#while Jones is being held back and trying to bite people

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Another fun thing about this pairing is that the taller bigger guy canonically dislikes fighting, does not want to get into a fight please, and routinely gets his ass kicked when he is forced to fight.

The shorter one, on the other hand, once tried to fight an entire mob by himself, routinely flying tackles people, and probably should've gone into rugby instead of cricket.

[lec743]

The Pocky Game (February TMNT all 4-1 Challenge)

The Pocky Game is nothing more than another silly game of Chicken. Tina love’s to play Chicken.

Here’s to February’s challenge! Everyone’s art and writings has been wonderful to see. You’re all doing fantastic~

@thelaundrybitch, @turtle-babe83

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           Tina entered the lair to the sound of the boy’s gagging and saying how grossed out they are. Only half of them sounded genuinely grossed out while the others sounded playful. When Tina poked her head into the living room area of the lair, she saw that the turtle boys were standing off to the side as April and Casey were making out on a bench press, with Casey giving the boys the finger.

           Tina chuckled at the sight. Then she moseyed her way over to stand by Raph and she asked, “Why are they making out with each other like they’re trying to set fire to the world?”

           Raph crossed his arms as he shook his head at the two young women, “April brought a few packs of pocky and challenged Casey to the Pocky Game. Neither party has let up… As you can see.”

           “Has anyone else been challenged yet?”

           “Eh,” Leo said, “We don’t really like the idea of kissing April since it’s like kissing a sister, and I’m afraid Casey will bite our lips off.”

           “But isn’t that the point of the Pocky Game? It’s just a more intimate version of playing Chicken.”

           “If your so inclined then you challenge them,” Donnie huffed, “Maybe you can end this disturbing display.”

           April unlocked her lips from Casey and said, “Boo! You just don’t understand us!” She theatrically threw an arm over her eyes and a smile twitched at the corners of her lips.

           “Hey, Casey! I challenge you to the Pocky Game!”

           “You’re on, Tengu Scum!”

           Laughing giddily, Tina and April swapped places. April went to give Donnie a noogie and Tina got comfortable on the bench press in front of Casey.

           As Casey got out the pocky sticks, Mikey said, “I didn’t take you for liking these kinds of games, Tina.”

           “I like playing Chicken. It’s been one of the few games that I can happily play with most people before I met you guys. Not to brag or anything, but I usually won.”

           “Uh, huh, and how much of that winning was you becoming bodily damaged?” Leo asked.

           “… No comment,” Tina said as Casey handed her the pocky stick.

           “You’re totally going to flinch first,” Casey stated confidently.

           Tina gave the older girl a tight-lipped smile and nodded as the pocky stuck out of her mouth. Casey rested her hands on Tina’s shoulders and started nibbling down the chocolate covered biscuit stick. Tina held still, and she focused her gaze on Casey’s eyes. She has very pretty brown eyes that had little flecks of green in them, making them look like some off color of hazel. As Tina focused on Casey’s eyes, the older girl seemed to slow down as she got closer, then Tina saw her eyes focus on her gaze and she froze. Tina continued to stare, and her breath bounced back into her face from Casey’s face being so close. It was almost like Casey was holding her breath.

           Then with a mighty push, Casey shoved Tina back as she flung herself backwards and gasped saying, “Fuck you and your weird ass thousand-mile stare!”

           Tina couldn’t contain her giggling as she stood proud and said, “I am the Champion! Heed me, Casey Jones! I am superior!” She chewed up what was left of the pocky in her mouth and swallowed.

           “Yah, yah!” Casey said as she got off the floor and went to April’s waiting arms.

           April and the boys were snickering at her.

           “If you all think you can do better against her than me, then you give it a shot,” Casey snapped at them.

           Mikey took a step forward, “I’ll give it a go, if that’s okay with you Tina.”

           “Yah! Let’s butt heads!” Tina was excited to keep playing the game.

           Tina picked up the skewed box of pocky off the floor as she sat back down on the bench press. Mikey settled in front of her as she placed another biscuit stick in her mouth. Like Casey, Mikey grabbed Tina by the shoulders and slowly started nibbling the pocky down to her mouth. And like with Casey, she focused on Mikey’s eyes. He had deep black eyes, but as he got closer, she notice that he had little flecks of gold in his iris’. It was like looking into a miniature sky full of stars.

           Mikey slowed down as he got closer, and his eyes moved like he was finally looking Tina in the eyes. Then the biscuit stick snapped at the base of Tina’s mouth as Mikey lifted his head up and fell backwards on the bench press, covering his eyes with his arms.

           “Heck yah! I win again!” Tina cheered as she nibbled on what was left of the dry dessert in her mouth.

           Mikey continued to keep his face covered as Casey said, “Not so easy now, is it!”

           Everyone else was snickering.

           Tina waved away Casey’s comment then she poked him on the knee, “You okay, bud?”

           “It’s like I saw my life flash before my eyes,” Mikey stated as he sat up and avoided eye contact with her.

           “I don’t blame you. That’s how I feel sometimes when I get in trouble with Dad.”

           “Well related or not, you certainly inherited it, whatever “it” may be,” Mikey stated as he walked back to every one else.

           “Who else wants to go against me?” Tina asked, as she hoped to keep playing. She really was enjoying just being with her friends and playing the stupid game.

           Donnie stepped up. “Obviously, you two are just weak willed.” Mikey rolled his eyes and Casey stuck her tongue out at him, as he ignored them. “I’ll show you that my massive brain can handle whatever Medusa-like gaze our resident baby human has.”

           Tina clapped for him enthusiastically as Leo and April booed him playfully. Raph only laughed at the spectacle. Donnie made himself comfortable on the bench press and Tina put another pocky in her mouth. Donnie kept his hands to himself as he started nibbling down the chocolate covered biscuit stick, but it also seemed like he was keeping eye contact with Tina the entire time.

           He had an interesting pair of eyes. That being he has heterochromia, which Tina thought was really cool. It’s kind of hard to notice, but his left eye was definitely a lighter shade of brown than his right eye. His left eye had specks of blue and his right eye had specks of green in his brown eyes. Respectively, it was like looking at two stones that have been taken out of a riverbed.

           Tina felt the faintest brush of Donnie’s snout against her nose before Donnie recoiled and threw his hands in the air saying, “Nope! Can’t!”

           Leo laughed the loudest out of everyone as Donnie ran to his room. Tina pouted at that; she didn’t even get to goad him about her win. She chewed and swallowed what was left of the treat in her mouth.

           Tina turned to the rest of her friends that were still sticking around when Leo spoke up. “Okay. Okay. I’ll show you guys how to really win. Obviously, we need to change the tactic here.”

           Tina smiled at Leo as he walked over and sat on the bench press before her. Tina reached for the box but then Leo picked it up before her and stuck a pocky in his mouth.

           “You do it to me. See how you like it,” Leo stated confidently around the dessert.

           “I like the pocky just fine actually,” Tina said as she got on her feet and using both of her hands, grabbed Leo by the side of his head.

           Leo’s eyes widened in shock form the contact and Tina could see that Leo had very dark blue eyes, like an ocean by a beautiful white sandy beach.

           Then with no hesitation from the blond, chubby girl, Tina opened her mouth wide to let the pocky stick have as much room in her mouth as possible, before clamping her teeth on the treat. Her teeth scrapped against Leo’s lips when she bit down. Leo sat frozen as Tina let go of him and sat back down on the bench press, chewing the treat happily.

           Tina turned to her other friends to see that they were just as shocked. She just waved happily at them since she won the game in record time, she figured they were just impressed with her speed and accuracy. Turning her attention back to Leo, what was left of his side of the pocky was on the bench press as his mouth hung open at her.

           “Want a round two, or am I the official Pocky Queen?”

           Raph came over and planted his big hand on her shoulder, “Let’s say you’re the Pocky Queen for the meantime.” Raph guided Tina up and away from Leo as he continued to look like he was blue screening.

           Everyone was moving off to the part of the living room with the projection screen and couches as April and Mikey discussed what movies they wanted to watch.

           “Did I do something wrong?”

           “No. No. Just. I think we should let Leo think for a minute, that’s all,” Raph said.

           Tina nodded sagely and said, “Ah. The loss must be a massive blow to his ego. Got it.”

           The chubby, blond girl smiled at Raph’s giggling.

           The group chose to watch Lou Jitsu: Unchained and they were halfway through the movie before Leo and Donnie rejoined the group. Tina almost thought that they were avoiding her for some reason, but then Donnie decided to sit next to her, and Leo was fangirling to her about a certain scene that was going to show up in the movie and so her worried thoughts were dashed. Tina was happy to have such cool friends who are willing to do stupid stuff with her.

[persephone-plasmids]

Trying

A Danse and Nora fic

[Part 1]

[Read on AO3]

Danse woke up before the sun, his chest heavy with the memories of the night before. Nora had kissed him. But she’d also been drunk, so it hadn’t counted.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from reliving the moment in his mind over and over again. He’d hardly slept as he wondered what was worse: Nora remembering the kiss and regretting it, or forgetting about it and the two of them never addressing it again. He wasn’t sure what he could even hope for if she did remember. She’d never reciprocate his feelings. And he couldn’t fault her for that. He was a Synth. An abomination.

Danse scowled up at the ceiling before rolling out of bed, pulling his boots on, and leaving the partially destroyed house in Sanctuary where he now stayed. The settlement had turned into a place for all of Nora’s strays to reside; himself included.

Fog hung heavily in the early morning air as Danse began his normal jog around the perimeter of the settlement. He’d run up the rocky hills to make sure no Raiders had taken up residence overnight then splash through the river a few times to cool himself down before making the jog up the hill to the entrance of Vault 111.

Today, the sight of the large metal vault entrance only made his stomach turn. It reminded him of his interaction with Nora the day before. She’d been grieving the loss of her husband. She’d gotten drunk. And she’d kissed him.

Had he taken advantage of her compromised state? He tried to assure himself that he hadn’t. He’d pushed her away. He’d been the one to stop things before they went further. But he also couldn’t deny that he’d kissed her back. That he’d enjoyed kissing her back. And he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t spent the entire rest of the evening replaying the kiss in extreme detail, imagining what it could have been like if it had gone further.

Danse shook his head, ashamed at his own thoughts as he jogged back down the hill to Sanctuary.

The sun was beginning to melt away the heavy fog and by the time Danse had showered and donned his Brotherhood jumpsuit for the day, the haze was nothing but a distant memory.

There’s no avoiding it forever. I’ve got to go check on Nora, Danse thought to himself as he exited his home and stepped out into the streets of Sanctuary. Settlers were just starting to make their way to their assigned tasks for the day. Some held rifles to guard the perimeter while others grabbed gardening tools. Danse rolled his eyes as Hancock stumbled through the streets with a dazed smile on his face.

“Just getting in, Hancock?” Danse asked, the disapproval heavy in his voice.

“It’s my duty as mayor of Goodneighbor to check on my citizens every now and then,” Hancock replied, the lazy smile still on his scarred features.

“Funny how it’s only the patrons in The Third Rail you seem to check on,” Danse answered.

He hadn’t intended on harassing the Ghoul today. In all honesty, he was trying to be better. Mostly for Nora’s sake, but also because of his own revelation that he wasn’t as purely human as he’d always thought. Danse hated being a hypocrite. But purging his deeply ingrained prejudices from his mind was proving much more difficult than he wanted to admit.

“It’s not my fault I know how to have a good time, Danse,” Hancock said. “If you ever want to loosen the leash Maxson put on you, you’re welcome to join us.”

Danse shook his head at the Ghoul but didn’t respond. He knew he wouldn’t have anything kind to say. Instead, he made his way to Nora’s house, ignoring the stinging reminder from Hancock that he was no longer a member of the Brotherhood.

Standing in front of the door to Nora’s home, Danse squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and knocked. His body told him he needed to leave immediately, because whether or not she remembered the kiss, this interaction would be painful. Seeing her would remind him just how incredible it felt to kiss her… and that he couldn’t do it again. But he didn’t run. He stayed right where he was.

His heart hammered in his chest as the door knob turned, but it wasn’t Nora who greeted him. Instead, Deacon stood in the doorway wearing Nora’s old flowery apron over his usual T-shirt and jeans, raising his ginger eyebrows behind his sunglasses.

“Morning sunshine,” the spy said with a grin.

“Deacon?” Danse asked, his confusion slowly turning to anger as it always seemed to. He needed to work on that. “What are you doing in Nora’s house this early?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, soldier?” Deacon asked. “But a gentleman never kisses and tells.”

Danse set his jaw firmly as he stared at the man in front of him. He was already calculating how much physical damage it would do if he punched Deacon right then and there. The spy would live. But Nora would never forgive Danse. So he refrained.

“Oh man, I can see all those little Brotherhood cogs turning in your brain. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so sad,” Deacon said with a laugh. “At ease, soldier. I was totally kidding. Just wanted to get a rise out of you. I didn’t realize it would be quite so effective.”

Danse could hear the laughter in Deacon’s voice, but it was muted by the sound of his own blood rushing through his body.

He definitely needed to work on his anger management skills.

“Where is Nora?” Danse asked simply, refusing to acknowledge just how close he’d been to getting into a physical altercation with Deacon.

Danse was usually close to getting into a fight with Deacon, but the idea that the spy had slept with Nora was definitely the thing that would have pushed him over the edge… had it been true.

“I feel like out of the two of us, you’re the one who should know she headed over to the Prydwyn before dawn,” Deacon answered, turning around and heading back into Nora’s kitchen without another look in Danse’s direction.

The Paladin followed the spy and perched on one of the barstools at the counter.

Deacon, still wearing the flowery apron, was stirring mirelurk eggs in a frying pan.

“Nora went to the Prydwyn?” Danse asked, his mind trying to play catch up. “Why?”

“Personally, I don’t think she needs to keep things friendly with the Brotherhood of Bigots anymore now that The Institute is destroyed, but she said something about an open line of communication between the factions and blah, blah, blah.” Deacon shook his head. “Maxson said he wanted to meet with her about something or other. Probably wants to start a fun petition forbidding Ghouls from speaking or something.”

“Maxson asked for her?” Danse repeated. This gave him pause.

There was a time when Danse had worshipped Maxson. He’d thought the man could do no wrong. That was, of course, until Maxson had wanted him killed for being a Synth. Danse could understand the difficult position Maxson had been placed in, but after their years of friendship, he still had a hard time with just how quickly the Elder had turned on him.

He also saw the way Maxson looked at Nora when Danse had still been allowed aboard the Prydwyn. The Elder was young and Nora was beautiful. It only made sense that he’d look at her the way he did. But Danse didn’t like it, even though he was fairly certain the only reason he was still alive was because Nora had been the one to convince Maxson to spare him. Danse wasn’t sure anyone else could have swayed the Elder the way she did.

“Do I sense a love triangle? Because you know I love some juicy gossip,” Deacon said, grinning over at the Paladin and plopping some eggs onto a plate for him.

“That’s inappropriate, civilian,” Danse said, staring at the eggs in front of him and wondering why on earth Deacon would ever make him food. They hated each other.

“Hate to break it to you, tin can, but you’re a civilian now too,” Deacon said, taking a seat beside Danse with his own plate of eggs.

“You and I are not the same,” Danse emphasized, taking a bite out of the eggs. They were surprisingly good.

“You’re completely right,” Deacon agreed, though Danse could tell from his tone that he wasn’t going to like what came next. “I’ve been able to let go of my bigoted ways, while you still look at Hancock and Valentine like they’re Mirelurk scat on your boot.”

“That’s…” Danse began, but he didn’t know what to really say. Deacon wasn’t wrong. Danse wasn’t doing a great job of changing his deeply ingrained beliefs.

“Admitting you have a problem is the first step, champ,” Deacon said, with a soft pat on Danse’s shoulder.

It would have been a kind gesture, if the spy hadn’t immediately snorted from trying to hold back his laughter.

“I’m… trying,” Danse managed to say, even if it felt like injecting a Stimpack directly into his temple to utter the words.

Deacon glanced over at Danse for a moment, but it was hard for the Paladin to read his expression behind the sunglasses. He had to remind himself that this was probably the reason the spy always wore them.

“A good first step would be to actually spend some time with the people you hate,” Deacon offered, being surprisingly helpful. “You might find that you actually have some fun with Hancock. Plus, you and Valentine are a bit more alike than you might think. He’s a giant stick in the mud too.”

Danse huffed under his breath and simply said, “Noted,” before taking another bite of eggs.

The two men chewed in silence for a moment before the front door opened and Nora strode in wearing the all-black Brotherhood of Steel jumpsuit reserved for high-ranking officials.

Danse’s eyes involuntarily roamed over just how perfectly the jumpsuit fit her curves, though he immediately hated himself for the very visceral reaction the image gave him.

“Deacon Marie Jones! What are you doing in my apron?” Nora asked dramatically, walking up behind the spy and wrapping her arms around him in a familiar embrace.

This did nothing to lessen Danse’s animosity towards the spy.

“Your middle name is Marie?” Danse asked.

“I just make up names for him,” Nora replied. “Since he won’t tell anyone his real name.”

Deacon leaned backward into Nora’s embrace as she held him tightly before finally releasing him. Danse hated how casual their physical contact was. She wasn’t like that with the Paladin.

“I thought we agreed the apron looks better on me,” Deacon said.

“Everything looks better on you, Deacon,” Nora agreed with a laugh, walking over to the frying pan and scooping a few eggs for herself. “I bet even this ridiculous black jumpsuit would look better on you.”

Danse refrained from pointing out how false that statement was.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone look so good in a jumpsuit before.

“Give yourself some credit, Charmer,” Deacon said, his voice as smooth as ever. “There are only so many people who can pull off a dog collar.”

“It’s not a dog collar,” Danse mumbled, finding himself irrationally annoyed by the comment.

Nora’s lips quirked up into a grin as she set her plate down and walked over to Danse. The Paladin swiveled in his barstool to face her but he didn’t anticipate just how close she’d get to him. Nora walked right up to Danse, positioning herself between his knees as she grinned down at him.

Danse swallowed hard as his dark eyes met hers. She took one finger and hooked it under the metal ring at the neck of Danse’s Brotherhood uniform and gave it a soft tug. She didn’t manage to pull him closer from his sitting position, but it did cause her to take another step closer to him, now standing squarely between his thighs.

“What exactly would you call it then, Paladin?” Nora asked, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

Danse felt like his heart might actually beat out of his chest as he stared up at her. She still had a firm grasp on the clasp at his neck and he worried she’d be able to visibly see the nervous way he swallowed.

“It’s… It’s an attachment for the Power Armor,” he managed to choke out.

He hated that Deacon was here to witness just how easily Nora could set him off balance.

“I guess your big brown puppy dog eyes just make the term ‘dog collar’ feel more fitting,” Nora answered with a smirk.

He could feel the heat of her hips against his thighs but tried with every fiber of his being to ignore it. Their close proximity was only making it more difficult for him to focus.

Thankfully, Nora released her grasp on the metal ring and stepped back around the counter to retrieve her eggs. “Thanks for the breakfast, Deeks,” Nora said casually, as if she hadn’t just upended Danse’s entire world.

“Just paying off my debt to society,” Deacon said, finishing his own plate off and rinsing it in the sink. “I should have never suggested that game of strip poker.”

Danse’s eyes widened at this comment but Nora just shook her head with a laugh.

“He bet me that I couldn’t convince a Diamond City guard to give me their uniform.”

“I didn’t take into account that she wouldn’t use stealth to get what she wanted,” Deacon said with a scowl. “I still think it’s cheating if you use your feminine wiles.”

“You’re just mad that you have to make me breakfast every Tuesday for a month,” Nora said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Deacon shook his head and grinned. “Well I’m off to go start some rumors around Diamond City that Piper is actually a Ghoul. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll need it,” Nora replied before the spy disappeared, leaving her and Danse alone.

Danse took a deep breath, wondering if he wanted to come right out and ask Nora if she remembered what had happened the night before, or if it would be better to just ignore it.

He decided on the coward’s way out.

“What did Maxson want?” Danse asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“Ugh, that man,” Nora began, exasperation heavy in her voice. “He wanted to try to convince me to pledge my exclusive loyalty to the Brotherhood again. But I told him, for the millionth time, I’m not going to abandon The Railroad or The Minutemen. There’s no reason we can’t all play nice.”

“I’m sure he loved that,” Danse answered, a genuine smile now playing on his lips.

“He threw a bit of a tantrum,” Nora agreed. “Luckily no one was around to see it. He had me meet him in his private quarters this time.”

Danse raised an eyebrow, still trying to pretend like he wasn’t incredibly interested in this particular point. “Oh?”

“I think he thought it might intimidate me if we were alone,” Nora laughed. “He poured me a drink, stood in front of his Brotherhood of Steel flag, and tried to look super intimidating.”

“And?”

“And it didn’t work,” Nora said, giving Danse one of the smiles that made her eyes crinkle in the corners while his heart melted into a puddle inside of him. “My affection isn’t that easily swayed.”

“Of course,” Danse responded simply.

He could feel Nora’s eyes on him as he looked back down at his now empty plate. He was running out of reasons to be in her kitchen but he wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

“How are you feeling?” Danse began cautiously. “Do you have a headache from that bourbon last night?”

That was casual, right? That was something a totally normal friend would say whether or not they’d kissed the night before… wasn’t it?

“I had a bit of a headache this morning,” Nora began. She was pushing the eggs around on her plate with her fork but not taking a bite. Her eyes were no longer on Danse; now she seemed laser focused on the food in front of her. “I told you I wasn’t that drunk.”

Danse’s cheeks instantly flushed at her words.

She remembered.

She remembered and she really was lucid enough to know that she was kissing him.

What did that mean? Did he ask her about it? Did he ask if she regretted it or did he even dare to hope that she actually somehow felt something for him other than friendship or fondness?

“You can hold your liquor well,” was all the Paladin said, also staring intently at his own plate.

If anyone had walked by the scene in the kitchen, they’d think the two were Synths whose recall codes had been read to them.

The silence between them pressed on for a few moments before Nora softly cleared her throat.

“Listen, Danse… I’m sorry about what happened. You were totally right that I wasn’t thinking straight and… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Danse felt his entire chest tighten at her words.

She regretted it. She wished it hadn’t happened. He’d made her uncomfortable.

And now that he knew she remembered everything, he felt even worse for kissing her back. What could she possibly think of him now? That he was just like the rest of the Wastelanders; ready to take advantage of an inebriated woman at the drop of a hat?

What did he say to make this better?

“I’m… I shouldn’t have… engaged,” he said quietly. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but Danse had never been good with things like emotions. Synth or not, talking about his feelings wasn’t something he ever thought he’d be comfortable with.

Danse dared a glance up at Nora who was still looking down at her plate. She was frowning with something like disappointment in her eyes.

“I should probably get changed out of this jumpsuit,” she said after another moment of awkward silence. “Preston has a place nearby that he wants me to check out to set up a possible settlement.”

“Of course,” Danse responded, a bit too quickly. “I’ve got some work to do on my power armor.”

Nora nodded as Danse stood up and made his way towards the door.

Before he touched the handle, he heard Nora’s voice, soft and hesitant.

“Would you… want to come with me?”

[yikesharringrove]

I have a headcanon that Billy doesn"t really know how to apologize like most people do. To him, the words are kind of empty so he just does things for people instead. Things like replacing all of the dishes with better quality ones for the Byers, making the girliest clothes Max hates disappear and replaced with things she likes, a new slingshot showing up in Lucas's locker, breaking into a car to fix it. Steve is weirdly charmed by it.

These may both be you? But here’s a combo since they’re p much the same idea

anonymous asked: Billy has forgotten how to actually connect with people so he shows affection through acts of chaotic good, like planting catnip all over the yard of the lady who allergic for yellomg at Max or breaking into a car so he can fix the engine. Steve figures out Billy is the one doing all these oddly kind things but he is still kind of intimidated by the blonde so instead of thanking him out right he just leaves things like cigarettes and baked good for him in his car. Have fun with that one!

This got pretty long so I put some of it under the cut.

-

Billy didn’t believe in the words I’m sorry.

They just didn’t make sense  to him. He had never heard the words when someone actually meant them, and fuck knows he’s never actually meant those words before.

But that does not mean there aren’t things in his life he regrets.

For example: beating the shit outta Steve Harrington.

He felt like absolute fucking garbage about it. 

Harrington hadn’t deserved that shit. Billy was just runnin’ hot that night, and Harrington had been unlucky enough to have bad timing.

But he didn’t know how to fix it.

So he started leaving snacks in Steve’s locker.

He noticed how he would always be giving his friends the food off his fucking plate, so he would shove granola bars, candies, even made him a sandwich one day.

He watched as Steve would eat whatever it was Billy had left for him, just fuckin’ chowed down without question.

He would look into classes, find out where Steve sat and leave little treats on his desk.

“Mr. Harrington, I think you may have a secret admirer.” Steve flushed a little at the cupcake, and shoved it into his mouth in two bites at the beginning of history class, but he wasn’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak, and figured whenever this chick came forward, he would thank her for being so thoughtful, and let her down gently.

-

After leaving Harrington alone with all his snacks, Billy set his sights on his other regret.

He had Max hadn’t always fought and bickered. True, Billy wasn’t the warmest, when they first met, but once he got his car they would drive around together a lot. He’d take her to the arcade and the boardwalk. They both didn’t like being home too much.

So when Billy’s informed he’ll be watching Max for the weekend while Neil takes Susan to the city, he forms a little plan.

There’s one Chinese restaurant in Hawkins. It’s totally not authentic, not like the dim sum they used to get wandering around San Fransisco, but they had steamed pork buns and Billy picked up eight.

He let Max do whatever she wanted that weekend, figured they would have better luck with one another if they both acted like outdoor cats, coming and going as they pleased, but come Sunday evening, all the pork buns were gone, and there was an unopened pack of cigarettes on his nightstand.

-

Regret number three: Lucas Sinclair.

Billy probably felt the most fucked up over this kid.

He’d gone after him, a fucking child, in his blind rage.

He had figured that out when he came to on the floor of that weird house, sitting up empty and alone, realizing I’m just like Neil.

He had seen all those kids with their nerdy toys, went out to RadioShack, early Sunday morning, leaving with a light wallet and a new idea.

Dustin was arguing with Mike over the realism of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, like there was anything realistic about it.

Lucas rolled his eyes, opening his locker, his mouth dropping open when he saw something inside.

He pulled the bag out, peering inside.

There were six brand new walkie talkies inside.

They were better than the ones they already used, had further range and more channels.

Everyone went silent.

“Um, these aren’t mine.”

Max’s eyes went wide. She snatched something up from the top shelf of Lucas’s locker.

The new Wrist Rocket had a note attached to it. She knows this handwriting, but couldn’t place it.

Enjoy the new gear. Don’t quit saving the world.

“Do you think they’re from Steve?”Max furrowed her brows at the note.

And then everything clunked into place.

“Maybe.”

The boys were tearing into the new walkies.

She got two cokes from the vending machine at lunch, handing one quietly to Billy when she got in his car after school.

-

Billy doesn’t really know what he’s doing here.

He had driven Max to one of her nerdy little friend’s houses, and somehow he got roped into staying? He doesn’t even remember.

But now he’s standing with a short kind woman, in the exact kitchen he beat the shit out of Harrington in, with Steve himself leaning against the other wall, watching the kids like some kinda hawk.

Billy’s hands were shaky, and he inserted himself into washing dishes from dinner.

He noticed most of them had chips, and all of them were mismatched. He put them away quietly, and drove to the nearest home goods store he could find.

Ceramic plates didn’t run too much, and he got a nice set of three different sizes, twelve plates of each size, light blue like the one he broke.

He left them on the porch, parked his car down the road a ways.

He rang the doorbell, sprinting and diving into the bushes before anyone can see him.

He watched as one of the sons, the one his age, the one in his English literature class, opened the door, his brow furrowing at the box of new plates.

“Um, Mom? Somebody left us a set of plates?”

He closed the door, but the took the plates with him.

-

Billy was sitting on the lawn, had just finished raking up all the damn leaves, and was taking a well-earned smoke break as he watched Max skating up and down the street, practicing her kickflips and ollies.

She cut into the driveway across the street, the only one on the entire block that was well paved, no cracks in the cement.

“Get out of here!” Max started as Mrs. Reynolds, a mean old woman was shouting through her screen door. “You little hooligan! You’re going to leave marks!”

Max bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she boarded back over to their house, standing next to Billy.

“I’ll be having a word with your father!” She rolled her eyes as Billy ground his jaw.

Cat nip was way more expensive than Billy was expecting, but he bought plenty of packages, returning home just past sunset.

