#who passed me their card and asked if I wanted to move to the DC area

[fishfooddude]

Last Updated: 12/16/2024

Teasing

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy is a tease, and you love it. MDNI 18+

Elementary School

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy comes to pick you up from work while Richie teases the two of you

What Happens In Vegas Doesn't Always Stay In Vegas

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x OC A four-part series about a past mistake both Carmy and Ellie had long forgotten about. Part 1: Those are Legal? Part 2: The Bear, Abuse of Power, and a Dick Measuring Contest Part 3: The Fight Part 4: DC in October

Family Ties

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy butts heads with his 17-year-old daughter

Father's Day

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Father's day cards covered in glitter and a surprise, what more could Carmy ask for?

High School

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy didn't like high school, but he did like you, so when you asked him to come speak to this year's graduating class, how could he say no?

Food is Love

~Requested~ (forgot to give it a title) Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader After the passing of your father, you have a hankering for "Daddy Soup." You can't figure out the recipe, so you enlist the help of your Michelin star boyfriend to figure it out

Slumber Party

~Requested~ Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader You didn't take Carmy as a 3-in-1 guy but I guess sleeping over at his place for the first time gives you a good amount of insight on your boyfriend.

Feral

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader After work fun ~ MDNI 18+

Our Future (2 Parts)

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader Age gaps can be difficult. Being at two different times in your life makes the idea of the future seem impossible. Part 1: Our Future Part 2: Our Present

Social Media Manager: The Series

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Marcus's friend Rusty is intriguing, and Carmy wants to get to know her better. Why not hire her to revamp The Bear's social media pages? Part 1: Introductions and Donuts Part 2: Meetings, Meetings, Meetings Part 3: Drinks? Part 4: Bars and Miscommunication

The Carmy Blurb Playlist

A collection of Carmy blurbs inspired by songs I dig that give me Carmy vibes

A Different Point of View

Natalie Berzatto's POV on the events of Season 1

Cigarettes Multiverse (3 Parts)

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader MDNI 18+ Friends with benefits worked for you and Carmy until it didn't. Part 1: Cigarettes - Rozei Part 2: Girlfriend Treatment Part 3: Boyfriend Treatment

Six Months (5 parts)

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Six months postpartum and six months of celibacy, is a sexually frustrated Carmy going to risk his marriage and future relationship with his daughter for a woman who smells like artificial vanilla? Part 1: Six Months Part 2: The Night It Went Wrong Part 3: The Aftermath Part 4: Two Months Part 5: Healing

Three-Three-Three

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Based on the fridge scene of the S2 finale; you help Carmy calm down when he's having a panic attack

You're un-beet-liveable

Sydney "Syd" Aduam x Male Reader (actually, it's Paul Mescal) A cute delivery guy makes Syd a little less annoyed that Carmy asked her to come in early.

Is this what you were looking for?

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy has a habit of misplacing his wedding ring, so he came up with a better alternative.

The Playdate

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader Tiffany asks if Richie can pick Eva up from a playdate.

Lockdowns & Ladyfingers

Chef Luca x Reader Luca is the hot neighbor, after getting the 411 from the grannies in the building; you make your move.

Our Life

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader You see Carmy's sketchbook and can't help but fall more in love with him.

Love Story

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Just a sweet lil narrative of Carmy fallin' for you

Sorry?

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader The story of the time you don't get off MDNI 18+

Cooking Class

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader "Six Months" universe spin-off sorta... Sugar actions off a cooking class hosted by our favorite little chef,. Carmy is a sexy man here's his response to some unwanted flirtation.

That Poster Trend

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader With Carmy's 30th birthday fast approaching, you were struggling to figure out the perfect gift for him—at least until you were reminded of that TikTok beer poster trend.

Fatherhood: Carmy Berzatto

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto's adventures in single fatherhood.

Proposal Gone Wrong

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy wants nothing more than to marry you; unfortunately, with his luck, Murphy's Law took over.

How do you do it?

