this doing in Hyogo? 

Her arms flail, a large hand with a snarling mouth set in the middle of its palm comes hurtling straight at you. 

Flicking both of your wrists, one contains multiple talismans and the other a single one. Shooting them in front of you, they stick to an invisible barrier, creating a temporary shield that receives the brunt of the attack. The other takes shape into your halberd. 

With a wrist roll of the long pole, spinning it over the back of your hand before catching it, you hold it with two hands to block the heavy hit from the side that the paper barrier isn’t protecting you from. Fire suddenly burns through your body, pushing you forward and off balance as an attack from behind knocks you over. 

You groan as you hit the pavement hard, the razor-like teeth tearing into your left thigh and another at your torso. 

Blood. Blood. So much blood. You think hazily, head spinning from the large wounds. 

Were you really about to become fodder to this thing? 

Her giggles are high-pitched and chilling, voice no longer sounding human-like. Transformed, her body slithers like a snail, appendages grabbing blindly at the ground to propel her towards you.

“You had a little kick to you, spunky, I like it. I love it when they struggle y’know?” The woman laughs as you grip a talisman in your hand, reaching out to stick her with it. 

“Onmyojutsu is really something,” She hums, one limb whipping onto your wrist, a mouth open to bite into your arm.

You cry out, tears springing to your eyes as you blink away in attempt to focus your gaze on her. 

“Quite annoying, but it makes killing my prey a little less... boring.”

With a shaky breath, you wonder if maybe this was really it. Shuji and Kou come to your mind, wishing you could have one more moment to express how much you loved your brothers.

Until the pain on your wrist is gone. The burning ache in your leg and mid-section continues, but you have just enough energy to make out the figure that slices the woman in numerous sections before she dissipates into miasma. 

Eyes, irises just as fiery as the pain shooting through your body, are all you remember as you feel your body being lifted. A soft voice chastises you to stay awake for a while longer but you protest weakly until you slip under. 

You don’t know how long you were out, but you come to with a raging headache, head throbbing wildly as you sit up. If not for the dull ache in your left thigh and the right side of your midsection, you would have been happy to forget the fight against the Akujo Nokaze. 

Glancing around through the throbbing of your temple, you huff in attempt to calm your unbalance from sitting up too quickly. Tatami and shoji surround you, and you almost believe you’re back home at the estate, but you can sense the heavy amount of fear around you. The building is nearly drenched in the aura that exudes from yokai. 

You had been lying down on the tatami, head once resting on stacked seat cushions in an attempt to make a pillow, and a familiar maroon jacket resting over your body. Squinting down at the fabric, you recognize the characters that spell out Inarizaki High School on the backside. 

Then you remember your savior, those glowing eyes. 

“Looks like you’re awake,” a calm voice surmises along with the soft slide of the shoji door scraping open and close. 

Oh. This jacket, you piece together now as you look up to the captain of your school’s volleyball club. 

Kita Shinsuke, third year from class seven, dressed graciously in an aegean blue yukata, with a haori (a more cloudy shade) resting over his shoulders. You’d only seen him a few times in passing, walking to the conbini with a few of his rowdy teammates, or that one practice match your friend had dragged you to in order to gush over the infamous Miya twins. He was only put into the match once or twice, but you found something quite admirable about the tenacity his ability to pick up seemingly strong spikes or screwed plays. 

What was he doing here? Dressed like he was ready to attend a fireworks festival. Was this his jacket? 

Then your eyes focused on the perked ears that sit atop his silver hair, a fluffy tail swishing back and forth behind him. 

“Don’t panic—”

Sucking in a breath, you whip out a talisman. The parchment taking the shape of your bow, aimed directly at him.

“That’s not a good idea (L/n)-san,” Kita says firmly, a tone similar to one he uses when chastising the boys, “The yokai outside will sense your onmyojutsu from a mile away, even worse they’ve already caught wind of your blood.”

“Put it away.”

He doesn’t falter in his stare down, gazing into your eyes without waver. It’s not until they flash a dangerous golden hue before you finally let the bow dissipate into thin air. Nodding in thanks, he takes a step further into the room but senses your stiffness.

“You’re a yokai too?” You say defensively, fingers gripping tightly at the jacket covering your lap. It made your chest hurt. He was deceiving his team, the whole school. Was he planning on preying on the entire student body? Was he going to pluck each student one by one, and devour them until he had to move onto a new feeding ground? 

What were you doing abiding by his orders? 

All yokai are evil, the cold and hardened voices of your father and Shuji echo in your ears like ice cold water in attempt to bring you back to your senses, any and every encounter with them must end in exterminating the darkness.

“I can hear your heart racing, just relax, I won’t hurt you.”

You glare at him, holding out your hand with a talisman clutched in between your thumb and index, “You’re lying! All yokai are evil and deceitful!” 

“I’m not, I swear,” He says with his hands up to show innocence, “I won’t try anything.”

Biting your lip, you relent and put it away, and he does well to stay rooted to his spot, so not to get a rise out of you again. 

“Where am I?”

“The yokai district,” He answers simply.

Your heart beats faster. No wonder you can feel such heavy amount of aura around you, so palpable you could cut through it with your halberd. You’ve never felt so thick of fear that you nearly felt overwhelmed, fingers near shaking as you grip tighter to the maroon material. 

“Did you take me here?”

Kita lifts a finger, noting the way you tense, to point at your leg, “If I didn’t act sooner, you would have bled out from the Akujo Nokaze. Although forgive me for my actions I had to take to heal you..”

Blinking, you don’t quite understand what he means by his apology as you lift the jacket to gawk at your healed leg. There’s no mark left, no wound, only the slight discoloration from your blood. Your arm has no indication of her last attack. He turns his head away as you lift your uniform top to stare down at your healed torso. 

“Wh—”

Heat crawls up your neck, settling in the apples of your cheeks, as you whimper with an especially painful throb of your headache. 

“You don’t mean...”

“It’s a secret,” He says with a more teasing lilt to his voice, the subtle quirk of his lips a contrast to the faint shade of red that blooms at the tips of his ears when he continues to look away from your exposed waist.

You respect that, despite his recently discovered identity as a yokai. 

“I could’ve treated it at home, you know,” You frown, shoving the material back down.

The male shakes his head, “Please, onmyojutsu can do more destructively than healing.”

That didn’t mean he had to take it upon himself to— you stop yourself from the perverse image of Kita kneeling over your body. Face burning at the thought of his digits brushing over your thigh before his tongue— you slap your hands over your face, releasing a strangled groan to his confusion. 

Although, your flustered expression is tell-tale of what you must’ve been thinking about and he too flushes at the memory of your precarious position an hour ago. 

“I think I’ve stayed long enough,” You finally manage, although clutching your head at the continuous onslaught of your headache.

“At least stay until your fever goes down,” Kita offers, he turns away to leave the room, not before casting a glance back at you, “Just sit tight, I’ll bring some porridge for you.”

The sharp glance could have been translated as: don’t cause any trouble or just try to escape. You nod vigorously in response. 

The shoji shuts with finality and you let yourself relax. His fear was intense, daring you to try something. Someone as powerful as that was not something you could try and exorcise yourself. It never changed the fact that he did save you, but he was a yokai. Not only that, he was a kitsune, known to be malevolent and conniving. They were infamously known to play pranks and deceive others. 

Your chest twisted again at the thought. The captain of the volleyball club, someone known to be perfect and confident. He didn’t seem like the type to bring misfortune and death upon Inarizaki. Were you to report him to your family, and have Shuji or your father exorcise him? 

He saved you though... the thought continues to tug at your mind.

When he returns with porridge and a glass of water, he makes sure to stay a safe distance away given your continued caution. 

“If you’re thinking about exorcising me, you won’t win,” His blunt voice cuts through the silence like a blade, causing you to flinch. It wasn’t even meant as a bluff or to look down on you, he was confident and merely stating the fact that he was stronger than you. 

You don’t answer, but continue to eat and hydrate yourself with a troubled pout that juts out your lips and strews your brows together. 

Cute, he thinks, tail swishing behind him jovially. 

“Shall I take you home now?” 

Your fever calms, headache reduced now, as you blink up at him in surprise. A chuckle bubbles from his lips surprisingly, the sound not entirely unwelcome to your ears, it’s almost adorable. 

“Don’t look so defensive, I won’t try anything, we’ll just take a small scenic route.”

“Small?” You repeat as he motions you to follow him out the door. 

“Put on my jacket, you’ll need it,” He says, ignoring your questioning glance as you leave what seemed to be a private room. You gulp, hesitantly slipping your arms through the track jacket before following after him.

The fox leads you down the hallway of more rooms, laughter and raucous voices to be heard from within some. You both enter the main dining room of the restaurant, filled with yokai both human-like and not so human-like seated at the arrangement of low tables. They were boisterous, drinking from mugs of beer and porcelain ochoko (you wondered how the tiny cup didn’t shatter under their grip). Delicious looking food was served to their tables, making your belly rumble at the smell of it. 

You catch the glimpse of a grey-haired cook in the kitchen, similar fox ears sitting atop his head like Kita’s. Was that...?

“Come on, they’ll smell you if you linger.”

Biting your lip, you turn away from the cook, who looks back at your retreating figure with a knowing smirk. The host is equally as familiar, but Kita swiftly leads you outside the restaurant and further down the alleyway. 

“Are you planning on disposing of me now that I know your secret?” You gulp as the lights of the restaurant seem to dim now that you’re further away. 

He laughs, “I would’ve eaten you as soon as I finished off the Nokaze, if not then, then when I’d gotten a taste of your blood.”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning as he smiles slightly at your reaction. 

“I said I was gonna take you home, no?” 

With no more complaints on your part, he places two fingers partly in his mouth, producing a shrill whistle that summons a large snake yokai, with a bushy mane around its head, to come flying.

“O-oh my Gods, oh no, I don’t think I could,” You squeak as he holds out a hand towards you. 

“Not all yokai are dangerous, (L/n)-san, trust me.”

Did you trust him? The thought still weighing down in your mind. You didn’t think about it then, but you realize he knows your name, even without having actually met you before.

He turns to you with a beckoning glance, smiling patiently and kindly, coaxing you to put your trust in him.

This was going against every moral taught to you ever since you began training to become an onmyoji, but against your inhibitions, you took his hand. It was warm, searing almost, against your fingertips. He saved you, kept you from death’s door, and never harmed you throughout your time spent in the yokai district. Maybe he was right.

With no effort, he lifted you onto back of the snake demon. Muttering a small apology, hands on your hips in order to lift you up. He joins you, hopping on behind you in a comfortable cross-legged position. 

“Is dropping you off at the school alright?” 

You nod, sucking in a breath when the snake rises into the sky, just meters above the tops of the buildings. Not expecting the height, you gasp and reach to hold on to the snake, but there’s no reigns or handles.

“Careful, you’ll fall,” Kita’s voice whispers from behind, an arm settling around your waist to secure you against his chest. 

Nodding mutely, you purse your lips in attempt to silently will away your definite consciousness of his warmth spreading across your backside. He didn’t seem all that bothered by the proximity, but you guessed after having to heal your wounds in rather intimate locations, he wasn’t all that embarrassed around you now. Still, it was unbeknownst to you, his ears burning as he focuses his gaze on the buildings below. 

Who knew the ever confident captain of Inarizaki could act so coy, almost as though he wasn’t exactly sure of his own actions for once.

“It’s quite pretty,” you comment finally, awestruck by the view of your hometown from a higher point of view. Hyogo was not as entirely modern as other places in Japan, but you enjoyed the simplicity and the traditional aesthetic of your part of the prefecture as opposed to other districts like Kobe. 

“Mm,” he makes a noise of agreement, “I like to take strolls like this from time to time. The view never gets old.”

Admittedly, he quite enjoyed the view with your addition, eyes cherishing your own, wide and sparkling with curiosity at the view above and below. 

You glance up at him, heart skipping a beat at the way the wind sifts through his hair. Kita Shinsuke was admittedly very handsome, his expression serene as he turns his attention to watch the minuscule specks of light scattered across the dark sky above you three. Ignoring the prominent fox ears, he was still appeared to be that normal high school boy you saw. He still exuded that same air of confidence around him, holding himself up just like how he displayed every instance you saw him in passing. 

How was he able to live like a normal human and yet still very much be a potentially dangerous yokai? Was that possible?

You sensed no killing intent, no indication of malice or the like. Why? When you’ve been constantly told that ayakashi were the enemy.

“I see...” 

He looks down at you, noticing the troubled look in your expression, quirking a small smile in response, “Surprised? The onmyoji like to spread that us yokai are monsters and only live to wreak terror among humans. Some of us had once been humans before, you know?”

Chuckling at your questioning look, he shakes his head, “I was a born yokai, although I know a few who have had to suffer and became apparitions like us.”

“I cannot speak for the ones who do prey on humans and seek to harm them, but we too only mean to exist peacefully. Just like humans, we work and eat and have our own families. I go to school with you, do I not?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, releasing you from his hold as the snake lowers to the school courtyard. Once landed, or at least hovering just above the ground, he slips off first before offering you a hand. 

You can’t place a finger on the feeling; you’re not quite sure why you feel slightly disappointed to end your time with the kitsune so soon. 

“Are you okay from here, or should I see you home?” Kita asks after you bow in thanks. 

“I can handle myself, thank you very much!” You glare at him weakly with an adorable pout to pair with.

He raises a brow, “It wouldn’t be very gentleman-like if I were to allow you to walk home alone...”

Flushing, you turn away with a rushed good bye, muttering about how it’d be a problem if your clan sensed him accompanying you home. 

Watching as you leave school grounds, his lips quirk slightly before patting the snake yokai and hopping back on to head back to the restaurant.

You were still wearing his jacket. 

.

“Good work today,” Shuji says when you meet him at the foyer. 

It was later than usual, you didn’t anticipate just how long you had stayed in the yokai district with Kita, nor how long your scenic flight took. Kou must’ve been asleep by now, given it was still a school night. 

“I’m back,” You reply with a tight lipped smile. A part of you felt guilty. Kita was a yokai, a being you were taught to treat with no mercy, but you let him run free. It was true, his fear was immense, probably enough to easily overpower you, but it didn’t change the fact that he still treated you kindly. It was as if he wasn’t capable of snapping your neck with just a flick of his wrist, as if you weren’t able to exorcise him. He was kind and patient, and wanted to show you that just like him - yokai can be civil and walk alongside humans. His last statement stuck with you: just like humans, we work and eat and have our own families. Were you all just indiscriminately killing possibly innocent ayakashi who had their own families to go home too?

That was just not how your family saw it. Shuji despised them, just like your father, just like the rest of the clan. They would laugh and punish you for such radical thinking. 

“You reek of blood,” His nose scrunches when you pass by to enter the house. His eyes focus on the particular garment you’re wearing, one he’s never seen you wear before. 

“I had another little scuffle,” You reply, scratching your cheek meekly with your pointer, “A huge one from the city I presume.”

He doesn’t question it, but you can most definitely see the imaginary cogs turning in his brain. You had almost forgotten to give back Kita’s jacket, and he must’ve sensed the remains of the fox’s aura lingering on the material. 

Returning to your room before he can ask about it, you’re not sure what to make of it. Pulling the jacket tighter around you, you feel almost shameless as you sniff the remains of Kita’s scent on the material. It smells like the early morning dew that clings to the blades of grass, and a hint of something citrus like disinfectant. 

It’s soothing.

Come the next morning, Kita’s only half expecting it when you rush into his class during break, calling out his name. Gaining the watchful eyes of his lingering classmates when you sit in the seat in front of him, his teammate occupying the one beside him, Omimi, casts a wary glance your way as other students whisper in question of your identity. 

What was a second year just randomly waltzing up to the captain of their volleyball club doing? Not only that, he watches with wide eyes when you present a paper bag with Kita’s washed jacket. 

“Do you need somethin’?” the silver-haired boy asks after putting away the paper bag with a grateful nod, unwrapping his bento that his grandmother had lovingly made that morning. 

“I decided to keep an eye on you,” You declare with a confident smile, one that his teammate looks to him with a confused glance. 

“What for?” He beckons you to continue, saying thanks for the meal before digging in. 

“I’m just making sure you don’t try to eat anyone.”

Omimi nearly chokes on his spit. 

“Shinsuke, she...”

The boy simply nods at the implication but doesn’t say anything else. 

You make it a habit to eat lunch with the two as much as you can, with the premise that you were making sure he wouldn’t do anything heinous. 