He waited until about three in the morning, when Mrs. Reynolds’ sprinklers had finally turned back off before he climbed out his window, spreading the cat nip through her yard.

He flipped her house the bird.

Max was awed at the cats the next morning as Billy drove them both to school.

There must’ve been at least a hundred.

“Isn’t Mrs. Reynolds allergic?” Billy tried not to laugh.

“Damn. That sucks for her.”

-

Billy was sitting on the hood of his car, reading one of his lit books while he waited for Max to get out of her nerd club.

He startled a little bit when someone knocked on the hood.

And it was Harrington, smiling sheepishly at Billy.

“The Byers got some new plates last night. You know anything about that?” Billy tracked the thin scar on Steve’s head. It disappeared into his hairline. Billy wonders how long he had sat in front of a mirror, picking glass out of his thick hair.

“Who’re the Byers?” Steve huffed a laugh.

-

Max was standing in front of the mirror looking like a grumpy old cat.

Susan had bought her a lovely new dress, and Max fucking hated it. Susan was fussing over it, saying I ordered it from the Sears catalog! and can you believe it was only fifteen dollars?

Billy slipped a five and a ten into Susan’s purse later that day, taking the dress to the Goodwill downtown.

He found Max a couple crappy t-shirts there, bands she would hum to on the radio, shit like Journey and Foreigner, and slid them into her closet where the dress used to be.

She wore one the next day, blinking slowly at him over breakfast.

He avoided all eye contact.

-

Steve has long legs.

this was of course something Billy always knew, but watching him stalk in all his righteous fury down the street towards the high school really solidified that fact for Billy.

He was stomping, his strides long as he hustled to class. Billy thought about offering him a ride, didn’t think they were there yet.

Billy found himself in Steve’s driveway later that night, popping the hood of Steve’s dead car and searching over everything with a flashlight.

Billy rolled his eyes.

Steve had probably always paid someone else when his car broke down, didn’t realize if your oil was low, your car wouldn’t work.

Billy kept a few cans in his trunk, refilled the bad boy for Steve, making sure that was it.

He found nothing else wrong and Steve pulled into the school parking lot the next morning.

Billy could feel Steve staring at him when he walked into school.

He found Steve sitting on his car at lunch, holding the sandwich Billy had snuck into his locker, and a loaf of bread wrapped in cling film. .

Billy raised an eyebrow.

“I saw you last night.” His cheeks went hot. “Thanks for fixing my car. And all the snacks and stuff. And for the Byers’ plates. And for all the stuff with Max.”

“Nothin’s happened with Max.” Steve appraised him for a moment.

“She said you’re being nicer.” He held up the bread. “Homemade banana bread. Made it while you were being not at all stealthy fixing my car.” He smiled at Billy, one a’ those perfect sunshine smiles Billy had only ever seen Steve direct towards his kids.

“I just changed your oil. Car won’t run if you don’t got oil.” Steve furrowed his brow.

“My gas tank was full. I had just filled it.”

“Nah Pretty Boy, oil. It’s different.” And Billy took a deep breath. “Could show you, if you like. Teach you some basic car shit. How to jump, how to change a tire.”

Steve beamed at him.

“I’d like that! I don’t know shit about fixing cars. Always figured it would go way over my head.”

“It’s pretty easy. There’s usually only a few major things that go wrong in nice cars that are easy fixes. You’ll figure it out quick.” Steve slid off his car, and Billy lamented that for a minute, liked how Steve looked perched on Billy’s car, wondered how he’d look in the passenger seat, in the backseat-

Steve pushed the bread into Billy’s hands.

“Y’know, I forgive you. For that night.” Billy tightened his jaw. Steve’s eyes were a little green in the sun. “There was a lot goin’ on, and I was being sketchy. I don’t hold it against you.”

“I, uh, thanks, I guess. I’m sorry, about it.” Steve smiled at him again, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a bit.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve took a bite of his sandwich, his cheeks all cute and full. “And I’m more of a ham and cheese fan.” Billy rolled his eyes at Steve, taking with his mouth full of turkey sandwich.

“Sorry man, you get what Susan buys.” Steve laughed, his mouth still full. Billy was uncomfortably endeared by it.

“Don’t be surprised to find some lasagna on your porch one night soon.” And Steve winked at him, walking backwards towards the school. “You’re not so bad, Billy.”

“Tryin’ not to be.” Steve gave him a stupid little finger gun. Billy’s heart melted.

“You’re doin’ a good job.” And Steve set off back into the school.

[elizabeethan]

Watch The Sunlight Fade: 3 / 18

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: You may have noticed a chapter count! It’s subject to change, but I’ve outlined the whole story and have written halfway through chapter 12, so we’re getting there, friends. Reminder to check warnings and tags and message me if you have questions. There will be depictions of violence, domestic violence, very very brief discussions of non-con (kind of) and psychological abuse throughout this story.

Rated M

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Read on Ao3

~~~~

The door to his apartment slams behind her as she stumbles in, the alcohol in her veins obviously taking over as he helps to steady her. “Easy,” he warns, hand on her waist as he guides her towards the guest room. 

 “You’re not gonna let me stay in bed with you, big guy?” she slurs, giving him a flirty smile. 

 “No, love,” he answers softly. “You need rest.”

 With a giggle, she answers, “I get paid to have sex with people. Shouldn’t you be flattered that I’m soliciting you?”

 “Tink,” he laughs, “I am very flattered. But you need to go to bed.”

 “I can still give you a good time even though I’m drunk, you know,” she promises, letting her fingers dance along the lapels of his jacket. 

 “I know that, love. I just think… perhaps it’s time to… bring this arrangement to a close.”

She pouts, her bottom lip popping out and her brows furrowing. “Something I said?” she asks. 

 With a slight shake to his head, he smiles shyly down at her and brushes a wayward strand of her honey locks out of her eye. “No, but perhaps we can finish this tomorrow morning when you’re sober?”

 Tink shrugs, letting her heavy kids fall closed and turning around to stumble down the hall. “It’s okay,” she says as she finds the doorknob. “I know it’s that blonde girl.”

 “Liv…” he starts, although he isn’t sure where he’s going as he begins to speak. It’s not the blonde girl, not really. Although he felt a connection to her from the moment he saw her, he also knows that his and Tink’s fling is just that: a fling. It can’t last, and while he likes her well enough, he thinks it unfair to continue on with something to which he isn’t fully dedicated. “It’s not you.” 

 She snorts and nods her head lazily, letting it flop a bit too freely on her neck. “It’s not you, it’s me. I get it.” 

 “Hey,” he tries again, giving her a soft smile as he tucks away the same defiant strand of her hair. “I’ll always be here for you, you know that. I’ll always have love for you.”

 “Yeah,” she smiles with a soft blush, her lids looking heavier and heavier with each passing moment. “I love you, too, bud. It was probably a bad idea to sleep with your best friend anyway.” 

 “I’m not sleeping with Robin,” he deadpans, knowing with certainty that it’ll draw a hearty laugh from her. She pushes against his shoulder with more force that she was likely expecting and turns around to open the door to his guest room. 

 “You dolt.” Once she’s in the room, just as she’s about to shut the door behind her, she spins quickly to face him once more. “By the way, you’re a total idiot if you go after her.” 

 “Bloody hell, not you too,” he complains as he scratches behind his ear. 

 “She belongs to Cassidy and you know it. You know what’ll happen if you pursue her.” 

 “Aye, that’s why I have no intention of doing so. Now, go to bed, Olivia.” 

 “Ooh,” she fakes a shudder, “full name; I must've been naughty.” 

 “Aye, you were. Goodnight, love.” 

 “Night, KJ.” 

 He listens to her giggle as she stumbles through the room, one she’s stayed in countless times before. She’s right; they probably never should’ve started their affair in the first place. Sleeping with your best friend is bound to end badly. But they understand each other, each of them here with hardly a choice on whether they stay or go. It isn’t as if they’re being held against their will, but the implication is that they’ll seriously regret it if they try to leave, one way or another. They simply both took comfort in knowing that someone else felt as they did. 

 He’s about to go to bed himself, ready to rid himself of the guilt that came along with the events of the day, but he pauses as he walks by his front door just in time to hear a resounding thud coming from across the hall. He panics and swings his own door open when he hears the terrified cry in response. He heard something earlier today that sounded exactly like that terrified cry. 

 Rushing over to Neal’s apartment, he places his hand on the knob and presses his ear to the door. He doesn’t want to burst in with haste since he has no idea what he actually heard, and the door must be locked anyway. But he can’t help but recall the image of her pressed to the door looking horrified, two knives on either side of her throat. He can’t get the look in her eyes out of his head. 

 There aren’t anymore sounds resonating from the apartment, silence falling over him as he attempts to listen out for signs of trouble. After a moment, all he hears are soft, painful sobs coming from the other side of the door. 

 ~~~~

 It’s surprisingly even more terrifying to be in the shop during the day than it was at night. At least when she was here last night, the shadows kept the frightening details of the space hidden, but now that the sun is up and streaming through the small basement windows, she’s able to see too much. 

 She can see the aged and worn paint on the walls, giving her an automatic and infallible feeling of unease. She can see the decorative weapons proudly displayed on every inch of every wall. She can see the rugged violence on each of the men’s faces so clearly in the sunlight. Being here terrifies her. 

 “Morning, Miss Swan,” Peter greets as Neal leads her into the large meeting room. He’s already sitting at the table waiting for them, Gold at his right and two empty seats to his left. There are several other members at the table as well, and she can’t help but notice how bright Killian’s eyes look in the sun streaming through the windows. “Welcome to your first real family meeting.” 

 The others around the table laugh, everyone but Jones seeming to find his joke about her near death experience to be funny. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” Neal asks in her ear, his voice low and his teeth clearly clenched. 

 She clears her throat and gives Peter the fakest smile she can muster. “Good morning.”

 “That’s a good lass,” he praises, setting free a flock of anxious butterflies in her stomach. “Come sit. We saved you a seat by Neal.” 

 They sit side by side, and it’s becoming easier and easier to question his ranking within the group of men at the table. She finds it impossible to see him as a simple lackey when his name is carved into the table in intricate lettering in front of his chair, directly to the left of Peter's seat at the head. 

 There are talks of their plans, and she gathers some information easily while they seem to go to great lengths to keep other things hidden from her based on the threatening glances Peter doles out from time to time. There’s a trip coming up, and it’s automatically assumed that Neal will be going with Peter and Gold will be staying behind, as if this arrangement was made and agreed upon a lifetime ago. Once the other attendees are determined, Peter turns to face her and gives her a smile. 

 “Now, a job for you, my dear. Neal tells us you have a talent in finding people.” 

 “She can find anyone,” Neal says proudly, referring to her short stint as a bail bondsperson back when she lived in Boston. When she had met Neal after he witnessed her taking down a skip, he took her under his wing and told her she didn’t have to live such a dangerous lifestyle anymore. “Well, almost anyone.” 

 Her stomach flips at his hint; at his willingness to bring up one of the most painful memories she has. She’s great at finding people, but in 25 years, she still hasn’t been able to find her parents. 

 Pan hums. “We can look past a few failed attempts. What we need from you now, Emma, is your skillset to find a certain someone who deserted our cause.”

 She gulps. “You want me to hunt down someone who doesn’t agree with you?” 

 “No love,” he laughs, and Neal’s grip on her hand tightens just a notch. “I want you to find someone who has valuable information and won’t hesitate to hand it over to a rival.” Emma bites her lip in thought, concern likely colored across her face. She hadn’t considered the existence of a rival gang before this moment, and she becomes frightened to think of there being more than one set of men like them. The thought that another gang is out there and considers themselves rivals to The Lost Boys means she’s potentially putting herself in even more danger by becoming associated with them. What will another gang do to the girlfriend of one of their rival’s members, especially a member whom she suspects is higher up in the rankings than he’s letting on? 

 “It’s not lost on me that you’re feeling uncomfortable here, Emma. The tension between you and Neal is perfectly palpable. But I’d implore you to let go of your fears; no one here will harm you. We’re here to protect you. By simply being associated with Neal, you have the protection of everyone in this club. And I’m sure it makes perfect sense that we would expect something of you in return for our unquestioning devotion to your safety.” 

 Although something about his words makes her suspicious, she suddenly feels a sense of strength at his claim that she’s a part of the group now. It’s as if he’s telling her that her thoughts and opinions matter, so she makes a bold choice and speaks up. “Can I clarify something?” she asks. 

 “Of course.” 

 “What are you protecting me from, exactly?” 

 Peter smirks and shakes his head, giving Neal a look that she can’t quite read. “I suppose Neal hasn’t informed you of how dangerous a place this world can be for a woman like you, Miss Swan. Your love for Neal makes you a target, as does Neal’s love for you. By falling for him, you’ve also fallen into our world. And because we’re so devoted to what you have to offer, we will protect you from everyone who may want to hurt Neal.” 

 “Just because I can find people pretty easily?” she asks doubtfully. His explanation isn’t making any sense to her. She can’t rectify in her head how loving Neal can equate to requiring constant protection, especially based on his claim that he’s going to be leaving soon. 

 “No, Emma,” he laughs condescendingly, as if he were talking to a child who couldn’t handle the truth. She wonders if he’s right. “Worry not; all will make sense to you as time goes by. For now, let's get started with your first assignment. Hook, show the lady to her office.” 

 ~~~~

 “Most sites are blocked here,” he explains as he powers up the old desktop, groaning softly as he stands again. “You’ll likely run into trouble if you try to find him on Facebook or anything.” 

 “Why?” she asks, and although she immediately regrets opening her mouth, the look he gives her feels more amused than anything. 

 “Why?” 

 “Um… why are they blocked?” 

 He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head and looking away from her once he notices that the computer has booted up. “To keep you out of trouble, I suppose.” 

 She bites her bottom lip, squeezing her fists until she feels the sting of her nails digging into her palm. She isn’t sure that, in the last day since she’s come here, she’s been kept out of trouble at all. She’s been in trouble-- in danger-- since she heard those bikes pulling up behind her and Neal. 

 “Right,” she says softly, sarcastically, and again, she kicks herself for opening her mouth. She wonders what would have happened to her by now if she was with anyone but Jones in this moment. 

 “Love,” he starts, his voice soft and tender, and she almost wonders if he intends to step close to her. Perhaps he means to comfort her. “I’m--” he clears his throat, “If you need anything…” 

 Their eyes meet, and it’s like the first time again. His azure stare bores into her in a way that makes her shudder, but not out of fear this time. She feels seen, understood, and while it’s only been a day since her traumatic greeting from the club, it feels like a lifetime since she’s felt a sense of safety. It feels comforting to meet his gaze, and she suddenly lets her breathing steady and her heart rate settle. “Thank you,” she whispers genuinely. She isn’t sure how she could relay it to him if she does need something, but the way he looks at her tells her that he’ll know. 

 For the first time since she’s been here, her safety appears to be a priority to someone. Relief washes over her and she lets it, despite knowing that it will dissipate the moment he walks out the door.

 ~~~~

 “How’s it goin’ in here, my little worker bee?”

 She looks up from the computer she’s been staring at, met by Neal leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed. The dinosaur she’s working on is hardly functioning, most sites she’s tried blocked and inaccessible and the speed at which it loads each page almost painful. After almost a week of working on the assignment they’ve given her, she’s found almost nothing.

 “Hi,” she mumbles, turning back to the screen. All they had given her was a name and a last known location, and she’s struggling to find more.

 “Doing alright?”

 “I can’t find much,” she says. 

 “You’ll find him; you’re smart. I wonder if that’s genetic,” he says with a laugh and a smirk in her direction. She isn’t sure what he means or how to respond, so she simply smiles somewhat awkwardly and moves on. She refuses to let herself wonder if this is another dig at her for being parentless. 

 “It just feels impossible. This guy, Graham… are you sure he even exists?” she jokes. 

 He laughs, but it’s forced and she doesn't detect a genuine smile. “Are you doubting Peter?” 

 Emma looks up at him, meeting his eyes with confusion colored in her own. “No,” she starts, although she isn’t sure if she’s being truthful in her answer. “It’s just…”

 Neal shoves away from the door and slinks closer to her, bending at his knees and squatting until his eyes meet her level. “Ems,” he starts, his hand landing on hers and applying what she thinks is meant to be a comforting amount of pressure. “Don’t start.” 

 “What…?” 

 He groans and leans away from her. “It's not a damn secret that you aren’t happy to be here. I need you to be better about that.” 

 She lets her jaw hang open for a bit longer than she means to, shock taking over her as he confirms what she’s been suspecting since the meeting she attended. “Neal,” she starts, “you’re the one who said you want to get out. You said we could leave after a few weeks.” 

 “And?” 

 “Uh… and… it’s been a week and you don’t seem like you’re… I mean… it seems like you're happy here.” 

 “So what?” 

 “What do you-- so what? You said we were leaving and now it’s like they're your family!” 

 Neal stands quickly, spinning from her in exasperation as he thrusts his hands into his hair. “You’re being so-- stop judging me! What do you even have to complain about?! They’re being nothing but nice to you. You have a home now, I feed you, I love you, we protect you… I don’t get what your damn problem is!” 

 “The knives, Neal!” she shouts, unable to hold back the emotional response to his nonsensical claims. “You threw knives at my head!” 

 There's a loud smack against the desk she sits at, and she’s brought back to the reality of her experience and out of the false sense of control that she let herself believe she had. She has to force herself to move on from the thought that she and Neal are able to have a conversation. When she looks down to where his hand met the surface, she sees his gun held beneath his palm. She pales. 

 “It’s time to move on,” he hisses quietly, his voice taking over the silence of the room. It’s another threat. Another convenient way to show her that he has power over her. That he can take everything away from her, even her life, in a second if she gives him a reason to. “You weren’t in danger, baby,” he says, his voice more soothing this time, drawing from her that feeling again. The feeling that she’s overreacting. “I had it under control, remember?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

 She sighs heavily at the feeling of his lips tracing along her jaw until he reaches her neck. “You did?” she asks weakly. With his sudden change in demeanor, his obvious desire not to make her feel unsafe anymore, she feels something shift between them. 

 “Of course I did; don’t be stupid. You know I did.” 

 It feels good, she lets herself realize. As her eyes slip closed and a soft breath escapes her lips, she makes herself relax into his touch. With her sense of sight cut off, she feels herself giving in to his touch in favor of feeling some sense of relaxation after a week of hypervigilance. His rough stubble scratches at her skin, something she normally doesn’t like, but right now, she doesn’t think she minds too much. With her eyes shut, the rest of the world closed off from her mind, she thinks she could appreciate some stubble. 

 She feels the smooth leather of his sleeve under her fingertips and she likes it. Sure, she’s always thought the leather jackets were sexy, but here and now, something about him in it becomes more appealing. But when his hand creeps up her waist, his touch a bit too rough, too domineering, she flinches. 

 “Shh,” he hisses softly, attempting to soothe her. “It’s alright.” 

 At the sound of his voice, something snaps within her and she stiffens. It sounds wrong, she realizes. “Wait,” she murmurs as his hand creeps under her shirt. 

 He breathes out a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?”

 “I just,” she starts, nervous as he pushes away. “We’re… I mean, we’re here.” She gestures around the room, hopeful that her discomfort at the thought of sleeping with him in this office where anyone could walk in is clear. 

 “Right. So when we get home, you’ll be more than willing?” he asks doubtfully, rolling his eyes. 

 “Neal,” she begs softly, unsure of where she went wrong. She’s unsure of how she could have messed this up when she was the one to express her own discomfort. “Please.” 

 “Please,” he mimics, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ll see you in a week.” 

 With that, confusing words exchanged between them, he’s out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. 

@courtorderedcake​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​ @stahlop​​​​ @klynn-stormz​​​​ @laschatzi​​​​ @emelizabeth88​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​ @kday426​​​​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​​​​ @captain-emmajones​​​​ @gingerpolyglot​​​​​ @ebcaver​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​ @teamhook​​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​​ @gingerchangeling​​​​​ @jrob64​​​​​ @onceratheart18​​​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​​ @swampmedusa​​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​​ @dancingnancyy​​​​​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​​ @ouatpost​​​​​ @daxx04​​​​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​​​​ @donteattheappleshook​​​​​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​​​​​ @xsajx​​​​​ @itsfridaysomewhere​​​​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​​​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​​​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​​​​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​​​​ @rapunzelsghosts​​​​​ @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice​​​​​ @batana54​​​​ @sailtoafarawayland​​ @deckerstarblanche​​ @zaharadessert​​ @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza

[soyforramen]

If you have time/energy, 41 for the bughead prompts pls! It’s the “overhears they have feelings for you.”

Now that i finally have the time, here’s some fluff to counter the angst!

-

             Betty paused at the door to the Blue and Gold office when she heard voices.  This late in the day, it was usually only her and Jughead still working on the college newspaper. Or, rather, while she continued working diligently on page layouts while he worked on homework on the couch.

             “It’s not that big of a deal,” Jughead said.  “Right?  So I should just say it.”

             She peeked in through the crack in the door and saw him pacing back and forth, his hands waving wildly in the air.

             “If it’s not that big of a deal, why haven’t you said it?” came a reply from Toni.  

             Strange; Toni was always the most punctual person on their team.  Her photos had been ready to print for over a week, and she rarely spent her free time in the office..  Unless Jughead had dragged her into his usual shenanigans regarding things that went bump in the night?

             “Because –“

             Jughead stopped and made a pained noise. Unsympathetic, Toni snickered, and even Betty had to cover her mouth from laughing.  As much as she enjoyed his company, even Betty had to admit it was amusing to see him get so wrapped up in himself.

             “It’s just three words,” Toni pointed out.  “And it’s not like it will kill you to say it.”

             “She might.”

             “Betty is not going to murder you –“

             “Not her, Cheryl.”

             This time, Toni burst out in peals of laughter that covered up Jughead’s response. Curious to hear her cousin’s name, Betty leaned closer to the open door.   The fiery tempered red-head was as much of a fan of Jughead’s as he was of hers, and that wasn’t saying much of anything.  

             “Cheryl is why you’re afraid to say ‘I love you‘?”

             Jughead grumbled something inaudible, and Betty glanced up and down the halls to make sure she was alone.  This close to information so pertinent to her life – Jughead was in love???? When did that happen??? Why??? - the last thing she needed was someone as boisterous as Kevin or Veronica yelling her name down the hall. Pressing herself against the door frame, Betty bit her lip and tried to calm her pounding heart.

             “The last time someone even mentioned asking Betty out –“

             Betty had to bite her tongue to keep from starting.  A pen fell from her pocket and echoed in the empty halls. There was a silence, and she waited to be found out.  

             “That was because it was Reggie Mantle doing the asking,” Toni pointed out, completely ignorant of being eavesdropped on.  She continued in a less than sure voice. “Besides, Cheryl … doesn’t dislike you.  She’d probably even be happy with you if you got Betty out of the apartment for something that wasn’t school or work.  You know, like a date?  The thing people ask about when they like someone?”

             Now too nervous to stay still, Betty rushed from the door, clutching her bag to her chest, and fled to the bathroom.  As soon as the door closed behind her, she couldn’t help but clasp her hands together in glee.  She and Jughead had danced around each other for over a year now and the closest they could get to anything called ‘dating’ had been a late-night stake out to see if the Dean of the Journalism school really was moonlighting as a click bait writer for BuzzFeed.

             She breathed deeply to calm her nerves. Try as she might, she couldn’t contain the thrill of hearing that Jughead Jones, the guy she’d been crushing on since freshman orientation, liked her.  Not just liked.  He loved her.  Betty couldn’t help but hug herself.  

             Straightening her shirt and steeling herself to be as forward as she imagined Cheryl would be, Betty stepped out of the bathroom and made her way, once more, to the Blue and Gold office. As she neared the office, Toni emerged and sent her a wink.  

             “Good luck in there, boss,” Toni said with a salute.

             Betty bit down a response and opened the door.   Jughead jumped up as if electrocuted, his face white at the sight of her.  Any other time, Betty would have rushed towards him, asking him twenty different questions to try and figure out why he looked so ill.  Now, though, it was all she could do to keep from smiling.

             “Good evening, Jughead,” she chirped.  

             He stammered a reply and she set her backpack on her desk.  

             “You know what I really love?” she asked, unable to help herself, especially when a faint blush rose to his cheeks.  “Those wontons you got last week.  Where was that from again?”

             “Klump’s Kafeteria,” Jughead said.  “Did you get my article?”

             Betty nodded, disappointed he’d jumped so quickly to business.  “I did. I really love,” she paused, sitting down on her desk and pulling her laptop out, “the way you captured the emotions in your review.  Especially whereyou talk about the mise-en-scene and how well it pulled everything together. It made the recommendation that more meaningful.”

             “Honestly?  I couldn’t stand the movie,” Jughead said.  He rolled his eyes and sat on the corner of her desk.  

             And suddenly, the spell was broken, and her regular, normal Jughead was back in front of her.  She watched his face as he complained about plot pacing and script-incongruities.  Only half paying attention, Betty wondered if he’d finally make a move.   It would be even better, though, if he’d finally notice that she’d been flirting this whole time.

             “Regardless, it was a very well written piece,” Betty said when he’d finished.  “You know what I also love?”

             Jughead raised an eyebrow at her, finally beginning to notice a trend.   “Those weird blue macaroons that taste like Peto-Bismol from Chez Bonuit?”

             She flicked her pen at him and scowled.  “You just have a warped sense of taste after eating all that grease and sugar at Pop’s.”

              “And yet who’s the one also asking me to bring them a strawberry milkshake whenever they find out I’m eating all that grease and sugar?”

             “It’s one of the little things I love you for,” Betty said, slipping it in as casually as she could. “That and the lattes you bring me after a late night editing.”

              Jughead’s eyes flew open and heat bubbled up in her cheeks.  Pressing on, Betty opened up a browser on her computer and turned it to him.

             “I also love, and I hope you will too, that R.R.J. Swift is putting out a new Play of Chairs book next month.”

             His face light up and he crowded in next to her, their faces a few inches from the screen.  “How did I miss this?  There’s no way they could get that to print so quickly.”

             “Everyone in printing was told it was a new Donna Sweet novel,” Betty said, clicking a few times until a different website came up, “so it’s been hush-hush until he broke the news an hour ago.”*

             “Finally, we can see what happens to Trienne of Barth.”

             She elbowed him lightly.  “I can’t believe you still like her after she betrayed Don Ice.”

             “I can’t help it.  I love her storyline,” he shot back, his eyes searching hers.

             Undeterred, Betty thrust out her chin.  “And I love –“

             “Yes, yes, we get it,” Toni said.  “You two are trapped in a bubble of love.”

             They both turned, blushing, to the door.  

             “Sorry to interrupt the futile flirting, but I forgot my notes,” Toni said, walking towards the couch.  She held up a notebook and shook it at them.  “Just kiss her already Jones, or I will.  And since the last time that happened I ended up going to prom with your girlfriend...”

             “She’s right, you know” Betty said when Toni left.

             Jughead cleared his throat.  “About which part?”

             “You should kiss me.”

             “I –“

             Whatever his protestations might have been, Jughead smartly decided to ignore them.  Instead, he leaned towards Betty, who happily met him more than half-way.

             A few months later, when Jughead claimed their first date was at a Play of Chairs release party, Betty couldn’t help but cover a laugh.  She loved that he was technically correct, even if it was only a party of two.

*(No, I do not know how printing works, nor do I care enough to Google this or other characters from the series.  Apologies if I’m wrong.  If I am, just pretend they’re talking about Minecraft.)

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 38!! @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon @digitl-art-monstr @selfindulgenz @dakotafinely @yarchurr @sententiously-sarcastic @sprinklestheditty

Content warnings!! Trauma and a scene that may resemble suicidal signs (please lmk if you can think of a better phrasing)

Leonardo and Hueso sat lotus style facing each other, Leonardo’s sword laid out in front of them. The rest of the mutants and April were forced behind a line of tape, told they could watch as long as they were quiet. Mikey and Raphael, it seemed, had trouble remembering that they couldn’t cross the line and would have to be gently reminded by Raph and Michalengalo to move back. They’d be so drawn into the ceremony like fish to a lure that they’d outright forget that they had crossed the line. Raphael, after the long nap gifted to him, was looking much brighter and calmer than the state Leonardo had left him in, and Leonardo had trouble focusing on Hueso without his eyes wandering back over to check on his brother. Hueso would snap his fingers each time Leonardo strayed and give a simple, “Eyes on me.”

The two of them sat in a silence for a long time, their hands joined. Hueso said it was only supposed to be a ten minute reflection to draw the memories forth from the sword, but for the first few times, Leonardo would have made some noise, no matter how small, and the progress of the ceremony would be lost. Finally, with great mental strain and biting his tongue to keep it from wanting to talk, finally they made it the full ten minutes. It was a delayed reaction, just enough for each of the brothers to consider that maybe they did something wrong. Then it happened all at once.