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader Richie's at his wits end with Carmy. Some advice may make it a little better.

To Chicago and Beyond

Carmen "Carmy" Beratto x Reader Long distance becomes short distance- so short you're within arm's reach of each other.

The Joy Of Cooking

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader You and Carmy are moving in together; nothing bad could happen, right?

Gimme a Minute

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Just something I threw together while I was waiting for my individual supervision session to start.

Drunken Escapades

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader It turns out you met Mikey before he passed; you just didn't know it. Part 1: Drunken Escapades Part 2 : Drunken Escapades Brought Us Here(MDNI 18+)

No Phone Policy

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader I'm in an angsty mood; I'm sorry, everyone. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 The Prequel Part 5 Part 6

Allergic to Sunshine

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Request!

Double Trouble

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader MDNI 18+ Double the trouble but twice the joy. Thank you, God, for giving me a twin. Do you ever have one of those stupid ideas that sticks in your brain even though it feels kinda stupid? Yea... that's what this was. Part 1: Double Trouble Part 2: I'll Raise You One Better Part 3: Wedding of the Year

Coffee Run

Sydney "Syd" Adamu x Reader Someone requested a Syd x fem reader story a few months ago, and here it is!

Hot Stuff

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Request! Carmy with a plus size reader and him comforting her while she’s not feeling pretty.

Written Romance

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Request! Carmy finds love in an indie book shop.

Non-Casual Dominance

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader MDNI 18+ Carmy gets a little dominant on you.

Worm Universe

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader MDNI 18+ Carmy got you pregnant, and boy, oh boy, was it a wild ride. Part 1: Would you still love me if I was a worm? Part 2: Yes I Would

Mr. Berzatto

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy's Dad left the family when he was a kid. Everyone assumed he was dead or in jail or fled the country, who knows. Turns out he never left Chicago, when he turns up in your vintage shop, you're none the wiser.

Verified Lover

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x OC The chef and the popstar's iconic love story Track 1: Blue Check Heart

[moodymelanist]

Let’s Talk About You And Me

happy day 2 of @nessianweek everyone! today’s contribution is spice spice and more spice so I hope you have a glass of water nearby 😏

Summary: After their friends tease them for being relentless horndogs, Nesta and Cassian make a bet about how long the other can last without any sex.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Smut full-steam ahead. Edging, dirty talk, degradation, dominant!Nesta

Read on AO3 here!

✵✵✵✵✵✵ Nesta

It was the first Friday of the month, and that could only mean one thing: game night at Gwyn and Azriel’s place.

Once a month, everyone who was available gathered at Gwyn and Azriel’s for game night. For once everyone they invited actually showed up, so the living room was a little more crowded than usual, but that was alright. Nesta liked being able to see all the people she cared about at once, and this certainly made it easier. 

As usual, Nesta and Cassian had been the last to arrive, much to the assembled group’s amusement.

“Jesus, what took you two so long?” Feyre asked once they got inside. She and Rhys were cuddled up on the armchair, Rhys’ armed curled casually around her waist. “Actually, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Ha ha,” Nesta replied sarcastically, slipping off her shoes so she could claim her usual spot on the sectional. Elain helpfully moved out of the way so she could have some more room, though Nesta suspected being able to snuggle further into Lucien’s body was a strong motivator. “You’re so funny.”

“Feyre darling’s a real comedian,” Rhys jumped to her defense immediately.

“Maybe she should try better material,” Cassian replied, taking off his jacket before plopping down next to Nesta. “If you’re so concerned, there was a fuckton of traffic on our way here.”

“Traffic, he says,” Mor chimed in with a laugh. She exchanged a knowing look with Emerie before adding, “That excuse only works when there’s actually traffic on the road.”

“There was a huge accident on 395,” Nesta protested. Driving in DC wasn’t for the faint of heart, especially on a Friday night. “Turn on the news right now if you don’t believe me.”

“And even if we were fucking,” Cassian added, “it’s not like we’re the only ones that have run a little late because of it.”