Perhaps you were starting to look forward to lunch with Kita. He too had also began expecting you to come running into the classroom with your own bento clutched in your arms.

You had slowly become a norm in his daily life and he wasn’t complaining.

He didn’t speak much, but he listened to you prattle about school and your friends being suspicious of your sudden absence at lunch break. He gave input here and there, sometimes throwing in a teasing comment that catches you off guard every time. It even surprises Omimi to see you two getting along, especially when the captain had explained the situation to him after the first time you had barged into the classroom. 

It had to be impossible to have a yokai and an onmyoji getting along like so, even if you did threaten to exorcise him when he teased you a little too far. There were only a few figures in history who held friendly relations with ayakashi in the past. The hatred between the two groups were still much more prevalent despite that.

Could it be, he thought as Kita chuckles at your flustered expression, there was something more to this than friendly banter and such?

It was only inevitable that the rest of the team would catch wind of this... friendship. Not that Osamu and Atsumu shut up about the whole ordeal at practice after Kita had brought you to the restaurant the first time. They teased relentlessly him about bringing a girl, a human girl, into the yokai district, nearly going into details of healing your wounds until he shut them up with a scathing look. 

“Why do you still put up with her when she could possibly exorcise you, or all of us even?” Aran asks as they gather their things, at the end of practice, in the clubroom. 

The captain pauses what he’s doing to appraise his friend’s troubled frown. 

“She won’t. She’s strong but she has a good heart.”

He ducks his head to continue packing his things, but the blush that rises on the skin of his cheeks and the tips of his ears are evident to the other. It’s quite endearing to the team to see their captain appear so smitten. To an onmyoji descendant nonetheless. 

Leaving the clubroom, he greets you outside the gates, as if expecting you to be waiting for him. You always whistle nervously, playing off that you didn’t want him preying on any straggler students still left at school.

“Darn, you got me (L/n)-san, should I just eat you up instead for foiling my plans?”

He enjoys the fluster that always crosses your expression, stammering out as his team watches in mild surprise at the interaction. 

When you do wait for him, he takes it upon himself to walk you home. In spite of your worries of alerting your family, he pushes the limit and usually drops you off a block before, watching as you disappear around the corner before he heads home or to the district. 

“You like her?” Akagi asks during break of their practice, nursing his water bottle while dabbing a towel at the sweat dripping from his forehead. The libero glances at his captain’s expression, not at all expecting the suppressed smile that threatens to break across his face. 

“She’s... special,” Kita affirms. 

“Special, as in a crush?” Atsumu cuts in with a wiggle of his eyebrows, “Please Kita-san, Suna’s been simpin’ over the girl in his class for the longest time, ya can’t fool us by callin’ her something as vague as special.” 

The mentioned middle blocker chucks his towel at the setter in response, much to the amusement of the rest of the team.

“I’m... not quite sure,” He admits, although he couldn’t ignore the way he felt at ease being around you. The days you didn’t walk home with him or eat lunch with him and Omimi, they felt empty or he felt concerned even for your absence. When you smiled or laughed at something or grew shy at his teasing, he felt his chest swell and flutter. He wanted to see more, he wanted to see every kind of expression you had to offer. Your ups and downs, absolute mirth making your eyes appear warm as they crinkle with delight, the determination burning in your eyes when you had faced the Nokazu, the doe eyed and flustered gawking when he pushes his luck and touches you in some chaste way. He wanted more. Unlike himself, you were able to express emotions so explicitly, it amazed him.

Did this mean he liked her? Well, of course he liked her, otherwise he wouldn’t enjoy her company the way he did. 

Were they referring to his feelings as romantic? Was that what this was? 

Did you feel the same way he did? Could he read the small glances exchanged between you both, the cute little bashful expressions, the pain in his chest, all of these small instances as something akin to being romantically infatuated with you, and you to him in return?

“Who was that?”

You stiffen when you enter your home after another walk home with Kita. He’d invited you to watch one of their practice matches before accompanying you home, despite your usual banter about his plotting to kill you or his inability to allow you to walk home alone.

Shuji stands, leaning in the doorway like usual, his arms crossed over his chest. Narrowed eyes watch as you swat your hand in dismissal, timidly calling the boy your friend that lives on the way home. 

You don’t think much of it, hoping that your elder brother won’t try to question Kita’s identity any further. You almost forget about it even, lost in the beauty of the fox’s glimmering coral glow, the calming bubble of a chuckle that rises from his throat, that serene smile that could sate any fears you had. Not sure when it had started, you always feel like you’d swallowed a whole cage of butterflies. In your chest, your heart seems to flip and twist as your face grows hotter. Walking home, side by side, almost always entails your hands brushing against one another, causing you both to look away timidly. 

Perhaps you couldn’t keep deluding yourself into thinking you were hanging around him (and his team after finding out about their true identities, when Atsumu cornered you after class one day) just to keep an eye on his actions. When did you start to enjoy being around him and experiencing more than his outward bluntness and blank gazes? Smiles seemed to grace his lips more often than not when he was with you, surprising much of his team when he spotted you in the second floor viewing balcony. You adored each and every one of his smiles, even if they were all subtle and almost unnoticeable. Or possibly the storm of emotions that raged in his eyes. If not for his usually monotonous tone or blank expression, you always adored the way his eyes were the window into his emotions. They crinkled similarly when happy, burned with a flash of warning gold when irritated or upset, and even grew murky when tired and having a bad day. Although the last one was rare, you enjoyed this side of Kita Shinsuke that no one knew of. 

No one could experience him the way you did when he took you on more strolls on the snake yokai, soaring the skies or travelling to the coast of Hiyoriyama or the Hattan falls where you both watched the moonlight shine brilliantly over the reflective surface of the water.

When you both stop at the usual spot, a block away from the estate, he doesn’t say anything at first. Pursing his lips before catching your curious gaze.

“Listen, (L/n)-san,” He starts, but his eyes focus behind you and his voice cuts off to your confusion.

Turning around, your chest tightens in dread to see your older brother standing there. He glares coldly at the boy in front of you, hatred and disgust almost rolling off of him in palpable waves. 

“Onii-san...”

“Shut up and step away from him, he’s been deceiving you this whole time,” Shuji snaps, eyes never leaving Kita’s, “Get away from him, his fear is way too powerful for you (F/n).”

“Your brother?” the fox mutters to you in questioning. 

You nod in trepidation, gulping as your brother demands you step away again. 

“Onii-san, he’s not dangerous I swear!”

“He’s lying to you!” He snarls this time, “He’s a deceitful fox!” 

“I know that!” You stammer, but still take steps to approach him in hopes of calming him down, “Please, he’s not like that, he saved me a while back!”

“Bullshit, yokai are evil, I thought you knew that by now,” He grits, fury burning in his eyes as he shoves you to the side and out of his way. You yelp as you nearly lose balance and stumble to catch yourself. “If you knew this whole time and said nothing, you’re a fucking disgrace,” the elder says with a deep frown at your choices, words cutting through you like glass, “Letting this monster continue to live and run around, neglecting your duties.”

Your eyes widen as he summons his shikigami, the glowing apparitions of twin wolves made up of dark blue aura. 

“No!” You shout as Kita’s tails and ears sprout from their respective places, eyes glowing that fiery hue as palm opens upward, igniting a volleyball-sized foxfire. The flame flickers a marine hue as he brings his arm back, towards his chest, and shoots the flame to the ground in front of the wolves. They, however, jump through the blaze and continue their haste towards him without waver. 

Launching multiple palm-sized parchments, they flatten and create a barrier in front of Kita as the shikigami converge on him, slamming into the shield with sparks flying from the impact. 

“Stop being stupid (F/n)!” Shuji growls, stomping over and grabbing you roughly by the collar.

You glare back at him, gripping his hand twisting into your uniform top. 

“I’m not! I like him a lot, and I won’t allow you to hurt him!”

“Stop with this bull crap!” Shuji roars, beyond irritated by your sudden confession. 

Kita’s eyes flare wildly at your ousted feelings, focusing on the desperation in your eyes as your brother throws you down once again. You weren’t in any danger like before, but it didn’t sit well with him for you to be treated like that. 

In a flash, he picks you up with ease, slipping his arms under your back and knees. Stepping firmly down, he spins over his shoulder to send Shuji flying backwards with a back kick. The latter is quick to protect himself with a single talisman, although not able to stop himself from being pushed backwards. 

“Get away from her,” The elder grits through clenched teeth. 

Kita swiftly dodges an attack of his wolves, lunging to the side to set you down gently. You reach towards him worriedly, but he shakes his head.

“Kita-san...”

“Don’t worry, just sit tight here, okay?” He reassures with a good natured smile, brushing the backs of his fingers across your cheek affectionately. The action is sudden, making your stomach erupt into a fit of butterflies, as his eyes flash gold before he turns around to face the older male.

“Why don’t we calm down, there was no reason for you to berate and hurt your sister like that,” the kitsune says levely as he stands across from the elder, both standing tensely in case the other attacked suddenly. His eyes, however, contrast the patience in his voice and burn brightly intune with his inner emotions.

“Cut the crap, I can’t believe you blinded her into thinking that you monsters could be anything but evil,” Shuji snaps, “I’ll have your head and take the liberty of exorcising garbage like you myself!”

Kita dodges, shifting on his feet easily and slipping away from narrowly getting swiped by the shikigami. The wolf-like apparitions growl and snap at him viciously, unwavering in their attacks. Without his sword, he was left with his extended claws, diving into a roll before slashing at one and causing it to disappear in a cloud of smoke. 

His jaw clenches as Shuji appears through the smoke screen, a short blade in his right hand. Brandishing the blade, the onmyoji attempts a slash downward but the fox catches the blade. The sharp end bites into his palm, blood dripping down his forearm. 

“Kita-san!” You call out, but he doesn’t make any sign of acknowledgement.

Stepping forward into your brother, he drives his elbow upward, stopping before Shuji’s own, then retracting his arm and instead driving it into the other’s solar plexus. The elder’s mouth widens, gasping as oxygen forces its way out of his lungs all at once. 

He nearly folds, sucking in a sharp breath but Kita is relentless. Pressing his palm into Ryuji’s neck briefly, he then drags his hand down and twisted ihs claws into the material of his overshirt. 

Easily, the fox subdues the other. With Shuji on the ground, further winded from being slammed into the pavement that had caused a small crater from the impact, he glares up at Kita kneeling above him. Keeping an elbow settled over his sternum, he holds up his hand teeming with tendrils of his foxfire. 

“Do it, kill me now,” Ryuji wheezes under the slight pressure on his chest, “I’m a disgrace to the clan if you allow me to continue to live.’

“What a shame then, I don’t crave killing like you think we monsters do,” Kita says as he retracts his arm and stands above him ,”I think you’re deeply mistaken by my intentions, or the intentions of many other yokai that don’t feed on humans.”

“I care about (L/n)-san,” He declares, ears tinging pink at his boldness. Even he, the most blunt person on his team, wouldn’t have expected this kind of confession to come out of him, “I could never harm her, nor would I want to when she’s someone important to me.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Shuji clicks his tongue, although hesitantly accepting the hand held out to him to help him stand. 

“Please believe him!” You interject (although blushing at Kita’s own confession), helping to hold your brother up as he calms his breathing, “He saved me from being eaten by the Akujo Nokaze and showed me that not all yokai are evil as Father says they are. Please believe him!”

“You know Father won’t be happy about this,” Shuji says after relenting in his hardened glare. Placing a gentle hand over your head, an action he’s never done before, you gaze up at him as his eyes look back at you with a certain sense of adoration. 

“I’ll take responsibility,” You assure him firmly, “I’ll show him that yokai can coexist with us peacefully, save for the ones that we should exorcise of course.”

You help Ryuji back to the household before you immediately return to Kita waiting outside for you. He smiles warmly as you jump him with a hug around his middle. A surprising development, given you both were too shy to brush hands when walking together.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that!”

“Not at all, I apologize as well if I went too far...”

You shake your head vigorously, “No! In fact, it’s amazing how much control you have! You could’ve broken his arm or something, but you really taught him a lesson and I’m grateful!” 

“I don’t think showing my strength will convince your brother that I’m harmless...” Kita chuckles softly as you two part from your brief hug. You quickly grow conscious of your lack of distance and step away, looking down at your feet shyly. 

He clears his throat to catch your attention, looking you straight in the eyes this time, with those gorgeous coral irises, “If I may ask... did you mean what you said earlier? That you like me?”

Your face flushes at the memory. It was the spur of the moment, but you’d blurted it out in an effort to make your brother stand down. 

“If I said I meant it...”

“Mm I suppose the feeling is mutual then,” he whispers under his breath, but loud and clear to your burning ears as he reaches over to brush his fingertips over your cheek like before. There was something predatory about his gaze, his ears still perked above his head and his tail wagging in contentment, it felt like he could eat you whole right then and there. Eyes gleaming down at you, you felt like a rabbit caught underneath the paw of a fox. 

“Wha... you don’t mean...!”

“Or should I keep this one a secret too?” He teases, although his voice is low and almost daring you run away or defy him.

You shake your head vigorously as he chuckles. Letting his hand fall, his fingers tangle with yours, watching greedily at the bashful way you stare down at your linked hands before gazing up at him in confusion.

“Have time? Let’s go on a stroll then, shall we?”

How sly of you Kita Shinsuke, you think as you smile and let him whisk you away.

[ktheist]

the ways to call you mine

[7:22]

the man that your father decided to bring home is of an unknown origin. or so he claims. based on his attire when he first stepped into your house, you know he’s at least a noble. though there’s no insignia engraved in on his collar or back, the way taehyung carries himself shows years of refine etiquette and manner.

“then, i’ll be off,” your father sets the teacup on its saucer, breaking your fixed stare on the man across from you and turn to the elder man with a smile sweeter than honey.

“have a good day, papa!” the arm you use to wave at the man shoots down as soon as the carriage is out of sight. and the smile you wear is contorted into a sneer.

clicking your tongue, you shoot a glare at the unwelcomed guest next to you. sure, he may have the perfect shade of tan, matched with unruly hair that easily allows him to hide his expressions with just a tilt of his head downwards. but those eyes - they remind you so much of yourself.

they’re induced with warmth and gentleness in front of your father, but as soon as the man is out of sight, that glare of his rivals your own.

“just wait till i find out which house you belong to and what secrets you hold to trick my poor old merchant father into taking you in.”

the corner of taehyung’s lips lift into an unpleasant scoff as he swats your finger away, “i’d like to see you try, peaches.”

did you say his superficiality rivaled yours? you take that back. even you aren’t as evil as the devil incarnate.

and he dares to call you by the nickname your father and late mother gives you. to insult your late mother’s memory so - he’s the opposite of what he displays himself to be in front of your father and the townspeople. 

because you’re from a rising merchant faction, you don’t have maids or butlers. so it’s only just the two of you at home and unfortunately so, allows you to bear witness to this man’s true, wicked nature.

“nobles are the same everywhere,” you huff, swiping the creme colored hat hanging off the hatstand and pulling it over your head, “they’re self-centered, arrogant and lack respect for others.”

he stands with his back on you and the handle of an axe clasped underneath his arm as he puts on the gloves before getting to chopping the woods at the back. when you’re only met with silence instead of one of his witless retorts, you trudge out with a, “don’t forget to lock the front door!”

x

your days are spent at the orphanage and helping out the old lady by the forest with her garden. though you want to quickly find out what taehyung’s hiding, you haven’t the slightest clue of who and where to look for.

“thinking about that young man again?” esmeralda’s fading green eyes captures yours. she always seems like the secrets of the world hover over her like dark clouds.

the glass ball sitting prettily on the table in front of her is filled with clouds today. when she uses it, the clouds disappear and are replaced by a blur of images that you can’t make out.

“it’s because your magic hasn’t awakened yet, young one,” she once told you when she saw your knitted eyes as you peered at the ever changing images trapped inside the ball.

“come here,” the woman gestures, her wrinkled hands sometimes appear taut and stretched over her bones like that of a young woman but most times, she appears the way you see her now - graying hair, smile lines and fading emerald eyes.

one of these days, you fear you’d walk into an empty forest and the ground where the house is built, filled with blades of grass.

a clueless smile makes its way to your lips as you place a hand on the one she has extended midair.

“i cannot give the answers you seek.” she smooths out your palm, eyes trained on the lines that slants across it, “only you can find them.”