The lines traced along the blade of the odachi lit up in the brightest cerulean blue, spiraling in on itself until it illuminated a sixteen-petaled lotus with a downward-facing triangle in its middle surrounding a circle. Hueso opened his eyes finally, and Leonardo couldn’t hide the gasp as he witnessed the newfound beauty of the calaca. The usually blank canvas of his bones were decorated in bright rainbows of designs that seemed somehow dull in the presence of the glowing odachi. His normally white eyes shone a deep, powerful blue and his teeth each took on a different color.

“Hueso— your bones!” Leonardo remembered he wasn’t supposed to talk the minute the words left his mouth and he flinched with the expectation that all their progress would be erased, but it was not.

Hueso laughed at Leonardo. “My bones? You should take a look at yourself!”

Leonardo gave a confused hum and looked back at his companions, who all stared at him with wide expressions of awe and in various stages of cheers and silent words Leonardo couldn’t hear. “Why can’t I…?”

“It’s normal, don’t worry.” Hueso said, “We are truly alone. Check your reflection in the glint of your odachi if you care to.”

Leonardo leaned forward to look at the glowing odachi closer and, beyond the blue light, his reflection was as clear as if it were a mirror. Every mark and flaw on Leonardo’s face was lit up brightly, his stripes the brighter shades of the normal color, except glowing, while the rest of the imperfections matched the color of the odachi. Every scar and fault and blemish that covered his face and body was highlighted bright and beautiful.

“Wow…” Leonardo whistled, “I look hot!”

“You are Kintsugi.” Hueso said with a laugh, “And your chakra, of course, Vishuddha.”

“The throat chakra…” Leonardo touched his neck and felt the heat of the burning chakra within. “Wow. I’m literally hot!”

“You have no shame do you?”

“None at all.” Leonardo stuck out his tongue.

Hueso sighed and shook his head. “The sword holds the memories of all the places it has been. 
Each rift is opens leaves a mark in the very metal…” 

The reflection in the sword started to shift and change to show the most recent uses. Leonardo using the portal to defeat Leo in the spar. Leonardo using the portal to reach his father. Leonardo portaling away from Krang’s technodrone...

“There.” The memories stopped shifting at Hueso’s word, “When you’re more experienced, you will be able to draw forth these memories on your own. But for now, you did amazing.” Hueso let go of Leonardo’s hands to stand up. “Take your odachi and create your rift.”

Leonardo grabbed his odachi and stood up, every part of his body feeling numb and overwhelmed at the same time, and he traced the odachi through the air. It ripped through the fabric of reality almost audibly, the portal brighter and stronger than Leonardo had ever made or seen. The force of its draw was intense and unrelenting that Leonardo would have been pulled off his feet if it wasn’t for Hueso grabbing him by the bridge of his carapace to hold him still.

“We do not want to cross through there.” Hueso spoke just loud enough to be heard over the whistling of the rift, “You must move the rift to a safe entry point.”

Leonardo back to the rift and saw its placement, high in the center of the technodrone with hundreds of feet of open air below. He took a shaky breath as he moved just close enough to take a better look inside. 

“T… there?” He pointed at a ledge farther down the wall of the technodrone.

“You tell me.” Hueso said calmly. 

“Y… yes.” Leonardo decided, almost confident. “Yes, that would work.”

“Then let us retrieve your brothers.”

****

Everything was going just as planned. Krang was rubbing his ring with that devilish grin spit across his pink face, a tentacle occasionally rubbing the ring just to feel the rush of its power once more. The Shadow Fiend did just as Krang ordered, down to the smallest request. When Krang said to walk, The Shadow Fiend walked. When Krang said to sit, the Shadow Fiend sat. When Krang said to jump or growl or roar or beg, The Shadow Fiend listened. Krang liked that. He could only imagine what this creature would be like at its full power, and he could hardly wait to use it to its full potential.

“How much longer?” Krang looked away from his ring just long enough to address Draxum.

Draxum was humming softly as he did his work, as slow as he could manage without drawing attention from Krang. He had to give that skeleton enough time to find the brothers and bring them here, and he was running out of ways to stall. “The ceremony has to be perfect, Great Oni. I must make sure there is no fault in my lines.”

“Very well then.” Krang huffed, “Just hurry up then! I want my new prize sooner rather than later.”

“You will have your prize.” Draxum promised, “You just must be patient.”

“Patience isn’t a virtue of us ‘oni’ in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh trust me, I have.” Draxum muttered under his breath, too low for Krang to hear. Krang was too busy looking at his ring again to care anyway. Finally, Draxum brought Yoshi to the middle of the ceremony, the rat blind folded with his arms and legs tied as Draxum could manage without snapping the limbs. Mutants were all so delicate compared to yokai, especially their fleshy bits.

“You are a cruel creature, Baron Draxum!” Yoshi spat, trying to snap at Draxum’s hand while the yokai handled and positioned him like a doll. “Gaining the trust of me and my sons, pretending you’ve changed— betraying my dear Orange!”

“You should talk less.” Draxum warned.

Yoshi didn't stop. “And now you bring these innocent other worldly creatures into your lust for power?! What— you want to steal their mutagen too? Haven’t you done enough damage to the people of New York?!”

Draxum laughed and planted his hoof firmly on Yoshi’s back, pressing the mutant slowly and firmly into the ground and twisting him almost playfully. “You are not people, Yoshi. You. Are. A. RAT!” 

He slammed his hoof down hard and Yoshi cried out as the sharp hoof pierced the fur and flesh. 

“Leave him alone!” Splinter cried out from where he was still being held captive by Draxum’s vines. 

Draxum rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the talkative mutant. “Why is he still alive again?”

“I want him to watch as I destroy his sons.” Krang laughed, “Or, more as my new pet here does. It’ll make him all the more entertaining after I freeze him.”

Cassandra didn't know how to feel. She trusted her master more than anything, and her master seemed to trust this ‘oni’ so she had to trust him too. But at the same time… this Splinter had been so kind to her. Sat down with her during her girl scouts phase… talked with her… advised her. He was so nice, and to see him being abused by her master jut felt wrong. But then she shook her head to dismiss such treasonous thoughts as they tried to invade. She was Cassandra freaking Jones! Loyal to the Foot Clan and to her masters to the very end! And when she could get her hands on the orb and free her family and clan, she would do just that and everything would be well again— just as long as they got those turtles out of the way!

****

The portal took them through just as planned. Their feet carried them swift and quiet, even the large box turtles able to walk as silent as a panther stalking through the night. The bigger brothers were the first through, followed by the mix-matched set, and lastly April, which made the bay brother’s eyes widen in apprehension .

“Should she be here?” Raph asked, his voice as low as one could hope it to be. “This ain’t exactly safe!”

Donnie’s eyes seemed to bug out of their sockets in his panic that quickly turned to confusion. “Wait— her o2 stats are still stable… how is she breathing right now?”

“She won’t be if she goes down there.” Raph growled, “This ain’t amateur hour.”

“AMATEUR?!” 

Michelangelo practically tackled April, pressing his finger to her lips to shush her. Leonardo watched the scene with a strange expression on his face. Raphael and Donatello were quick to notice, both of them exchanging looks to make sure the other was seeing what they were. The expression wasn’t quite sad nor happy nor upset nor mad. It was just… calm. Calm and so unnerving on the usually animated face of their little brother.

“April, maybe you should stay behind.” Leonardo’s voice was even and quiet. 

“What? But Leo—“ April stopped talking the minute she saw the look on Leonardo’s face. Tired and scared and calm all stitched into his face in such a subtle manner that to anyone other than family it would be inperceptible. Something was wrong, and Leonardo’s voice sounded so serious that April quickly forsaked her previous outrage for a gentle, “Yeah… right. Whatever you say Leo…”

She went back through the rift and left them. Leonardo turned his attention then to Raphael. 

“Are you sure you’re okay to fight?”

“Y-yeah! Feeling better already.” Raphael tried to smile, but it was hard. “Are you alright Leo?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Leonardo sounded more like Donatello than like himself as he hovered over the edge of the ledge and looked down at the long drop beneath, vertigo spiraling in his mind though he hardly cared. “On your call, bud.”

“Leo…?” Michelangelo finally caught onto what was happening, sticking out his bottom lip as he eyed Leonardo with red eyes that burned like the sun. “Are you okay?”

Leonardo gave a weak laugh and smiled, his eyes looking to Michelangelo, and the box turtle could see tears trying to escape them. “Don’t you worry, Hermano. You’ll be just fine. I love you all so much.”

“Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye…?”

Leonardo didn't answer.

[hale-13]

The Trouble with Tabloids

By Hale13 for @jenniboo311

“Oh look at this, this is a good one: ‘Some suggest that Parker’s powers include the male spider’s ability to hypnotize females.”

“Stop, c’mon,” Peter says back, slightly irritated at her teasing.

“Yes my Spider-Lord,” MJ says, dropping her voice in pitch and, against his will he starts chuckling. It makes him feel lighter and calmer and warm.

“Can we just like sit up here all day? It is so crazy down there.”

MJ hums and flicks over to the next page, still skimming. “I mean we could,” she says, neutral. “But would it really help anything?”

Or

MJ reads the Daily Bugle and Peter is an nervous mess about returning to school after his identity is reveled to the world.

Words: 5313, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Relationships: Peter Parker/Michelle Jones, Peter & May, Peter & Ned

Read on AO3 or below line break

“Does any part of you feel relieved about all this?” Michelle is curled up on her side, the half priced Christmas twinkle lights she picked up off a dusty shelf when they went thrift shopping a few months ago hung up haphazardly behind her. They make the edges of her hair glow red and throw strange and beautiful shadows across her face. Peter is almost too distracted looking at her to register her question.

“What do you mean?” His voice quiet and questioning. His living room is completely dark – his face lit only by his phone screen where he holds is just above his chest.

MJ’s face scrunches a little and she readjusts her head on the pillow, a few stray fractals of light bouncing off the broken black dahlia necklace and painting rainbows onto the wall and ceiling. “Now that everybody knows you don’t really have to hide or lie to people.”

Peter feels his hackles rise just a little at that comment but he’s too tired and burnt out to really be upset. He feels like he’s been fighting for years even though its only been a few weeks since Beck outed him to the world. His head pulsates with the starts of a headache and he just sighs. “For the record,” despite his desire to sound neutral his voice has a bit of an edge, “I never wanted to lie to you. But how do you tell someone that you’re Spider-Man?”

MJ hums noncommittally, it’s the sound she makes when she disagrees or has strong feelings about something in particular but doesn’t feel like arguing – he’s sure it will come up later and that her opinion will probably be correct. It makes him feel thankful and pissed simultaneously but he takes a deep breath and tries to let it go. Anger seems to be his default emotion these days. Anger and frustration and a dash of hopelessness. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” MJ asks, changing the subject abruptly and Peter settles a little more firmly into the ancient couch that May picked up from one of their neighbors. It groans under him.

“Sure,” he replies with a bit of a crooked smile that he can tell doesn’t reach his eyes – the little image in the bottom of his screen that shows his reflection makes him look pale and washed out and so so tired. No wonder May had been hovering so much recently. “I’ve always wanted to try and balance being a well known vigilante while going to high school.”

MJ chuckles and gives him a fond smile. The school year technically started a few weeks ago but Peter has been on unofficial home arrest while the NYPD and FBI and the freaking UN sorted out what to do with him. The unaltered footage from EDITH along with the character witness statements and testimonials from Happy and the newly returned to Earth Nick Fury (shape-shifting aliens what the fuck?) made it clear quickly that he was innocent but just opened the door for a whole host of other problems.

Like a large portion of conspiracy theorists still saying he killed Beck and that the government was covering it up. Or the fact that his address had gotten leaked and people had camped outside with signs or support or hatred and he and May had needed to move somewhere new. Or how Ned had been accosted by a crazy Fox News journalist on his way home from school one day.

That had made Peter see red and it was only May and Happy taking his web-shooters and phone and nearly restraining him that kept him from leaving to do something he would probably (maybe) regret later.

Jimmy Woo, the FBI agent over his case, had advised him to just lay low while the local and worldwide organizations hashed everything out. Peter was still too young to sign the Sokovia Accords but they couldn’t have him running around and ‘causing untold destruction’ in other countries. And, well, the NYPD still wasn’t his biggest fan when it came to the low-to-the-ground and neighborhood problems he liked to deal with.

As it was, he was now allowed to continue being Spider-Man in New York City but he would need special permission from local governments to act anywhere else. This suited Peter just fine; he would rather not leave home anytime soon after his last ‘vacation’ and Spider-Man was a Queens hero anyway. The clock on his phone ticked over to one in the morning just as his battery bar turned red.

“Hey,” Michelle said, pulling his attention back to her. She gave him a tired smile and pulled her blanket up higher on her shoulder. “We’ll be there with you the whole time.”

“I know,” Peter whispered, fingering the stitching of the t-shirt he had stolen from his girlfriend and was wearing. It still had just a bit of her scent that he could probably only pick up due to his enhanced senses and it made his chest feel a little full. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You will,” MJ said, ending the call and leaving Peter alone. The shadows that stretched across the walls from his dim phone light looked foreboding and he stared at them until his screen went dim. He really should get up and go to bed. He should pack his book bag. He should definitely charge his phone.

Instead, Peter creeps to his room and shimmies into his suit, jumping out his window into the cool night. ———————————————

Peter crawled back through his window just before his alarm goes off at six, tired and sweaty and still freaking out a little but feeling marginally better now that some of his nervous energy was gone. May is sitting at their little kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee in her robe and looking just as exhausted as he feels. He can tell she knows that he’s been out all night but he’s thankful she chooses not to say anything as he makes his walk of shame to their cramped single bathroom to shower.

When he emerges about twenty minutes later with damp hair and layered up in his favorite flannel shirt and a plain white t-shirt May has brewed another pot of coffee and has a stack of toast and jam on the table and his heart clenches. Toast and jam has always been his go-to for mornings where his anxiety is at an all time high and his stomach is twisting and he wraps his arms around May’s shoulders from behind in a fierce hug and tucks his face into her neck like he’s a little kid again. May gives him a kiss on the temple and lets him soak in some comfort from her before she shoos him over to his seat to eat.

They both sit in silence; Peter munching on his toast and drinking black coffee full of sugar to perk him up and May nursing her own cup and staring at the wall. May’s knee bumps against his when she scoots a little closer and he can feel a little bit more of the tension leak out of him – as long as he still has her he’s okay. No matter what happens with school and Spider-Man and the Avengers he has May.

“I’m so proud of you,” May tells him a few minutes later as he’s chewing on his last piece of toast and Peter can feel the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes but he refuses to cry. He sniffs and coughs, choking on emotion and May scoots her chair over more to pull him into a hug and he just lets himself be held for a minute.

“I love you,” he tells her, leaning into the hug for just another second before pulling away. May smiles, her own eyes watery and she fidgets with his hair, smoothing out the wild curls and fixing his collar. He knows she hears everything else he’s trying to say: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t want this.

“I love you too,” she says; It’s okay, its not your fault. “I have the next week off so if you need me for anything – and I mean anything – I want you to call me okay? I’ll come get you.”

Peter nods even though he would never call her to come bail him out and goes to the sink to rinse his cup and brush the crumbs off his plate. “I know May and I will, I promise.” Liar. The knock at the door interrupts them and Peter glances at the clock; its later than he thought. May bites her lip like she’s waffling on saying more but relents and goes to answer it. He can hear her greeting MJ and Ned, can hear the brushing of clothes as she hugs them both and Peter takes just a moment for himself. He closes his eyes and takes a fortifying breath – in through his nose and out through his mouth – and straightens his spine, squares his shoulders.

He can do this.

And he’s does. He’s fine as he slinks out of his building (the first time leaving as Peter Parker since his arrest and meeting with multiple government organizations and moving) and down the steps to slide into Happy’s car with Ned and MJ on either side of him. Ned is wearing the ridiculous letterman jacket from Acadec that he spent way too much money on and MJ is wearing a dark blazer he’s never seen before but instantly loves. He would probably love everything she wore to be honest.

“Hey kid,” Happy says. He looks completely unruffled in his usual dark suit and tie but Peter can hear his heart beating faster than usual as he double and triple checks his mirrors before pulling away from the curb. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Peter says but his voice is all wrong and he clears his throat to try to get rid of the lump that’s formed there unsuccessfully. Michelle slips her hand in his and squeezes tightly and Ned presses their sides together in a quick moment of support on his other side.

Ned’s phone buzzes against Peter’s leg and he fishes it out, unlocking it and reading through the message before typing a short reply. “Flash is meeting us out front,” he says. And that, probably, had been the biggest surprise from this whole identity reveal mess but it probably shouldn’t have been. When they had come back from the blip, fifteen kids out of their class of forty-three, they had come to an understanding.

The apology and forgiveness had gone unsaid between them but, suddenly, Flash wasn’t as terrible to be around. There was still some ribbing and snarky commentary but nothing to the intensity of before. No more ‘Penis Parker’ no tripping him in the halls or pushing him into lockers like before.

If the Blip had done one thing it was reset everyone’s preconceived notions and priorities.

After Beck had released his heavily doctored video, Flash had practically beat down Ned’s door and asked how he could help. With his large Twitter, Instagram and TikTok following, he had been able to help get the word out about local protests and had been the person behind #NY❤️sSpidey and #PeterParkerisInnocent trending on twitter for multiple days.

Peter had uninstalled all social media from his phone weeks ago to protect his sanity and had basically only been texting May, MJ, Ned and Happy but he really appreciated the sentiment and had dropped in on Flash when he was in the park the other day as Spider-Man to say a quick ‘thank you’ as he patrolled. Flash had looked stunned and excited in equal measure but had offered a scoff and a fist bump that Peter gladly returned before swinging off.

“Well shit,” Happy muttered as he turned into Midtown drawing Peter out of his thoughts.

The school was a madhouse – news trucks were lining the perimeter, their cameras and newscasters being careful to not step onto school property and under close watch from the scattering of NYPD and SRO on the scene. That was fine, they had expected that.

What Peter had not expected, what no one had prepared for, was the literal mob of protestors with signs and banners and t-shirts screaming and chanting behind a series of guardrails that fringed the path up to the school. His classmates were walking up the path mostly unmolested and filming and taking pictures, some of them lingering around the front entrance or on the steps or surrounding lawn as they watched in fascination. A couple were enthusiastically talking to a cluster of cameras and reporters near the subway entrance.

“How did they know I was coming back to school today?” Peter asks, mouth and throat dry and making his voice croak.

“Someone must have slipped it,” MJ says, not sounding surprised. There had been a school wide assembly the Friday before where Principal Morita had announced Peter’s imminent return and had put some ground rules in place – don’t treat him like a zoo animal, no crowding the halls, no harassment – but Peter didn’t really expect anyone to listen. He’d had his own meeting with May and Morita via Zoom a couple weeks before to hammer out the details of his continued education at Midtown and his tardy and absence policy. The man has assured him that he would do everything he could to keep Peter’s school experience as normal as possible which had bolstered May’s confidence but Peter had known it was more of an empty promise than anything else.

“It’s fine Pete,” Ned said. “They can’t do anything to us.”

Happy met his eyes in the rear view mirror and raised a questioning brow and Peter gave a shake of his head. He wasn’t going to back out now, besides, the car had been spotted and multiple cameras were pointed in his direction and the mob was screaming and waving their signs even more aggressively now.

Happy pulled to a slow stop in front of the path and put the car in park. “I can have them removed if you want,” he offered. “Or find a back entrance? You don’t have to deal with them Pete.”

Peter looked at the crowd again and gnawed at his already ragged lip. “It’s okay. It’ll just make it worse if I try to avoid them.”

Happy muttered something about self-flagellation under his breath with a fond eye roll but didn’t fight him. “Just don’t say anything,” he advises. “Don’t look at them and don’t say anything. Just keep walking until you’re in the school okay? I’ll be here right at four-thirty to pick you up after decathlon.”

“Thanks Happy,” Peter says, trading seats with Michelle so that he’ll be the first to emerge from the car and tightening his backpack straps. He wishes he had his red and black suit with him instead of the Iron Spider in its housing units on his wrists – the weight, minuscule as it is, is always comforting on his back. He wishes he was wearing his mask. He wishes he could just be plain Peter Parker again. He takes a deep, fortifying breath and opens the door.

The angry roar of the crowd when they see him nearly deafens him and he fights the urge to cover his ears and protect his sensitive hearing. Flash materializes out of nowhere to stand staunchly at his side as MJ slips out of the car, clearly nervous but ignoring the mass of people and grabbing his hand. “Nice hair Eugene,” she teases as Ned joins them and closes the door. Flash rolls his eyes at her and pushes his shockingly blonde fringe out of his eyes.

“You wish you could pull this off,” he offers in response and her smile becomes more genuine at the ribbing.

“Maybe red,” she muses, adjusting her own bag on her shoulder before she starts to walk up the sidewalk.

The path is only wide enough for them to walk two by two and MJ pulls him closer and holds his hand tighter as they face the school. Peter tries to ignore the signs and screams as he walks resolutely toward the door but he can’t completely block them out, especially after seeing a blown up copy of his year book photo with devil horns calling him a murderer. The woman holding it, wearing a t-shirt with a similar message and a button with Mysterio’s helmet on it, spews even more vitriol when she sees him look her direction. Her face is red and angry and Peter redirects his attention back to the school.

His classmates crowd the stairs and most of them have their phones out to livestream him coming to school. He feels like a bug pinned under glass and he can feel his breath speed up in his chest but he tries not to show it. Ben had always told him that he was an open book and that anyone could read his every thought on his face. It had been funny back then but now Peter just wishes that it was anything but true.

It, unfortunately, doesn’t get any better inside. The halls are lined with curious teenagers and teachers alike who all watch him walk down the hall and film him and get way too close for comfort. Morita had told him that he can’t, technically, enforce the no phone rule before school officially starts for the day and after it ends so Peter will have to deal with it.

His locker is also, unfortunately, down a completely different hall than Ned, MJ and Flash’s so they have to separate if they plan on being on time for home room. He’ll meet Ned there but he won’t see the other two until second period and he has first period, APUSH, completely alone. It’s almost enough to send him over the edge.

“I can walk with you,” Ned offers, adjusting his bag but Peter just shakes his head. He can do this. He has to do this.

The heckling gets worse once the others leave and his classmates get bolder – pushing into his space and taking selfies with him and asking invasive questions. He’s never been popular and he’s always been ignored and its just getting to be too much but at least he understands why some celebrities go off the deep end and straight up punch paparazzi now.

He makes quick work of getting his locker open and stowing his extra notebooks and gym bag before hassling in the direction of his home room. Ned meets up with him halfway there, a little out of breath from clearly rushing to meet him and pushing through the crowd, and the groupies back off a little once he’s around and forming a barrier between them and Peter. Ms. Warren glances at them from her desk when they enter and her eyes linger on Peter a little longer than normal but she otherwise ignores them and Peter feels honestly faint in relief.

“Dude,” Ned tells him as he slips into the seat to Peter’s right at the scratched up black lab table. Peter groans and drops his head onto his crossed arms, not really knowing how to respond. “At least you have Dell for APUSH – he won’t put up with any shit in his class.”

“Yeah,” Peter responds. “Lucky.”

Ned winces and goes to say something else but the bell rings and the school morning newscast starts playing on the TV. Ms. Warren turns it up just as Betty Brant says “This morning our very own Midtown Avenger joined us back in classes. In case you missed it, Jason and I were live on the scene for his-,”

Peter crammed his headphones in and turned on the white noise to drown out the sound of the newscast and pointedly ignored Ned’s sympathetic looks and Ms. Warren who looked at his headphones in blatant disapproval but didn’t ask him to take them out. Thank God.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he peeked at the message coming through – a single eye rolling emoji from MJ followed by Must be a slow news day. He smiled despite himself and tucked the phone back away just as the bell rang.

His first class alone was a nightmare – Mr. Dell had assigned them all seats and had put Peter front and center in what was, probably, an effort to keep his classmates for hassling him too much and keep everyone’s attention on what he was teaching and not on Peter. It didn’t really work since people kept taking sneaky Snapchat pictures and videos of him under their desks when Mr. Dell’s back was turned. Peter set his jaw and tried to ignore it but he knew he would have to borrow Ned’s notes if he even hoped at passing the class.

His AP English class was a little better since he had both Ned and MJ with him but Mr. Harrington who was, arguably, his favorite teacher and one that had, apparently, really gone to bat for him against the PTO and school board so that he could keep his scholarship and go to school, was a little oblivious. His classmates were even more bold and blatant and he was clenching his jaw so much he thought his teeth might break.

“Come with me,” MJ said, pulling him out of his desk right as the bell rang and rushing out the door.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked, stumbling after her as she pulled him toward one of the stock rooms, pushing him in and closing and locking the door behind them.

“To the roof,” she answered, standing on an overturned bucket to open up the small window. Peter blinked in surprise.

“But you have art this hour.”

“And you have a free period,” MJ said like it was obvious, hopping off the bucket and herding him to the window. “Ms. Goode loves me anyway so she won’t care if I miss a class. Hurry up and get sticky.”

Peter let out a bark of a laugh and climbed up the wall, pulling Michelle through the window after him and carefully avoiding the classrooms and front of the building until they reached the roof. The sun was bright and warm on his skin and he laid on his back just reveling in the silence. “This is nice,” he said, catching the book MJ dropped before it hit his stomach without opening his eyes and positioning it behind his head as a pillow. She settled in next to him, rustling with some paper and he cracked open one eye to glance at her. “What is that?”

“The Daily Bugle,” she answered, flicking through a couple pages and skimming the words, ignoring as Peter choked on his own saliva and fell into a coughing fit.

“You’re actually reading that garbage? You know what they’re saying about me right? Jameson keeps calling me a ‘Spider-Menace like that even makes sense-.”

“It’s actually pretty hilarious,” she said interrupting his tirade and stopping her flicking to read through a page. “Oh look at this, this is a good one: ‘Some suggest that Parker’s powers include the male spider’s ability to hypnotize females.”

“Stop, c’mon,” Peter says back, slightly irritated at her teasing.

“Yes my Spider-Lord,” MJ says, dropping her voice in pitch and, against his will he starts chuckling. It makes him feel lighter and calmer and warm.

“Can we just like sit up here all day? It is so crazy down there.”

MJ hums and flicks over to the next page, still skimming. “I mean we could,” she says, neutral. “But would it really help anything?”

Peter sighs and flops over on his stomach to beat his head gently into the book. “Probably not.” His stomach growls and he sighs – at least lunch is next. MJ’s hand skims down his neck to sit in the small of his back.

“I can think of something that could take your mind off it,” she says lightly and Peter feels his cheeks heat just a little but rolls his head over to smirk at her.

“Do tell.”

She gives him a little smile of her own before poking him until he moves enough for her to perch on his lap. He curls block out the sun and she’s at just the perfect height for him to lean forward and pull her into kiss.

They slip back into the window of the stock room just before the bell rings to end third period with their lips swollen and their hair a little more messy than it was before but with bright smiles and less tense muscles. Peter keeps his ear to the door and waits for the hallway to clear before they slip out and make their way to the lunch room.

Both of them had brought lunch so it was easier to creep in unnoticed through the side door and join Ned and Flash in the back corner of the cafeteria. It didn’t take too long before their classmates started murmuring and pointing and, despite the numerous warnings from various administrators and the fact that five of the sophomore level teachers were seated at their own table near the front of the room, many of the students took notice of their sudden appearance and were attempting to take surreptitious pictures and videos of them on phones hidden under tables and halfway in hoodie pockets. Peter felt his ears turn red as he ducked his head closer to the table and nearly into his sandwich. MJ glared at the table closest to them and the few girls seated there at least had the decency to look ashamed though they didn’t tuck their phones away.

“So this is fun,” Flash muttered as he picked at the flavorless and congealed school spaghetti on his tray. His normal table of friends and groupies were seated a few tables away and looking at him with jealously. Awkward silence followed his deadpan grumbling and Peter shifted uncomfortably.

Michelle rolled her eyes and snorted indelicately before glancing at Peter with clear mischief in her eyes and slapping her copy of the Daily Bugle on the table before flipping it open to a page she had earmarked. Peter groaned and dropped his head to thunk on the table dramatically as MJ said “ Did you know that Peter can hypnotize females with his spider powers?”

Ned snorted so abruptly some of the water he was drinking dribbled out his nose causing him to cough and gag and Flash to thump him on the back. “Oh my God,” Ned said reverently, touching the gossip rag and cradling it like it was special as his eyes darted across the page. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen. I need to get this framed!”

Peter whined and thumped his head on the table a few more times. “Yo Parker, this says you lay eggs,” Flash pointed out, skimming the edge of the page where a bullet pointed lists of ‘Fun Facts!’ were.

“I don’t lay eggs!” Peter groaned out in dismay, giving MJ his best betrayed look. She ignored his misery as she gleefully looked at the paper upside down to read the other inaccurate facts listed about him. “This is abuse,” he muttered, trying to pull the paper away from Ned but failing as his friend dodged and Flash batted his hands away.

“Does your ability to hypnotize only work on females? What exactly is the process?” Ned teased, voice shaking in mirth. “Wait! Wait what do you make them call you? Master of the Spiders? Arachnid King?”

“Spider Lord,” MJ provided with a shit-eating grin that had Flash and Ned sputtering with laughter and drawing even more attention their way.

“Oh come on,” Peter begged. “Don’t let anyone hear you or they’ll believe it!”

“Of course Spider Lord,” Flash intoned with barely concealed glee causing Ned and MJ to cackle more.

“You’re all the worst,” Peter told them without heat. To be honest this was the best he had felt all day – he hardly noticed the extra stares and muttering anymore. The bell announcing the end of their lunch rang and he hurried to cram the rest of his sandwich in his mouth as quickly as possible; they all had to hurry since they had gym and had to change before the tardy bell rang in ten minutes.

The heckling continued up until they split off to enter different locker rooms and Peter abruptly clenched his jaw as he realized the majority of his class was not only early to class to change but also waiting in the locker room and looking busy while they waited for him. Ned shot him a wince as he ducked into one of the stalls to change. Peter could feel the eyes following him as he did the same.

“Come on Parker,” he told himself as he took a few moments to center himself. “It’s just gym. You’ve done it a hundred times. This time’s no different.” He took as much time as possible to change, only sneaking out just before the bell rang and the majority of the room emptied.

MJ had saved them seats a bit away from the rest of the class and Peter squeezed between her and Ned, taking her hand and giving it a soft squeeze. Coach Wilson, looking particularly bored, was lugging a couple bags of foam balls from the locked equipment closet and Peter felt his stomach turn with dread. He detested dodgeball.

“You know the drill,” Coach Wilson drowned from the middle of the court. “Split in half, game starts on my whistle. Not you Parker,” he called over the din of talking and scuffing tennis shoes. “New PTA rules – you can watch and do individual work but no more team or contact sports.”

Peter felt his face flush again as he lowered himself back into his seat as the class broke out into louder conversations around him. Ned clapped him on the shoulder and said “Don’t worry about it man,” and Peter opened his mouth with the intent to thank or reassure his friend that he was okay but Ned, taking advantage and wearing a smirk, loudly went directly for the kill. “Besides, its unbecoming of a Spider Lord to comport himself like one of us mere plebes.”

Flash promptly tripped down the stairs and barely caught himself from falling on his face and breaking his nose on the floor, MJ had to sit back down to get herself under control as the rest of their class just stared at them with confused looks on their faces.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” Peter told Ned seriously causing his friends to break out into laughter again. If you can’t beat ‘em right?

“You’ve been an awfully good sport about this,” MJ told him later, leaning against a neighboring locker as he packed his bag and grabbed his decathlon binder. He shot her a questioning glance as he zipped up his bag. “The Spider Lord thing. It doesn’t actually bother you right? Because Ned already changed your name in the group chat and I’d hate to hurt his feelings by changing it again.”

“No its fine,” Peter reassured her. “It’s a little funny.” He slammed his locker shut and took her hand, “We’re going to be late Captain,” he told her, walking in the direction of the library. And maybe it didn’t bother him but it didn’t stop the wheels from turning. The attention rankled and he just wanted to go back to being Peter Parker again, to be completely anonymous.

He may know a guy who could help with that – it would only take a quick trip to Bleeker Street.

[generalfoolish]

Feel The Heat

Part One: Cruel World

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OC Juniper Collins

Rating: 18+ Warnings: fem masturbation, male masturbation, cursing, mentions of casual sex

Word Count: 4k

Summary: June visits the farmer's market and meets Frankie, a grumpy farmer. She's interested, but they're both MASSIVE idiots.

A/N: Hey babes! I've been working on this massive Farmer!Frankie AU with an OC. I'm excited to debut this first part, the story is going to be a little slower so I can put in SO much pining. Anyway, enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Part two

~~

June breathed in the fresh air as she pulled her tote strap onto her shoulder. The canvas bag held her wallet and keys, but was otherwise empty. She smiled, knowing that soon enough it would be almost too heavy.

The farmer's market was always busy on Saturday morning, and this one was no exception, she realized as she neared the stalls. She had a certain path she liked to follow, but she was feeling overwhelmed about the crowd. It was much busier than she had anticipated, and she always got a little panicky in throngs of too many people. So, she veered off her normal route, and found herself on the far end of the market.

It was much quieter, and much less crowded, she noticed right away. June also noticed that the produce was amazing. Late summer the fruit started to get a little smaller, but the berries at these stalls were still plump. The vegetables weren't as uniform as some of the bigger stalls, these were misshapen and discolored. Two indicators that the flavor would be divine, she thought as she roamed the stalls.

Her bag was getting heavy quickly, she noted, and she was determined to explore the whole area, so she walked straight to the end. The last stall on the property. Her hopes were not high as she marched up to the display stand.

"Would you like to try the tomatoes?" A rich baritone asked, and she quickly met his eyes. They were silky and brown, and breathtakingly deep. He had his cap pulled low, but his face was scruffy.

"Sure, that would be great. Are you the farmer?" June asked, taking the sample, and eyeing the selection.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Frankie, and that is a Brandywine. All of my produce is hand picked, and that process starts at seed selection." He told her, his voice softening. She smiled and popped the tomato into her mouth. It was delicious. Acidic and sweet, not overpowering to the palate. Frankie must have seen the delight on her face because he grinned, knowing what she was experiencing.

"Wow, Farmer Frankie, this is so good." She laughed a little as she chewed, wanting to savor it. "I'll take a basket please." She decided, and nodded down at his table. He nodded and started to bag it. "I have a bag, thanks! What do I owe you?" She asked, pulling out some cash. He merely waved his hand.

"Don't worry about it." He told her. June only frowned.

"I can't do that. You worked so hard, I want to buy something." He chuckled and took his cap off before running his hand over his head.

"Look, it's early, and I couldn't possibly charge someone as beautiful as you." She blushed deeply, but thrust a twenty at him anyway.

"My beauty isn't for sale, but your tomatoes are. Have a good day, Frankie." She told him and turned around quickly. She wasn't normally bold, and she had no qualms with getting stuff for free. She had no idea why she had fought him, but as she walked away all she could think about were his beautiful, brown eyes.

—

Frankie kicked himself hard as he watched the woman walk away from him. What was he thinking? He didn't even catch her name; he had no business calling her beautiful. He was off his game, and badly.

His phone buzzed, so he fished it out of his shirt pocket. An old t-shirt with a pocket on the chest, tattered and dirty, and that's what she saw when she walked up to him. What was she doing in the back of the market anyway, no one ever came this far back. He opened the message and sighed at how long the group chat was. Santiago and Benny could talk for hours, even texting. He wasn't up for it this morning, which wasn't unusual. He skimmed the messages, and decided it wasn't worth responding to. He had to sell some produce.

He looked down at the crisp twenty dollar bill on the table and cringed again. Twenty was way too much for the tomato basket. They were marked purposefully cheap, since they cost nothing to grow and always brought people back, and she had overpaid. Grossly. Even a ten would have been too much. And what had he done? Nothing. He hadn't even gotten her name. All he knew was that she looked great in shorts, her hair was a deep red, and she loved his tomatoes.

—

"What do you mean?" Stella asked, sipping her glass of wine.

"I mean how do I fix it? Like I want to try his other stuff, but I was so rude." June told her, sighing into her own glass. Zinfandels usually brought her mood up, but she was still feeling from earlier.

"You just go back, darling. I doubt he'll remember you. I mean you only talked for five seconds. Also, I think paying for your stuff is the opposite of rude." Stella took a bite of her pasta before pointing her fork back at June. "Unless, it's more than that. It's definitely more than that. Are you trying to date the farmer?" June felt her face flush, and quickly took a bite of her own pasta to buy some time to think. She had gotten worked up, but she hadn’t thought about why that was. She grumbled as she bit into the ravioli. It was dumb, but Stella was right. She wanted to get to know Frankie more. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but she wanted to see him again.

Stella took Juniper’s silence as a win, and a grin spread across her face. June had always thought that Stella’s signatured wicked grin could rival the Cheshire Cat, and this one was no different. Too bad, June thought, that she hadn’t tumbled down a trippy tunnel where answers were held in clearly labeled vials. She took a wistful sip of her wine and looked back up to Stella.

“You’re right. But have I messed it up too bad? Like, I was pretty rude.” Stella laughed.

“You could have stepped on him and he’d thank you for it. June, you’re hot. He’d be lucky if you even thought about him. You couldn’t have messed it up.” June laughed, not really any more confident, but loving Stella’s hype game anyway.

“How’s...Bernard?” June asked, struggling to remember the man’s name. Stella had a habit of switching out lovers pretty often. June thought of it as her “man of the week,” and while it was good fun for her to envision a horrible reality show it wasn’t conducive to remembering their names, or anything about them.

“Ben,” Stella sighed, correcting June and pausing dramatically, “Is gone. I’m seeing Javi now. He’s much younger, and a lot richer.” Stella teased, taking another mouthful of food. June rolled her eyes. Stella had launched a business when she was in college, and had made a small fortune by the time they graduated. She was independently wealthy. In a way that June was not. June had opted for an education degree, and now was in charge of a bunch of literal children.

She took a sip of her wine and considered that path for a moment. She actually loved her job. She didn’t make shit, but it was worth the long hours to see those kids be nurtured and educated. She cared for them, and that made it worth the lack of zeros in her bank account.

“Javi, huh? He sounds posh.” June said, not really thinking about Javi or Stella’s various other affairs.

“He is not. He’s new money, so we can be tacky together. Anyway, lunch is on him!” Stella told her, laughing. June cringed at that, thinking back to Frankie. She groaned. She should have just taken the damn tomatoes. She didn’t even want them now, the thought of eating them just made her shrivel in on herself.

While Stella took care of the bill, June wondered if she shouldn’t just go back to the stall. Introduce herself and apologize, she thought. It’s the only thing to do in this situation. She set to getting her nerve up to do it, but at the end of lunch she just hugged Stella and went home.

--

Frankie slid into the booth next to Benny and across from Santiago and Will. When he had gotten around to answering the text chain the guys had decided to go out for a drink, and Frankie had wanted a drink after his day.

“Fish, Liv wants to stay the night.” Will announced, watching Frankie take a thoughtful sip.

“If Becka doesn’t mind, neither do I.” He shrugged, and Will nodded. Becka had been Frankie’s saviour. She was Will’s wife, but her and her little girl had taken up with Liv so easily. Being a single dad was not easy, but Becka had never let him feel alone. Hell, she handled everything for him. She was too good to him.

“Course not. She loves Liv. Not as much as Ashley, but I think she loves having another kid to spoil. Bad news for me, probably.” Will laughed out, and the rest joined in. No one had expected Will to get married so quickly, and none of the guys had been prepared for his girl to already have a kid in tow. Will had taken to Ashley quickly though, and had settled into the family role easily. Frankie noted Will’s painted nails and smiled. He was lucky to have such a great group of brothers.

“Enough kid talk, I have a fight coming up. You coming?” Benny asked, nudging Frankie’s arm. Frankie took his cap off and ran his hand through his hair.

“Who’re you up against?” Will asked before Frankie could answer. Honestly, he was searching for an excuse. Not that he didn’t want to support Benny, but the fights were always too loud, too tempting.

“Jones. It’s a special rematch. That’s why I need my boys there! Pam!” Benny hollered after the waitress and held up four fingers. Shots, Frankie thought sarcastically, just what they needed.

“Ben, of course, we’ll all be there. I’m bringing a plus one, though.” Santi announced, demanding the attention of the table.

“Who’s the victim this time?” Frankie asked, sipping his beer. Santi shot him a dirty look and clapped his hands together.

“Her name is…” He paused, making sure he had everyone’s attention. “Sam.” Frankie rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

“What does Sam do?” Will asked, not minding the dramatics.

“Sam is a school teacher.” Frankie’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.

“Surely, not.” Benny snorted. Pam sat the shots down, and everyone grabbed one.

“To Santi, maybe learning something!” Will toasted, and they threw back. Frankie relaxed as the tequila warmed his throat. This was normal, and meeting with the guys did his body some good. He wouldn’t even think about the woman from earlier. He grimaced as he thought about it. His problem, he was realizing, was that he was too sober. He caught Pam’s eye and nodded at her. They came to this bar enough that they knew the waitstaff by name, and the waitstaff knew their orders. Frankie preferred it that way, less chance of an awkward encounter.

“Sam is a local gal, but she has not yet heard of me.” Santi told the group, clutching his drink. He had a bit of a reputation of being a lady killer. It was rare he found someone who didn’t recognize his name.

“I guess teachers aren’t normally in the same crowd as strippers.” Benny joked, and grabbed his shot when Pam sat them down. “Damn Fish, long day?” They knocked them back, and Frankie just nodded.

“There was this lady at the stall today. Total knockout, and I just flubbed it hard. It was early, y’know?” They all laughed at him and he couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face.

“She’ll be back. I mean, look at yourself, Fish. You’ve got it back together.” Will offered. Frankie smiled at him and sipped his beer again. They shifted to riling Benny up about his on and off again girl, so Frankie just relaxed. It wasn’t uncommon for him to space out, and the guys could fill any silence. He surveyed the bar, taking in the patrons and just assessing the crowd. Saturday nights could go two ways: chill or not chill. It was an old habit to scan for danger, but it suited Frankie. He could sip his beer and watch for thugs or idiots or drunks. The waitstaff never complained when they stepped in. He supposed they didn’t mind four ex-service guarding them a few times a month. Sometimes they drank for free, but Frankie had no issues with bloodying his knuckles up every now and again.

He was smirking, thinking about their last fight, when he saw her. He had to do a double-take to make sure his eyes weren’t fooling him. He couldn’t believe it. There she was. She’d changed. Opting for small jeans shorts and a tight t-shirt over the yoga shorts she’d had on before. He gulped loudly, and shifted in the booth. Her hair was down, curled, and she looked amazing. He didn’t think she could look any better. He wanted to go to her. Instead he leaned on the table and cleared his throat.

“She’s here.” He told the guys dumbly, cutting off something that Benny was saying.

“Who is?” Santi asked, looking around, probably for Frankie’s ex. They all hated her, but she wouldn’t come here.

“The girl from earlier. The knockout.” Frankie told them, trying to keep his voice low. He nodded in her direction, surprised that she hadn’t noticed him. It wasn’t a large bar. Maybe she didn’t recognize him, he thought. He flushed even as he thought it. He hoped she would remember him. Santi whistled low as he faced Frankie.

“She’s good.” He murmured, and took a sip. Will and Benny agreed.

“Buy her a drink, Fish.” Benny suggested, clapping Frankie on the back. He grimaced as the loud noise rose above the din of the bar. As if on cue, she looked up and saw him. He was staring at her, and there she was, looking at him. He looked away, chickening out. He wouldn’t say anything. She had stormed off earlier, hadn’t she? She should apologize to him, he thought, getting his hackles up.

--

June couldn’t believe it. She had agreed to go out with the new girl from work, came to a bar she had never been to, and here he was. He looked great, she admitted to herself. He had thrown a plaid button up over his shirt, and it suited him. Farmer Frankie, she mused, and then turned to Samantha.

“Do you come here a lot?” Samantha looked up from her hard seltzer and shook her head.

“I came with this guy I’m kind of seeing. Everyone knew him here, and I liked the scene. It’s kind of dive-y.” June nodded, and took a drink of her rum and coke.

“Are you settling in, you know at school?” June asked, deciding to ignore the farmer. If he wanted to say something, she wouldn’t stop him, but she had no intentions of approaching him.

“Oh yeah, you know Keira? She’s been super helpful.” June nodded in agreement, Keira was the secretary but she ran the place.

“Like your kids? You’re what 5th?” Samantha nodded.

“I have no idea how you handle those 6 year olds, they’re too wild for me.” June laughed.

“I couldn’t handle the ball jokes, honestly. Tweens are the worst.” They both laughed, and sipped their drinks. June felt eyes on her, but tried to ignore them. She repeated to herself: if he wanted to talk, he’d come over. She made it her mantra. She focused on Samantha, willing the handsome man to go away.

“Tell me about this guy you’re seeing! I haven’t been on a date in so long.” June laughed, not wanting to admit how long it had really been.

“He’s so sexy, June. Like, literally so hot. It’s mostly sex though. We’ve been out dancing once, drinking a couple times, but it’s mostly just hook ups. I’m thinking about breaking it off, honestly. Like, the sex is good, great even, but how long is that sustainable, y’know? Like, I want to nurture a relationship at some point.” June nodded, trying to push her jealousy aside enough to be empathetic. She would take some great sex, even if it meant not having a relationship.

She peeked back at the Farmer, who flitted his eyes away as soon as she did, and knew that wasn’t true. She was long overdue for a meaningless hookup, but she wanted something real, whatever the hell that meant.

“Have you tried just telling him? I mean, maybe he doesn’t know you want something more. Men are kind of oblivious to that sort of stuff.” June added. Samantha took a sip, thoughtfully.

“That’s a good idea, Junie. Are you seeing anyone?” June laughed, a little too loudly.

“Just my therapist.” Samantha swatted her shoulder playfully. “No, I, uhm, I got out of a bad relationship last year and I’ve been so nervous to get back in the game.”

“Oh my gosh, my guy has tons of friends! Maybe I can set you up?” June thought for a minute.

“Maybe, I guess I could be open to it.”

“They’re all like ex-Army or something. I’ll text him.” June watched Samantha tug her phone out, and tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. He will come to you, she reminded herself. “Ooh, two single friends! Fish or Benny? Oh nevermind, just Fish. Apparently, Benny has drama. Bullet dodged there, huh?” June snorted, bullet dodged indeed. Fish? What a weird nickname.

“What the hell, set it up.” June told her, throwing back the rest of her drink and indicating another to the bartender.

“Yay! I’m so happy you came! Tuesday night?” June nodded.

“Have him come to the Italian place on 5th street at 7pm. I have parent-teacher conferences, but that should be late enough.” June explained, sipping deeply. Her hands were shaking, she hadn’t been on a proper date in years. Her ex hadn’t been one for dates, so she was out of practice. She raised her eyes to meet Frankie’s, knowing he’d look away immediately. He didn’t, but the look on his face was confusing. Almost angry, so she looked behind her and saw a guy approaching.

“Hey, I’m Kyle.” He introduced himself and sat down on the stool next to her. She looked at him bewildered.

“June.” She said shortly, taking another sip.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Kyle asked.

“Have one.”

“The next one?”

“I think I’m good. There are a lot of empty stools, why don’t you find a new one.” She murmured lowly, and turned her back to him. Samantha giggled.

“I think I know why you don’t get dates!” June rolled her eyes.

“It’s pretty lame, okay. To come up and just sit down. I’m already a little drunk too, it’s just not very cool, Kyle.” June chided, raising her voice so he’d hear. She sighed when he left, and looked back at the booth where Frankie was. The booth was empty, now, she realized sadly. She wished he had approached her. She wouldn’t have turned him away. Why was he so cold?

--

By the time she made it back to her door, June was pissed. She stumbled in her hallway and pulled her shoes off. They hadn’t been at the bar that long, but the last round of shots had been the death blow for her. Samantha had bid her farewell, saying her ride was there. So, June had ordered an Uber, clutching her keys like a weapon, hoping Kyle didn’t want revenge or something. She pretended to be sober in the Uber, and had chatted easily with the driver on the drive to her house.

Once inside though, June groaned in frustration. She couldn’t believe the stupid luck. It was too much, seeing him there. It was too bizarre, too much of a coincidence. She had stormed upstairs and turned the shower on.

A habit she had started in college, when she was overwhelmed, a hot shower was just the thing she needed. She stripped down and stepped in before the water had warmed up completely, but she didn’t really notice. The shower was just a vessel; June just needed space to decompress. So, she thought about the tanned skinned farmer, and how cold he had seemed. He hadn’t seemed interested, but she had felt his eyes on her all night. She had seen his anger at another guy approaching her. She had felt how angry he was from across the room.

She lathered her body up, and almost absent-mindedly rubbed small circles around her budding nipples. She worked down, and let the soap wash off. She didn’t normally masturbate, but his brooding face and broad shoulders wouldn’t leave her mind. So, she slipped a finger inside herself with one hand, and worked her clit with the other. It was lazy at first, but then she remembered their encounter from the morning and she started going harder, getting worked up. She came hard, whimpering to herself in the steamy shelter of her bathroom. The hot water pelted her skin, and she rested her forehead against the cool, tiled wall.

Whoever this Fish was, she was going to fuck him. She had to get this farmer out of her mind.

--

Frankie was seeing red as he stormed up to his door. Of course, he had no reason to be pissed. He knew he had no reason to be pissed, but here he was, stomping to his kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He had wanted to break that guy’s legs for even coming near her. He scoffed at himself, her. He didn’t even know her name and he was ready to pummel someone for looking. Someone was looking, someone would always be looking. She was so gorgeous. He folded over his counter and rested his forehead against his hands. Nothing could help it now. Santi’s girl had messaged him, and the night was over. What was he supposed to do? Watch his dream girl get hit on by some idiot? March up and apologize for being such a giant dickhead? He suspected he was onto something, but he was just buzzed enough to ignore it.

He went to the couch, and threw a few stuffed animals on the floor. He had already kicked off his shoes, but he let his jeans fall to the floor now. The perks of Liv having a sleepover, he chuckled to himself before laying out on the couch. He adjusted himself, his hard dick straining against his underwear.

He planned to ignore that too. But, then he was thinking about her. Her hair down her back, deep and dark. Her smooth skin, inviting and leading his eyes to her ass. He pulled himself free and started slowly rubbing. He thumbed over the tip, and groaned at the precum pooling there. He wanted her so bad. He started thinking about how soft she would be, what she would look like on her knees doing this to him, and he fucked up harder into his fist. He closed his eyes when he felt the snap, and grunted through the orgasm. He wiped his hand down his shirt, and groaned.

He had to get her out of his head.

Part Two: Something More

[likeahorribledream]

The One That Got Away

Chapter 3: One True Love

Summary: Bucky and Charlie bond over their mutual love for litterature, opening a little bit more of themselves to the other.

Word Count: 5.7k

TW: Fluff, so much fluff.

Summary | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Bucky and Charlie could have stayed on the phone for hours without getting bored or tired but Charlie’s mom needed to use the phone and made her hang-up after an hour of them talking.

Bucky seemed better than when she left him that afternoon but she was still worried about him. She wondered if he had told Steve yet, or if he was waiting until it was official. He clearly wasn’t taking the news very well and Steve would only be excited, hoping he would get drafted too when the moment came.

Charlie spent the rest of her night thinking about Bucky and what she could do to help him. From what the soldiers had said, they still had two months before they would start drafting men and she was determined to make the most of it.

She woke up the next day feeling a little bit anxious and nervous for her friend. Charlie had a habit of taking on other people’s problems and making them her own. Friends and family had told her on multiple occasions to be careful, that it wasn’t her responsibility to help the whole world but that was who Charlie was, at least she was trying to do something to help.

It was Thursday, and on Thursdays Charlie would be in the back office working on updating all the patients’ files that hadn’t been updated throughout the week for a lack of time. She was thankful for that, her thoughts being anywhere but at work. She had asked the woman who took her place at the front desk to let her know if Steve came in at some point during the day.

She spent the whole morning listening to music on the radio while slowly working her way through the files that had piled up during the week. Most people hated updating the files but Charlie loved it. It allowed her to catch up on the patients, sometimes wondering what had happened to them and it was a lot more relaxing than being with the patients. As much as she loved being with them, she needed some time alone from time to time. A small break from all the action.

When noon came around, Charlie had just finished updating a file and thought it was the perfect time for a break. She took the time to clean up her desk, knowing that if she didn’t do it now she would put it off until the end of the day and then curse herself for it. After making sure that everything that was done was put away, she walked out of the small office and closed the door behind her, locking it.

She went to the break room to get her lunch, walking in she saw that most nurses and doctors were sitting down at the large table and there weren’t any seat left for her. She grabbed her brown paper bag containing her lunch and decided to go eat outside, it was a nice sunny day might as well enjoy it, she thought.

When she walked outside, it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to how bright the sun was shining. The office where she had been all morning didn’t have any windows and she had gotten used to the darkness. After blinking a few times to get her eyes into focus, she noticed a familiar face waiting for her in front of the clinic.

Bucky.

She panicked. Was something wrong? Did she forget that they had made plans?

Bucky, seeing her confusion, smiled and approached her.

‘’I hope you don’t mind. I thought we could eat together again today.’’ He smiled, shyly.

Charlie felt relief wash over her and allowed herself to smile back.

‘’I would love to.’’ She grinned.

She took a moment to look him over. He looked a lot better than he did yesterday, his eyes had that spark she loved so much again.

‘’D’you want to go back to the diner?’’ He asked, no specific plans in mind.

Charlie looked at the diner across the street and then looked down to the sad little paper bag she was holding, a soggy sandwich waiting for her at the bottom of it.

‘’Sounds a lot better than the lunch I was about to have. Just give me a minute, I’ll go put it back.’’ She raised her hand that was holding the bag and gave it a sad look.

Bucky laughed and nodded, letting her know he would be waiting right here.

Charlie made her way inside, all the way to the back to the break room and put her lunch back. She’ll just save it for tomorrow. She quickly made her way back outside, this time her eyes getting used to the light a lot quicker and she smiled at Bucky.

‘’Let’s go.’’ She said, walking towards Bucky.

She had almost reached the street to cross, no cars in sight when she felt a hand grab her wrist and slowly pull her back. She turned her head to look at the hand holding her and stepped back. She was confused as to why Bucky had held her back, it had been safe to cross the street.

‘’Is everything ok?’’ She looked at him, concerned. He was frowning and looked nervous.

He was biting his lower lip, just like Charlie did when she was nervous. He pulled gently on her arm, bringing her closer to him while walking towards her, closing the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged tightly, just like he had done yesterday.

It only took a second before Charlie realized what was happening, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him right back. Bucky was taller than her and she loved the height difference when they hugged.

She let her head rest on his chest, waiting until he let go before stepping back and looking at him.

‘’Feeling better?’’ A small smile forming on her lips, seeing the red flush his cheeks.

Bucky hadn’t planned on hugging her. Being close to her reminded him of the hug they had shared yesterday before she had to go back to work and how calming it had been. He wanted, and needed, to feel the calm again. Without even thinking about it he had grabbed her and before he knew it she was snuggled tightly in his arms.

He felt a lot more calm but he was also embarrassed by what he had just done. He wasn’t really the hugging type, especially not with people he barely knew but there was something about Charlie that made him want to be vulnerable. Like he could bare his soul to her and she would heal every little piece that needed healing.

He looked at her for a few seconds, still not over what he had just done and blushed. She looked at him with such warmth and concern that his embarrassment quickly dissipated.

‘’A lot better.’’

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and together, they crossed the street to their new favourite spot.

The next day, exactly at noon, Bucky was waiting for her again. This time he had brought his own little paper bag and together they sad on the grass under a tree to hide in the shade.

They spent the entire lunch time talking, sharing some of their lunch with the other.

After the whole Wednesday incident, they had gotten closer. The only person he trusted when he felt vulnerable was Steve and now Charlie had seen him in a very vulnerable moment and the way she reacted to it just made him trust her more.

Charlie quickly learned that once Bucky liked you, he really liked to touch. He was hugging her a lot more often, when they were walking he had one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, whenever she had to walk in front of him he often had his hand on the small of her back, letting her know he was still there.

At first, it made her blush a lot. She wasn’t used to that kind of attention from men. She quickly learned to love it, looking forward to his hugs. She found herself leaning into him automatically when they were walking, almost he sync with the movement of his arm being wrapped around her.

It was crazy to think that in as little as 48 hours they had gotten so close. It was just so easy for them to be comfortable with one another.

They had finished their lunch, Charlie was picking up their leftovers to throw them in the garbage can out front. She walked back to Bucky and sat next to him.

‘’You should come over tonight.’’ She said, turning her heard to look at him. ‘’I want to show you my book collection.’’

Bucky nodded.