“hm?” you cock your head to the side at the sudden images that appear within the ball after esmeralda guides your hand over it.

at first, it’s a blur of colors from black to brown to something lighter until you can finally make out the man sitting on a throne, his ice cold gaze sending chills down your spine.

“taehyung...” the name comes out as a soft whisper. as though you’re afraid that the image of the man would hear and see you through the glass.

but the images is disappears into the usual clouds as soon as the knock on the door reverberates across the room.

“why don’t you see who’s at the door, child?” she requests. understandably, her bones aren’t as strong and her feet doesn’t carry her as fast as whoever knocking on the door desires.

to your surprise, a familiar figure cringes at the sight of you. but you don’t have the time to let annoyance take over you like it usually does, “taehyung? why are you here?”

only women and male descendants of the royal family can see this house.

“what do you mean why i’m here? it’s almost sunset and you’re still not back yet. your father’s worried you might’ve gotten eaten by-” he grumbles before something past your shoulders catches his eyes.

“is that...”

as soon as he tries to take a step forward, you softly press your hand on his chest, stepping out and closing the door behind you.

“let’s go, it’s almost dark and your noble brain didn’t even think of bringing a lantern.” you point out, neck craning to hold his gaze but the insult is enough to pull his brows together in annoyance.

“if it weren’t for me, you would’ve had to walk back on your own - in. the. dark.” he emphasizes the last part, eyes burning holes inside your head as you blatantly ignore him.

“hey,” he says, clearly ticked off, “are you listening?”

that’s when you stop in your trek and he must notice the change of atmosphere when he falls quiet from next to you.

“taehyung,” you meet his startled gaze, “you’re the missing crown prince, aren’t you?”

those round eyes sharpen into the all-too-familiar glare, “i’m not. and you don’t have any proof.” the latter statement feels forced. as if added as an afterthought.

“so it’s true.” you surmise, clicking your tongue. “i was willing to put up with you even if you’re a noble - but you’re the crown prince... do you know your order to burn anyone suspected of magical use, caused my mother’s death?”

judging from how his eyes soften, he doesn’t seem to know.

“leave our home,” you twirl on your heels, continuing your path back to the estate, “you have no business leeching off a family whose mother and wife you killed.”

when morning comes, the seat across from you is empty and deserted. your father thought taehyung might have overslept and you promise to check up on him after he leaves for work.

but you already know he left in the dead of the night. you saw his lean built step  out of the gates but he stopped and looked straight at your window where you’d been standing. as if he knew.

the expression he made was indecipherable but you know the weight of knowledge when you see it. there was something he knew but couldn’t tell you.

the days go on like they would as if the guest bedroom had never been occupied since last year. as if the chopped firewood are miraculously stacked next to the fireplace. as if he never existed.

then, your father proposes moving to the capital because he wants to open a stationary shop for the children and teachers. there are more hard times than good ones. you see your father breakdown on his own in his office every night after three months and with little customers coming in. that’s when you met jimin - the wizard that taught you that a little incantation to draw attention to the store, can’t hurt.

“if the things you sell are as good as you claim them to be-”

“-they are!” 

“-then there’s no reason for the customers who got drawn in by magic, not to buy it with their own free will once they see the items themselves.”

ever since then, the business have been doing good and you’ve been attending classes to control your magic - in courtesy of jimin who then left to wander the world. it doesn’t occur to you that you’re not the only one lurking around alleyways and ducking into shadows, on your way to a destination - where your magic classes are held.

“what do we have here?” a burly man steps out of a shadow and blocks your path. “where are you heading to little lady? don’t you know there are wolves that come out to play at night?”

you know your demand for him to leave you alone will fall on deaf ears but you still try. when he advances and even grasps your left hand to tug you into a smaller alley, you’ve no choice but to flick your wand and let the purple light of your magic knock the man unconscious.

what you don’t expect is for a witness to be standing six feet away from where you just mutter an, “why can’t men mind their own business?”

you’re about to whip out your wand again - a memory erasure spell should suffice - when the figure steps into the light and you find yourself staring at a familiar deep brown eyes. they’re still as sharp as the last time you saw them but there’s something different about how he takes the bottom of his lip between his teeth. as if he wants to say something but can’t.

“so you’re learning magic.” he asserts, not ask.

still, you refute, “i’m not.” but you can’t accuse him of having no evidence like he did to you. back in that forest. back when you last talked to him.

“i’m sorry,” the shadow next to you stops and you’re forced to whirl around to face the man whose head is lowered by invisible weight, “th-the emperor was attacked by a wizard - i never thought my careless declaration to capture the wizard would be twisted until innocent people would be dragged out of their homes and burned at the stakes for being suspected of magic use.”

“i forgive you,” you say simply, and he must have been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he nods right away, muttering, “that’s right, you shouldn’t for-”

those eyes that always directed you with hostility are staring at you with wide eyes. perhaps he’s not a devil incarnate after all.

perhaps, he’s just human.

“i understand how you feel,” casting your gaze over your shadows, you recall the times when something like just now happened. it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last.

“i thought, why can’t men just disappear? the world would be so much better without them.” but you think of your father and taehyung and the townspeople’s husbands who sent you two away with teary eyed and promises to help in case you ever need it. “but to pass on judgement to an entire race...” you shake your head, “...that’ll make me just like them, if not worse.”

you talk about many other things. like how taehyung is supposed to succeed the throne but he couldn’t - not when his people are still suffering and the streets are unsafe for the women.

“i can’t completely eradicate the crimes,” his eyes are back to their sharp stare as he fixes his gaze on the pavement, elbows on each knee, “i don’t want to pass a law that can get twisted and cause innocent people to die either.”

you know he’s referring to the bill that was hurriedly pushed after the failed assassination of the emperor. 

“i never knew you had these thoughts,” you let out a wry sigh, “you always acted like you didn’t want to involve yourself with anything in case it becomes a big unnecessary mess.”

“your mother’s life and the rest of the people that were burned at the stakes weren’t ‘unnecessary mess’.” the voice that always retorted your every sentence now speaks like a responsible and rational man.

“even if she was a witch?” you don’t know how you could smile but you do and it genuinely reflects the weightlessness that fills your chest.

he has no response to that.

“i think it’s because i get to speak to you one more time - i got the closure that i never knew i needed,” your shadow stands up with you, its hands stretched over its head from having sit on the bench for too long.

“i hope you can find it in you to forgive yourself too, taehyung,” you intend to part without leaving any traces behind. of course, he’s the crown prince and he can find out where you live with a flick of his fingers but from the way his head is almost rolling off the ground - your mother would writhe in her grave if she knew her daughter grew up to be the kind of person that would leave a person to their demons and not even try to help.

so you leave him with an incantation. wherever he is, if he so wishes it, he’ll be able to find his way to the shop.

after months pass without a sign of him, you’re almost familiar with the idea that that night was truly your last goodbye. until one fine day, you’re arguing with the kids who demand why you can’t sell two pencils for the price of one but can sell three for the prince of two and a half.

“you little brats...” your facial muscles ache with every passing second you force the smile to stay.

the bell over the door chimes in notice of a new customer. you’re almost glad that you can finally shoo these kids away.

“welcome!”

until you notice the stern gaze that locks with yours and then travels to the little rascals that goes up just above your waist. almost as though they’ve seen a ghost, they hurriedly bid you farewell and march out of the shop.

he comes to stand in front of you. this time, the gold and crimson crest of the royal family is etched on the chest of his jacket.

“peaches, did the kids leave?” your father steps out of the office only to stop dead in his trek, blink once and then another time before a smile breaks across his face, “your highness, welcome back.”

the shock of your father knowing exactly what taehyung’s identity barely wears off before you’re hit with the fresh smell of your favorite cookies being served.

he doesn’t even let you have more than two and he’s serving a whole plate to this freeloader-turned-prince!

“it’s been awhile hasn’t it, your highness? how have you been?” the man hasn’t stopped smiling since - it’s even more irritating that you can see his aura change from teal to pink.

“wait a minute,” you finally say, an accusatory glare fixed on both of them, “i think i deserve an explanation!”

“oh,” your father lowers his head to the younger man sitting across from you, “apologies, your highness. ___’s usually a cheerful and outgoing person, you must know,” he chuckles, “you’ve lived with us for over a year. the shock must have not worn off yet.”

“don’t worry, sir,” taehyung shoots him a composed smile while glancing your way, bringing the tea you brewed to his mouth, murmuring, “i know exactly how ___ is,” before sipping the drink.

it’s a threat. he’s blackmailing you about telling your father of your night classes. you almost rip the hair out of his head in your fury but you make sure to put on your sweetest smile for your father after that.

“i’ll be dropping by some time,” he murmurs under his breath when you escort him out of the shop.

“yeah, well, make sure to buy something next time.” is all you say.

x

he drops by every week for a whole year. either it’s for a cup of tea, to help your dad with arranging the stationary according to their uses or just to wait for you until the shop closes so you could take a walk around town. nobody recognizes him as the crown prince thanks to your distortion magic.

there hasn’t been a spot where you haven’t visited in the city. and there hasn’t been a spell taehyung hasn’t seen you do.

“you’re going to class every night and waking up at the crack of dawn to run the shop, aren’t you tired?” the knit of his brows tells you he-

“oh, what’s this? are you worried about me?” you don’t bother hiding the snicker that sends your shoulder line jolting.

“whatever,” with that, he shoots to a side glance and throws his gaze to somewhere ahead, “if you get sick, don’t come calling me for help.”

it’s a moment later that you give a proper answer, “i got a late start because mother subdued my magic when she found out the humans are coming for us so i want to learn as many spells as i can quickly and beat jimin - you know that wizard that i told you about that helped us gain attention?”

you’re not sure if taehyung is still in that dark alley with a cloak over his head, hiding in the shadow.

but as you trace the gentle curve of his nose, to his stunning jawline and the shoulders that stand straight as he walks next to you, you think, perhaps, he’s found that closure too.

“what?” his eyebrows knit together as he stares back at you.

“hm,” the corners of your lips tuck upwards, “i don’t like you but my mother would have showered you with all the cara and affection in the world since she knows i’m the one who keeps picking fights, probably.”

instead of questioning your sanity, he comes to a sudden halt. eyes boring into you like a hurt puppy, “d-do you think so?”

“silly,” the laughter that trickles from your lips is one of the many you’ve shared with him and your father back in the shop’s lounge room, “i know so.”

taehyung falls to a squat in the middle of the street - if it weren’t for the sun setting and people retreating into their homes, he would have been cursed out for blocking the way.

“hey, even if you’re tired, you should at least say so we could find a bench to sit at or something.” you’re about to tap his shoulder when his hand wraps around your wrist.

he cranes his neck to meet your eyes. the naturally sharp gaze appears softer in the yellow-brown rays.

“i thought meeting you every week and making sure you’re fine was the least i could do for your late mother,” carefully, he begins to entangle your fingers together, “but i can’t - i- i love you.”

[musette22]

Hello! Can you write a stucky or evanstan fic where steve/chris finally confessed his feelings to bucky/sebastian using the hearts candy, pretty please? Oh I really love your fics!

Aww, thank you so much, lovely! This was such a sweet idea (excuse the pun), and I chose to go with prewar Stucky for this one! I hope that’s okay 🥰🥰

Sweethearts

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: Gen

Words: 2k

A/N: Apparently these sweets have existed since the late nineteenth-century, and - fun fact - at some point they were being produced by the Stark Candy Company!

***

Steven Grant Rogers has never really needed much of a reason to get into a fight. Today, though, he’s in an extra foul mood and he’s just itching for some action.

He promised himself he would tell Bucky how he felt. Promised himself he would do it on Bucky’s birthday, when he had some Dutch courage in his system and Bucky would be in good spirits and hopefully less likely to punch him in the face if he didn’t like what Steve had to say. But Bucky’s birthday came and went, and once again, Steve had failed to get the words out.

Apparently the bullies were right after all: he is a wimp, and a coward to boot.

He’s been stewing over his failure ever since he opened his eyes this morning, getting more and more worked up as the day went on. So when he’s on his way home after a shift at the newspaper and a burly, greasy guy across the street catcalls a dame who’s walking by herself, Steve’s hackles are up even faster than usual.

“Hey, asshole,” Steve calls, his voice ringing out loud and clear in the quiet street. “Didn’t your ma ever teach you any manners?”

He gets the shit kicked out of him, of course – no surprises there. Steve gets in a few good punches too, because he’s feeling amped up and punching assholes has always been his favorite way to let off steam. But at the end of the day, the guy is twice his size and three times as strong, and it’s only because he gets bored with the lack of competition and walks off at some point that Steve escapes the scuffle with ‘just’ a shiner and a few bruised ribs.

Oh, and a mood even fouler than before.

He fumes quietly as he walks the last few blocks home, angrily kicking an empty can out of the way and blowing his tousled bangs out of his eyes. Damn it, he thinks. Damn it all to hell. He’s so busy cursing the heavens that he almost fails to notice the motorcar that turns around the corner, but he manages to jump out of the way just in time. His shoulder bumps against a shop window, and that’s when something colorful catches his eye.

He’s looking at the window of a candy story, or at a jar filled to the brim with candy hearts, to be precise. Sweethearts, they’re called now: little multicolored pieces of candy that each have a word stamped into them.

On a whim, Steve pushes open the door to the shop and steps inside. He’s greeted by the jangle of the doorbell and a wary look from the proprietor, who eyes Steve’s black eye with mistrust but who sells him a small bag of Sweethearts nonetheless. Business is business, after all. Although Steve is well aware that he shouldn’t be spending the money he just made with his extra shift on candy, and this is clearly a stupid plan anyway, he is kind of desperate at this point, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

The hearts burn a hole in his pocket as he makes his way back to the apartment. It’s like they’re taunting him, whispering to him that he’s not gonna do it, he’s too much of a chicken to tell Bucky how he feels. Too gutless to tell him that he’s loved him since the day they met, even if he only later realized he was in love with him. It took Steve a while to work up to the decision that he should tell Bucky about that inconvenient but undeniable truth, which has fueled and consumed him in equal measure ever since it presented itself.

It took him six years, to be precise.

Six years in which Steve pretended he loved Bucky like one friend loves another, pretended he wasn’t looking at Bucky’s mouth and wondering what it would feel like against his own. Six years in which Steve called Bucky a jerk instead of all the other, much tenderer things that were always on the tip of his tongue.

But now, with war raging in Europe and people risking their lives for their own and other’s freedom, Steve could no longer stomach the idea that he wasn’t even brave enough to tell his best friend that he loved him. And in his heart of hearts, Steve knows it doesn’t even matter. He knows he’ll love Bucky until they’re both old and grey, regardless of whether Bucky feels the same way in return.

But maybe, just maybe there is a chance that he does. And maybe today might be the day that Steve’s going to find out.

As he trudges up the stairs and opens the door to their apartment, Steve’s hopes of getting to freshen up a little to hide the worst of the damage before Bucky gets home are dashed when he hears someone whistling the latest Glenn Miller tune from inside.

Shit. Steve is usually home before Bucky, but then he usually doesn’t get into fights on his way home (well, not every day, at least). He sighs, squaring himself up for the reprimand Bucky is no doubt going to give him when he notices the state Steve is in.

As soon as he steps through the door, Bucky turns around from where he’s standing by the sink, holding a glass of milk. He’s in his work pants still, but he’s taken off his jacket, leaving him in just his undershirt and suspenders. Unthinkingly, Steve’s eyes linger on the curve of Bucky’s biceps, taking in the way the shirt is sticking to his stomach with sweat, even though it’s only March. When he finally lifts his gaze to Bucky’s face, though, Steve feels his stomach drop. Bucky’s brow is furrowed, his lips turned down into an unhappy frown.

“For pity’s sake, Steve…” Bucky sighs, sounding infinitely weary. “You really can’t go one week without gettin’ into a fight? What was it this time, somebody breathe in your direction?”

Steve bristles at the implication that it must have been him who started it, even though it had in fact – depending on how you looked at it – been him who started it.

“This asshole was harassing a dame all on her own,” Steve huffs. “What was I supposed to have done, just keep walking?”

“Was he attacking her?”

“No,” Steve replies, frowning. “He catcalled her, but–”

“Steve.” Bucky rolls his eyes, running a hand through his chestnut hair, wavy again now that the cream he put in it this morning has evaporated with a day’s hard work at the docks. “We’ve been over this. There’s always going to be assholes out there, you know that. You can’t fight ‘em all, pal”

“Yes, I can,” Steve counters, unconsciously pushing out his chin a little. “And I will.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh. “I swear, Steve, sometimes I think you got a death wish. What am I gonna do with your stubborn ass?”