‘’Books, uh? Count me in.’’ He grinned. ‘’What time is your shift over? Should I just meet you back here and then we can walk together?’’

‘’That’s perfect. I’m usually done around 4. If I’m not outside you can come in, it shouldn’t go past that. That’s when the night shift starts.’’

Bucky stood up, holding out both his hands in front of her. She put her hands in his and let him help her get up. She used her hands to straighten up her dress, sitting on the grass with it hadn’t been a really good idea.

‘’I’ll be here at 4, then.’’

It was time for her to go back to work, Bucky walked to her and hugged her, once again. He was still a little bit hesitant, so far it hadn’t looked like it was bothering her but he promised himself that if there was any sign from her that he was making her uncomfortable, he would stop immediately. Little did he know that he didn’t have to worry, Charlie loved his hugs as much as he loved hers.

‘’I’ll see you later, James.’’

‘’See you later, Lily.’’ He watched her walk back inside and made his way home.

After her lunch break, Charlie made her way to the back office and finished the work she had started the day before. It was a slow day and there were enough girls to cover the front, nurse Jones suggesting to Charlie that she could continue updating the files if she wanted. An offer that she gladly accepted, needing the calm. Plus it was Friday and she loved Fridays because it meant that she would leave work earlier than the rest of the week. It was shaping up to be a good day.

The last 3 hours of her shift went by painfully slow. She kept looking at the clock on the wall in front of her, every time she thought 10 minutes had gone by she would look up to realize that it had barely been 2 minutes since the last time she looked. She was excited to show Bucky all of her books and spend time with him which made working feel like a nuisance.

Looking up only to notice it had barely been 5 minutes since the last time she checked, she let a groan escaped her lips and she fell back into her chair. She covered her face with both her hands and sighed. She usually didn’t mind being at work, but today was not the case. She got up and walked over to the wall, bringing her chair with her. She climbed on it and grabbed the clock that had been driving her crazy. Stepping back, she placed the clocked face down on the ground and walked to her desk with her chair, moving it to its original place and sitting down.

‘’Okay Charlie. You need to focus now.’’ She told herself, out lout, as if it would help.

It strangely did. The rest of the afternoon went by a lot faster. The first few minutes after taking down the clock, she had the urge to walk over to it and look at the time but fought against it and finally won. She focused on her work, never bothering to look up again, until she heard a small knock on her door. Taking her attention away from her files and to the door, she told them to come in.

She was surprised to see the man in charge of the night shift looking back at her once the door had opened.

‘’Miss Mathews, your shift ended 10 minutes ago. What are you still doing here?’’ He looked amused.

Charlie jumped up from her chair, panicked.

‘’Is it really 4:10 already?’’

The man only nodded as an answer and couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing Charlie trying to rush and clean up the desk. Being called by one of the night nurses, he wished her a good weekend and left.

Charlie had never cleared up her desk as quickly as she did that afternoon. She grabbed her bag and her jacket and rushed to the front of the clinic, hoping Bucky would be late and that she hadn’t made him wait. Unfortunately for her, Bucky had been on time. Even a little bit early. He patiently waited for her, sitting on a chair in the waiting area and reading whatever book they had left out on the small table for patients while they waited.

When she noticed him sitting patiently, engrossed in what he was reading, she softly cursed under her breath and rushed to him.

‘’James! I’m so sorry, I lost track of time. Which is ironic because after coming back from our lunch I thought the afternoon would never end, I even took down the clock from the wall because I felt like it kept nagging me on how slowly time passed and then suddenly it was 10 past 4 and I am late I am so, so, sorry.’’ She rambled on, not even taking a second to breathe in between sentences.

Bucky looked up at her and put down the book he had been holding. He stood up, listening to Charlie, a small smile on his lips. He chuckled and grabbed her by the shoulders to break her from her trance.

‘’Charlie..’’ He tried to cut her off, but she kept going. ‘’Lily!!!’’ He said a little bit louder.

Her eyes found his quickly at her nickname, finally making her stop apologizing. When she finally looked at him he smiled at her.

‘’Hi.’’ He said. She smiled at him. ‘’It’s fine, don’t worry about it. It’s Friday, we have all the time in the world.’’

She felt a wave of embarrassment rushing through her, finally realizing at how insane she must have sounded. She blushed and looked down.

‘’Sorry.’’ She whispered.

Bucky started laughing. ‘’Please, stop apologizing, it’s okay.’’

Still holding her by the shoulders, he slowly pulled her towards him and hugged her. He felt her relax against him and then felt her arms wrapping around him, hugging him back. Always waiting for Bucky to be the first to let go, she stepped back when she felt him loosen his hold on her.

‘’Let’s go.’’ She turned around to walk out.

She waved goodbye to her coworkers, wishing them a great weekend and smiling at everyone. Bucky walked in front of her to open the door and held it open for her, following behind once she was outside. He wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and they started making their way to her house. They walked in a comfortable silence, enjoying the sun and watching kids running around the streets, coming back from school.

With her house in sight, Bucky turned his head towards Charlie and looked down at her.

‘’Won’t your parents mind me coming over?’’ His question made Charlie look up at him.

She shrugged. ‘’They aren’t going to be home for a few more hours.’’

Getting closer to her front door, Charlie started going through her purse, looking for her keys. After a few seconds of fumbling around, she finally felt them under her fingers and grabbed them, bringing them to the locks. Opening the door she walked inside, stepping aside to let Bucky walk in and then closed the door behind him.

Bucky had seen her house, at least the outside, on multiple occasions when he walked her home with Steve. It was a gorgeous house, clearly her parents had money and lots of it. But now, being inside, he felt so out of place.

His family wasn’t what you would call poor but they were far from being rich. They would have enough money for necessities but not a cent left for ‘’extras’’ as his mom called luxuries. Bucky found a few odd jobs, working here and there to make money. He gave most of his paychecks to his mom, keeping just a little bit aside for when he wanted to go out or buy presents for his family members.

Standing in Charlie’s house, Bucky felt like he didn’t belong in here. The house was even more beautiful inside and it looked even bigger, somehow, than when he was standing outside. He looked around, looking almost nervous. As if someone would know he wasn’t supposed to be there and come kick him out.

Charlie took off her shoes, Bucky doing the same thing shortly after.

‘’Welcome to my home.’’ She said with a warm smile.

He finally turned his attention back to her, her smile making him feel better. There was something about her that made him feel... special. The way she would look at him, smile at him or cheer him on whenever he was doing something he didn’t think he could. Charlie made him feel like he was worthy of anything, even a house like this. Clearly, she had the means to be looking down on him and his entire family. Like every other rich families did with people like him, but she never did. She was kind to everybody, never looking down on anyone. She always made everybody feel like they were important and worthy of her time. He thought she had one of the most beautiful hearts he had seen, even better than Steve’s and he didn’t think such a thing was possible.

Charlie gave Bucky a quick tour, walking around, pointing at rooms. After finishing their ‘’tour’’, Charlie guided them upstairs to her room. When she opened the door to let him in, Bucky was surprised to see what was in front of him.

Her room was big, huge compared to his that he had to share with one of his siblings, and it was extremely neat. Her bed was made, not a single wrinkle could be seen on her covers. An entire wall was covered in book shelves, but clearly they weren’t enough because there were small piles of books on the floor and even those piles were neatly stacked near the shelves.

‘’I knew you liked to read but this...’’ He waved his hand around, gesturing towards her book collection ‘’This is insane.’’ Charlie laughed.

‘’I know, I know. It’s a problem’’ She laughed once more. ‘’I just...’’ She paused, thinking for a few seconds and blushed. ‘’I just love to escape reality sometimes.’’

He nodded, agreeing with her. He must admit, if he had the kind of money her parents did, his room would probably look very similar to hers. He looked around a little, curious. He walked over to her desk, the one she used to get ready every morning. Her hairbrush, hair ties, hair pins were all placed neatly in front of the mirror along with her makeup. What surprised him was the amount of jewellery she owned, especially necklaces. There must have been 10 different ones placed on small hooks, and yet ever since he had met her he always saw her with the same one.

He turned towards her, pointing at all the necklaces and raising an eyebrow, curiously.

‘’You have all these necklaces, but you always wear the same one.’’ He then pointed at the necklace she was wearing. She nodded and he let his hand fall back next to his body. ‘’Why?’’ He asked.

Charlie chewed on her bottom lip and her hand reached up to touch her necklace, she looked nervous.

‘’If I tell you, promise you won’t laugh at me.’’ She says while sitting down on the edge of her bed.

‘’I would never laugh at you. I promise.’’ He was even more curious.

He grabbed the chair from her desk and brought it closer to her bed, sitting in front of her.

‘’My grandmother gave me this necklace when I was 10 years old.’’ She started.

Her necklace was made of silver, a thin chain was holding a small heart locket. The locket lying between both her collarbones. She raised a hand to it and smiled.

‘’She had one very similar that I had always loved, ever since I was a little girl. She said that my grandfather gave it to her when they started dating. I think it was on their second date. He said that the moment he had laid eyes on her he knew she was going to be his wife. When he gave it to her, he opened the locket and inside one of the halves was a picture of him and the other half was empty. He told her that she was meant to put her picture on the other side and this way they would always be together, near her heart, even when they weren’t.’’

‘’They were so in love.’’ She continued, not really looking at Bucky. Just remembering the moment her grandmother had given her the necklace, a sad smile formed on her lips. Charlie opened her own locket.

One half was empty and the other one had a picture of herself.

‘’She gave this one to me, saying that when I meet the man I was going to marry, the love of my life, I’ll be able to put his picture in it with mine, that way he’ll always be close to my heart like the love of her life was close to hers.’’ She took a small pause, snapping the heart shut. ‘’My grandfather died the next year and she followed soon after. Broken heart syndrome the doctor told us. She literally couldn’t live without him.’’

She was smiling but a few tears fell down her cheeks. It had been almost 15 years but she still missed them every single day. Bucky quickly reached up and wiped away her tears.

‘’My parents got married because it was a good business move for both their families. They get along fine but they aren’t in love. Not the way my grandparents were and I don’t want that. I want to marry someone because we love each other and can’t live without one another, not because it’s the ‘’right’’ thing to do. I wear the necklace every day to remind myself, but mostly remind my parents, that I won’t settle for less. They have been pushing me for years to marry any guy that can ‘’provide’’ for me so I can be a dutiful housewife.’’

Bucky chuckled, knowing full well that wasn’t going to happen. She was too independent and she loved her job too much to give it all up for some guy and spend all her days at home, by herself, cleaning and cooking.

‘’Like that’s ever gonna happen.’’ Charlie snorted, as if she could read his mind.

‘’That’s a beautiful story.’’ He smiled at her. ‘’Whoever ends up in the other half is going to be a very lucky man, and he better treat you right because it’ll be my pleasure to hurt him if he doesn’t.’’

She laughed at the threat.

‘’What? It’s true.’’

‘’Oh, I know. That’s why I laughed. Because I know you will be more than happy to remind him about that.’’

‘’Damn right.’’ Bucky smiled and winked.

Charlie shook her head, rolling her eyes as if she was annoyed but the big smile on her face proved differently.

They looked at each other, smiling for what felt like hours but in reality was just a minute. Both subconsciously hoping that Bucky would be her other half but never willingly admitting it to themselves.

They finally broke eye contact and Bucky got up, walking over to her book shelves. He looked the books over, glancing at them. He turned around to look at Charlie who had gotten up short after and was now standing behind him, raising an eyebrow and smirking at her.

‘’Are they in alphabetical order?’’ He teased.

Charlie nodded and chewed on her bottom lip a few seconds before adding ‘’And sorted by genre.’’

‘’Amazing.’’ Bucky said, turning back to the books and starting at the far left to make his way through the alphabets and genres.

After a few minute he gasped.

‘’Is that a first edition of The Hobbit?’’ He looked at her with wild eyes.

‘’Yes!’’ She said, excitedly.

‘’It’s such a good book, isn’t it? I used to have a first edition copy, too. I brought it with me everywhere I went and I ended up losing it.’’ He pouted at the memory of the heartbreak he felt when he realized he had lost one of his favourite books.

Charlie mimicked his pout, sympathizing with him. ‘’I’m sorry James.’’

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder in her hand, trying to comfort him.

‘’It’s okay.’’ Bucky said dramatically ‘’I’ve grieved. I still miss it, but I try to not think about it. It hurts too much, you know?’’ Wiping a tear that isn’t there.

‘’I understand.’’ She nodded, being just as dramatic as he was being.

They looked at each other, completely serious before starting to laugh like they had just told the most hilarious joke of all times.

‘’Dork.’’ She said, sticking out her tongue at him once they had calmed down.

‘’Takes one to know one, sweetheart.’’ He smirked and looked at the books again, missing the way Charlie blushed at the new nickname.

‘’You’re welcome to borrow whichever ones you like.’’ Noticing how Bucky was eyeing some of them. ‘’I haven’t read them all yet, but I really don’t mind if you want to bring some home with you. As long as you don’t keep them from me forever.’’ She laughed.

He smiled and pointed at a book. ‘’Could I borrow this one? I’ve been wanting to read it forever but never found it anywhere.’’

‘’I know! The reviews were so good, everyone jumped on it. I went to every book store I could think of to find it. There were only a few copies left and I never saw it for sell again. I haven’t read it yet, it was the next one on my list but you can definitely borrow it. I’ll just read it after you bring it back.’’ She smiled, not even hesitating to let him be the one to read it first.

He felt bad to be taking it from her, even if it was just for a couple of weeks. He shook his head, a shy smile on his face.

‘’No, no. It’s okay. You should be the one to read it first. I’ll look for something else.’’

‘’Nonsense. Take it. I have plenty more to keep me busy.’’

He almost melted right where he stood. The way she was looking at him, as if just the thought of making him happy by borrowing the book was more than enough to make her happy made his heart flutter. Hesitating for a few seconds, he grabbed the book in question and turned around to completely face her.

‘’Actually, I have a better idea.’’

She looked at him surprised and curious, following him with her eyes. He walked over to her bed and sat down, his back against her headboard, rearranging all her pillows and decorative cushions in a way that almost made it look like he had just made himself a cocoon made out of her pillows.

‘’What are you doing?’’ She laughed.

He grinned at her and patted the spot next to him.

‘’Come over here. We’ll read it together.’’

Charlie swore that in that moment her heart skipped a few beats and she tried to not think about what that meant. Without hesitating she made her way to her bed and sat down next to Bucky.

‘’How are we doing this?’’ She asked.

‘’Maybe I can read it to you? That way we’ll be following at the same time.’’

Again, her heart skipped a few more beats and with how close they were sitting and she sincerely hoped Bucky hadn’t noticed. Not trusting her voice in this moment, she simply nodded.

Bucky couldn’t have noticed, he was too busy focusing on the way his heartbeat had sped up when she agreed to sit next to him and let him read to her. He acted before thinking, mad at himself for doing so. Something he found himself doing a lot when he was around Charlie. He didn’t know what took over him but the idea popped into his mind and before he could stop himself, it was too late and he was already on her bed. He couldn’t understand why he was acting this way with her, he just hoped she wouldn’t think he was being too weird and that it wouldn’t make her want to stop hanging out with him. He feared that some day he’d cross the line between friendly and cute to clingy and annoying, scaring her away in the process.

He reached his arm around her, bringing her closer to him so he could hold the book for the both of them.

When she felt how close he was, she felt heat creep up on her cheeks and she was thankful that he was too busy getting comfortable to notice it.

Charlie sat down a little lower on her bed so that Bucky didn’t have to hold up the arm that was around her. Soon enough, he started reading to her and after a few pages Charlie thought that his voice was the best sound she had ever heard and that she would never get tired of hearing it.

By the end of chapter 2, Charlie had readjusted herself, feeling how Bucky’s body was already tiring from their position. She had gotten impossibly closer to him, the back of her head was now resting under his collarbone. His arm that had previously been around her shoulder was now around her middle, resting on her stomach. Her arm was resting on top his, playing with the hem of his sleeve.

Too engrossed in the story, and each other, neither Charlie or Bucky heard the front door open and close downstairs.

Her parents were home and were surprised to find a pair of shoes that clearly weren’t Charlie’s next to the front door. They stopped moving, listening to see if they could figure out where she was. The only sound in the house was coming from her room. A man’s voice. A voice they soon recognized to be Bucky’s. They listened for a few more minutes, trying to figure out what was being said and finally understanding that he was reading something to her.

They moved to the living room and slowly closed the door behind them, trying not to make a sound. Charlie’s mom looked panicked while her dad looked angry.

‘’That’s the boy she’s been spending all of her time with?’’ He hissed. ‘’I thought she was with the Rogers boy!’’

Her mom glared at her dad.

‘’Lower your voice before they hear you.’’ She hissed back. ‘’I thought it was the Rogers boy, this is news to me, too.’’

Charlie’s dad started pacing, shaking his head.

‘’This.’’ He waved in the general direction of Charlie’s room. ‘’Cannot happen. Steve Rogers wasn’t a threat but Barnes has a reputation. He can get any single girl he wants, not one of them being able to resist him. Every single person in this town knows how he is.’’ He was so angry, his skin looked almost purple.

Her mom wasn’t in a better shape.

It would have been easy to mistake their anger for concern, anyone who could have been listening in could have sympathized with her parents. They were concerned that their daughter could possibly get her heartbroken. Then, her dad spoke again.

‘’My daughter isn’t going to fall in love with some...’’ He trailed off, looking for the perfect word to describe Bucky. ‘’low-class bastard.’’ He added with disgust.

And there it was. Her parents weren’t concern with her well-being, they weren’t worried about her possibly getting hurt or having her heart broken. No. They were concerned that their daughter might be falling in love with a man they didn’t approve of. A man that couldn’t provide for her, that couldn’t bring anything to their family. Marriage had nothing to do with love, marriage was a business transaction. They needed to gain something out of it and love wasn’t something they were interested in.

They had noticed how their daughter seemed happier, chipper even. She was barely even home and she was always in a good mood. They thought it was because she had found a new friend in Steve but now they understood what it really was. James Buchanan Barnes was corrupting their daughter, ruining any chance for them to make her marry a man of their choice.

They stared at each other in silence, the faint sound of Bucky’s voice reaching the living room then the sound of laughter filled the house. Charlie’s laugh. It made her parents cringe.

‘’We need to put a stop to this.’’ Her mom whispered angrily.

‘’We are going to do everything we can, darling.’’ Her dad got even more angry when Charlie laughed again. ‘’There is no way in hell I’m letting Barnes anywhere near our daughter. I don’t give a damn about how she feels.’’

Her dad stopped for a minute, thinking.

‘’I’ll make it so that she won’t have a choice but to listen to what we want.’’ He smirked. ‘’It’s going to be us or him.’’

An ultimatum. Her family or her best friend. Either way, Charlie’s heart was about to be broken and her parents couldn’t wait to see it all happen.

[xfirepilot]

title: long story short

summary: alex wants to go on an adventure and takes michael with him (inspired heavily by that vlamburn piggyback photo - thanks guys! lol)

AO3 LINK

“Alex, do you think this is a good idea with your prosthetic?” Michael asked as he carried a big duffel over his shoulder, watching as Alex got out of the truck and closed the passenger side door.

Alex lifted his head to glare at his boyfriend, ignoring Michael’s worried eyes before his eyes softened and he ambled over to him. Taking in Michael’s curls and eyes full of love, Alex leaned forward and kissed him on the lips before pulling away and taking Michael’s face in his hands. 

“I’m fine, and I will be careful.” 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” Michael said, rolling his eyes, and Alex smirked, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“I know,” he stated matter of factly, and the laughter that came out of Michael made his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink. 

“Now, I have my crutch and the basket of food, and you have the duffel with the blankets and first aid kit in case I get a splinter,” Michael sent him a look at the comment, and he looked away to look at the surrounding area before he continued. “I think that’s everything we need. I heard from Greg that this area near the reservation has an incredible view. We just have to go up that hill,” he pointed to the landscape in front of them. 

“Alex, are you serious?”

Ignoring the look Michael was giving him, he started walking, mindful of his leg, slow enough for Michael to catch up with him. 

“Why couldn’t we just have a nice dinner at a restaurant for our anniversary?” Michael suggested, moving small rocks out of the way of Alex’s path with his mind.

“Because I want this to be an adventure. It’s a beautiful day, and I want to enjoy nature and this amazing view,” Michael snorted as he saw Alex looking at his ass.

Amazing view all right.

“I hope you’re right about this, Manes,” he muttered before grasping Alex’s hand, feeling the other man squeeze it as they walked up the path. 

“I really don’t want this day to end, so let’s take our time. It’s only 11 in the morning anyway; we have all day,” Alex suggested, letting his face break into a rare smile.

Michael looked over at his boyfriend, seeing the happy glow around him, and he brought him close to his side to kiss him on the head. “I love you.”

The declaration didn’t go unheard, as Alex looked over at him and went to say the words back.

“I love - OW!” Alex’s pained cry made Michael freeze, wondering what happened. Looking down, he noticed that Alex’s prosthetic was fine but noticed that Alex’s left foot was not.

Michael mentally cursed himself as he realized him focusing on Alex took him away from focusing on Alex’s path and noticed that Alex’s left foot was at an odd angle. He saw a surprisingly big rock in their path that Alex walked into. 

“Alex, please sit down and let me look at that,” Michael suggested looking at Alex who was biting his lip to keep from whimpering in pain. The other man could only nod in response, and Michael helped him over to a giant boulder that was just outside the path.

Michael carefully and slowly took Alex’s foot out of his hiking boot and grasped it gently. Alex let out a wounded noise, and Michael looked like he was trying to see how they could continue this hike that Alex was looking forward to while keeping Alex’s foot elevated.

“I have an idea.”

“You’re not going to levitate me, Michael,” Alex stated.

The curly-haired man just snorted before shaking his head.

“Piggyback ride?”

Alex looked up from his ankle swelling up, after watching as Michael carefully put wrapping around it from the first aid kit that he quickly brought over with his powers, and let out a smile.

“Are you sure?”

“I carried you when you were 17. I can do it again.” 

Alex looked on fondly, remembering when they were teenagers, and Alex tore a muscle in his leg in gym class. Michael was the only one in the class that would go near him after hearing him curse up a storm in the middle of the gym, and he suggested how he could help him to the nurse. Alex had laughed, not realizing how serious Michael was. When Michael just looked at him, Alex shrugged and let Michael bend down so he could get on his back.

Twelve years later, he looked at the same boy who turned into the man he loved and would do anything for him.

“Okay, but I still have to carry the basket somehow.” Alex knew that they had too many things and now fewer ways to carry them. This trip was turning into a disaster.

“I have an idea,” Michael replied, getting the gears turning in his head to get some type of plan to work.

About 10 minutes later, Alex was on his back trying to hold on while Michael held his duffel and the crutch in one hand and the basket in the other.

“You good?” Michael asked, feeling Alex’s soft breaths on his neck. 

Alex nodded before realizing Michael couldn’t see him. “Yeah, let’s go.”

--

“Isn’t this view incredible?” Alex asked as they reached the top of the hiking trail, where a flat area was set up perfectly for a picnic for anyone. Shocking to no one, Michael was barely breaking a sweat before he dropped everything but Alex on the ground. 

He unzipped the bag and let the blanket fly out of it, laying it on the ground using his powers. He gently let Alex down on it, mindful of his injury, and watched as Alex leaned forward to kiss him on the nose.

“Thank you,” Alex said, expressing his gratitude, before opening up the picnic basket. 

Michael watched as Alex grabbed the plates, plastic utensils, and the sandwiches before pulling out the milkshakes from the diner and the chocolate covered strawberries that Rosa had given him with a wink the day before. Michael moved the basket towards his duffel, which was a few feet away from the blanket to get it out of the way.

“I didn’t get to say what I wanted to earlier,” Alex cleared his throat, “before I injured myself like an idiot.”

Michael let a grin slowly appear on his face, “Oh yeah, what was that?”

“I love you. I wanted this trip to be something special. It could maybe be something that we do like every year for a day, just to get away from all the noise and people? Just us and nature. It’s all I need, really.” 

Michael looked at him with eyes shining bright before he grabbed Alex’s face with one hand. 

“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea. Just need to make sure you don’t get injured again.” Michael kissed him on the lips, and it became a much deeper kiss before Alex sneakingly grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry and promptly smashed it into his cheek. The airman broke into hysterical laughter at his actions, noting that Michael froze in his spot.

Michael didn’t know whether to look more affronted at the kiss ending or the chocolate now on his face before noticing Alex’s giggling, which caused him to break out into his own laugh. 

“You think you’re funny, do you?” Michael asked, letting his smile turn into a smirk as he grabbed his own strawberry and smashed it into Alex’s face. The chocolate dripped down Alex’s face, and he licked it as it fell to his lips.

“Tasty,” Alex replied, “I think you blinded me with that chocolate though, can you get me a napkin from the basket, oh lovely boyfriend?”

Michael snickered before turning to get the basket.

As he looked through the basket, he pulled out a pile of napkins and went to hand them to Alex. When he turned around, he came face to face with a ring box.

Alex was standing up on his one good prosthetic leg, trying to balance on it and not show any sign of pain, and looking down at him with a ring box that was now being opened.

Holy shit.

“Michael Guerin,” Alex started, looking at Michael with tears in his eyes before he continued. “I knew that when we met in high school and you stole my guitar and helped carry me to the nurse’s office that you’d be the person I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. You’ve stolen my heart and I don’t want it back. My heart is yours. You have helped carry me through all the pain with my dad...war...and all the baggage that came with being with me and helped me soar. I hope I have helped you along the way, but I don’t know if there’s anyone else who could ever make me feel this way, and I don’t ever want to. I want to spend the rest of my life with you…” Michael looked on speechless before Alex asked the big question. 

“Will you marry me?”

“Alex…” Alex looked on, biting his lip before Michael realized he really needed to answer. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you. A hundred times, I’ll marry you.” 

He let Alex put the ring on his finger before he slowly pulled Alex down to the blanket again so he wouldn’t have to stand in pain.

“I love you so much,” Michael grabbed Alex’s face and kissed him with an intense passion that almost had Alex falling backward. 

As they broke apart, they looked at each other with a hunger that was more appropriate for the bedroom than this outside setting. Alex looked at Michael, smiling, “I have a little something to commemorate this occasion. It’s in the side pocket of the duffle. I snuck them in there before we left.”

Michael looked on confused before he quickly grabbed the duffel, unzipped the pocket, and pulled out two baseball hats. Before he could get a good look at them, he gave Alex an even more puzzled look. 

Alex just smiled before pulling the hats out in full view.

“Just engaged,” Michael read in bedazzled art on the front and back of the hats.

“Isobel and Rosa helped put it together.”

“Did everyone know you were going to propose?” Michael asked, bewildered. 

“To be honest, they thought I was going to propose a year ago after you got taken by Jones, but I never thought it was the right time. I came up with this idea and let them know. Max, Isobel, and Sanders gave me their approval.”

Michael snorted, “Did Sanders scare you? I only care about his approval.”

“He told me even with one eye, he’d always be watching me to make sure I took care of you. Kind of creeped me out, in a sweet way.”

Michael let out a cackle. “The old man is harmless, don’t worry.”

“Now, we need to take a photo, and we need to get a good angle and I can’t stand. I promised Kyle a photo.”

“Kyle?” Michael raised an eyebrow, and Alex rolled his eyes.

“He wants to see proof that I am truly happy with you.”

“Fine, fine. We have to look real cute, though. Let me get you on my back again, and I’ll put the timer on the phone camera and put it on the tree over there. Its branches are at a good spot so that the phone won’t fall.”

Michael ran over to the tree and set it to take the photo in 20 seconds. After getting that all done, he ran back over to Alex, who was wearing his hat backwards, and quickly helped him onto his back. Alex placed Michael’s hat on his head, and Michael looked straight ahead smiling as Alex looked on laughing.

SNAP.

Alex got off Michael’s back and went back to sit on the blanket as Michael went to get the phone. He was looking at the photo and smiling before handing it over to Alex.

“Oh yeah, we are definitely the cutest.” 

“No, you’re the cutest,” Michael said, before pulling Alex into another kiss.

[terrainofheartfelt]

"It's you, it couldn't be awful"

A Playlist For Dair Appreciation Week, Day 7 - Fave Quotes & Lyrics

I haven’t the faintest idea how to make gifs (seriously I think all of you are witches) so I made this playlist, because there is nothing I love more than scrolling through my spotify library and just projecting all over it.

Track listings and links with opinions & lyrics under the cut, because this thing is long, because I have no restraint.