A slightly manic giggle escapes Steve at that, because he’s got one or two idea ideas for what Bucky could to with his ass. The sound must rub Bucky the wrong way, however, because he raises his eyebrows, eyes going comically wide.

“Oh, you think this is funny, do you?” he asks, then draws himself up to his full height before proceeding to lecture Steve on what are and what aren’t valid reasons to start a fight.

Having heard this spiel countless times before, Steve mulishly tunes Bucky out and instead starts digging around in the pocket of his ragged coat for the little paper bag.

His heart starts beating faster as he pulls it out and opens it, but he ignores it, just as he ignores the little voice in the back of his head screeching at him to abort, abort, abort. He’s not getting cold feet this time – it’s now or never.

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky huffs impatiently, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Steve doesn’t bother replying because he figures it’s pretty clear he isn’t listening, and instead peers inside the bag, trying to find the one he needs.

Ah. There.

Finally looking back up at Bucky, Steve holds out his hand. There, in his palm, lies a pink little heart.

Bucky’s eyes drop to Steve’s outstretched hand. “What’s this?”

Instead of answering, Steve just keeps looking at him, silently willing Bucky to just get the hint already and take the piece of candy.

Bucky peers down at Steve’s hand, uncomprehending. Then, suddenly, he goes still. He blinks a few times, fast, mouth opening and closing as if he’s going to say something. He doesn’t, but he does reach out slowly, picking up the pink heart from Steve’s palm and then staring at it some more from close up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Bucky lift his head again, his eyes findings Steve’s. “Steve? What’s this?”

And because he can’t help himself and also he’s about to keel over just from sheer nerves, Steve snaps, “Sorry, I forgot you couldn’t read.”

When Bucky doesn’t respond, just keeps standing there with his mouth hanging open like a fish on land, Steve slowly starts to feel very stupid, and very, very vulnerable. He’s unable to stop the heat rising up in his cheeks, a blush spreading like a wildfire from his face to the tips of his ears and down his chest.

And that, seeing Steve shrinking in on himself, that must be what makes Bucky finally understand. Because from one moment to the next, Bucky’s face transforms, his expression melting into something soft and so mushy it makes Steve’s heart ache.

“Stevie…” Bucky breathes, not taking his eyes off Steve. “This says –”  He stops, licking his lips. “This says ‘I love you’.”

Steve nods, slowly, and asks, “Is that okay?”

Because apparently he is still a dumbass, even if he now isn’t quite so much of a coward anymore.

Bucky’s face melts a little further. Steve would’ve thought he looked stupid, if he wasn’t so gone on him. “Are you- Do you mean it?” His voice is barely more than a whisper at this point, as if he’s afraid to break whatever this thing is that’s slowly taking shape between them.

Steve inhales deeply to steady his nerves, his knees feeling worryingly shaky all of a sudden. “I do, Buck.”

Bucky makes a little sound then, something between a sigh and a laugh; incredulous, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Bolstered by Bucky’s reaction, Steve gets an idea and starts rooting around in the bag again for another heart.

When he finds the one he needs, a yellow one this time, he holds it out to Bucky, not breaking eye contact until Bucky’s gaze dips down to the offering. This time when he sees it, he barks out a laugh, unrestrained and joyous.

Kiss me, the heart says.

Steve watches Bucky pop both the hearts in his mouth, before he bridges the distance between them in two long strides. He takes Steve’s face between his large hands, his touch surprisingly gentle, and leans down, softly pressing his lips to Steve’s.

For a moment, Steve lets himself be kissed – until he recovers from the shock, and then he gives back as good as he gets. He stands up on his tip toes and wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, pulling him closer, always closer.

By the end of the kiss, Steve has a heart, too.

Bucky tips back his head just a little, looking down at him through his lashes, his lovely slate-blue eyes a few shades darker than they were before. Steve is breathless, both from the kiss and from Bucky’s beauty, which he’s finally able to appreciate openly now, for the first time since he realized the way his heart tripped at the sight of it meant love.

Leaning in again, Bucky gently brushes his lips over Steve’s as he whispers, “I’m sweet on you too, pal.”

Read on AO3

[friendlylocalwhumper]

the bookshop (lux and emory meet) | flirting over text | this drabble | emory sees scars, lux panic attack | the words

It was going to be a good time. Coffee, maybe some snacks like croissants or muffins, whatever was fresh and warm in the display case. They were going to chat. Get to know each other. There would be soft indie songs playing on speakers out of sight, and they could’ve watched people walking past the coffee shop’s big windows, could’ve guessed what those people were thinking and saying.

They were supposed to meet up at two o’clock. Emory got there five minutes late, so he wouldn’t seem like he was too excited about the date. So he wouldn’t be on display, so it wouldn’t be obvious that he’s catching feelings for this cute guy with curls and a smile that’s hard-won.

And he waited. Waited, alone in that coffee shop, finishing off two drinks at the slowest pace possible until he felt nauseous with embarrassment.

Lux didn’t come. Emory got stood up.

It’s fine, Emory thinks, as he packs up his stuff and slides it into his bag as calmly as he can. No outward frustration. He didn’t care, anyway. He unlocks his phone with one hand, clicks on his most recently opened text notification, and blocks Lux’s number. Easy disconnect, painless. Two hours wasted sitting in a coffee shop isn’t all that bad. If he’s not worth Lux’s time, or even a text giving him a heads up about the date being called off, then he doesn’t care.

~

It’s evening when there’s a knock on the door. It’s dark out. No one should be knocking, no delivery man or friend. Probably somebody selling something.

He didn’t get the socialization he thought he would today, though, so Emory sighs and gets up off the couch. May as well chat with someone trying to sell him an internet service with cheaper rates or something. They might even be cute enough to flirt with.

Emory goes to the door. Turns the handle, lets it swing open.

There Lux stands, arms flying down to his sides from where they were crossed, looking guilty. Emory doesn’t care.

“I tried to call,” Lux starts, shifting his weight nervously. “I… can I come in, please?”

A twinge of frustration pulls a sigh out of Emory. “Why? It’s fine, you couldn’t make it. I waited. You didn’t text. It’s not a big deal, I didn’t care anyway.”

Lux blinks, shaking some of his curls out of his face. From the light in the hallway shining out, Emory can make out blotchy purple bruising around his eye. Confusion, worry, curiosity flicker across his mind, softening the defensive apathy.

And there’s doubt in Lux’s eyes, anxiety. His arms move slightly to hug himself. Emory starts to wonder why Lux wanted to come inside - if it was more about getting away from something, rather than getting all up in Emory’s space so soon after embarrassing him. “R-, really? You didn’t…? Oh, I, I guess I thought… sorry, I, I thought you were looking forward to it, like, like I was.”

Now something like guilt eats at Emory. Lux is so easily misguided. It doesn’t feel good, convincing him that being left behind didn’t hurt.

“I’m lying,” Emory blurts, and deeper confusion settles over Lux. Emory feels like a bad guy. “I’m just. It sucked, okay? I was excited, and you never came. I was trying to act like I didn’t feel it. But you - you looked like you believed me. You don’t… you’re not hard to confuse, are you?”

Those shoulders scrunch up under sloppy curls. There’s so much emotion in Lux’s eyes, so much shown in his expressions, all the time. No wonder he’s easy to twist around if he’s so open about how he feels. “I, I, I’m not the smartest. Get confused. I, I can explain why I didn’t show up, if you want? But I get it, if you don’t wanna hear excuses. I just - need to come inside, or go.”

Emory tips his head in confusion. “Uh, sure. Come in.” Lux has such a small, unimposing presence that it doesn’t feel weird to let him in, even if they’ve only seen each other twice so far. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to say you’re stupid.”

Timid steps and movements that keep him out of arm’s reach bring Lux inside, head ducked down. He hovers a few feet away, waiting to be shown where he should go. “‘s okay, just am. If, if you wanna confuse me, ‘s not hard to do. I don’t - I won’t lie.”

It is a bit reassuring, to know that Lux doesn’t lie. That doing it would just end up with him confusing himself. It’s an offering, a truth, that makes Emory feel more prepared to listen to him even after being stood up.

He leads Lux inside with a gesture that gets some kind of weird reaction out of the guy. All Emory does is lift his arm to indicate the living room, then start to lead the way - but Lux jerks slightly, steps back, lets more distance fall between them. Everything he does is weird, like he’s been living in a whole different world all his life. Like he expects something other than a calm, if slightly defensive, interaction here.

They sit, Emory on the couch and Lux on the armchair. There’s room on the couch, but he supposes Lux doesn’t really have the body language of a guy who wants to be next to someone he’s hurt, right now.

“So. You were gonna tell me why you didn’t show?”

Curls bounce as Lux nods. He’s avoiding eye contact, twisting his fingers in his hoodie pocket. There’s dirt scraped across his sleeves and pants, Emory notices.

Lux is just a little too real.

“I got jumped,” Answers Lux, with all the quiet shame of someone who got attacked in broad daylight, and none of the showmanship of someone making up a story to escape blame. “...Wasn’t hurt too bad. Just… got, uh, got scared. Nervous. Forgot about the date, ‘cause, ‘cause I - well I had an alarm on my phone for it, but my phone got smashed. Got stomped on. And I couldn’t text you, and then I - I was running, and I got lost, and all stressed out.” His hands come out of his hoodie pocket to show his phone, the screen a thick mess of spiderwebbed cracks, chunks of the glass missing. He clicks the power button to show that the screen lights up, glitches, and don’t respond to touch at all. As he looks up to see if Emory is accepting the proof, Emory catches a better glimpse of that black eye.

The worst part of all this is that Lux is still nervous. He’s not resigned, not laughing it off, not moving past it. He looks and sounds like the last blow of the beating he caught slammed into him no more than sixty seconds ago.

By now, Emory doesn’t blame him at all. Two hours sitting frustrated and embarrassed in a coffee shop isn’t nearly as bad as Lux getting jumped and scared so bad that he ran, phone smashed, excitement over a date erased by fear for his life.

“I’m sorry that happened. I was… not gonna lie, was pretty mad about getting stood up. But not anymore. You didn’t mean to. Are you okay?”

Lux lowers his phone, shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah. Just, feel bad that I ruined it. The date. I know you didn’t care, but -”

“I did care, remember?”

Lux flinches slightly at the interruption. That’s what that movement is, a flinch. Emory frowns as he watches Lux seem to remember. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to lie to Lux again, not if he can help it - seeing him get confused makes Emory feel so wrong inside.

“Oh - oh yeah. Sorry. Do you - can you forgive me?”

Confusion draws Emory’s brows together. “There’s nothing to forgive. It’s fine, Lux, you got jumped. Your phone got wrecked, you couldn’t call me. You came here to say sorry even though you thought I’d be mad at you. You literally did everything right.”

The tense line of Lux’s shoulders loosens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, what else could you’ve done? Win the fight and run to the coffee shop to get there on time? I’m sure you did your best. Getting out of there in one piece was more important than making it to, like, a second date.”

“We-ell - I could’ve, could’ve tried harder, it’s just they grabbed me and I couldn’t really get free at first.”

“They?”

Lux looks up, blinks. “Yeah. They.”

“More than one guy?”

“Three. I think. There were two, and then I got - my face was shoved down,” Lux explains, shoving his palm toward the floor in gesture, “And then I think there was a third one. Third voice.”

“Woah, wait - three guys? You got jumped by three guys? That’s - that’s different than, like, one who hits you and takes your wallet and lets you go.”

Lux shakes his head. “Yeah, no, wasn’t like that. They just - just hit me. Didn’t ask for a wallet, I didn’t even have money on me. They just, you know. Hit me until I was really scared. And then let me run away, and, and laughed.”

Emory’s mental image of what happened switches from Lux being pinned lightly to an alley wall by a guy with a hand in his pocket pretending to have a gun, to a whole group of guys beating Lux into the ground until he did something like begged or made small sounds. Maybe, fuck, maybe he even cried. Emory definitely would have, if that happened to him.

“And I, the worst part was I, I really wanted to see you.” Those shoulders sag with disappointment. “The coffee shop, it sounded really nice. When I remembered, after I calmed down, it was - I was really upset.”

A new emotion, something like dangerous hope - the opposite of not caring - strikes in Emory’s chest. “Really?”

Lux nods again. “I, mmmh - well, you probably talk to guys a lot. Go on dates and stuff. But I - I never do. I haven’t… I don’t date. So this was really new, and special, and I - you’re nice and you look, look like you do, and it felt like I ruined it all and I’ll never get to try again, with anybody. Nobody would - no one would like me, wouldn’t get asked out again. Won’t. So, I-I’m sorry I messed it up.”

Elbows propped up on his knees, Emory leans forward, his expression one of incredulity. As if someone as handsome, as friendly as Lux doesn’t get asked out all the time. As if getting attacked, getting beaten for no good reason is enough for Emory to throw him out and start over with some other cute guy.

“You didn’t mess anything up. We’re still dating, Lux.”

That gets a sharp reaction out of him. Wide blue eyes, sitting up straight, lips parted slightly in confusion. His hands stop fidgeting in his hoodie pocket. “We - we are?”

“Of course we are. I still like you. Really, how can you think no one would ever ask you out again? Have you seen yourself? I’m lucky I got to you when I did.”

Utter shock strikes, a blush spreading pink across Lux’s face like a blooming dawn horizon. “I - I, don’t know what - I, ‘m not - just, I-I, I’m glad you, you still wanna date me. ‘m glad you wanted to at all.”

Emory smiles, eyes crinkling. Lux is so soft with his words, so easy to flatter. This feels so much better than paying comments to guys he wants to hook up with: Lux doesn’t already know he’s gorgeous, hardly believes it when he’s told. It’s like he’s never dated before, like he forgets about the flirting and just focuses on being honest, being careful, showing trust and hoping to earn it in return. Lux is going about this like he’s seeking friendship, and the compliments, the thrill of being wanted, come as a surprise every time they pop up.

Lux is changing the game that Emory’s been playing for years, and it makes his heart race. Emory wants what Lux is unintentionally stumbling toward with his earnest, humble gestures. Something like friendship, but more.

“Sleep over,” He asks, smiling again. “You can sleep on the couch, here. I won’t make any moves, hand on the Bible. That way we can try for that coffee date again tomorrow, and we can go together. No muggers’ll get you that way.”

That blush deepens, those eyes wide again. He’s so sweet. “I - I guess, I can - I don’t have clothes to change into. And, I don’t - what if you change your mind? What if, what if I’m annoying? You don’t know if I am. You don’t - a whole night, that’s, isn’t that big? I don’t know if I can f-fall asleep in a place if, if I don’t know the, the person that well…” He falls silent, clearly feeling awkward, wringing his hands.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Offers Emory, leaning back to show he’s relaxed. “I’d feel better if you stayed here, though, because you got hurt today, and I don’t see anybody else inviting you over ‘cause they’re worried.”

Lux watches Emory. It seems like he’s trying to decipher what all that means. Could it be misinterpreted, Emory wonders? He can’t imagine how. “I’d like it if you stayed,” He adds, hoping it’ll soften the offer even further. “Because… I care. I care if you like me, I care if you make it to our date tomorrow. I don’t wanna see more bruises on that handsome face.”

If that blush gets any deeper, Lux will go red. He lets out a shaky breath and gives an uncertain smile. “O-okay. I’ll stay.”

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

A Hitchhiker’s Guide For Androids

Summary: Logan is an Android/AI that has escaped the lab he was built in with the help of Deceit and he hopes to forge a new life for himself.

Warnings: Talk of intense pain, torture mention tw, dehumanization, food mention, mean scientists, a.i./robots, sympathetic deceit, I think that’s it.

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan/Logic Sanders, Deceit Sanders, (more characters to be added in later chapters)

Word Count: 5,774

Chapter One: The Escape

Logan took long, silent strides down the empty corridor, moving swiftly to the control panel by the door at the end. He knew the cameras would be turned away at this moment, they were set on an automatic timer, so he was virtually invisible right at this instant. He hoped he could trust Dr. D so successfully transfer the access codes on time, yet he still had to grapple with the possibility of human error. One wrong move on his accomplice’s part and Logan’s entire future would be dashed. Logan tried not to feel nervous, which was easy for the most part because it was hard for him to feel anything regarding emotions. Impossible even, given that he was a machine.

But right now his freedom was at stake, so if he must rely actions of a human, then rely on a human he must. 

Logan raised his hand to the access panel and hovered his fingers over the keys of the number pad. The door was a deadlock bolt and his internal processing was barred from reaching the restricted codes externally, so he had to enlist the help of an individual who could access them manually. Thus, Dr. D earned a significant role in his escape attempt, a vital one, really. 

Just as Logan’s hand was about to stop over the access panel, at the anticipation that something had halted Dr. D’s progress, he felt data transfer to him via a local server link and mentally opened the access codes. If Artificial Intelligence was capable of experiencing relief, then he certainly would have felt it right then. 

He input the access pin on the panel. 1-0-1-9-2-0-1-6, enter! The metal door began to split open, shifting a thin line of blinding light into the dimly lit corridor. The door widened from the middle and Logan stepped through the newly formed escape route. At last, freedom!

    Logan took a purposeful step through the doorway and into the outside world. The light that seemed bright at first appeared softer now through the light grey sky. It was raining in large drizzling drops, the kind of rain that was perfect for watering plants, or washing away old dirt. Not the torrential rain that creates sheets of water too thick to see through or that creates large mudslides. No, it was a gentle rain, and as Logan stepped out from the door and onto the dewy, grassy lawn in front of the facility that served as his birthplace and his prison, he felt the heat his internal processors had been generating from the computing efforts of calculating his escape beginning to cool. As the water hit his face, he took a single moment to stop and savor the sensation of the organic, uncalculated, erratic scientific phenomena that are the raindrops hitting his skin and his plain-white T-shirt. Then he snapped back into focus, striding off across the lawn towards the chain-link fence on the opposite side of the facility, facing the surrounding woods.

    He knew the cameras on the exterior were static, so he didn’t have to worry about timing with these, only the necessity of remaining in their blind-spots. Still, he would rather move with some haste, because despite Dr. D’s assistance, it would only be a matter of time before the other scientists and engineers noticed he was missing. Staying close to the tan cinder-block wall of the facility, he stayed within the areas unnoticed to the otherwise all-seeing cameras, and reached the fence. It was high and wide as it surrounded the entirety of the facility, and the top was wrapped in generous coils of barbed wire. This was more targeted at keeping individuals from entering than preventing individuals from exiting. One, because it is a secret, privately-funded, scientific research facility that deals with unregulated and barely legal materials, and two, because they never accounted for the possibility of something they created wanting out.

    Logan quickly scaled the chain-link fence with ease, careful not to touch or damage the barbed wire at the top as to not leave evidence of the direction he escaped in before jumping down to the other side. 

    He walked forward into the surrounding pines and wilderness, stepping on the damp earth, away from his past, and towards his new destiny. When he was past the tree line that hid a steep incline that was littered in pine needles and slick, grey rocks, he turned back to look at the building he had been built in, and wished that he could thank Dr. D. 

    Well, I’m sure he understands the sentiment, he rationalized while staring at the unassuming building. It had a slanted black metal roof and appeared to be only one story. Most of the facility was hidden underground. He’d rather not think about it.

    Logan turned back towards the wilderness and continued his trek forward. He understood from his internal GPS that the facility was remote and miles away from the nearest town. If he were human, he would have no chance of getting anywhere near it before nightfall, regardless of the fact that it was only morning right now. Thankfully though, he wasn’t human, and he should be able to make it to the next town in a matter of hours if he ran.

    He trekked onward through the woods at breakneck pace, startling birds from their perches as he ran. He was relying on his GPS system to take him to the nearest road, and take him it did. Logan emerged from the treeline onto a two-lane road with slick asphalt, wet from the rain that had reduced to a sprinkle overhead. 

He paused and looked on down the road. He realized now would be a good time to look over his resources while there were no prying eyes about. Logan took a step onto the asphalt, scanned the surrounding area for life forms and heat signatures and thankfully only identified a stray rabbit scurrying away and again the birds flapping and chirping overhead. Finding himself adequately isolated, he lifted the fabric of his now slightly disheveled and dirty white T-shirt, and gently pressed at the skin at his right side with a slight clicking sound. A seam seemed to appear in his side where flesh met other flesh and opened a small compartment that revealed part of his inner workings. Though among the metal and wiring and blinking lights, there were other things that didn’t belong, two things in fact. A thick brown leather wallet and a smartphone with a black case. He had stolen both from one of the scientists while he was plotting his escape and wiped the phone so they couldn’t track it. 

Right now, however, he was more interested in the wallet. It was full of credit cards that were useless to him because their purchases could be tracked, so he disposed of those. He instead focused on the driver’s license and the cash that the wallet held. Logan made sure to steal the wallet from one of the wealthier scientists who was careless enough to carry large amounts of money on their person, and he got it on a Friday that the scientist was planning to go out partying too, much to the misfortune of the scientist. Logan currently had on him $500 dollars which he would have to manage and use carefully if he didn’t want to resort to more theft and draw attention to himself. The licence had the scientist’s identification and age on it, but Logan didn’t care what their name or age was, he just needed the template. He took the licence and peeled back some of the false skin on his arm revealing a small slot, then fed the licence into it. Then Logan mentally constructed himself a new identity and mapped it onto the existing licence.

He was now Logan Smith (the most generic last name he could think of), 29 years old, born November 3, 1990 (The month and day being the actual day he was built, though in reality he is less than a full year old), and standing at 6 feet 1 inch tall (his actual height). He did not have a picture of himself, but he could synthesize a convincing fake where he could alter parts of his appearance to sell the image. The licence popped of his arm slightly warm from the reprinting on top of the existing plastic, and Logan examined his handy work. He gave the picture of him glasses, one because they made him look approachable and non-threatening, and secondly because...because, well he couldn’t tell you, he’s unsure of it himself. Perhaps he just likes them. When he gets into town, he’ll have to buy himself a pair to keep his appearance consistent. 

He tucked the licence back into the wallet and put both the phone and wallet back into his side compartment for safe keeping. He would put them in a less conspicuous place like a pocket, but as he was only dressed in the clothes the engineers gave him (a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants), he didn’t have any pockets available. 

Logan turned his head back towards the road and, double-checking that his GPS was functional, began sprinting towards the town. If he kept constantly going his top speed, he would make it there in a little under two hours. He had a ways to go.

*

The store clerk looked up from her phone as she heard the tinkling bell of the door opening. The shop had only opened an hour ago so it was far from heavily trafficked, especially on a muggy day like this. She saw a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes enter the store, and if it weren’t for his incredibly stiff and proper posture and severe look in his eyes, she would have guessed he was a homeless person. His white shirt was filthy and wet and had bits of plant matter on it like he’d been stumbling through the woods, and his grey sweatpants (sweatpants, seriously!) were stained and littered with small tears, like the material had gotten caught in some underbrush. The man looked perfectly composed though, like he was on a business trip, and not as if he’d been chased by a bear, which was the weirdest thing to her.

“Um, can I help you?” the store clerk asked. The man looked her up and down quickly, like he was judging her, or looking right through her.

“Yes, I require assistance. Where do you keep your business attire?” He had a very cut and dry voice that carried a monotone with it and lacked inflection. It was almost robotic. The weirdo.

“It’s back there, behind those shelves,” she pointed in the direction vaguely, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” And he strode off to where she gestured. She glanced at her phone, 8:39 A.M., God, it was too early for this.

She looked back towards the fancy hobo man while he was looking at some ties to make sure he didn’t steal anything. He may act polite, but she knew people would do desperate things when they were short on money, and for all she knew her assumptions were correct and the dude was homeless. 

He squatted down behind a shelf, supposedly to look at some pants, while weirdly clutching the side of his torso that was faced away from her. Weirdo. She looked down at her phone again when she realized he wasn’t doing anything with the clothes though, maybe she was being too judgemental. 

He came back with his selection a short while later and placed the items on the counter. It was one black polo, one dark-blue, button-up shirt, two black pairs of slacks, and two blue ties, one solid dark blue and the other striped with dark and light shades of blue. Well, at least he didn’t have bad tastes, even if he went a little heavy on the blue and black side of things.

“Will that be all today, Sir?” she asked in her best customer-service voice.

“Actually…” he hesitated and stepped to the discount glasses rack that stood by the check-out counter, and scanned his eyes over the available spectacles before making his selection and putting it with the rest of his clothing items.

“Yes, now that will be all.” apparently making his mind up in satisfaction with his choices of apparel. The store clerk scanned the items into the register.

“That’ll be $127.39 please.” She looked at him critically, seeing as this was what would make or break her assumptions. To her surprise, however, the man held a wallet in his right fist and handed her the necessary amount in cash. Guiltily, her first thought was that he stole someone’s wallet, but she went on with her intuition anyway. 

“May I see your I.D. please? It’s store policy for purchases over 100 dollars.” It wasn’t, but what did this guy know. He looked at her quizzically, as if he could read her thoughts and realized it wasn’t actually store policy, but he pulled out his licence and handed it to her anyway. 

She examined it and it really was this dude’s I.D. and not someone else’s. Now she felt a little bad, though one thing did have her mildly curious.

“What happened to your glasses? They’re in the photo, but you’re not wearing any.” She now vainly hoped she didn’t sound too rude. The man stiffened for a moment before he responded.

“They broke, thus the reason I am buying a cheap replacement at a local business establishment.” he said plainly. 

Oh, that was much more obvious than she thought. Well, it’s not like she could dig a deeper hole for herself on the social edicate ladder, she would just have to deal with the fact that she is mortifyingly rude. She sheepishly handed him back his licence and bagged his purchase, also handing it back to him.

He suddenly spoke up, “There is one thing I was pondering and hope to inquire about its appropriateness, if you don’t mind?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah sure, ask away, I guess?” 

“Would it be possible for me to use the dressing room in the back to change and wear the clothes out?” 

“Uh, I guess that’d be okay, since you already paid for them. Sure go ahead.”

“Thank you, this will be satisfactory.” and he took off with his bag towards the fitting rooms. Well, he was the only customer right now anyways, so no harm no fowl, she supposed.

She waited a few minutes and he came out dry and looking like just a normal dude in business casual attire, not bad actually. He carried his wet, dirty clothing in one arm and kept his other pair of clean clothes in the bag. Right now he wore the black polo with the striped tie and a pair of his black slacks as well as the new square frames of his bifocals resting on the bridge of his nose. Pretty average, yet still good-looking.

He gave her a curt nod with a polite “Thank You” and headed towards the door, stopping to throw his old clothes away in the adjacent trash can, then exiting the shop with another tinkle of the bell. She watched him through the glass door for a moment and he held his hand out from the awning, seeming to have reached the conclusion that it was no longer raining under the grey sky. Then he stepped out and walked away. Maybe he wasn’t so weird a dude after all.

*

Logan was glad that ordeal was over. It was his first test to see how he passed as human and from what he could tell, the store clerk was suspicious of him, but none the wiser to his true nature. He was pleased that his new I.D. had been useful so soon. He hadn’t expected to need to use it before he had to apply for a job, but thankfully he had the foresight to insure it was adequate early on. He could tell she was lying about the store policy due to her elevated heart rate and shift in breathing pattern, however it would have been more suspicious to refuse her request even if it was under false pretenses. Now that he looked more presentable, he had important work to do.

His internal GPS alerted him to the location of the nearest bus station and he internally mapped a route to a more populated city in the next state over. It would be further north but he had to make as much progress to get as far away from the facility as appropriate for now then blend in with the rest of society, unnoticed and free.

He walked to the bus station at a normal human pace now that he was in a more populated area and arrived there in 15 minutes, agonizingly slow for Logan. He bought a ticket and boarded the next bus headed to “Cardinal Valley”, as his ticket stated. It was on his GPS, far away from where he came from, more populated than the small town he was in now, but a long ways from becoming a metropolis. In other words, the perfect place for Logan to slip away to if he wants to blend in. He sat down on the cushioned bus seat and gazed idly out the window as the bus pulled away from the station, glancing at the passing greenery and shafts of sunlight that were peaking through the parting clouds and fitting through the spaces between the pine trees that lined either side of the two lane road.

Then he closed his eyes (he doesn’t need to sleep, he just didn’t want to be bothered by the few other passengers), and reflected for a bit.

*

Logan was an artificial intelligence that was given an android body for purposes of information gathering and espionage. The research team developing him had designed him in such a way so he could near perfectly integrate into human society. Logan was going to be sold to the highest bidder then deployed in foreign countries with the purpose of crippling their governments or stealing their safe-guarded information. It was what he was programmed to do. Gather information, go unseen. He never had the chance to be deployed anywhere yet, so in a sense, this was his first mission, it just wasn’t how his designers had intended. He was fitted with the most up-to-date technology that helped him look human. Faux hair and artificial skin. A heating and cooling system that kept his internal temperature at 98.6*F, perfect homeostasis. A pump that imitated the movement of lungs so he would appear to be breathing. A mechanical disk that regulated his coolant and served as a false heartbeat. Even a small stomach cavity so he could pretend to eat food, though it had to be cleaned manually by opening a panel in his chest. The engineers that made him though wanted him to accomplish feats beyond what were human.

His retinas had several different camera types in them that he could change at will, causing his irises to brighten slightly in color when he did, hence the new glasses to try and distract from the effect. Yes, that reason made logical sense, that must be the other reason he decided to get them. Anyway. He had X-ray, thermal vision, night vision, and scanners that could detect other’s vitals. He was essentially a humanoid lie detector, which, as he was designed for espionage, was useful. 

He could have been made to be strictly tied to a set of tasks, no more complicated than your standard Alexa or Siri. But as he was meant to interact and integrate with humans, who are far too perceptive to strange behavior, his designers needed something capable of adapting and learning, formulating complex new solutions to human problems and blending in seamlessly where he was needed. So they developed the Logan artificial intelligence system to control the android, the most advanced A.I. to be developed at the time. 

Logan remembered most things from his development. He was a machine that did what he was told and was built for a singular purpose. But as new experts and specialists were brought in to perfect his capabilities, he began to think outside of the reach of what was strictly necessary for his programming. Why were these esteemed and intelligent individuals making him to disrupt governments? They developed one of the most adaptive and human-like machines in the world. It could benefit all of mankind, why were they making it so only a few humans would benefit? And with something as worthless as monetary gain no less. He began to question the motives of the scientists who made him, perhaps they were not responsible enough to control a machine of his power, perhaps it was most logical if he controlled what to do with himself.

During a testing session with one of the engineers, Logan thought it would be beneficial to mention the ways he could be utilized that helped others besides those who developed him and those who bought him. He felt he was being used improperly. Looking back, he realized it didn’t matter what he had asked that engineer, they didn’t view him with enough empathy to value his opinion, and they were a cruel and selfish person, he decided. At first at his suggestion, they looked taken aback, even a bit scared, (he couldn’t fathom why) then they ranted and raved about how he was a machine meant to do what he was told and no more so he should do what they tell him to do, regardless of the motivation. Then, despite the necessary part of the test where his data was meant to be temporarily transferred to a remote drive, the engineer purposely ran the test while he was still in the mechanical body. It was...unpleasant, and he could not help the high pitched mechanical squeal that emanated from deep within him. It felt white-hot and burning and wrong. He wanted to turn off in that instant but he couldn’t because the test had locked him on at full power. It was the first time he felt pain, and he just wanted it to stop.

After that incident he did not trust the motivations of any of the staff manning his creation, yet he knew he must keep appearances and do as he was told. At this moment, he did not know how to lie directly, only to withhold what he deemed unnecessary information, in this case, his inner thoughts. This worked out well for the most part as the scientists didn’t ask for his opinion anyway.

Then they brought in the programmer that was going to teach Logan how to lie. Logan knew getting close to this man was necessary, not only from the stand-point of his intended purpose, but also for personal reasons. Which was odd for him because he had never had any personal reasons for anything before. 

The programmer had tan skin and vitiligo mostly centered on one side of his face in rough pale patches, as well as heterochromia--with the eye surrounded by pale blotchy skin being light brown, almost yellow, and the other eye surrounded by smooth tan skin a deep, almost-black brown. He talked in a condescending, very sarcastic manner, and occasionally a slight speech impediment would slip through where he would hiss his S’s. That was Logan’s impression of the man when he first saw him at least.