(Note: I intentionally left off all tswift bc if I didn’t, we’d be here all day)

Section 1: The Bops

Little of Your Love - HAIM

A bop that embodies the energy of the 4b arc, and an energy of “Oh for crying out loud, Humphrey”

You’re just another recovering heart / I wasn’t even gonna try / you wouldn’t even give the time

Stop runnin’ your mouth like that / ‘cause you know I’m gonna give it right back

Hate That You Know Me - Bleachers

It’s “You owe me ten / You owe me twenty!” & “I was hoping it would go away / I was humiliated” & basically all of While You Weren’t Sleeping, tbh

Some days I, I wish that I wasn't myself / No luck! / And I hate that you know me so well

I Like Me Better - Lauv

Heavily featured in all y’all’s gifsets—and rightfully so!!! It’s also like the perfect counter to the previous song.

To not know who I am but still know that I'm good long as you're here with me

Sweet Talk - Saint Motel

It’s about Blair roasting Dan for filth and him being completely charmed by it.

when you laugh / I forget that it's about me / But it's alright / Yeah, cause being your punchline / Still is something

No Reason to Run - Cold War Kids

In the perfect version of the show that lives in my head, this is the end credits song that plays as the two of them frolic in Rome.

I have evolved like a fish growing legs / Woke like a lightbulb clicked in my brain

You Make Lovin' Fun - Fleetwood Mac

The song for the couple that fucked in an elevator. Bless the work.

Sweet wonderful you / You make me happy with the things you do

No Matter What You Do - covered by Jakob Dylan and Regina Spektor

The energy is “I have a lot of affection for you but you are so annoying.” And this is the obligatory post-breakup s6 song.

No matter what in the world you do / Hey, I'll always be in love with you

Don't Take the Money - Bleachers

I see so much love for tswift on this website (valid) but I feel like the world as a whole sleeps on her collaborator Jack Antonoff bc he is brilliant and his act Bleachers has some of my favorite songs ever. Like this one. Antonoff has said before that the title phrase is more metaphorical than literal, like an idiom that means don’t take the easy way and give this up, because it’s genuine. Real “I want to have a sleepover with you” vibes.

Somebody broke me once / Love was a currency / A shimmering balance act / I think that I laughed at that

In the Morning - Nina Simone

It’s about the domesticity! And the “Our relationship is our world”! And the “we’re young and still have so much life to live so everything’s gonna be okay.” did i title a smut fic with lyrics from this song maybeso.gif

Please be patient with your life / It's only morning and you're still to live your day

This Must Be the Place - Talking Heads

This is a canon dair song bc @mysteriesofloves titled a fic after this song, them’s the rules. But for real, this is such a good one. The lyrics are intentionally scattered, a little bewildered, like “how did we get here? how did this happen? who found whom?” and finally “who cares? we found a home in each other.”

The less we say about it, the better / We'll make it up as we go along

Cleopatra in Brooklyn - Frank Turner

Chosen for the title obviously, but the lyrics capture the royal/5b arc pretty well, I think. The narrator carries this tongue-and-cheek comparison of the woman he’s singing to to Cleopatra through the whole song, comparing himself to Marc Antony, and ending with this really earnest kind of declaration. I’m obsessed with this songwriter he’s a genius please give him a listen.

These people are adjectives to your proper noun

I'll come find you when your fortunes fail you / I'll die with you when the gods desert you

Morphing into Section 2: Pure Vibes

Walking on a Dream - covered by Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness

The original is by Empire of the Sun (and omigod I just realized the coincidence), but I first heard it covered by McMahon, and he’s one of my favorite musicians of ever so I just love his rendition. And this song is sort of like...about finally deciding that the reality of love with someone is so much better than the idea of it.

Thought I’d never see / The love you found in me / Now it’s changing all the time

Wake Me - Bleachers

Jack coming for my life yet again. This song is so romantic but also so melancholy? Which is such a Daniel Humphrey Vibe.

And I'd rather be sad with you / Than anywhere away from you

All I Want - Joni Mitchell

I’m a white girl with a mother who grew up in the 60s, so I love Joni. And this song is so bubbly and joyful, but it’s also about a relationship between two imperfect people and wanting it to work anyway. Big “Despicable B” vibes!

All I really want our love to do / Is to bring out the best in me / And in you, too.

Dust to Dust - The Civil Wars

A friend in undergrad got me into the Civil Wars by showing me their live videos, and they have such incredible musical chemistry - like, the synchronicity of their ensemble is so good that it even comes through on their studio recordings and it makes these simple lyrics hit SO HARD.

You're just lonely / You've been lonely too long

NFWMB - Hozier

Ok, this had to be like the first ask I ever sent @bisexualdanhumphrey bc they wrote this fantastic meta post about Hozier and Derena but I said: “consider: NFWMB is a Dair song.” And they said, “You right.” I stand by it, and that’s why this song is on this list.

If I was born as a blackthorn tree / I'd wanna be felled by you / Held by you / Fuel the pyre of your enemies

Friday I'm in Love - covered by Phoebe Bridgers

This song - especially this cover - gives such Secret Friendship Arc vibes a la the end of 4x16...the inherent romance of eating pizza and falling asleep on the couch together

Always take a big bite / It’s such a gorgeous sight / To see you eat in the middle of the night

A Case of You - Joni Mitchell

Queen Joni again. Like! I am a lonely painter / I live in a box of paints. & The “You’re the star of Dan’s book” of it all in these lyrics!

I remember that time you told me / You said “Love is touching souls” / Surely you touched mine / ‘cause part of you pours out of me / In these lines from time to time.

Longing to Belong - Eddie Vedder

This is my thinly veiled attempt to tell more people about this: a song written and performed by Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder on ukulele, that is actually the softest love song in the history of western music.

All my time is spent here / Longing to belong to you

Bones - Josh Record

Okay, so, that Moment on the Couch at the end of 5x02? That’s this song.

And darling, when your feet are cold / Wait up, I'm coming home / And all of you I will hold / My love will clothe your bones

Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Rey

The song for when you reach the end of plausible deniability - One all consuming paralyzing thought & You need to go back to Brooklyn - and it scares the heck out of you.

There's things I wanna say to you, but I'll just let you live / Like if you hold me without hurting me / You'll be the first who ever did

You and Me - You + Me

You can be flawed enough but perfect for a person

Section 3: Songs for Dancing in the Kitchen with Your Lover at 1 am

Cigarettes and Coffee - Otis Redding

The “Dan and I have a real connection song.” It’s about the romance of commonplace things when they’re with the right person.

But it seemed so natural, darling / That you and I are here

I'd Be Waiting - Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats

It’s “I just want to spend the day with you” but in like, slow-dance, sexy harmonies format.

If you ever get lonely if you never did

Never My Love - covered by Jakob Dylan and Norah Jones

The “Words of Affirmation” love song they deserve, and an underrated love song from Laurel Canyon, imho

What makes you think love will end? / When you know that my whole life depends / On you

Dancing in the Dark - covered by Morgan James

Okay so these lyrics are such Dan lyrics to me, it’s charmingly self-aware and self-deprecating. And this cover by Morgan James turns this staple rock song into something ~sexy~

I'm dying for some action / I'm sick of sittin' round here trying to write this book / I need a love reaction / Come on, gimme just one look

Oh Me Oh My (I'm a Fool for You) - Aretha Franklin

They’re literally always making each other laugh! It’s about feeling safe enough to be uninhibited and unselfconscious in your joy.

To make you laugh / I would be a fool for you

I Fall in Love Too Easily - as done by Chet Baker

No one, but no one sounds as sweet or as smooth as Chet. I know it, you know it, Hozier knows it. And this song and it’s titular thesis is so Them, it’s such a central part of their respective characters, and one of the things that makes them compatible.

My heart should be well schooled / 'Cause I've been fooled in the past

For Me Formidable - Charles Aznavour

Due entirely to this fic (Part II of a god tier s4 au) This is the end credits song for their full feature length Nora Ephron romcom.

NSFW Honorable Mention: Dinner & Diatribes - Hozier

it’s the definitive “men get pegged” representation, iykyk

[yikesharringrove]

Hey! So think you could do something along the line of Steve finding Billy breaking down (writers choice as to why) somewhere random Billy thought he'd be alone for awhile and Billy is all teeth towards him before Steve coaxes him enough to let him in on why he's so upset. Maybe first kiss? Or just some angst and comfort

Billy was crashing through the woods, didn’t know where he was, where he was going, barely even knew which way was up at this point.

He was driving, trying to find somewhere, anywhere, had gotten out of his car to stumble through the woods.

He heard a branch snap, went still.

“Hello?”

“Jesus Christ.” Steve Harrington, of all people, stepped out from behind a tree, a wooden baseball bat dropping from where he had it, up and ready. It was that fucking nailed bat Max had threatened his dick with.

“What’s with the weapon?” Billy flexed his hands. A fight wouldn’t be so bad right now. He knows he can take Harrington.

“You’re not the worst thing I’ve seen in these woods.” His eyes looked hollow, empty.

“The fuck you goin’ on about?” Billy could feel his skin itching, his arms shaking.

“Nothing that concerns you, Hargrove.” They stared each other down.

And then Steve stepped closer, holding out the bat.

“You’re giving that to me?” Steve nodded. Billy took it, checking the grip.

“Hit that tree.” Billy looked at him.

“What?”

“You obviously want to hit something, and I’d love to not get the shit beaten outta me again, so, tree.” Billy looked at the bat.

“You gonna be pissed if I break it?”

“Nah. I got like, three of ‘em.” Billy adjusted his stance, holding the bat just like Neil had taught him.

He swung, tree bark splitting and flying into the air when he wrenched the nails out.

He hit it again. And again. And again.

He only figured out he was crying when his vision started swimming, didn’t sop hitting the tree.

He didn’t stop as the bat splintered, as the nails bent and chunks of tree flew off.

And then the bat cracked, split entirely in half.

Billy felt the same.

He threw the piece he was still holding to the ground, burying his face in his hands.

And then there was a warm hand on his shoulder.

Billy whipped around, pushing Steve back from him.

His eyes were wide, and he nearly stumbled over a root.

“What the fuck?”

“Stay the fuck away from me, Harrington!” His blood was pounding in his ears.

“You got two options. Option one: you pound my face in like I can tell you want to. You end up feeling shitty about yourself and I move on. Or, option two: You come eat dinner with me.”

Billy deflated.

“Wh-why?”

“’Cause I’m lonely and got more chicken than I could possibly eat. Besides, you’re in my backyard.” He turned, stepping expertly over a few branches, turning to Billy. “Coming?”

Billy’s not entirely sure why he followed.

The woods opened up to the back of a huge house, a fucking in ground pool right there in front of it.

Because of course Harrington had a giant house with a heated pool.

He led Billy inside the sliding glass door, into the immaculate living room, through to the surgically clean kitchen.

“You live in a model home or some shit?” Steve gave him a tight smile.

“Pretty much.” there was a bucket of KFC on the counter. Steve got two plates from the cabinet, a couple forks, the bucket of chicken. He gestured for Billy to grab the back of sides and Billy stole a few cloth napkins from the neat pile.

Steve led him downstairs to a cozy looking rec room, plopping himself in front of the couch.

“Your parents home?” Billy didn’t want to think about crying in front of him earlier.

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

“Not for a week and six days then.” Steve was building himself a plate.

“Must be nice.”

“Used to be.” Billy didn’t know what that meant.

No parents was always a positive.

“What do you mean?” Steve gave him an odd look.

“If I tell you, will you tell me why you were being angry in the woods?”

“Probably not.” Steve shrugged, picking up the television remote.

He put on Indiana Jones.

“Oh, yes. I love this movie.” He scoot forward in his seat, taking way too big a bite of chicken.

It was cute.

Billy mentally kicked himself, tried to stop staring.

It was quiet as they watched the movie, eating the too much food.

“I didn’t know I was in your yard.” Steve looked up at him, a little dazed from pulling his attention away from Indiana.

“I mean, glad I found you. Before anything else did.”

“Anything?” Steve went pale.

“Bears. There’s bears. Here. I saw one. Once.” Billy nodded slowly, one eyebrow raised.

“Bears?”

“Bears.” He watched the movie for a little while longer.

“I just gotta get out sometimes. Be somewhere not in my house. Used to go to the beach, but, uh, no beaches here.” Steve sat up a little straighter.

“We’ve got beaches!” Billy gave him a look. “Well, obviously not ocean beaches, but we’ve got, just come with me.”

He left the t.v. on as he raced up the stairs, running up them on all fours like a little kid.

Billy very fastidiously did not melt at the sight.

Steve was tugging on a jacket, grabbing his keys, and was out the door as Billy rounded the corner.

He didn’t know where Steve was driving him to, but Steve had obviously been there a lot. All the turns were well practiced, and he slid right into a parking spot, the lines too faded to see in the dark.

Billy squinted when he got out of the car.

There were other cars lined up in the other spots, a few spaces left between each car.

Steve led him down a little hill.

“Absolutely pathetic.” Billy could see the water in the moonlight. “This is not a beach.”

“Closest you’re gonna get in Hawkins.” Steve was smiling, all proud of himself.

“Just another reason to fucking hate it here.” Billy flopped down on the shore.

It wasn’t even proper sand, more like, a bunch of pebbles. Steve sat next to him.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of those.”

“It’s worse when you’ve lived somewhere else.”

“Who says I haven’t?”

“No way. I’d bet my right nut you’ve never even left the state.”

“That’s unfortunate to your right nut then, because I went to Chicago once with my dad.” Billy tossed his head back, let his laugh ring out over the water.

“Real world traveler, over here.” Steve shushed his yells, laughing as he did.

“Billy, be quiet, there’s people fucking.”

“Yeah, I kinda put two and two together there, Steve-o.” Steve rolled his eyes. “So you brought me to make out point, then?”

“Lovers’ Lake.”

“Even worse.” Steve huffed a laugh at him. Billy looked out over the water, up at the stars.

There were a lot out here. He could even see the milky way.

“If my dad knew some boy took me out to a place called Lovers’ Lake,” he trailed off.

“Yeah, mine too.” He put on a deep voice, puffing out his chest. “Harringtons aren’t queers, Steven.” Billy looked at him.

“Are Harringtons queers?” His calf was twitching, needed to get his energy out somehow.

“One is.” Steve’s voice was quiet, Billy almost didn’t catch it over the lapping of the water at the shore. “What about the Hargroves?”

“One is.”

Steve smiled at him.

“Maybe they should get together sometime.”

“Yeah, they could go to Lovers’ Lake and make out like a couple a’ dumbasses begging to get caught.” Steve laughed.

“One of ‘em has a big empty house. Gets lonely a lot.”

“The other one doesn’t like bein’ home much.”

“Sounds like they’re a pretty good match.”

“They just might be.” They were leaning into one another, Billy could feel Steve’s breath against his face, could smell his rich boy cologne.

“One of them would really like to be kissed right now,” Steve breathed against his lips.

Billy took his face in both hands, planting a soft kiss to his lips.

It didn’t last long, just something sweet for them to treasure tonight.

“I should probably go home soon.”

“I can drive you to your car, if you want.” Steve stood up, dusting off his ass, holding out a hand for Billy.

They held hands back to Steve’s car. Billy felt like a lovesick idiot.

Maybe he was, just a little bit.

Steve idled next to Billy’s car.

“So, same time tomorrow?”

“Let’s skip the breakdown though, yeah? Don’t think I can do ‘em back to back like that.”

“Then let’s also skip the whole finding you in the scary woods behind my house, too. Just use the front door.”

“You gonna let me pick the movie.” Steve gave him a sharp look.

“You got a problem with Indiana Jones? ‘Cause I don’t think this thing between us can go any further if you do.” Billy laughed. He felt so much fucking lighter after this evening, felt like he could go back, face his dad with a smile.

“No problem, just wanted to watch somethin’ scary.” Steve made a face.

“Not really a scary movie person.” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Then crawl into my lap and be all cute and scared.” Steve’s went all big. “I literally just handed that one to you.”

“Well then you better bring somethin’ horrifying, if this is just a horny ploy.”

“You’ll be scared right outta your pants.” Steve laughed at him, pushing him towards the open door.

“Go away. I don’t like you anymore.”

“See you tomorrow, Stever.”

“Yeah, whatever. See you tomorrow.”

[destiny-islanders]

Hey Destiny! Planning my first trip to WDW any advice :)

(I do hope you’re planning to go after the pandemic has been dealt with first off-- there are shops, restaurants, and certain experiences/shows that will be unavailable if you go around now-ish, and as far as I know they’re still charging full-price admission. So not only is it dangerous, it’s not worth it.)

But if you try and go next year sometime when life has presumably returned to normal...

If you can, stay on property! 

Not a requirement obviously, but WDW has transportation that can get you to and from the parks so you don’t have to deal with the parking lots at the parks themselves. It’s also really nice as an adult to go to EPCOT and drink around the world without having to worry about who’s driving back

It also makes staying for the fireworks much less painful... Like it is excruciating to trudge back to your car after spending all day at the park and having to deal with the insane crowds leaving the park, and traffic in the parking lots...

Staying on property allows you to get Fast Passes and make dining reservations a whole month before other guests can. Which ties into my next point...

GET FASTPASSES AND DINING RESERVATIONS AS EARLY AS POSSIBLE

If you want to go to Magic Kingdom and go on the Mine Train, Space Mountain, and Splash Mountain with FastPass, you need to have them booked sooner rather than later. Find out when you can book FastPasses and get them the second you can.

If you couldn’t get FastPasses for it, get to the park when it opens and make a beeline to your #1 attraction

I live in Florida and I have an annual pass, so it’s not a big deal if I can’t go on my favorite rides because the lines are too long. But if you’re from out of state and this is going to be your only chance to go to Disney for the year or even YEARS, arriving early is a must

Trying to get on Rise of the Resistance (the fancy new Star Wars ride) in Hollywood Studios?

You need to be inside the park before it opens. Period. That is the only way to ensure you can get on this ride since it is insanely popular. Once inside the park, you need to use the MyDisney app to secure your place in a virtual queue. Everyone in your group needs to be registered on the MyDisney app or you will not be able to make a reservation for them. Once you’ve made the reservation, you’re free to roam the park as you will until it’s your turn to ride

Grossed out by crowded public restrooms? Use one in a sit-down restaurant.

Obviously please don’t bring your whole family into a restaurant to use its restroom. I’m talking like if one or two people in your group have to go. Just walk into the restaurant like you already have a table and go to the restroom in there. Though all of the restrooms at WDW are usually well-maintained, imo they’re even nicer in the sit-down restaurants haha. This tip is a little prissy but eh. Thought I’d include it

Disney snacks you are required by law to try

Magic Kingdom

Cheshire Cat Tail (Really yummy for breakfast while you wait in line for one of your first rides of the day)

Dole Whip Ice Cream (IT’S DAIRY FREE-- my fellow lactose-intolerant people can eat it worry-free!!!)

Sweet and Spicy Chicken and Waffle sandwich (Split with friends if you have lunch or dinner plans-- delicious snack to eat between rides or at a show)

GET A BIRTHDAY CAKE SCONE FROM THE CANDY SHOP/BAKERY!!! THEY ARE MY FAVORITE DISNEY TREATS AND I ALWAYS BRING LIKE 2 OR 3 HOME WITH ME

Animal Kingdom

Cinnamon roll (A classic-- and again, a perfect breakfast treat to share while you queue)

Night Blossom (Or its alcoholic equivalent-- really yummy slushies perfect to sip on in the outdoor queues in Avatar world)

Blueberry Cream Cheese Mousse (Need I say more? Yes it’s kind of dangerous if you can’t handle dairy though. Maybe steal a bite from someone’s just to experience life’s fleeting joys)

EPCOT

Adults who booze are obligated imo to get a Grey Goose Lemonade slushie in France. Tangy and sweet. COLD. Delicious.

Tarte aux Fraises (Honestly you can’t go wrong with anything in France... everything I’ve tried there is amazing...)

Giant pretzel (Not exactly a Disney-exclusive thing but... they’re humongous and a great snack to share with a group)

Side note while we’re in Germany-- there’s a little bar tucked into the corner near the back of this area. If you’re drinking around the world, go in there and get Apfel shots. Trust me I have good taste.

If they have them when you’re there... You need to get a meat bun in Japan. They are one of my favorite things to get at Disney Springs or in the parks when they’re available.

Hollywood Studios

(I’m not gonna lie this is not the park to get your snack on. There’s only one snack here I’m super passionate about...)

If you’re there around breakfast time (which you will be if you got there early for Star Wars), the S’mores French Toast in Toy Story Land is DELICIOUS. Just grab napkins. A lot of napkins.

Giant pretzel 

This is not a recommendation, this is a warning: THE MILK IN STAR WARS LAND IS GROSS AND I HATED EVERY SECOND A DROP OF IT WAS IN MY MOUTH

Rides you should try to do while you’re in the park

Magic Kingdom

Space Mountain

Splash Mountain (I wear a poncho because I hate having wet clothes,,,,,)

I think Thunder Mountain is kinda lame but I guess it’s worth doing if the line isn’t terribly long

Dwarf Mine Train

Pirates of the Caribbean

Buzz Lightyear Space Ranger Spin (smacktalk in the queue and try to maintain your dignity when you get 9000 points and all of your friends have nearly broken 1 million)

Haunted Mansion

Mickey’s Phillarmagic

Animal Kingdom

Expedition Everest

It’s Tough To Be a Bug (this show will probably terrify your young children if you have any, just a warning)

Flight of Passage (I GUESS... none of the rides in the Avatar section of the park are worth a 2 hour wait if you ask me...)

Dinosaur (again, this ride will probably terrify your young children... I think it’s scarier than Jurassic Park at Universal if you can believe it)

Kilimanjaro Safari (get a Fast Pass for this one-- it’s probably one of the most popular attractions in AK)

Kali River Rapids (in which I once again don a poncho like a 50-year-old man)

Festival of the Lion King (corny as hell but it’s fun)

EPCOT

(If you’re not here to check out the exhibits in each country idk what you’re doing here haha)

Test Track (honestly the only ride I like there)

Spaceship Earth (yes it’s a slow dark ride but it’s really charming and there’s a bit at the end that will probably make you and your group cry laughing)

Gran Fiesta Tour (It’s hidden in the temple in Mexico. Cute little boat ride with Donald and the Three Caballeros)

Soarin’ (My friends and I have an endurance competition to see who can keep their legs held out straight the longest throughout the ride. We got some of the people sitting around us to join in the last time we rode which was pretty hilarious haha)

I’ve heard the Frozen ride is fun, but I’ve never ridden on it myself, so I can’t really comment on it

Note about Mission Space: I got really sick on this ride, and I rode the TAME version. Most of my friends also get sick on this ride. It’s worth trying once if you’re really curious, but I was knocked on my ass for half of my day at EPCOT after riding this one.)

Hollywood Studios

Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster (A really fun ride but try to keep your head back or you will have a headache all day... Bring ibuprofen.)

Tower of Terror (Probably one of my favorite Disney rides in any park. Will most likely further terrify your small children who may still be traumatized from the bugs and dinosaurs of Animal Kingdom)

Rise of the Resistance (I don’t care about Star Wars but uh. Yeah. This ride was pretty dope.)

Smuggler’s Run (One of the more immersive rides I’ve been on... The ride vehicle is cool as all get-out and there are lots of buttons you can push and levers to pull... Blame one of your friends for being a bad pilot when you only manage to snag two pieces of cargo)

Toy Story Mania (exhaust yourself and make your arms really sore as you desperately try to exert your dominance over your friends as you pop balloons with darts and throw rings around volcanos before they erupt)

MuppetVision (I’m a Muppets ride or die fan and I still think this ride is charming and funny. There’s usually never a line so it’s a perfect break in the air conditioning with beloved characters)

Minnie and Mickey’s Runaway Railway (I haven’t gotten to ride this yet, but I’ve heard good things-- and the Mickey shorts this ride is based on are HILARIOUS, so I expect good things)

Indiana Jones Epic Stunt Spectacular (DISCLAIMER: Only really fun if someone in your group is selected to be one of the townsfolk. My sister got picked last time and it was hilarious)

Fantasmic! (I like all of the fireworks shows minus the Star Wars one in HS because I really don’t care but. Fantasmic stands out. You have to watch it at least once. Try to catch the first show if you can so you can avoid some of the rush of guests leaving the park at the very end of the night)

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter One

Word Count: 10.4k words /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad /  Song: Green Eyes by Coldplay

“The best love language is being irritating. I will annoy you because I love you.” 

- Unknown

It smelled next to awful, and the feeling beneath my hands made me cringe. I didn’t know what I was expecting when I had wandered in here after a long day of work. Several other people seemed to have the same idea at five o’clock on a Tuesday, so I wasn’t the only one. Their drinks aren’t that great, either, I quickly found. Nevertheless, they did their job, and they were cheap, so I’m not sure what more I could ask for.

The flat screens above the bar area played nothing but American baseball and footie matches. I silently made a promise to myself that if I ever opened a pub of my own, that Rom-Coms and FRIENDS would fill the tv screens, not bloody sports. 

“‘s this seat taken?” a voice hums, pulling me away from my inner monologue. My eyes begin their lull back into my head at the stranger’s question. 

“Ye-,” begins on my lips when my eyes tear away from the orange colored drink before me. That is, until, they still when I look at the stranger who stands in front of me. He’s bloody gorgeous - all curls, legs, and those dimples. Hell, you own this seat already. Please, do sit down. “N-No,” my words come out rushed and therefore, sloppy. He doesn’t seem to mind as he pulls out the wooden stool to sit down beside me. 

I swallow against a dry throat when my eyes nervously flit away from him. Never have I had an actually handsome bloke talk to me at the pub. I sound more than selfish, and far bitchy than I intend, but it had always been some lousy drunk who had a bit too much liquid courage. Not that I’m anything special, especially compared to him. 

Listening to his slow drawl as he orders a drink, I can’t help but try to remember as many details about him as possible. First, there were the chocolatey brown curls. Then, there was the way his violet button up was opened to show ink donning his chest, a cross sitting in the middle, and the wildly attractive chest hair around it. I only saw a glimpse of his unwrinkled, black suit that looked far too good on him. That wasn’t the best part. No, not by far. That award went to the cavernous dimples that sat in his cheeks when his lips spread into that heavenly smile. One that made me wonder how it could be just for me. 

“Ta, mate,” he murmurs to the bartender, the gold liquid greeting his lips. All of a sudden, I’m quite jealous of a lousy pint of beer. He doesn’t notice me watching him, the way he licks the foam from his lips, or how I admire his thick eyelashes. Most of all, I catch the long sigh that passes his lips, tugging on his drooping eyes with circles underneath them. 

“Rough day?” bravery finds me a moment later, but I don’t announce

myself until I’ve looked away. 

“Huh?” he hums distractedly, and not in a rude way. I wait a moment before doing anything, looking at him or even replying. It feels longer than several seconds, and stirring the ice chips around with my red straw doesn’t make it pass any quicker. 

“You look like you’ve had a hard day, is all.” 

“Oh,” he rasps, clearing his throat after taking another drink of the amber colored liquid. At last, I turn my head to look at him, finding that light stubble covers his cheeks in every place. I don’t know how in the hell I had missed that, because, God, does that look good on him. “Ya, reckon you could say that.” 

I nod along with his words, feeling like we belong in the same boat. It only rings all the more true when he shifts in his seat, and my eyes catch something on his breast pocket. 

“It must be a hard case, then.” 

“What?” he asks. When I see the way his bold eyebrows near his inquisitive sage colored eyes, a laugh escapes my lips. It warms my cheeks and surely reddens them furthermore at the appearance of those dimples again. “How’d you know?” his smile is heaven and everything more than that. 

My shoulders rise and fall, answering his question, before I do, “I just had a feeling.” 

“Yer good,” his answer is concise, finished with a staccato like laugh. The next sip of his pint is silent, and I would know because I can’t help but watch. At last, there’s something good to watch at this pub. It only took me two drinks and far too long of waiting for it to happen. “What ‘s it now?” his question is light and affable when he finds my eyes waiting on him, holding back a laugh. 

“You have something,” I begin, pointing a finger to his mouth, but he doesn’t get it. Instead of wiping the foam donning his upper lip, he brushes under his eye, and then his nose. “Here,” it’s louder than I intended it to be, but my laugh makes its way out with a soft snort, something else I didn’t intend. His upper lip is sand papery from his stubble when I wipe away the foam from his pint. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs gingerly, and all I can do is nod, because my lips had begun to fall. “Y’know, I usually don’t let a bird get tha first flirt in befo’ I introduce meself.” 

“I wasn’t-,” I start, but his shaking head of curls stops me, and so does the hand that he holds out. More ink marks it up in places when his sleeve rides up above his glinting watch. 

“‘m Harry.” 

“Becky,” I announce, once again greeting the ball that’s appeared in my throat, ever since he asked me that first question. His hand is cold at first from caressing his pint, but then it warms in my own. The rings that adorn nearly all of his fingers greet my own, lingering a few moments too long. His handshake is firm, and yet gentle. Surely, I must have set the world record for how quickly you can fall in love with a stranger. 

“How’d y’know ‘m a lawyer? Really, ‘s it that obvious?” 

“Yeah, Mr. Styles,” I tell him, reaching a hand out as his face contorts with confusion again. My fingertip comes under the plastic corner of the name tag against his breast pocket. “Harry Styles of Styles and Lawson law firm.” 

Surprise gives away to realization on his face when he looks down his nose at the name tag that gave it all away for me, just a little. 

“Oh, ‘d forgot ‘d been wearin’ that,” his answer is giggled, and it truly couldn’t be any more cuter. He slips a hand into his blazer and removes the name tag held to the fabric with two magnets. “I had this convention thing t’day, speakin’ at a uni t’ promote me law firm.” 

“Ah, I’ve heard of those. I know they used to have them quite often, those job fairs, when I was at King’s.” 

“You went t’ King’s College too?” the surprise rises in his voice, and it fills me when he pushes the basket of chips over that had just been dropped off. His eyes are patient as they wait on me while he feeds a hot chip between his rose colored lips. 

“Yeah, I graduated last year, after taking a bit of time off and coming back to my degree,” I answer him, relenting after he nodded his head at the basket and then to me. Ignoring him in part, I reach for the heavy glass bottle of Heinz beside the napkin holder. 

“What was yer focus of study?” 

“Really?” now, it’s turn for my lips to rise, as if they hadn’t been stunted for the last several minutes, hiding their secrets. 

His question comes out in that breathy laugh of his, in between munching on chips and licking his fingers. Good God, Mr. Styles. 

“You’re a lawyer yourself and you can’t tell when you’re speaking to another one?” it doesn’t come out haughty or anywhere near cocky, but I still relish in the astonishment that comes over his face. 

“You too?” Harry says, excitement loud in his voice, and which I nod at. “Where at?”

“Turner and Jones.” 

The chip is perfectly salty when I take my first bite of it coated with ketchup. I echo his laugh as he shakes his head, murmuring about how stupid he is, and it takes everything in me to not tell him he’s the least bit of that. 

“I see, so how’re you likin’ it there? ‘ve heard good things, but y’know, I may be a bit biased towards Styles and Lawson. They’re rather great, ‘ve heard.” 

“Oh, I can only wonder why,” it’s becoming difficult to say all of my words before they’re overwhelmed with laughter, especially when his are too. “But, I like it. I did my clinicals there for my degree, and was offered a job. You couldn’t really ask for much better than that.” 

His eyes are brimming with laughter as questions float between us until the basket of chips is no longer. Then, when the greasy tacos come, and the next few drinks only loosen our lips more. 

“So, ya got a crush on that Ben Sanders there like ev’ry other bird?” Harry drawls, words muffled against the rim of his third Scotch Coke a little later on. 

“What? No, why would I?” my response is framed with laughter, especially as I think of what to say next. “Are you worried or something, that your reputation for London’s heartthrob lawyer is being threatened?”

“‘Scuse me?” his drink is soon running down his chin. He coughs again after it had went down the wrong pipe when I stole a laugh from his lips. 

“God, learn how to breathe, would you?” I tell him, slapping him hard on the back a few times as he presses a napkin to his mouth. 

“No,” his chuckled reply comes a few moments later. 

“No, what?” I say, taking the turn for furrowed brows when I set down my own pint. 

“Don’t reckon me heartthrob status ‘s bein’ threatened,” he shrugs, plucking one of the taller billiard cues from the rack on the wall. “I seem t’ be winnin’ my way with you, afta-all.” 

Now, it’s my turn to choke on my drink. Thank God, my back is turned to him so he can’t see it dribble down my chin, or more importantly, the scarlet that fills my cheeks. 

“Would you shut up? You’re so cocky. Newsflash, you’re not in the courtroom anymore, mate, you don’t have anybody to win over,” I insist, grabbing a shorter cue and stepping up to him where he sets up the balls. 

“I have you t’ impress, don’t I?” his greens lift for a moment to find mine. I can’t help but notice the way that they sparkle. 

“You already have,” my answer is gentle and quiet enough for only me to hear. I thought wrong, because he steps towards me and keeps going. For the first time tonight, the sour pub smell has gone, and replaced by it is his cologne. What is that? Leather? Warm vanilla? His nose just brushes past mine, his lips hovering above mine until they pass and press softly to my cheek. 

“Have I now, ‘s that right?” his breath is warm against my ear. The skin there sings when his teeth graze it. “Winner buys tha next round ‘o drinks?” his proposition is laced with a knowing glint on his lips when he’s facing me again. 

“I thought you had agreed to cover the tab, Mr. Hotshot Lawyer? I only remember one of us being a partner and co-owning a firm.” 

“Ah, givin’ me that lawyer lip o’ yers, are ya now?” Harry smirks, dusting the tip of his cue with the blue block. 

“Maybe, I am. What are you going to do about it?” 

His shrug is accented by his lips turned down with a thoughtful question, “‘m sure I could find somethin’,” he muses aloud, staring off into the distance. When his eyes turn back to me, a corner of his lips pops the dimple out of one cheek. It only falls deeper when he walks around me holding his cue proudly. I feel his hand pinch my ass. 

“Harry Styles!” it comes out as nothing less than a giggle, all firmness absent in my voice. 

“Y’know, yer not very convincin’ with that voice o’ yers. Ya sure yer a lawyer?” his shit eating grin spews another line as he leans down, readying his cue. “Yer bum ‘s rather nice, ‘ve been wantin’ t’ do that all night,” he has to shut his eyes to ride out the rest of his laugh when I walk over to him and swat him on the shoulder. 

“You’re bad,” I murmur, stepping away to grab my drink again. 

“And who said that’s not a good thing?”

Turning, I find him mere inches away from me, cue forgotten on the table amongst the array of billiard balls he’d just cracked. 

“I dunno,” is all I can think to say, until it hits me. “Why’re we playing billiards when we could be playing Truth or Dare?”

“Truth or Dare?” he wheezes. My insides continue to melt when his large hand comes into view, dragging his fingers through my hair. “What, are we thirteen ‘gain, Becks?”

“Becks? My name is Becky,” I protest, but all he has to answer with at first is those shrugging shoulders of his.

“Don’t care, I like ‘Becks’ better. It sounds mo’ like you,” he insists with lips that haven’t stopped smiling since . . I can’t remember when. “I choose tha dare, then.” 

Setting down my finished glass, the hops-y flavor remains on my lips, sending courage into my veins. I ready my question, staring back into his eyes, trying not to think so hard about his thumb nudging at my bottom lip. 

“What, are you a pussy or something?” 

“N’body calls me a pussy, love,” he denies softly, his quiffed curls shaking with his disagreeing head. 

“Then, show me . . I dare you to kiss me.” 

“Oh, d’ya now? I see you went right fer it, didn’t beat ‘round tha bush one bit.” 

“Yeah, but you are, because you’re still talk-,” I have one syllable left when his lips steal it away from mine. His hair that I’d wanted to touch and caress all night is at last between my fingers. I taste Scotch and Corona on his pillowy lips, and feel the warmth of-

“Becks, wakey wakey, my love,” comes a voice, ripping the dream away from me. Grunting, I shift under the covers, feeling my tired limbs. My expression tightens when I feel lips sponge kisses across my face slowly. 

When at last I open my eyes, I find my favorite face in the entire world hovering above me.

“Mornin’, bubs. Did ya have a good sleep?” Harry murmurs with a dopey grin stuck to his face. His voice is deep and slow like molasses, even more so after sleep. It only makes him all the more attractive as my eyes dance along his shirtless chest. 

“Yeah, did you?” I yawn, and his mumbled reply is heard between kisses pressed to my lips. 

They stir a laugh from me, especially when his own wander to the crook of my ticklish neck. 

“Time t’ get up, my Mrs. Styles,” he coos, his words sending an instant tingle up my spine. 

“Harry, I’m not your Mrs. Styles.”

“Not yet, you aren’t,” he replies from his position underneath my chin where his lips lie. A smile doesn’t come this time though, and even if it did, it’d leak of melancholy, at best. 

“What were ya dreamin’ ‘bout, li’l one? You were extra hard t’ wake up t’day.”

My answer is framed by yawns, “What’s it to you?” 

“Oooo, I see somebody ‘s upset I woke her up,” his response tickles against my cheek in his warm breath tinged with the taste of mornings. I squirm away from him, tugging the covers back up my shoulders, feeling their returning warmth. “It must’ve been good, then.” 

“I was having a good dream, and you ruined it.” 

“Oh no, poor baby Becks,” the pout couldn’t be stronger in his answer, and my groan couldn’t be louder. His facial hair leaves zings of irritation across my cheeks and temple where his lips trail. “‘s time t’ wake up, bug. We hafta go t’ work.” 

“Why can’t we ever just have a late day, like a ten to six, instead of eight to four?” I moan, taking the covers back when he pulls them down my body. 

“Hey, you were tha one who wanted t’ have three rounds o’ sex last night, so don’t be gettin’ mad at me now.” 

“Harry, don’t act like you didn’t want to too,” I sigh after twisting and turning until I find that perfect spot again. 

“‘Kay, but doesn’t change tha fact that we hafta be at work in a li’l over an hour, my love,” my lips sputter a short laugh at his admission. “Alright well, ‘ll be in tha shower, and if yer not up by tha time ‘m out, we’re gonna be late. Again. Y’know how I feel ‘bout bein’ late, bug.” 

“I miss the time when you liked being late. You being this responsible boss isn’t much fun anymore,” my words are muffled by the firm pillow. They’re ended with a yelp after he pinches my ass. “Fuck you, Styles!” 

I know my regret the second his sweet laugh hits the air, “You already did last night, Becks, but . . if ya wanna have a quickie befo’ work, y’know where t’ find me.” 

“Ugh,” I groan into the off white pillow case, turning my head to find his naked ass walking away from me. “You’re a tease, Harry Styles! A proper, no good tease!” 

“And what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it, Rebecca Styles?”

The cold air greets my skin when I at last sit up, our duvet cover falling to my waist. Any words that had been ready to spring off of my tongue stop there, replaced by others, “Don’t call me that!” 

“Why not? I thought you liked it,” he calls back, raising his voice to be heard over the hum of the shower starting. 

“Just . . don’t.” 

“I don’t like it when yer crabby in tha mornin’s. I can think o’ somethin’ that’ll cheer you up, tho’,” Harry comments wryly. I take the bait unknowingly, mumbling a ‘what’ when I step foot into our walk-in closet. “Dick,” his voice is right behind me. I should’ve known, is what I think to myself when I’m lifted off of the floor and soon have hot water hitting my skin. 

“You’re so bad, Harry Styles,” it comes out in a giggle that grows throaty and belly deep as he pulls the shower curtain shut behind him. 

“Am I, now? I rememba you sayin’ you liked that ‘bout me last night, so why ya seem all upset?” 

A squeal jumps from my mouth when his teeth nip at the corner of my neck. By habit, his name leaves them next when he surrounds me with his body, and his fingernails dig into the flesh of my ass. It’s carried with a laugh as he takes the brunt of the hot water, sponging kisses to my neck that the shower washes away. 

“When’re you gonna work again with me, bug? Huh? I swear, you’ve been with Rose fer months now. Simon and that intern Jilly are hoots and smart ones, but I miss workin’ cases with you,” by now, his nose has reached to my shoulder, and so have his lips. 

“I dunno, Harry,” is all I say, because those are all of the words that I can find right now. 

If I’m telling myself the truth, they are the only words that he can handle to hear. I had been with Rose off and on for the last six months, and my off with Harry had never been longer. We hadn’t talked about it for a while now, but it may have had something to do with him having a fit when we last worked a case together. Like, a proper fit. It was a difficult case, to say the least, and because of that, it made things outside of work hard for us too. I usually loved working with him, but I’d found out the hard way that it’s already hard enough having your boyfriend as your boss. You’re only adding more hell to the handbasket when you throw in working with him every minute of every day, leading to being with your significant other quite literally twenty-four/seven. I loved him, quite a lot, but I also get sick of him, quite a lot. Just don’t tell him that part, is all. I try not to as his lips wander my body and so do his hands, first with cloudy intentions, and then with body wash. 

/

“Eat,” the word comes out clipped until a stubborn curl comes to my lips. 

“No.” 

“It’s not a question, Harold, eat your fucking breakfast. Since when did you stop liking eggs?” I insist playfully, shoving a plate towards him where he sits sipping his plain coffee. 

“Since I said I don’t, Mum. Now, would ya leave me be t’ drink me cuppa and read tha paper?” he returns with a lift to his brows, a mischievous glint in his eye. “And me name’s not Harold, dunno why ya fancy callin’ me it lately. Yer not funny.” 

“I am, you just don’t want to admit it,” it comes out in a sigh. A shock of cold air slaps me in the face when I open the freezer, grabbing a plastic wrapped block of chocolate ice. 

“Are not.” 

“Are to,” I grumble in response, scraping his plate of eggs onto mine. Shaking my head, I turn around with the plate in hand, grabbing the toast peeking out from the toaster. “Grape or strawberry today?”

“Mix ‘em, please.” 

“I’ve never met somebody who likes to mix their jams,” I comment playfully, soon hearing the nostalgic sound of a butter knife against toasted bread. 

“‘ve never met somebody who cared so much ‘bout eatin’ bloody breakfast.” 

“What, as if I didn’t used to get you Starbucks breakfast every morning three years ago?” he tries not to smile at my wheezed words, but I see it when I set down the new plate in front of him. 

“Now, eat something, Harry. We need to leave soon, since somebody is intent on being on time.” 

When I turn my back, the silence is interrupted by him biting into the toast. The microwave beeps and I gingerly carry the plastic wrapped steaming muffin, plopping it onto his plate. 

“Our kids better not be picky eaters like you someday. These chocolate veggie muffins are like, the only way I can get you to eat vegetables for breakfast.” 

“Why not, Becks? You think ‘s cute,” he smirks, cocking his head to face me when I take a seat next to him. 

“Do not.” 

“Do to,” I can hear the grin in his voice as he devours the rest of his toast. Shaking my head at his stubbornness, I pick up my fork to fill it with scrambled eggs. 

“What features o’ mine would you want ‘em t’ have, then?” 

“Um,” I idle, unsure of why I have to, seeing as how I’ve thought this through about a hundred times, by now. It’d only made it harder before, his hand cupping my knee, but it brings me comfort, by now. “It’d be easier to say what I wouldn’t want them to have of yours.”

“God, do I even wanna know?” he scoffs, showing me his dimples sunk into his cheeks full with food. Licking the dollops of jam from his fingers, he picks up the wrapped mozzarella cheese to peel the wrapper off. 

I almost choke on my eggs when a laugh finds me, but as I chew and then swallow, his hand rubs circles on my leg through my sheer black tights. 

“Ya sure ya won’t consult with me on my new case startin’ t’day? I know ya jus’ finished that Doud theft case with Rose.” 

“What, are you spying on me?” it comes out hearty and laced with a joke. I listen to him sip his coffee and flip the paper, scooping eggs onto my buttered toast. 

“No. Did somebody fo’get who their boss ‘s now?” Harry smirks, flashing me those god awful eyes that by now he knows I can’t resist. I sometimes really hate it when he pulls that card, but at other times it’s undeniably sexy, and he knows it. 

“Yeah, his name is Myles Lawson. There’s this other guy he works with, Harold something or other, he’s this rubbish lawyer who keeps hitting on me.” 

“Hush, you, or no tacos t’morrow,” his words make me groan through my mouthful of food. It’d become hard for us to honor our Taco Tuesday dates when I teamed up with Rose, and we had different schedules. Eventually, they’d fell away to consist of random days here and there, until we’d started it back up again. 

“Be nice,” I warn, feeling the cold wood under my feet when I get to them. The warmth from the toast and eggs is replaced by the cold wetness when I pour orange juice into two glasses, setting one before Harry. 

“I am?” he laughs, holding up his glass in question before gulping half of it down. “C’mon, Becks, jus’ give this case a shot with me, please? Ya can quit after a day, and if you don’t like it, that’s fine and you can go back t’ Rose.” 

“You know it doesn’t work that way, and so do I after working with you for a year and a half now.” And dating each other for the same length, just about. 

“Why you bein’ so mean t’ me, bug? I jus’ wanna work a case with you, ‘s been ages,” he whines from my side once again, feeding the last chunk of mozzarella between his grumpy lips. It’s always boggled my mind why he doesn’t peel it, and instead, eats it in chunks. He really is a weirdo, but he’s mine. 

That thought sticks with me as my eyes remain glued to his handsome figure. Some sleep still clings to his captivating green eyes framed with thick lashes. His hair couldn’t be more curly these days, cropped to its usual length below his ears and longer on top. He had caved, letting Skye work her magic on him, and to the surprise of both of us, he had been happy with a recent cut from her. Even if it had only been a measly trim, as well as giving him some tips to keep it styled so the top wasn’t always in his eyes. Bringing his coffee to his lips again, a question sits in his eyebrows. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ so hard ‘bout?” he wonders aloud, rosebud colored lips moving under a dark brown beard claiming the outskirts of his mouth. If that wasn’t enough to get me going, that new maroon suit he dons does. It’s fitted perfectly for him, just how he likes it. Me too, since I get to see his bum in nearly all of its glory in it. His legs. His crotch. His arms, too. The dusty black button up beneath leaves little of his chest to imagination, just the way I like it.

At times, I still catch myself wondering how he was all mine. Well, almost, that is. 

“Oh, here’s one. I hope that they don’t have your weird eating habits.” 

“What weird eatin’ habits?” Harry wonders aloud, leaving smears of chocolate against his lips a moment later from his muffin. 

Declining to answer, I finish off the rest of my eggs after checking the time. “Eat your banana and clementine.” 

Sure, I’d missed working with him too, but not his micromanaging, how he’d sometimes pick the most challenging cases as if he had to prove something, or how I still couldn’t get past the added pressure I felt working with him. I’d wished for so long that it’d be the opposite, but it was wishful thinking, at best. 

/

The hum of the air conditioner fills the silent space as I tap away on my phone, sighing at the weather forecast. The warm front that had come in a few days ago wasn’t leaving anytime soon, leaving me in dresses for work. I find Harry without his blazer once again when my eyes turn to the window, admiring his attractive backside while pumping petrol. 

“What?” I murmur, lifting my head when the door opens, sending a rush of hot air inside. 

“I said d’ya need anythin’ from inside? Ya want a soda or anythin’?”

“No, and don’t you get one either. I know what you’re doing, Harry,” the reply comes out giggled and with a finger pointed at him. 

“Becks, I jus’ want one Coke, please.” 

“No, you said you wanted to do a no soda challenge, and we’re only a week in and you’re caving.” 

“Am not, but I crave it bad, bug,” his response is whined, pulling more happiness from my lips. 

“I know, but don’t even go by the coolers. Just go in and pay, please, or better yet, pay at the pump.” 

He mutters a defeated ‘fine’ before closing the door, walking away from the car and towards the small building. 

I hope that our kids have that feature of yours, I think a few moments later after watching him pick up and return a dolly a little girl had dropped. From here, I can even see the dimples fall into his cheeks as he speaks to her. The selflessness you’ve always had, even if it took awhile for you to share that page of yours with me. 

We didn’t drive separately to work very often, unless he had an early meeting or a long day. It didn’t make sense to spend money to drive two cars to the same place five days a week when we usually get there and leave at the same time. Sure, one of us sometimes had to wait around for the other, but it worked rather well, we’d found. I usually won the fight of who got to pump petrol less than half of the time, if we were together, and even less in the winter. Mr. Stubborn usually beat me to the punches, first one out of the car got to do it, and it’d become a little race of ours that we enjoyed. I hope that our kids learn from their father about how to treat others, even doing things that you dislike to show your love for them. 

“I don’t care what you say, it’s never me who makes us late, it’s always you. Usually, it’s something to do with your hair or suit, and you know it,” I jest when the lift doors close in front of us. 

“Sure, it ‘s,” Harry sighs, leaning his back against the furthest wall. My head soon finds his shoulder, and his arm wraps around me. “Sorry, ‘ll see if we can get done early t’day. I know you’ve been up late tha last few nights finishin’ yer last case.” 

“It’s okay,” I yawn from my place in his arms, not opening my eyes until he’s standing up straight again, my forehead itchy from his kisses. “I’ll tell you what.” 

“What?” he grins at me. It takes a lot in me to not roll my eyes at his dad joke once I’ve come back to full attention. Forgotten it is when his fingers dive into my hair behind my ear, and his lips press to the imperfection below my eye. “Are you gonna say you’ll reconsider me offer o’ workin’ with me on me case?” “Yes,” my sigh is everything but sad, and neither are my lips when they meet his own. 

The same word flies from his lips with excitement when we part. “Missed you, bug. I think it’ll be easier t’ have sex in me office now if we’re workin’ a case t’gether.” 

“Shut up,” I giggle, savoring the feeling of his lips against my forehead, and my arms laced around his middle warm underneath his blazer. 

“‘m glad I don’t have t’ say goodbye t’ you this mornin.’ ‘s been a while since ‘ve gotten t’ keep you fer tha day, my love.” 

“What happened to absence makes the heart grow fonder?” I titter beneath his sporadic lips covering my face happily in kisses. 

“Reckon we’ve had enough o’ that rubbish, dontchu?”

Indeed, we have, Harry. Indeed, we have. 

/

“Ooo, the salmon’s on sale,” the whisper is soft as I pour over the page, numbers and pictures jumping out at me. Switching my attention, I press the pen to the paper until I stop. “Wait, does Harry even like salmon?” Pausing for a second, I think until shaking my head.

“Okay, what else did we need? Bananas, veggie muffins, chicken bullion, garlic, quinoa, broccoli . . ,” the words dropping from my lips soon show up on the notepad held in my hand. Call me old fashioned, and Harry will, believe me. “Granola, roasted pumpkin seeds, pistach-.” 

“Beep beep,” somebody chirps from behind me. A scoff leaves my lips next when a cart bumps into my behind. Whipping around in surprise, my mouth is open in astonishment. It only falls further when I find the culprit. “What, not happy t’ see me?” Harry smirks with his face squished into a question, head cocked to the side. His hair is more disheveled by now after our day, a busy day two of researching for his new case. “Meetin’ yer other boyfriend here, or somethin’?” 

“No, I just . . I thought that you had a meeting after work today,” I murmur, feeling my lips oblige with a smile. 

“It was cancelled, and moved t’ t’morrow. Some schedulin’ thing fer tha space, I dunno,” his lips hum against my forehead when he wraps an arm around me. My reply is measly and suffices for a verbal understanding, interrupted by his lips on mine for a second. 

“How are you feeling about that?”

“Fine, things have been good lately,” I nod my head along to his response, flipping through the grocery ad, finishing up my list. “Journalin’ has helped loads, so ‘m glad I picked that up again . . ‘m jus’ sorry you can’t enjoy a glass o’ wine at home, anymo.’ I feel bad I took that away from you.” 

“It’s just wine, Harry, I’ll survive. Plus, I have one every now and then at Skye’s. Your sobriety is more important . . you are.” 

“Thank you, dunno what else I can say ‘sides that,” I feel his smile on my face not just from the sunshine it spills, but through his lips on my forehead. 

“That makes me happy to hear that things are going well, though. I know that it’s hard to talk about together sometimes, which is okay, and how you had a tough day this past weekend,” I murmur, setting the list and ad in the front basket of the cart his hand sits on. 

“Ya, me too, bug. ‘m better now . . So, what’s on our list t’night seein’ as how we ran into each other at tha supermarket, havin’ told tha other we’d get tha groceries.” 

“Yeah, we didn’t communicate that too well,” I wheeze, feeling his arm come around my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 

“That’s okay.” 

We’re quiet except for the sound of the moving cart, and our feet amongst the chatter of the shop. I wish I felt that way. 

“Are you sure you are? You’ve been quiet t’day, Becks,” his question comes at the exactly wrong place, and the wrong time. How is it that he can always read my mind? I wish you would pick up on that one thing stirring up trouble in there, Harry. 

I murmur a convincing enough answer, hoping that he believes it. It only reminds me of the promise I made to myself last February to not lie to him, and it only gets worse when that memory pulls with it another. The one of how he couldn’t stop saying that communication is key, and that we’re no good without it. 

“Stop it,” I scold him with a light laugh, pulling on his arm when he wanders over to the cases of soda. Turning around, his lips dip into a pout. I hook my arm with his and keep walking down the aisle, having to pull him back when he goes to reach for junk food and sweets. 

I’m just not sure about how to communicate this one. 

 /

“Reckon our case ‘s comin’ along nicely so far. Dontchu think?” his murmur threads its way through my thoughts, but it doesn’t quite succeed. Instead of a reply, my silent words wander to describing the way he tugs at his briefs that ride up his legs. “Becks? Babe, can ya focus mo’ on what ‘m sayin’ and less on me gettin’ undressed?”

“Oh, s-sorry,” the words are rushed out with a shake of my head as he titters. I try to apply myself to the conversation, but my eyes hold the remote, gluing themselves to his round bum when he turns around. 

“Yer doin’ it again.” My voice is small when I yawn a question in return, waiting for him to return from the closet. With a hand caught in his hair, he does, rushing over with his arms around his otherwise naked body. “Actin’ weird, ‘s what.” 

“Warm me up, bug,” Harry chatters, hurrying under the covers and over to me. My spontaneous giggle only lasts until the sound of his next words, “And while yer doin’ so, would ya please tell me what’s botherin’ you lately? Y’know I can’t help unless you tell me.”

The words escape me, like they have for the last few days as I’ve thought and thought of how to say them. More than anything, I’ve debated whether or not to even put them into a sentence that I could speak to him. 

“No lies. Rememba, sweetheart?”

“I remember,” my voice is small and quiet. His hairy legs feel contrasting to my smooth pair tangled under the covers. 

“Ya gonna show me those pretty eyes o’ yers, love? Tha ones I love so much I hope our babies have ‘em?” his question is answered with my head, and a denial at that. “‘s it easier t’ tell me what’s wrong without lookin’ at me?” this time, my head says something else. I hear his gentle hum amongst the drowning guilt. 

“‘s okay, Becks, but y’know, ya never hafta be afraid t’ tell me anythin.’ Y’know that, right?” I myself hardly hear my vocal confirmation, but it’s hard to make it out over the hammering of my heart. I can’t decide if it does or doesn’t help the way his fingers are losing themselves in my hair, his cold toes against mine. “When yer ready.” 

My head goes up and down with his words until it lifts, and his eyes are patient. I don’t need to look that hard to see the sunshine waiting in them for me, and how it curls his lips into his cheeks. With each second, I doubt what I’m about to do, and my body takes the brunt of it. 

“Will you marry me?”

“What? No,” Harry chuckles, his face screwed up in confusion. My own falls indefinitely, turning away to hide in my pillow. “Becks, honey. C’mere.” 

“No, I can’t believe you said that you wouldn’t marry me, Harry,” the whining in my voice is mostly authentic, but I do my part to milk it, as well. My guilty regret only comes once I’m on my feet and walking into the ensuite bathroom, having forgotten to take my contacts out. 

“Hey, where d’ya think yer goin’?” Harry insists. As I unscrew the caps to the case, the worry almost overwhelms his voice. “I didn’t mean it that way, bug, please believe me.” 

His cheek against mine from behind brings back that tingly sensation as I remove my contacts. “Why’d it sound that way then?” 

“It didn’t, I promise you that, Becks.” I give him a smile when I turn around, taking his hand to pull him back into our bedroom. “Babe,” his laugh continues, seemingly never going to end as it grows deeper and heartier. Despite my upset, it finds the crack in my armor once we’re under the covers again. “‘Course ‘ll marry you, that’s not what I meant, bug- Hey, stop ignorin’ me and come gimme a cuddle.” 

After a bout of failed attempts, his strong arms hook under mine until he’s pulled me into his chest. His warm hands manipulate my slack body until my chin is lifted, “Look at me, would you?” 

“No.” 

“Rebecca Ann Holte, look at me, so I can talk t’ you,” he replies firmly, but laced with honey. Always. Sighing, I oblige and open them. “Hey, dontchu cry on me. You bloody well know that I want nothin’ mo’ in tha world t’ marry you and have a family with you.” 

“Then, why don’t you? It’s almost been a year and a half, Harry,” all fight and joking aside, my voice drips of a melancholy type of honey. Instantly, I see the effect it has on him, pulling his lips down into a sullen line. 