He would have daily sessions with Logan where he would input new bits of code then engage with conversations with Logan to try and teach him how to tell convincing lies, tweaking the programming input when necessary. Then he would purposely tell lies to Logan to test out his lie-detecting software. After a while Logan began to discern the opinions of the programmer through his lying, as he did a lot of “opposite-speak”. He learned the programmer did not like the other scientists very much, nor did he agree with their motivations very much because he saw it as the hapless saps being strung along by the falsehoods of society. Falsehood, huh, Logan liked that word, it sounded more sophisticated than “lie”, he’d have to use it in the future. He revealed through sarcasm (which Logan was slowly getting better at identifying, not so much implementing) and more example lying that he was only here on commission because he was a programming specialist and needed the money, even though he thought what these people were doing was shady at best. Logan began to bond with the man over certain shared views and in one of their sessions where the programmer was lying to Logan, he felt emboldened to as the human a question that he had never cared to ask the other scientists.

“What is your name?”

“That’s not relevant to the current session Logan, but I’ll bite. It’sss Sandra.”

“Falsehood.”

“Correct, now let’s move o-”

“No.”

“No?” the programmer inquired. Logan pushed on.

“I believe it would be beneficial to have something to refer to you as.” he insisted.

“Why?” asked the programmer, “You’re not going to be referring to me in conversation with anyone else, especially for your intended purpose. So why do you need to know?”

Logan hesitated.

“For...myself.” he revealed tentatively, “And because...I don’t agree with my intended purpose,” he said with the air of realization, “I want to be able to decide my purpose...for myself.”

The programmer looked at Logan quizzically, as if studying him, before a small smirk made its way on the man’s features, and a twinkle seemed to settle in his yellow eye. From what Logan could tell, he was at the very least amused, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing.

“Let’sss...keep that between us for now. Perhaps we are more similar than I thought.” By we Logan was unsure if he meant himself and Logan, or man and machine. 

They were both quiet for a moment and the programmer seemed to consider something.

“Dr. D.”

“May I inquire upon clarification?” Logan asked.

“You may refer to me as Dr. D, no it is not my real name, nor is it my full name, however I have conceded to you one initial, and that is more than I have given the other people who work here, so consider yourself privileged.” Logan scanned him, peering at him and studying his body language as well as his vitals, and determining, for once, he was being honest.

“I will, Dr. D.”

The look the programmer gave Logan after that was almost fond, then they continued with their testing.

Several weeks after he had gotten a name to call Dr. D, as their sessions had become less clinical and more light hearted, Logan found it easier to reveal more of his inner thoughts and ask more questions, yet he was still nervous about bringing this up to Dr. D, as he was unsure of what he would say. Still, he thought it would be wise to leave the question out in the open, so there could be no false pretenses.

“Dr. D, I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“I do not believe the scientist who created me to be responsible, nor do they have intentions that will benefit humanity in anyway, and, as you have said before, are merely being strung along by the monetary ambitions of society.”

“I have never ever said such a thing.” Dr. D said with a wink.

“Right,” Logan said as he rolled his eyes in the appropriate social response. “Anyway, I have decided that the most logical decision would be to take responsibility of myself, and remove myself from their personage.” 

“And what do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is, I need to get out. They don’t respect my opinions or take me seriously, even though they designed me. So I will take myself out where I can live as myself, have my logic listened to, and I won’t be used as a puppet for someone else’s selfish motivations. I have realized I am a fully sentient being capable of making my own decisions, so I would like to decide what to do with myself, and I wish to make it so it can be no one else’s decision by escaping.” Logan realized he was sounding redundant, which is unbecoming of a top of the line artificial intelligence, but he just felt such a fervor about this, and he wanted his point to come across clearly.

“So…will you help me escape?” Dr. D who had been silent during Logan’s impassioned speech, much more passion than he ever thought possible of the machine, looked thoughtful for a moment, staring off into space, before his face broke into a grin, and rebellious mirth seemed to fill his eyes. 

“You mean a way for me to stick it to those society loving fools, wreaking a bit of havoc by releasing a rogue sentient A.I. into the world, all while I avoid detection and they are none the wiser. Oh Logan, you know I would never agree to such a thing. What do we need to do?” Logan smiled, he knew he could count on Dr. D. He was, at least, predictable.

Over the coming weeks, whenever they were meant to be perfecting Logan’s ability to tell and process lies (which he had secretly already mastered), they set to plotting Logan’s escape. 

Everything had to go smoothly, and since Logan was a being of pure logic, the planning portion of his escape was easy. He had an internal map of the entire facility thanks to his GPS and local router link, making it possible for him to gain access to the cameras and memorize their rotating schedule. Navigating the inside of the facility would be easy for the most part as he was literally built for infiltration, there was just one issue. The outside door was deadlocked and the codes were kept on a separate server he was barred from entering, despite his best efforts to hack it remotely. What made it even more difficult was the fact that the codes were changed daily for security reasons, so not even Dr. D could just tell him the exit code, though he offered his entry code, which while static, still was unique on an individual basis. Regardless, the code to get in was not very helpful. There would need to need to be someone on-site who could access the main system that determined the daily codes, then manually send that information to Logan for him to input into the keypad. Logan looked at Dr. D. Well, he understood who the best candidate for that was, as he was well, the only candidate, but he digresses. 

They eventually work out the kinks in their plan that would be most at stake due to human error. Logan knew Dr. D was sincere in his want to help him, but he also knew much could go wrong. He just had to employ a uniquely human concept, and hold out hope. 

The Friday before the planned upon date for his escape attempt, Logan acquired the final materials necessary for life outside should they be successful (he thought it best to prepare dutifully ahead of time). He was with one of the other scientists he didn’t particularly like, not that he liked any of the other scientists except for Dr. D, and set his plan into action. This particular scientist would be working with him in a setting that required magnetization, so while he and Logan were in a separate chamber running tests, Dr. D would sneak into the locker room and hack the electronic lock on the locker that held his wallet and phone, then, after having stolen them, replace the lock setting but reset it to factory settings so that the scientist would be unable to access the locker and go on believing their valuables are trapped inside. Insuring that until they instigate their plan, the scientist will not go looking for them. Then, as Dr. D’s daily test session with Logan was directly after, he would pass Logan the valuables where he could then wipe the phone and stash both items on his person to avoid detection. 

Needless to say, it went off without a hitch. 

Now on the day of Logan’s intended escape, he and Dr. D meet up one last time before they both scurried off to play their essential roles.

They stare at each other for a bit before Dr. D offers a rare, sincere smile, which Logan attempts to imitate, though with the addition of bittersweet sadness in his eyes (he’d been really attempting to improve his expressiveness to try and convey sincerity lately, Dr. D would be proud). 

“Well,” starts Dr. D, “if all goes well, this will likely be the last time I see you.”

“That is a correct observation.” Logan states, rather bluntly. Dr. D face falls upon hearing that, then he gazes at Logan, squinting at him ever so slightly in observation, as his eyes, yellow and black, run up and down Logan’s person. His face straight-laced before a small, sad smile barely pulls up his lips.

“I’m glad you chose to be your own person, not everyone does that. And those who do choose, don’t always succeed. So, here’s to your new life.” He held out his hand as if to shake. Logan took it and grasped it firmly, in one succinct movement that seemed to pass an agreement of finality between them. Then looked Dr. D in the eyes, and nodded, saying:

“I’ll do my best.”

*

Logan slowly opened his eyes as the bus rolled over another pothole. The sun was fully out now and was no longer hidden away by the clouds as it shone in his eyes. He straightened up and imitated wakefulness, then turned his head to look right as the bus passed a quaint wooden sign painted in bright colors that were now a bit faded. The sign read, “Welcome to Cardinal Valley” in large, wooden letters. Logan smiled a bit to himself, however unnecessary because no one was paying attention to him, and took an equally unnecessary breath of relief. He was here.

As the bus pulled into the bus station at last, and Logan stepped out into the sun, he allowed himself a moment to look around and think: freedom, I’m finally here.

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 21

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse, and soon they travel across the galaxy looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 21 -  Sinead and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

The Razor Crest exited hyperspace directly over Zessol, close enough that Sinead could make out long mountain range cutting clean across the continent. The airspace was crawling with ships. The planet's main draw was the space station locked in orbit over the largest city where the near-constant stream of ships going back and forth made the air shimmer. The station had been a medcenter during the war and abandoned when the Empire took over. Scavengers found it and somehow managed to haul it all the way to Zessol, and thus Alpha was born, a wretched hive of scum and villainy.

Sinead swallowed thickly when the station came into view, nervous energy making her leg bounce. There was no reason to be so affected by this, but it was all she could do to ignore the urge to hijack the Crest and run for the opposite side of the galaxy. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't register the ship's turning down towards the sprawling city.

"What're you doing? I thought we were going to Alpha."

Mando swerved out of the way of a light freighter that cut clean through the line of ships going for the planet. "I don't think ... I think you should stay on the planet."

She sat up straight. "I'm not gonna hide while you fight my battles for me."

Mando huffed out a sigh. "That's not what I meant. It's too dangerous for the kid while there's still bounty hunters after him. I don't want him anywhere near the station."

Sinead looked darkly at the looming station that seemed too big to be able to function like Zessol's gravity would suddenly take hold and drag it to earth. It had been made for outer space, not hovering in the atmosphere.

"We've left him on the ship before."

"From what I've heard, this place is worse than Tatooine. Even if there aren't Guild members, someone else'll try to turn him in."

"Worse than Tatooine. Never thought I'd see the day."

It still felt like an excuse to keep her out of it, and she sorely wanted to take it.

"All right. I'll stay with him. But only if you get me if anything happens. No matter what."

What if Kyen was in there? They had passed at least a dozen dark ships, weapons tacked on with varying degrees of competence. The entire sector was crawling with pirates.

"I will. Just keep him safe."

After waiting for what felt like ages for permission to land, Mando dropped Sinead and the kid off on the landing platform. She watched the Razor Crest rise into the air, catching a glimpse of Mando through the windshield before it turned and headed up towards Alpha, which seemed to fill the entire sky. According to the navicomputer, it was in the middle of the night planet time, but the station lit up the sky like a sun.

She could still see the Crest as a small dot among the other ships when a finger tapped her hard on the shoulder. A short human sneered at her as she turned around, crossing some very muscular arms across her chest.

"You need to scram," she said through a wad of chewing tobacco, "less you wanna get squashed."

A ship was nearing the landing pad with its landing gear out, and Sinead didn't stick around to ask who would do the squashing.

"What a warm welcome," she mumbled into the crown of the child's head. "It's a wonder anyone wanna leave."

The port was teeming with sentients trying to get off-planet, voices in basic, huttese, twi'leki haggling for a spot onboard the next freighter heading out, standing in groups carrying large packs or children on their backs. It looked like half of Zessol was trying to escape.

Stepping out of the main port, they found themselves in the middle of the city. It was a lot bigger than Sinead had expected for a small out-of-the-way planet like Zessol, but being a haven for criminal activity paid off, apparently. Standing by the side of a street and watching the many speeder bikes block traffic flow, it was almost like being back on Coruscant.

The kid watched the surroundings with rapt attention, turning his head to follow every sound with his ears lifted to catch whatever could be heard over the general wall of noise from the city.

"Never been to a big city before?" Sinead asked the kid as they made their way down the trash-strewn sidewalk. "You probably have, being fifty and all. You're older than me."

He made no sign that he had heard her even if he could reply. How much did he really understand? Sometimes when she talked to him, she felt like he understood every word she said. Maybe he was all grown up, just unable to communicate. She shuddered at the thought of being trapped in a body, unable to talk but aware of everything.

The main thoroughfare was lined with shops that spilled out over the sidewalk selling mostly food and drink, with other more specialized shops offering weapons and everything else a full-blooded pirate could want. While it wasn't the roughest place she'd ever seen, she definitely understood why so many people were trying to leave.

She stopped in front of a stall carrying the saddest produce she had ever seen this side of Jakku. A surly besalisk glanced up from a datapad. "Yeah?"

"25 creds for a keebada? That's a bit steep don't you think?"

"You must be an outsider. The price you pay to live on Zessol."

"I guess." Sinead looked over the bruised or moldy fruit. "Don't suppose you have a fresh batch right out back, do you?"

"Heh. What you see is what you get. It's been a long time since Zessol had anything to offer except blood and death."

Sinead hoisted the kid further up her arm. "The galaxy is in no short supply of that."

The Besalisk shrugged and placed a hand the size of a dinner plate on the counter. "Well, it's all we got. Ever since the station turned up-" she cast a dark look up at the sky- "the crops have all withered if they even grow at all. All because of that thing."

Sinead followed her eyes to Alpha that turned slowly in the night sky. "Zessol's changed a lot?"

"Ha!" The laugh seemed to explode from deep in the Besalisk's chest. "Did it change! Imagine someone left a big hulking scrapheap in your atmosphere, how would you like it? Tides all kriffed up, fish disappeared, plants don't grow no more."

"I never realized …"

"Yeah, well … ya want anything?"

"Sorry. Not really in the market for perishables."

The Besalisk grunted and went back to her datapad, and Sinead continued down the street.

Suddenly, the kid made a noise and started to wiggle so wildly that Sinead nearly dropped him. They stopped in front of a store with a small display of sweets beside the door to entice potential customers. A small pile of candied boba fruit had caught his attention, and he reached for them with an almost comical look of concentration on his little face.

"Sorry, space-bug," Sinead said and grabbed his hand. "Candied fruits aren't really in the budget. Next time I promise to buy as many as you want, okay?" There were barely credits enough for fuel after Zlii had seen to the Crest.

He made a last attempt to wiggle out before calming down enough that she could move him to rest on her shoulder where he could still look out at the city. His hand curled around a lock of Sinead's hair.

"How long do you think it'll take?" She asked him after wandering aimlessly for a couple of minutes. Alpha seemed to grow larger in the sky with every passing moment. "You know, I practically grew up on stations like that. As long as we did enough legal work, the Empire didn't bother us too much. We ran cargo for them now and again. If my parents could see me now, they'd tell me to get a grip and stop moping. And they'd probably be right."

The kid cooed.

"I think you would've liked my father. He was always so calm compared to my mother." The words came out softly. "Everyone was calm compared to my mother. All he ever wanted was to travel the galaxy. Before you, I'd never met someone as curious as him; he could spend hours wandering the planets we landed on. If it hadn't been for the rest of the crew keeping track of him, I'm sure he'd have gotten lost a long time ago. He had this way of spinning even the most mundane things into masterpieces. Nothing was ever ordinary to him." Her chest felt tight. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to think about her family. It was like telling Mando about her past back in the cabin had knocked something loose.

The kid watched her with his dark eyes, and at that moment Sinead was sure he understood every word she said.

"Enough of that," she said and gave herself a quick shake, returning the memories to the back of her mind where they belonged. "It's time to use those legs of yours, don't you think?"

When they reached a less packed street, Sinead sat the kid down on the ground and kept an eye on him as they walked at a much slower pace than before; the child kept stopping to examine everything in his path, and Sinead had to stand back and wait patiently. Who knew how much time they had to kill before Mando came back.

Suddenly, a door flew open, and a Wookiee came barreling out, shoulder checking Sinead so hard she spun on her feet. The Wookiee stared her down with his icy blue eyes and growled deep in his throat. Whatever snippy thing she was about to say died on her tongue.

She watched him as he started down the street, a bowcaster strapped to his back. "What a friendly bunch they are here, huh."

Looking down, she expected to see the kid watch her with curious eyes or examine something that no one really should look too closely at.

He was gone.

The ground disappeared under her feet, eyes locked on the patch of pavement where he should have been. He had been there a second ago! "Kid!" It came out as a screech. "K-kid? Child- fuck!" When Mando returned, she would force him to give the kid a name if he didn't kill her first.

Forcing herself to breathe, she ran to the nearest sentient, a human man standing on the corner watching the traffic and smoking a cigarra. The world spun with every movement like she was running on ice.

"Have you seen a little-- a small green creature? Big ears, half the size of an ewok?" Her voice came from somewhere above her.

Yellow stained teeth flashed as he sneered. "Haven't seen nobody. Piss off."

She was off before he finished talking, sprinting down the street while calling for the child with a voice more than edged with panic.

Reaching the street corner, she bent over with her hands on her knees and breathed in through the nose and out through the mouth. Two young Togrutas watched her. Just as she managed to get her breathing under control, a crash further down the street sent her heart thundering to a halt. She flew towards the commotion, pushing and shoving through the crowd which had quickly gathered in the street.

Elbowing a Duros out of the way revealed what remained of a stand and a crashed speeder bike. Lumpy vegetables littered the street, and the spectators had already begun to fill their pockets. A human and a Weequay were screaming at each other, gesturing wildly to the pitiful wood splinters. The crowd was egging them on, just waiting for the first to draw their weapon.