“Where’s this comin’ from all o’ a sudden, huh? What’s happened, baby?” his question is spoken aloud. I avoid answering it, not wanting to share. I don’t need to, because within seconds, I watch the lightbulb go off behind his eyes. “‘s this ‘cos Amelia jus’ got engaged? ‘s it, Becks?”

“Yeah,” I mutter, looking away, and he lets me. Swallowing against a dry throat, my hand ventures to one of his where I remove a ring. I slide it onto a blank finger of my left hand, two others already claiming a spot. “They haven’t even been together five months . . it’s not fair. Jennings too, the other day. It’s like everybody else is . . “

“But you, love?” his murmur is gentle, and so are the pads of his fingers on my cheeks. “E’vrybody’s different, Becks. ‘m not innna rush, I didn’t know you were, love. That’s why we hafta communicate.” 

“That’s why I’m telling you . . although a few days late, and I’m sorry.” 

“‘s okay. Thank you fer tellin’ me,” his lips warm my face, willing the sadness away. “‘m gonna marry you, y’know that, right? . . Right?”

“Yeah,” again, I sound like a mouse. This time, he lifts my chin so I’m looking at him again, and no longer his ring dotted with black figures. 

“Ya don’t sound very convincin’ . . but maybe that’s my fault. I didn’t mean t’ say no at first like that. ‘course ‘ll marry you, my bug, but I wanna be tha one who asks,” Harry explains, catching the dwindling tears that remain on the apples of my cheeks. A softness sits in his eyes that makes me pool with sour regret. 

“How come? You said we could just go and do it at the courts one day, easy as that.” 

“That’s not whatchu want, nor do I, Becks,” he states. Despite my stubbornness, I know that he’s right. “Same goes fer askin’ you t’ marry me . . I know we both want it t’ be special, and I need some mo’ time t’ make sure it ‘s.”

“You’ve jokingly asked me how many times now? Called me Mrs. Styles how many times a day lately?” I muse aloud, unsure of how to stop once I had taken the plug from the drain. 

His laughing lips are what I first see, and then hear, “Yes, I joke ‘bout it ‘cos I can’t wait t’ ask you . . figuratively, bug. And, I love callin’ you that, don’t think it could sound any better . . But, you and I both know that we want it t’ be special . . t’ have a grand story t’ tell our kids one day. ‘m only plannin’ on doin’ it once, so I wanna make it unfo’gettable, Becks . . ‘m sorry if I made you feel like ‘ll never do it, and that yer sad it hasn’t happened yet, but it will. I promise you that.” 

“When?” my question appears in the air before I can stop it. So do the dimples in his cheeks, again. “Thank you, I mean. I’m sorry I’m being impatient and rude, I know there’s more to getting married than just a pretty ring.” 

“Yer okay, li’l one, I understand. Well, that wouldn’t be very much fun if I told you, now would it? It’d take away tha surprise.” his brows do the rest of the talking for him. Letting out a long breath, I dive into his arms, and start to relax when his chin rests on my head. “Soon, ‘s that good enough fer you? . . ‘kay, good. Bloody hell, yer a funny one, thinkin’ you can get away with askin’ me like that. And thinkin’ that ‘m not over tha moon mad ‘bout you that ‘m not gonna marry you one day,” he chuckles. I feel his stomach shake with the sound, and soon, mine does too. 

“I can’t believe your knee jerk reaction was to say no.” 

“C’mon, Becks, I didn’t mean it that way. I jus’ meant it as in, I don’t want you t’ beat me t’ it.” 

“Yeah, well, I did. Again,” I giggle, and he joins me with that lovely sound his lips make. 

“Seems ya did, like always . . Would you like t’ come with me t’ look at rings t’morrow afta work?” at the sound of his words, something blossoms inside of my chest, and quickly on my lips. It’s that effervescence that I find sitting in his eyes at times, an unbelievable bubbly feeling. 

“I’d love to, Harry.” 

“Good, I thought that’s what you’d say,” his trademark wheeze is like music to my ears, and at last, I feel my heart start to beat normally again. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothin’ t’ be sorry fer, bug. I feel as if I do, leavin’ you in the dark ‘bout this. I thought you knew from our talks that I was plannin’ on it soon, my love,” and the guilt train just speeds along, taking me with it. 

“You’re too good to me, Harry.” 

“Hush, li’l one, you deserve it and so much mo’, my Mrs. Styles. Now, let’s get some sleep, we have a big day ahead o’ us t’morrow. Interviewin’ witnesses, and engagement ring shoppin,’” he coos with an excited lilt to his voice. I can’t do any longer without seeing it in those sage abyss eyes. “Hi, Mrs. Styles. That sounds rather perfect, dontchu think?”

“Yeah,” I smile, combing stray hair away from those beautiful eyes. I don’t know, I think I want our kids to have his eyes, instead. 

“Rebecca Styles. Becky Styles.” 

“Mr. and Mrs. Styles.” 

“Tha married lawyers,” he whispers until his lips explode with a laugh made of dreams. I taste it on his lips when he kisses me. 

“I love you, Harry Styles.” 

“I love you mo’ than you will ever bloody know, Rebecca Ann. Can’t wait t’ put a ring on yer finger, see you walk down tha aisle t’ me, and have so many babies t’gether,” he speaks animatedly, holding me tight and still holding my eyes with his. “Love you, Boops,” is the last thing he says before kissing my nose, and then underneath my eye. 

I love you, Styles. 

/

“He’s still alive, ‘s he? Hmm, dunno if ya have a green thumb quite yet, considerin’ you’ve killed ev’ry other plant ‘ve gotten you.” 

“Hey! Plants just aren’t my forte, okay? But, succulents? Eh, they’re better . . easier. Plants are harder than they look, Harry,” my protest is weak, and we both know it. He wheezes while thumbing at a thick leaf on ‘Frankie the Succulent,’ the very plant that’s been here just as long as I’ve been a lawyer here. 

“So am I,” I nudge him away when his lousy dad joke drifts over my shoulder. 

“Shut up. I’m going to go and fill my water, so he can have some too. I’ll be back and then, we can have lunch.” 

“Noted. I bloody well hope yer better at keepin’ kids alive than plants.” I have to roll my eyes at him this time too for the lame comment. “Hey, watch those eyes o’ yers, Rebecca Ann, or no churros fer you.” 

“You never have, and you never will, Styles.” 

“Oh, ya sure are temptin’ me now, woman,” he sighs with a finger wagging at me. Rolling my eyes again on accident, and from pure habit, I hurriedly leave the room, giggling after seeing the look on his face. “Yer gonna get it, Rebecca Holte!” I hear called after me, only urging my lips further. 

When I return, his lips are still twitching with a smile, and part of me grows nervous. In one way, ever since we looked at rings last week, I feel on edge every time he has that glint in his eye, never knowing when he’s going to fall onto a knee. This time, I’m nervous about the way he bites at his bottom lip. 

“What’s that look for, Styles?” my lips twitch with nerves. Swallowing against a dry throat, I lift my water bottle to my mouth briefly as I walk up to the succulent. 

“Frankie’s jus’ lookin’ sad, ‘s all. Ya better hurry and water him befo’ he dies on ya too.” 

I hear it, and the puzzle pieces all click together when I spot the long box adorned with glittery, purple wrapping paper in the middle of my desk. That definitely wasn’t there before. 

“Harry-,” I begin, setting down the water bottle as my body turns to face him. 

“Open it,” he interrupts softly, something I once hated him for. At times now, he’s become rather good at finding the best moments for it. 

Squishing my lips together into an eager smile, I pull the box into my hands, unwrapping the violet colored bow. My body jolts when his arms come around my waist from behind, his massive height allowing his chin to rest on the top of my head. Lifting the lid of the rectangular box, I’m greeted by a surprising sight. 

“Harry,” his name drops from my lips, something that had become so easy over the years, despite the times it had been the hardest word for me to say. His lips are touching the sky almost and his dimples couldn’t be deeper as he beams at me. 

“Try it on, Ms. Lawyer. Figured you needed one too t’ stay organized.” Nodding to it, he licks his lips while watching me. 

“This is too much, Harry, I-.” 

“Happy One and a Half, bug, and congrats on yer sparklin’ review, as always. Ya deserve it. Now, try it on already. I wanna see it on you,” he wheezes with that sunshine smile spreading even more warmth across my face. The redness coating my cheeks I’m sure only reaches further when he turns me around to steal a kiss from my lips. 

The lavender colored band feels buttery under my fingertips. I have to ask for Harry’s help, but within moments, an Apple watch similar to his, despite the purple band and purple hard case, sits on my wrist. 

“You like?”

“Yes, I love it,” I sigh happily, exploring the small device’s possibilities. His giggle eggs me on, especially when he shows me the Walkie Talkie feature that he insists we experiment with from opposite sides of the room. “But, I didn’t really get you anything. Well, nothing as nice as this.” 

“Hush, you. You didn’t need t’ get me anythin.’ ‘m mo’ than pleased with our dinner planned fer t’night. ‘m excited t’ cook with you, bug. Steaks, alfredo, honey glazed carrots, and yer famous chocolate cake. There’s nothin’ mo’ that I could want.” 

“Okay, I guess I’ll just take back your present then,” I huff with sarcasm laced in my voice, plucking the present wrapped in Beatles paper from a drawer in my desk. 

He too holds back an excited smile, reaching his hands out while walking towards me. “Gimme,” he nearly squeals, and I oblige. Biting on my nail, I watch as he tears the paper away, oooing and awwing at the square box that now sits in his palm. “Oooo, another wordy board game, me likey.” 

Chuckling, I relish the way he turns it over in his hands, examining the front and back, “It’s called Boggle. You shake up the dice with letters and then have to make words from the touching letters before the timer is up. Then, you go through what words you have, and whoever has the most unique words wins . . My gran and I used to play it loads when . . when she was alive. I found it at my Dad’s the other weekend when I was there, so it’s not a new one, I’m sorry.” 

“Becks,” he begins, having forgotten the game entirely to meet my eyes. Stepping forward, his hand comes to cradle my elbow, all smiles gone. “You shouldn’t have, bug. I can’t imagine how special this ‘s t’ you, thank you so much. ‘ll keep it safe and be careful with it. ‘ll keep it at home, then. We should play it t’night afta dinner. ‘ve been wantin' some new games.” 

“I’d like that, and don’t worry, it just goes to show you how much I love you,” I smile, feeling his honesty when his lips touch mine. “But, for the record, I get it in the divorce. I’m putting it in the prenup.” 

“Shut up, would you? Stop talkin’ and kiss me, honeybug,” Harry smirks, whisking all of my words away with his lips tasting of honey. “Love you.” 

“I love you mostest,” it’s a titter against his lips, but it grows fuller as he shakes his head at me, gnawing at his lip. 

“God, I can’t believe you did that. Ya went right fer it. What am I gonna do with you?” he tuts, clucking his tongue at me. Before I know it, his fingers are dancing along my sides, and his laugh is mingling with mine. 

Who knew that it could ever be this good? 

/

It had been information overload, and my noggin was ready for a break a few days later. Beginning it with a coffee in hand, my legs inch closer to his door. My reprieve is closer with every second as I near the door with my favorite person’s name on it. That was the last thought in my mind when that frosted glass door swung open, and two men turned around to face me with surprise. At first, I have a hard time telling them apart, until I blink a few times.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry. I should’ve knocked,” the words are automatic on my lips, and so is the apology on Harry’s face. 

His parting lips are fast, but they don’t beat those of the man who stands closer to me, “You’re okay, love. I was just leaving.” 

I nod along with his words, but I don’t have any of my own. Instead, my eyes veer to Harry’s pair with a question in mine. The alarm that had risen inside of me at the sight of the man only worsens once I find his pages unreadable to me. His lips curls just the slightest, but there’s something else there I see as they ready themselves to speak. 

“Becks, this ‘s me Dad, and Dad, this ‘s me girlfriend, Becky,” he announces warmly, removing a hand from the pockets of his beige blazer, pointing to the tall man in a dark suit. I can’t stop my eyes from widening at my boyfriend and he nods at me. I don’t have any more time to look, because Harry’s dad is stepping towards me. 

“Reckon we’ve met once before, if I remember correctly. Anyways, I’m Dez. Dez Styles, ‘s nice t’ meet me son’s girlfriend at last,” the man says in a slow drawl with an accent similar to Harry’s. A smile appears on my lips from nowhere as I take his hand in my own, shaking it. If I look hard enough, I think I can see a hint of Harry’s eyes, and more in him. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m Becky.” 

“Pleasure t’ meet you, Becky, but I best be going. I have to get back to work meself. Maybe we could talk more another time. I’d love t’ hear more about you, and how the two of you met over some fish and chips, or a pint some time,” he continues, and so does my nodding. 

“Ya, we’ll see,” the words are soft, but they’re from Harry as his dad nods to the both of us before leaving the room. 

“Have a good day, the both of you. Talk soon.” 

Suddenly, we’re joined by the silence, and Harry only feeds it when I wish he’d end it. No matter the looks I give him or the questions that shout from my eyes, he remains silent, despite the recent bombshell. 

When he does speak, at last, it’s the least from what I expect, “Wanna play some Boggle? Reckon ‘s that point in tha day, I need a break.” 

“Really, Harry? Boggle?” my question graces the air, long overdue, even if only for the last few minutes it’s sat inside of me being a bother. 

Again, he deprives me. Instead, he plops onto the trusty old sofa, removing the playing items from the box to set them on top of it. When I find my seat, a blank notepad and pen both with the logo of Styles and Lawson await me across from him. The loud clatter of the plastic dice bouncing around inside of the container fills my ears when I wish it was something else. Somebody else. 

When he removes the lid to set it aside, and tips the sand timer over, I leave it at that. For the next minute, we sit in an absence of words, concentrating on forming random ones of our own from the arrangement of random letters. 

“Time’s up,” I announce when the white sand has completely filled the bottom half of the timer. His frantic scribbling comes to a stop, but my lips resume, with a laugh. 

“What’re you laughin’ at over there?” Harry hums, lifting his narrowed eyes at me. Despite the number of times I’ve asked, he’s never let me near his beloved eyebrows, but of course, they’re rather perfect as it is. Big surprise, there. 

“Your handwriting has gotten so bad, Harry. How do you even read it, anymore?”

“Hush, you. I can read it, that’s all that matters,” he whines, carding a hand through his hair. 

“I hardly can, though! I barely could when I was your assistant, it took me forever to learn.” 

“‘Kay, thanks fer tha lecture. Now, ‘ll start,” he shrugs with a laugh, pointing the tip of his pen to the first word on his list. His handwriting was a cross between cursive and chicken scratch, that’s all I could ever explain it as. 

“Can we please wait, Harry? I want to talk,” my question is slow and gentle, or so, I hope. If anything, my hand is when I place it on top of his. He doesn’t meet my eyes, but it’s enough when he forgets the pen to cradle my hand in his. 

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?”

“No, of course not, Harry. I-.” 

“Thanks, ‘cos I don’t wantchu t’ and ya don’t hafta be. I didn’t know it was gonna happen, either. I . . ,” a sigh steals his words away as his thumb worries away at my promise ring. “I texted him, askin’ him how he proposed t’ me mum . . and if he had me gran’s ring. His mum’s. He asked if he could stop by tha firm t’ speak ‘bout it, and I said sure, not thinkin’ ‘d actually happen. Things had been good lately, y’know. He was at Gem’s a few weekends ago when I stopped by, you were at a show with Skye, I think.” 

“Yeah, I remember. How’d it go today with him?” my broaching of the question is careful, but if anything, this is a topic I know how to talk about. We both ride the parent trauma train, unfortunately. 

“Good. It was brief, but it went good,” he answers, gracing me with a look of his beautiful eyes. Finally, they hold all of the pages to his books, open for me to read, as I like. “He gave me some tips, and we spoke ‘bout rings. It was actually really nice, and I think he was really tryin,’ which meant loads t’ me. He wants t’ get t’gether t’ meet you- Well, reckon he already did, once or twice, now. But, I think ‘d like that, too. ‘m not jus’ lettin’ him back into me life tho’, but I want to try with him again. I want t’ have a Dad again, Becks,” a happy wheeze accompanies his words, and so does a glassiness to his eyes. 

“I’m so happy for you, honey.” 

I feel his breath on my cheek, and then his beard when I surround him with my arms. Laughs dripping with hopes and dreams pass between us as I hug him back, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Thanks, babe. I jus’ hope it’ll stay this way . . that it’ll stay good.” 

“I know. I’m sure it will, Harry,” trying to ignore the weight of our words, and the impending future that settles in my thoughts. 

Me too, Harry. Me too. 

[cutieodonoghue]

dark gray (1/?)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

a/n: Hi! I know what you’re thinking… I’ve seen this story before, haven’t I? Yes. Yes you have. (Though, if you’re new to this story, hello and welcome, please enjoy!)

I deleted it a while ago thinking it wasn’t fair to leave it up unfinished if I had no plans to continue writing. But, literally out of the blue the other day, inspiration hit me and I was able to actually finish it! Can you believe it? I can’t.

So, rather than keeping it for myself and my own enjoyment, I thought I’d share with anyone who still wanted to see how this tale ends. I know it had a bit of a following and I still get questions about it to this day.

As an added benefit of this reposting, I’ve made some grammatical changes (because sometimes you re-read and you go, wow yikes I messed that up lol) and added some extra bits here and there to add some color and zing. May as well, right?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! And I swear it’s going to be finished this time. I have an actual ending written and ready to publish!

If you just want to read the new parts, tune back in for chapters 14 and onward :)

Love you friends! <3

///

One

He slams the front door closed and it squeaks on its hinges, swinging and clattering against its cracked and broken frame.

He shoves his fist into his jacket pocket, straightening his gaze ahead of him with a white huff of his breath in the frigid air to mingle with the fog that has descended onto the island.

His boots crunch on the rocks as he carries himself onward and he takes note of all the things he has in store for his day. It isn't much, never is, and he curses his sailor's blood for the ungodly hours.

The ground is still damp from last night's storm and the air still smells of it. It had been an unruly thing, the storm, and he'd woken several times at the sound of lightning spiking nearby.

As he walks toward the lighthouse, he shifts his gaze to the ocean that's lapping up against the shore nearby. The water sprays at him and he grits his teeth, breathing in salty gusts of air through his nose.

He narrows his eyes, stopping dead in his tracks the instant he notices a lump lying at the shore, the foaming water washing over every few moments.

The blood drains from his face and his heart begins to pound just a little bit faster, a throbbing beginning to sound in his ears.

He stares for a moment longer, then shifts his gaze a little further up the shore to a brown basket nestled in seaweed and wet sand.

Curiouser and curiouser.

His brow furrows slightly and he pulls his hand free from his jacket so he can comb through his hair nervously.

He starts for the two washed up mysteries quickly, breaths coming out in nervous, shaking huffs, and when he reaches the blue lump, he kneels down beside it.

It's a woman.

She appears to be a few years his junior with sopping wet blonde hair and fair skin. When he examines her, she's breathing, but she's passed out cold. There’s blood oozing from a wound in her forehead and he's sure something's wrong with her leg, because it's twisted obscurely.

He winces a little, unsure of what to do. He's about to stand and lift her over his shoulder to help her when a high-pitched squeaking and crying emanates from a little further down the beach in the brown basket.

He can hardly hear the ocean now with how loudly his heart races in his ears.

He rises slowly, cursing under his breath as he makes his way toward it.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, looking down at the basket.

There is a baby, not a small baby, but a baby nonetheless, lying inside, wrapped tight in a blanket, squirming and crying. It's cheeks are red and it looks absolutely miserable.

He can't blame him. A day like today leaves much to be desired.

Killian Jones crouches down beside the child and holds out his arms, glaring briefly at his hook for a left hand, then, with a shake of his head, he reaches in and carefully lifts the child into the crook of his arm.

Having never held a screaming baby before in his entire life, he hasn't a clue of what to do. He bites down on his tongue and grimaces.

"Quiet down," he tries, "You'll get nowhere crying like that."

The child, miraculously, stops.

Killian sighs. "Let's get you inside then. Can't have you out to freeze, hm?"

He stands again, reaching down for the basket with his hand before turning to trudge back to his residence. Worry fills him from head to toe as he looks at the woman again.

Since she's out of it, she can wait until he's settled the child down. He thinks he knows better than to leave such a small human being out in the cold of the morning with no nourishment or comfort.

The baby squirms in his hold and he winces again in fear, because it isn't as if he has a firm hold on the fragile being. He finds his pace quickening almost instinctively.

Killian pulls the door open with his index finger and it slams behind him loud enough that it makes the child cry again. He starts hushing it as he sets the basket on the table in his kitchen, knocking over a bottle of beer from last night in the process.

He doesn't bother to clean up his mess, deciding to take the child into the small living room off of the kitchen where he builds a cradle of sorts out of blankets and pillows he can find.

He settles the fussing child down into the center of the mess and goes to stoke at the fire that's dying out in the fireplace. While it's warming up, he goes into the kitchen for milk.

He thinks that's what babies eat, right?

He isn't sure if it should be cold or warm and hesitates with the milk glass for a few moments, struggling to even find something to use that will fit in the child’s mouth. He decides on using a cleaned beer bottle for the time being and warms up the milk in the microwave before pouring it into the bottle and carrying it into the living room.

"Here we are," he says gruffly, setting himself down next to the lump in his couch. He awkwardly shifts the baby and uses his thumb to cut off the flow as he settles the lip against the child's mouth. "In we go. You're hungry, aye?"

It takes a few moments and some of the milk dribbles out on the baby's chin, but eventually, all of the milk goes straight into the hungry child's stomach, the baby's eyes falling closed as it continues to suckle.

Killian figures he'll have to find something to use as diaper cloths. He'll do that after bringing the woman inside.

It's a mystery to him how two people could wash up on his island.

It isn’t as if he’s in a highly trafficked area. It's not even in a shipping lane. In fact, ships rarely come along- only for his monthly supplies.

After the boy finishes the milk, Killian puts the beer bottle on the floor and looks down at the child with a furrowed brow.

He hasn't spent nearly enough time around children to know what to do with him now that he's eaten, and Killian sighs as he decides to strip him of the damp blanket and outfit he's sporting.

Killian tucks the boy into the pillows and blankets again, covering him up so he thinks he's warm, and then carries the wet and cold items over to the fire, hanging them to dry.

With one final check on the sleepy child, he nods to himself and zips up his coat to go grab the mystery woman.

He isn't a horrible man. He likes to think himself rather good on his better days. But he isn't a man who enjoys the company of others. In fact, one of the reasons he's still on this island is because he can't stand himself around others.

He can't trust himself around others.

Killian takes a sharp breath of the cold air and lets it back out of his nose, eyes set determinedly on the blue and yellow lump on the shore.

When he reaches her, he sighs, balling up his hand tightly into a fist before leaning down to scoop her up and onto his shoulder. He's careful with his hook and he grunts a bit when her weight is added to him. She's not very heavy, but he's not used to carrying much weight, so he is quick when he makes his way back to his home.

He moves with expertise through the small residence to his bedroom, the only bedroom, and settles her down on his bed.

She's absolutely soaked to the bone and incredibly cold to the touch. Her blonde hair fans around her head, some of the strands sticking to her peaceful cheeks and forehead.

She's still blissfully unaware of anything that's happened, so Killian hesitates for a moment longer before deciding to start the fire in his room.

As soon as the flames breathe warmth into the small room, he goes to the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulls out blankets to cover her with.

He decides that he should take her dress off to try to avoid hypothermia, so he takes a deep breath, leaves the blankets at her feet, and sets to peeling the wet article from her flesh.

Luckily for him, she's out enough that she doesn't wake as he's taking her britches off, and he purposefully covers her with blankets before he goes to find her something of his to wear in place of her dress while it dries.

Carefully, Killian puts a long sleeved shirt over her top and a pair of loose-fitting pants over her bottom, then slides a pair of socks over her feet and covers her with three blankets, ensuring her entire body is tucked safely and securely beneath them.

Her teeth have begun chattering, a new development that’s somewhat assuring.

In the process of slipping the pants on, he'd noticed bruising around her right knee and his thoughts easily drift to wondering what could've happened to her, but he can't know until she wakes, so he stores his curiosity and continues to ensure she's sufficiently warmed.

He figures he'll have to tend to her wounds later when she's awake and can tell him more and decides to go check on the child instead while she sleeps.

Killian leaves his bedroom after draping the woman's clothes over the fire to dry. His boots clump along the hardwood floor noisily and he sighs as he settles onto the couch beside the sleeping babe.

If there was anything he'd imagined his day as being like, it wasn't this.

He was supposed to check on the lightbulbs and make note of what needed fixing after the storm, get started on the list, and then drink himself to sleep after a supper of whatever he might scrounge up.

He isn't sure he can just leave the child and the woman here, not when they might wake up at any moment, so he watches the tiny being as he breathes before nodding in affirmation and carrying the tentative baby bottle into the kitchen.

Killian goes about fixing a stew from what he's got in the pantry and figures a way to feed the child with things in his cabinets.

He's sure the woman will be quick to mother him. Perhaps the child belongs to her- he isn't sure.

And anyway, he won't be stuck with them for very long. Just four weeks before the supply ship comes and he'll send them out and away from him again. He'll just have to deal with them in the meanwhile.

He settles back against the cabinets as the stew cooks on the stove, thinking about what he'll do about sleeping arrangements for the coming few weeks, when he hears the child erupt into a screaming cry.

He springs to work, grabbing the already heated milk from the stovetop and bringing the new bottle with him so he can comfort the infant if it's what it needs.

Killian sits beside the lump of blankets and pillows and lifts the child, whose fussing comes to hiccups as he settles him into his arms.

He frowns at the baby. "'s that all?"

He doesn't enjoy holding the child. It's awkward and uncomfortable and it reminds him all too much of a past he'd very much like to forget, so he sets the boy down again and is greeted by his wails once more.

He growls a little, shaking his head.

"You don't understand," Killian says sternly. "I can't hold you."

For a moment, they're sitting there in a stare-off of sorts, and Killian locks his jaw, shaking his head again before opening his mouth to reprimand the shrieking child when his bedroom door opens.

His gaze shifts immediately to the woman, who looks pale and sickly, leaning against the door jamb with all of her weight.

He stands, holding his arms out as she staggers a little.

She swallows and opens her mouth, looking down at the screaming bundle of flailing limbs on the couch.

Killian hastily lifts the boy into his hold to quiet him again and it works. It's overwhelming to hear his cries, to say the least, and when he moves to go to her, she follows him with her emerald eyes.

"Where am I?" she asks, voice wavering.

He shakes his head. "Don't worry yourself with that. You need to get back into bed."

Killian sets the child down with a wince of anticipation, receiving what he prepared for when the child bursts out in upset. He herds the woman back into the room and watches her cautiously as she limps back to the bed.

She groans and pain creases her forehead when she lies back down. "I heard... crying."

He nods and somehow tucks her back in under the blankets.

"Aye. Apologies. The child appears to have quite the set of lungs." She blinks a few times and he finds himself without words. "Is he… um, yours?"

The woman shakes her head, wincing a little. "No."

Killian runs his eyes down to the base of the bed and shakes his head again, a sigh slipping from his lips at the development. He looks back to her face.

"I'm Emma."

Killian hesitates, shifting a bit on his feet while he examines her sick face. He doesn't know what to do about her. She's clearly running a fever and it's not like he can force her to rest if she doesn't want to.

"Emma, why don't you get some sleep? You don't look well."

She scoffs, closing her eyes. "There was a storm and I fell from the top deck of the ship. I think I broke my leg."

She winces, then reaches down to pull the blankets away.

Bloody maddening woman.

She examines the leg with pain written in her features and he mentally groans, because he certainly is no doctor and she's stranded here with him for another few weeks.

"I could... try and set it," he tells her quietly. Her gaze flits over to him and he sees apprehension in those solid green eyes. "I set many bones in my time in the navy."

She studies him for a second before falling back with a loud sigh.

"Fine."

He eyes her warily, unmoving.

From the other room, the child is still screeching and sobbing and it's making his blood boil angrily, because he is no longer on his own. He no longer has the stability and security of being by himself. He has two people, two needy people, that he's responsible for.

In all of his time as caretaker of the lighthouse, it's been task after task and menial chores, followed by drinking and television- if the damn satellite worked.

It gets lonely, but he's better that way. He can't hurt anyone if he's by himself.

As his hand settles against her bare leg, he searches for the break. He gives her no warning, which in hindsight was a bloody awful idea, and she screams when he sets the bone with a loud crack.

Two screaming strangers in his tiny home on an island in the middle of nowhere. Bloody perfect.