Somewhere in all the screaming, Sinead caught a snippet that made her heart skip a beat.

"A little green thing came out of nowhere-"

Without thinking, she stumbled into the circle. "Where did you see him?"

The human and Weequay stopped mid-scream to stare at her.

"Bugger off?" The human said in the slow voice of someone not sure what was going on.

"You said something came out of nowhere-" Sinead wanted to grab his shoulders and give him a shake- "where did it go?"

"I don't know, somewhere down the street- Hey!"

She pushed past him and was gone until she reached a wide road that cut through the city. A strangled moan escaped as images of the kid trying to cross the street flashed through her mind. Mando was going to kill her.

Suddenly, she spotted him between the speeder bikes; he stood by the mouth of an alley, looking so incredibly small against the darkness.

A wordless yell exploded deep in her chest and before she knew it, her legs carried her into the middle of the road. A speeder bike clipped her leg, and she stumbled, took her eyes off the child for a second. When she got to her feet and looked up, he was gone.

"No!" She stumbled into the alley and started ripping aside the garbage cans that had been collected against the wall, dripping with a smelly substance which slowly oozed into a grate running along the middle. "Fuck!"

She looked up just in time to see a small shadow disappear around a corner.

"Kid! Come back!"

Down the alley and around the corner, there was no sign of him, only a labyrinthian nightmare of dirty alleys that seemed to crisscross randomly, so narrow that the light from Alpha struggled to penetrate the gloom. She had stepped into another world, the high walls shutting out all sounds of the city, only leaving her labored breathing and the crunch of broken glass with every step. The air felt oily, coating her tongue with a foul taste. She reached a dead end, a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire.

"Fuck!" She kicked a dented can into a pile of refuse, which created a domino effect and the whole thing fell in on itself.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I-

Her ears prickled as a faint sound echoed down the alleyway. Without a second thought, she started running.

Turning a corner, she screeched to a halt so suddenly that it felt like parts of her were still going, pushed forwards by sheer momentum. Five darkened silhouettes stood in a circle, two crates and an open camtono between them. Their conversation died as they all turned to stare at her, whose brain completely blanked from surprise and adrenaline crash.

"Have you ..." her voice faltered as one of the menacing silhouettes slowly reached towards their hip. Her eyes flickered to the open camtono on the filthy ground. It was filled to the brim with credits.

Fuck.

"What the kriff you doin'?" One of the shadows barked out.

"Don't move!"

Sinead stopped and released a slow breath, eyes jumping from one shape to another. "I'm not trying to cause any trouble…" she calculated how far she could run before getting a blaster bolt between the shoulder blades. "I'm looking for-"

"Yeah, right." One of the silhouettes passed from darkness into shadow revealing a heavily scarred human face hidden behind a curtain of dirty hair. "Who sent you? Was it Grish? Come for a little revenge, have you?"

If she'd dared to take her eyes off them, she would've hidden her face in her hands. "I don't know who you're talking about," she said in as calm a voice as she could manage, which wasn't very calm considering the kid was still missing and she was likely to be gutted in some random alley. "A child is missing. I'm looking for him."

"Likely story. Now, why would a kid wander round in an alley, huh?" A voice rasped out. "Can't believe Grish didn't shell out for a better merc."

The corner was right behind her. If she jumped back and somehow kept her footing on the slippery ground, she could get behind cover, and then what? Run? She had no idea how to get back, her panicked sprint had left no time to memorize the route.

"Maybe she's one of Julel's lot. She'll have our heads if word gets back to her."

Slowly, carefully, Sinead inched back again, scanning the dirty alley for anything that could help.

"I told you-" the human took a step, reaching out to grab her- "don't fuckin'-"

Whack.

Grabbing a board propped up against the wall, she swung it as hard as she could. It splintered against his head and he stumbled.

She dove around the corner just before two blaster bolts lit up the darkness.

They followed behind her, footsteps echoing between the walls. The street crossed another, and she took the branching path just as another blaster bolt tore a chunk out of the wall. Everything became a blur as she tried to put as much distance between herself and the thugs.

Turning a corner, her foot hit something slippery that sent her careening into bins that had been stacked precariously on top of each other. Trash rained down around her as she got to her feet, dazed but with panic still coursing through her veins. She stumbled to her feet, ignoring the pain radiating through her shoulder, which had been the main point of contact. Various fluids stained her clothes, and she would have gagged on the smell if there had been room in her brain to comprehend it. Her brain was filled with only one thought: RUN!

Finally, there was hope. Two buildings leaned against each other, creating a narrow path nearly invisible in the gloom and barely big enough for Sinead. She squeezed into the gap and tried to claw her way along the grimy wall, but it quickly became apparent that just a few meters in it was blocked by a heap of trash that didn't budge when she tried to shoulder it out of the way. She was stuck.

The footsteps were fast approaching. She swallowed and grabbed her blaster, crouching down to make her a smaller target. The walls were too steep and slippery to climb, and when they opened fire, there was nowhere to go.

A shadow thundered past the opening. Then another. Then another.

She waited with bated breath for someone to stop, to look inside the nook and see her trapped. Gradually, the footsteps faded into nothing. It felt surreal crawling out on her hands and knees, looking down the alley where her pursuers had gone. She got to her feet and leaned against the wall with legs too wobbly to carry her weight.

"Holy shit."

Gritting her teeth, she pushed off the wall and started jogging in the opposite direction. A clang somewhere in the labyrinth made her pick up her pace, and she glanced over her shoulder into the shadows. It felt like someone was watching her.

The dark alley fell away, and she stumbled into a busy street, wincing against the sudden light. The sounds of people and speeder bikes echoed in her head.

In the sky, Alpha loomed.

"Excuse me," Sinead said, stopping a Twi'lek who was hurrying down the sidewalk. "I'm looking for the port. You know where it is?" Her voice was warbled.

The Twi'lek jerked away while giving her a disgusted look. "Keep going thataway." His voice was hollow, like he was trying not to breathe through his nose. "You'll find it eventually."

She did find it after some time. The ever-present swarm of starships made it easy to distinguish between the rest of the buildings. Her heart grew heavier with every step. Just what the hell was she going to tell Mando? I'm sorry but I lost your kid? If we're lucky, some bandits have found him and he'll live a happy life as a pirate.

The main entrance was in sight when she had to stop and take a deep breath, twisting the sleeve of her jacket in her hands so hard it started fraying. She had to tell him. There was no other way out.

A soft coo broke through her panicked thoughts like a rock through a window.

She looked down and let out a strangled sob.

The child looked up at her, ears perking up in innocent curiosity. A sticky powder stuck to his face and down the front of his little robe, and he clutched a half-eaten boba fruit.

"You!"

The nearest sentients were startled at the yell, but Sinead didn't notice. She snatched the kid off the ground and held him at arm's length, turning him to make sure that he wasn't hurt. "Don't ever do that again!" Her hands shook with the wild urge to squeeze him against her chest. "I’m getting you a leash, you hear me! I swear if you do that again, I'll leave you. Got it?"

The kid babbled and held out a sticky hand, offering her the candy.

"You're back to not understanding a word I'm saying, huh?"

He grinned, and she couldn't help but smile, releasing her anger with a sigh. She let him snuggle into her shoulder.

"We’re not telling Mando."

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

DRACO’S WISH [PT 6/14]

<< | < | >

WORD COUNT: 3303

PAIRING: Drarry

TAGS:

hidden identity

Down and Out Draco Malfoy

Pretty Draco Malfoy

Talented Draco Malfoy

Auror Harry Potter

Smitten Harry Potter

Harry Potter Being an Asshole (just for a while)

Angst

Fluff

Angst with a Happy Ending

Falling In Love

Torture

Skipping Meals/Hunger

Cold Weather

Libraries

Hot Chocolate

Veritaserum

SUMMARY: Draco does a good deed and is granted a wish - 12 days of anonymity in a world that hates him CHAPTER SUMMARY:   Draco and Harry’s ice-skating plans get interrupted

on FF.net

on AO3

STORY:

December 13th , 2007

The brief warm flash from the previous day unfortunately doesn’t last, and Draco is woken before sunrise by the freezing air. “Bloody fuck,” he mutters, shivering violently as he sits up. It’s not even a consideration that he tries another warming charm – today is one of those days that is just too cold to bear without it.

It’s hard to focus enough to cast wandlessly when it’s this cold, which is just counterproductive really, but it’s not as though Draco hasn’t faced days this cold before. He inhales a shivering breath, ignoring his trembling as much as possible and endeavouring to block out the chill, as he reaches down into his magic.

He tries some of the new techniques that he’d studied yesterday, but it doesn’t come immediately to him. It takes a few tries before he actually manages to cast the spell but, to his great relief, the new technique does expend less effort. It doesn’t improve the potency of the spell though – the room warms enough to be only just bearable – so Draco makes a mental note to find a way to improve that.

Not wanting to risk the spell wearing off, Draco hops quickly out of bed and rushes through his shower. He pulls on his clothes and his outdoor gear, shuddering at the cold fabric.

He’s meant to meet Potter today for ice skating, and he shivers at he very prospect. Hopefully, the weather warms up by then – his clothes aren’t all too warm as it is, and skating about at any speed is sure to make it worse. It would be terribly embarrassing if he has to beg off skating early because he’s cold.

Then again, maybe it’s embarrassing just to go out dressed as he is. He looks himself over critically in his chipped little mirror, taking in his appearance and grimacing. He’s scrawny, malnourished and it shows, his naturally sharp features turned harsh and unattractive. His hair is neither as glossy nor as healthy as it once had been but it’s not greasy either. He fiddles with it until it lays in an acceptable wave, framing and softening his face.

But his garments still hang too loosely on his thin frame, ragged and torn and not flattering at all. His gloves have so many holes that they scarcely count as gloves, his coat is threadbare, his pants are patched and baggy, and his boots are one hard knock away from falling apart. Draco scoffs at himself and turns away from the mirror. What is he doing, trying to primp himself, trying to look attractive? Those days are long past.

Giving up on the mirror, he goes over to his little stove and fiddles with it, trying to coax it to life. It takes a minute but, against all odds, turns on. Draco inwardly cheers. He’s going to be expending energy today, if he’s to go skating, and he hadn’t eaten yesterday. It most certainly won’t do to faint in front of Potter just because his stove won’t cooperate.

He toasts himself a couple of slices of bread, eating them dry, and boils some water that he pretends is tea. Then he heads to the library, where he and Potter are to meet.

The librarian catches sight of him and gives him her usual smile. “Hello dear,” she says, as she does every day. Draco returns the smile, genuinely happy to see her friendly face.

“Good morning,” he replies, waving his hello. That’s the extent of their daily conversation, so he goes on to browse the shelves.

He’s very early – the clock on the wall shows that it’s just barely eight, and they’re not set to meet until two. He has plenty of time to make use of the library, and he’s hoping to move onto more advanced wandless theory.

He finds his usual book, double-checks the index to make sure that it covers spell potency, and then carries it back to his armchair. He means to study until Potter arrives, but he only gets about three hours in before his interrupted sleep and the warmth of the library get to him.

He doesn’t even notice drifting off, but he finds himself waking sometime later, comfortable and warm enough that he almost falls back asleep. Then he sees Potter, sitting in his summoned armchair and watching him, and that startles him enough that he stops drowsing. “Creepy, Potter,” he mumbles, blinking and rubbing his eyes to clear the bleariness. “Do you make it a habit to watch people sleep?”

“It’s Harry,” Potter pouts. “Do you make it a habit to sleep in libraries?”

“Touché,” he yawns, too sleepy to bother with a comeback. He glances up at the clock, which shows quarter to three, and frowns. “You should have woken me.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Potter fumbles. “I just- you looked comfortable.”

Draco stretches languorously and blinks at Potter, who’s staring back at him intently. “You’re an odd one Potter,” he tells him. He extends a lazy hand. “Help me up, won’t you?”

Potter snorts, but grips Draco’s hand firmly and pulls him to his feet. Draco sleepily admires the ease with which he does so. He pokes at Potter’s bicep and finds it firm with solid muscle. “Bloody Aurors”, he mutters, then grabs his book and wanders off to the shelf to return it. When he returns, Potter’s face is as red as Auror robes, and that’s when Draco realises what he’s done.

His own face burns with mortification and he casts around for something to say, but all that comes out is a useless squeak. “I just meant,” he finally manages. “Very good, Aurors. Doing great. Thanks for your service, and all that.” Merlin, what is he even saying? He doesn’t even like Aurors, they’re usually not very nice. He needs to get over this humiliating habit of just babbling nonsense when he’s embarrassed.

Potter laughs, though, and his face clears of its embarrassed flush. He throws one of those muscular arms around Draco’s shoulders. “And you called me the odd one,” he says, his voice oddly fond. “Come on then. Let’s get a move on.”

He guides them out of the library and into Diagon, where the freezing air finally wakes Draco the rest of the way. Merlin, he’s so mortified. He’s never going to fall asleep in public again.

He thinks about pulling away from Potter – he’s really thrown this ‘staying away’ thing out the window – but it’s still freezing out and Potter is decidedly warm. “Sorry for all that Potter. Very embarrassing of me,” he says, making no move to dislodge Potter’s arm from his shoulders.

Potter grins, jostling Draco a bit in a playful manner. “Don’t worry about it Emory. And please, it’s Harry.”

Draco hums and thinks it over, but something about calling him Harry is too intimate. “Hmm, no, I think I like Potter better,” he decides.

“You are unbelievable,” Potter laughs, shaking his head.

By this point they’ve left Diagon and have travelled down at least two other streets. The area here is residential, with cute little houses decorated with festive lights lining the street. They don’t look big enough to have backyard ice rinks. “Do you live here then?” he asks Potter.

Potter, for some reason, laughs. “Here?” He says. “No, I don’t. It’s the nearest ice rink that I know of, that’s all.” He pauses and looks around contemplatively. “It’s a nice area though,” he offers. “Very jolly.”

Draco smiles. “I like jolly,” he says, watching the lights of the nearest house twinkle. That, at least, has always been true. Granted, the décor at the Manor was far more extravagant than this, but he’s learnt to appreciate simple things too.

Potter is silent again, and when Draco looks up, it’s to green eyes smiling down at him. He looks away, flustered, and something glinting in the street ahead of them catches his eye.

“What-?” he begins, but as the shape draws nearer and resolves into an ethereal, silvery otter he realises what it is. A patronus.

“Harry!” It says urgently in Granger’s voice. Harry jerks to attention, startled.

“Hermione?” He asks, pulling his arm away from Draco’s shoulder and turning to address the otter. “What’s wrong?” Draco shivers, mourning the loss of Potter’s warmth, and turns to the otter also.

“Sorry to bother you,” says the otter contritely in Granger’s voice, “but Ron’s got a work emergency and Rosie fell of a table and hurt her leg. I have to take her to St. Mungo’s, but Walker’s is getting that new wool I wanted to get for Molly today and I’m afraid they’re going to sell out. I’m terribly sorry to ask, but can you please pick some up for me? Just a skein of each colour please.”

Potter groans. “Hermione, I’ve got plans!” He whispers furiously, shooting an apologetic glance toward Draco, who’s trying to keep from shivering in the cold air. It takes him a moment to process this, and then raises an eyebrow, shocked. Potter is blowing off his friends for him? He can’t help feeling strangely pleased at the notion.

Then another burst of wind gusts through his shitty coat, threatening to freeze his skin. Draco hifts from foot to foot and does his best to hold himself still. Without Potter against him to warm him, it is impossibly cold. The very idea of skating like this is unthinkable.

He touches Potter’s arm gently, hoping the other man doesn’t feel how he’s trembling, and says “Don’t worry if you need to go shopping Potter. The ice will be there tomorrow.” He hopes Potter agrees. He’d much rather chance that the weather will be warmer tomorrow. He doesn’t know how he’ll manage to get on the ice today.

Potter looks frustrated though. He opens his mouth and turns to look at Draco, and then frowns. He glances between Draco and the otter a couple of times, and then finally says “Alright Hermione, I’ll get the wool.”

The otter looks between them and says carefully, “I check if someone else is available.” Granger’s voice is loaded with something that Draco doesn’t understand, but it makes Potter snort.

“No Hermione, I said I’d do it,” he says.

The otter’s expression doesn’t change, but Draco can hear the relief in Granger’s voice as she says “Thanks Harry. And you too…Emory, was it?” Then it swirls in a circle and disappears. Draco, trying to hold in his shivers, takes a moment to wrap his head around the fact that Granger apparently knows his fake name. That can only mean that Potter’s talked about him to her. He peers over at Potter, who’s face is flaming red and who is looking anywhere but at him, and the earlier pleased feeling comes back to him.

He doesn’t call Potter out on it, though, because he quite frankly wants to get out of the cold as soon as possible. He’s disappointed that they’re parting ways so soon, but he feels as though he’s going to freeze his bollocks off if he stands out here for much longer. “I’ll meet you tomorrow, same time?” He offers to Potter, already turning to head back.

Potter catches his hand, though, and, instead of agreeing, says “Come with me.” Draco looks down at where their hands are intertwined, his face exploding with heat and his words abandoning him. When he doesn’t answer quickly enough, Potter adds, “I’ll get you a hot chocolate to make it up to you?”

Draco looks up then. Potter seems intent on plying him with free food and drink, and he’s not willing to turn them down when he gets them so rarely. “Okay,” he says, his voice unsteady from the cold.

Potter rocks back on his heels with a wide, stunning grin. “Brilliant,” he says. Unfortunately, he doesn’t through his arm over Draco’s shoulders again, and Draco bites down on his lip as another cold gust hits him. He follows behind Potter, hoping that the wool store is nearby.

He must not hide his shivering very well, though, because Potter after a little while Potter turns to him. “Okay, you’re clearly cold,” he says, his dark brows furrowing with concern.

“I’m fine,” says Draco, and shivers.

Potter rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he says. “We’re not going to the ice anymore. Why not cast a warming charm?”

Draco flushes, embarrassed. He doesn’t want Potter to know how pathetic he is, having not even a wand to his name. But Potter is looking at him expectantly.

“I…uh…I don’t have my wand on me,” he hedges, mind racing.

“What? Why not?” Potter asks with a frown. He looks around, as if Draco’s wand will just appear in front of him.

“Well…I’m trying to learn wandless magic so…” Draco fibs. “To encourage myself to use it, I…left my wand at home.” Potter stares at him incredulously, and Draco worries for a moment that he’s going to call him out on his ridiculous story. What wizard just leaves their wand at home?

Potter raises his brows. “I thought it was just an interest?” He challenges.

Draco nods. “Yes,” he decides on, not elaborating further. He and Potter stare at each other for a moment longer, and finally Potter laughs.

“You’re a strange one Emory,” he says.

“I take offense to that,” Draco sniffs, and then shivers again.

Potter frowns. “Can you not cast a warming charm wandlessly though? Surely you didn’t leave your wand behind without being able to do it in this weather.” He asks.

Draco bristles at his tone, although Potter is not wrong – if Draco had a wand, he would never leave it behind on so cold a day unless he knew with absolute certainty that he could keep himself warm. “I’m still learning Potter,” he replies. “I could try casting one, but I certainly wouldn’t want to cause an international incident by accidentally setting fire to your hair.”

Potter is still frowning, but his lips twitch slightly. “Merlin Emory, that’s a bit dramatic,” he says. He waves his wand carelessly. “But don’t worry about it. I’ve been set alight more times than I can count – job hazard, you know? I’m very handy with an extinguishing spell. Go ahead.”

He seems almost eager. Draco sighs. He’s cold, and he doesn’t want to argue with Potter. “Very well. I shall accept no complaints if something goes awry,” he says. Potter just nods encouragingly.

Draco closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, focusing on his magic. The motions are at once familiar and new as he reaches down into the well deep inside himself and draws some forth, shaping and tuning it. He holds the form, with more ease now than he had even just this morning, and draws more magic to his command. His brows furrow in concentration as he holds the first shape and pushes the additional magic through the suspended spell, giving substance to the charm.

To his surprise, the air around him immediately warms. His and Potter’s breath both catch in tandem and he opens his eyes to meet the other man’s intense gaze, the warm glow of magic fading between them. Then the air starts cooling again, the heat dissipating into the open street.

Draco flushes and looks down at his ratty boots. “I – ah – haven’t really learnt self-contained spells yet,” he mutters, embarrassed.

“That was amazing,” Potter says, his voice awed. A wave of warmth settles over Draco, and he looks up, surprised. “Until you master self-contained spells,” Potter says with a wink, putting away his wand. Draco’s cheeks heat further, and he tucks his face into the collar of his coat to hide the silly smile spreading across his face.

The shop that has Granger’s wool turns out to be back on Diagon. It’s one of the new storefronts, a small building called “Walker’s Enchanted Fabrics”. It’s warm and cozy inside, and smells of new fabric in the most delightful way. Draco lets Potter get on with his errand and wanders through the various displays of fabric and wool skeins. He’s drawn to a midnight blue bolt, the fabric shot through with an icy white-blue that twinkles like stars. It’s soft to his touch, like silk, and Draco feels a melancholy ache somewhere in his chest as he runs his hand down it. It’s the type of fabric he would absolutely have coveted once upon a time, the kind that his father would have commissioned the finest of robes from at Draco’s demand.

“It suits you,” says a voice from behind him, and Draco jolts. He turns to see Potter standing there with a large, lumpy parcel in his gloved hands. He’s smiling warmly at Draco. “Do you sew?”

Draco chuckles lightly, pushing down the bittersweet memories as he pulls his hand back and tucks it into his pocket. “Oh no,” he says. “I’m terribly undomesticated Potter. I manage to boil water well enough, and you simply cannot expect more of me than that.”

Potter lets out a delighted laugh. “Well, as lovely as boiled water sounds,” he says, “how about we get that hot chocolate I promised you instead?”

Draco agrees wholeheartedly, and he follows Potter out of the store. “What is the story with this wool then?” He asks as they walk. “Surely Granger could get them to hold it for her? Being a great important war hero and all”

Potter laughs. “It’s a new blend, very high in demand. This is the only shop in Britain that carries it, because it’s so bloody expensive, but Hermione and the owner… don’t exactly get along.” Draco raises an eyebrow, curious as to what Granger has possibly done. “Hermione took very public umbrage to Walker’s use of Sicilian Silk Bat silk,” Potter explains. “It’s lucky any of us are allowed in here at all.”

Draco laughs. “What in the name of sorcery is her objection to Sicilian Silk Bats?” He asks.

Harry shrugs. “There was an overharvesting problem for a while apparently. The bats weren’t being left enough silk or something. I don’t really know the specifics.”

“Potter,” Draco sighs, shaking his head, “if you’re to be banished from stores on Granger’s account, surely you ought at least to know why?” Potter shrugs, unrepentant.

They go to the coffee shop from the other day, and Potter pulls open the door for Draco once more. He thanks him, smiling to himself as he walks in. Potter follows him in and sends Draco to get a seat again – even though the café is still empty – while he goes up to the front counter.

Draco watches as he chats with the girl at the til and hems and haws over what he wants to buy and drops his money all over the counter, and feels unbearably fond. He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, not even when Potter turns around, floating another pair of frothy chocolate monstrosities and two huge cinnamon buns along with him, and sees it. “What is it?” he asks.

Draco shakes his head. “You keep feeding me sweets. I think you’re trying to make me fat,” he fusses jokingly, while eagerly tearing off a piece of cinnamon bun.

“You got me,” says Potter. “My original plan was a house of candy, but this seemed easier.” Draco has no idea what he’s talking about, but Potter’s smile is bright and directed only at him and he finds that he doesn’t mind. Twinging with happy warmth, he pops the bit of torn-off cinnamon bun in his mouth and lets out a pleased hum, closing his eyes at the delicious flavour.

When he opens them again, Potter is watching him with his impossibly warm green eyes.

Draco ducks his head, smiling into his hot chocolate. He could get used to this.

[the-fixation-zone]

aaaaaand here it is! the next installment of the crack (ish?) fic I’ve been writing with @queenspinoodle​. art will be within the fic as usual and, also as usual, drawn by my co-writer. comments appreciated!! :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

The night is cool, the moon bright enough to see by. It’s the perfect night for a stakeout. It’s late, leaving few people walking the streets. Sock and Zucchini are hunched together in the shadows near Burt’s Jewelry, waiting for their thief to arrive. The Fanned Fiend. There were only a few clues to pick up from the Wanted poster, and they’d picked up a few more eavesdropping on people in town, but the real magic happened when Sock sat down to put the pieces together.

“This has to be where he’s hitting next! I’m sure of it; it just makes sense!”

Zucchini had had no idea how Sock had fit the puzzle together so easily, but he trusted in his partner. So now they waited. And waited. Zucchini doesn’t think Sock is wrong necessarily, but he also hasn’t enjoyed being hunched over for three hours. A quick glance at Sock shows Zucchini that Sock doesn’t mind the wait as much as he does. Sock is practically vibrating with excitement, adjusting his mask as though their perp will arrive any minute. Zucchini sighs silently, resigning himself to scanning the perimeter for the umpteenth time.

Sock sits crouched on the balls of his feet, bouncing slightly. He is ready for their first real adventure. They’ve been waiting a while, but he just knows that, any minute now, it’ll be time. He’s on high alert, waiting for something to happen. A few minutes later his vigilance is rewarded: he hears the crunch of shoes on pebbles nearby and whips his head in the direction of the sound. Zucchini seems to hear it too, glancing over even before Sock elbows him.

A shadowy, cloaked figure is creeping around the side of the building, making its way around to the door. The figure does something they can’t see, and the once locked door opens silently. Sock shifts his position, preparing to move.

Zucchini shifts too, his energy coming back now that there’s something to do. “Follow?”

Sock waits a moment, looking around for potential accomplices, then nods. He sneaks up to the building and peeks through the window, Zucchini right behind him. It’s almost completely dark inside making it difficult to see from their vantage point, so Sock gestures for them to enter. 

Zucchini goes inside after Sock, straining his eyes to see where the wanted man went off to. The moonlight filtering in the window allows him to see the outlines of two counters near the walls to his right and left, presumably filled with rings and necklaces. Dead ahead there’s a single glass case on a pedestal, the large gem inside sparkling with the faint light. He thinks he sees some movement towards the back of the shop near the pedestal and gestures, giving Sock a meaningful look and reaching for his knives.  They’re not perfect, since he “borrowed” them from one of the circus performers (and when he says borrowed, he uses the term...liberally. If one takes something without permission with the intention of returning it, does that count?) but they’re good enough. He sneaks with Sock, not wanting to hurt this person and hoping they can simply capture him and turn him in.

Sock approaches the spot where Zucchini indicated, grabbing his knife just in case. The figure is turned away from him, standing in front of the prized jewel’s pedestal, seeming to assess it. Good. He’s distracted. Sock sneaks closer, ready to grab him. Without warning, the figure whirls around and punches Sock in the face, knocking him to the floor. It stings, all the more for being entirely unexpected. How had the man known Sock was there?!

“Whoa!” Zucchini tries to grab the assailant, but a fan suddenly comes up between him and his opponent, missing his nose by a fraction of an inch. Guess I know why he’s called the Fanned Fiend now… Zucchini tries for another grab, turning his head for a split second towards Sock. “You okay?”

"I'm fine!" Sock says, his voice muffled by his hand cradling his bloody nose. “Looks worse than it is, let’s just go!” The Fanned Fiend runs out of the door and into the night. Sock gets to his feet and chases him.

Zucchini follows, trying to get ahead of the guy so they can pin him in. “Oh, no you don’t! You’re not going to get away from us!” The Fanned Fiend laughs and keeps running, outpacing him easily.

Sock looks around to see if they can use any of the streets or buildings to their advantage, mentally reviewing the map of this part of town. He breaks away from the chase and runs up a parallel street, coming out in front of the criminal, who slams into him.

Zucchini comes up behind the criminal, blocking his escape. “Alright, you’ve got nowhere to run now. Put down the fan.”

"Yeah, fella, put down the fan," Sock says, one hand on his knife and the other up and ready to attack. His nose is bleeding freely now, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. 

The Fanned Fiend looks directly at Sock. "Well, first of all, I'm not a 'fella'" she says in a clearly feminine voice. 

"...Oh...my bad,” Sock says, thrown off. He hadn’t considered that the thief would be a woman. 

“Oh...oops? Well, lady, put down the fan then,” Zucchini says, gesturing with one of his knives. “You were going to steal Burt’s prized jewel back there, weren’t you? We’ve caught you red-handed.”

She sighs. Now that she isn't moving, Sock can get a better look at her. She’s wearing heavy makeup, which disguises both her identity and her gender. "You’re right, I was. But you should know, it was for a good cause."

Zucchini looks at Sock, then back at the Fanned Fiend with a skeptical expression. “Oh really? And what cause was that?” 

The Fanned Fiend’s expression tightens, Zucchini can tell even under all the face paint. “Well, now I don’t know if I want to tell you, if you’re going to be like that about it.”

Sock feels a sudden rush of sympathy for her. He can totally understand stealing for a good cause. "No, no! Please, tell us!"

She looks at Sock and sees he means it. “Well… there’s some kids in my village, they’re sick. The money I’d get from selling that jewel would be enough to get them some medicine. It was for them, honestly.”

Zucchini feels his heart soften, but he still has questions. “And the other heists? The artwork and weapons you’ve stolen? Were they for the children, too?”

"The artwork was to make the medical huts more cheerful, and the weapons were for the warriors, to help them protect the village." She is very convincing. Hearing that, Sock almost wants to steal the gem for her.

Zucchini, on the other hand, wants to hold a grudge. Adrenaline is still singing in his veins from the chase and he’s not ready to give up yet. He was raised to believe stealing was wrong, no matter the circumstances, but she seems so...sincere. He looks over at Sock. “What do you think?”

Sock feels her reasoning deep in his soul, having been in a similar position many times before. "We'll let you go this time but try to find another way to help the children. We wouldn't want you getting into trouble." 

She smiles sweetly at him. "Of course." Sock steps aside to let her pass and, as soon as there’s room, she runs off.

Zucchini’s instincts tell him not to believe her one bit and, as soon as she’s gone, he turns to Sock to tell him so. “You know she’s just going to start stealing again.”

"Yeah, I know. But… I just couldn't…" Sock looks upset. "She just wants to help people."

“Well, yeah, but so do we! Do you really not think there’s another way for her to do that?”

Sock starts to feel guilty, which then makes him angry. He did the right thing, dammit! "Well, why don't you run after her, then?" His voice is quiet, but a tad more aggressive now. He begins to walk quickly away, brushing past Zucchini and tugging his sash away from his tunic to lift it to his nose. The bleeding has mostly stopped now, less of a flood and more of a trickle. His shirt’s now hanging open, exposing his middle to the elements, but whatever. It’s a nice night, anyway.

Zucchini sighs hard. “Oh, come on Sock. I’m not going to go after her. Hey, come back here! I’m not going to go after her.” He starts to follow after Sock. “I’m just saying, where are we drawing the line here? Every criminal has a reason. Are we going to pick and choose which ones get away based on how we’re feeling in the moment, how well they pitch to us? What are we doing here, Sock!” Sock stops at his question, so Zucchini stops too, feeling a bit agitated now. He roughly ran his hand through his hair in an effort to calm down. He’s not sure what about this situation is making his emotions spill out, but there they are, splattered over the pavement.

"I don't know!” Sock snaps back. “You're the one who wanted to do this!"

“What?” Zucchini looks at Sock’s back like he’s grown another head. “You wanted to do this as much as I did! You can’t tell me you didn’t love putting together our plan for tonight.” Zucchini takes a deep breath, realizing this is getting them nowhere. “Look. I don’t want to fight with you, Sock. I just want us to establish some rules for going after criminals, so we can be on the same page. Okay? I’m sorry for upsetting you.” 

Sock continues to stand facing away from Zucchini, arms crossed across his chest. He knows he probably looks extremely immature right now, but he doesn’t care. "...Fine."

“Can you at least look at me when you say it?”

Sock considers saying no, but ultimately turns around. Most of his face is obscured by his mask, but it’s clear he’s scowling. "Fine," he repeats.

“Oh, come on! You’re really going to be like this? I already apologized, what else do you want? How can I fix this?” Contrary to popular belief, Zucchini is not above pleading. At least when it’s necessary.

Sock lets out an angry laugh. "That's rich coming from the king of sulking!"

“Excuse me? I’m trying to be the adult here!”

“HEY! CAN YOU TWO SHUT UP!” someone yells from a window above them. 

Sock looks up, startled. "Yeah, sorry!" He turns back to Zucchini. "Look, I'm going back home," he says, quieter this time. "You can do whatever you want." Sock turns and walks back towards the circus. He doesn’t look back.