“Respectfully, no,” Azriel replied over the others’ laughter. “You two are the worst.”

“What?” Cassian responded, playfully affronted. “We’re not that bad!”

“As someone who’s lived with you, I have to aggressively disagree,” Azriel answered. “No offense, but you’re the worst.”

“It’s true,” Gwyn chimed in, giggling as she came back into the living room with a fresh bowl of chips. “As someone who’s also lived with you, I can confirm.”

“So much for loyalty,” Nesta responded with a playful roll of her eyes.

“The truth is more important,” Gwyn told her primly, though she made sure to walk in front of Nesta so she could get first dibs on the snacks. 

“Our friends are such assholes,” Cassian muttered.

Nesta snorted. “I’ve been telling you that for years .”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Elain said with a laugh. “Let’s pick a game now that everyone’s here. Luce, pass me the cards?”

The sex-related teasing died down once they started playing, though that certainly didn’t stop the game-related teasing as the night wore on. They’d assembled enough Uno cards for everyone to play even with a group as large as them, and once they’d sorted through the usual arguing about whether a draw two could go on top of a draw four and if they had to say uno out, Emerie and Lucien ended up winning the most rounds. 

By the time Nesta and Cassian made it back home, Nesta was more than ready to get ready for bed and hunker down with the next chapter of the latest Sellyn Drake release, but it seemed Cassian had other plans.

“Does it bother you?” Cassian asked as they stood next to one another in the bathroom getting ready for bed. He was gently pulling his curls into his usual pineapple while she washed her face, and the sheer domesticity of it all made something warm bloom in her chest.

Nesta finished rinsing and reached for a washcloth to pat her face dry. “Does what bother me?” 

“That our friends think we’re such horndogs,” he told her.

“Not really,” she answered as she swiped toner across her clean skin. If she was being honest, even though she was a private person, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that everyone knew they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. “Does it bother you?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. He reached for the silk scarf he used to protect his curls and leaned his head down so he could wrap it around his head, gently tucking the ends in to protect his hair. “I don’t know. Do they think we’re just fucking all the time and don’t actually talk?”

“That’s idiotic,” Nesta said, reaching for her moisturizer. “We don’t need to have sex all the time to have a solid relationship.”

“Of course not,” Cassian said back. He stood back up and swiped her micellar water with a grin. “Don’t get me wrong, I love having sex with you, but…”

“But we don’t need it,” she finished his sentence. She reached out and grabbed her toothbrush, adding some toothpaste before rinsing it and starting to brush her teeth. “Exactly.”

“I mean, I think you get a little cranky if you’re not getting it on the regular,” he added, smirking, “but you’re dating me, so that’s to be expected.”

“Excuse me?” she replied, pausing her brushing to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “ I get cranky?”

“The evidence doesn’t lie, sweetheart,” he answered cockily. “You get all huffy if it’s been too long. It’s adorable.”

“Says the man who woke me up last night to have sex with me,” she fired back, scoffing. He thought she got cranky if they didn’t have enough sex? If there was one thing men never ran out of, it was audacity. “You’re unbelievable.”

“That was an emergency,” he retorted. He reached for his own toothbrush and quickly began brushing his own teeth, waggling his eyebrows at her via the mirror. “Doesn’t change what I said.”

If her boyfriend had stopped talking approximately thirty seconds sooner, maybe they could’ve gone to bed in peace. But instead, he had to open his big mouth and add, “I’m not the problem here.”

“If you really think I’m the problem,” Nesta began haughtily, briefly pausing to spit and rinse the toothpaste out of her mouth, “then it definitely won’t be a problem if I stop giving it up altogether.”

“You can’t be serious,” Cassian replied after a second of stunned silence, reaching out to try and wrap an arm around her waist. His mouth dropped open a little bit when she deftly avoided him and started walking back to their bedroom so she could put on her pajamas. “Nes. Come on.”

“Don’t ‘Nes’ me,” she tossed over her shoulder. He followed her into their closet and she pointedly ignored the way he leaned against the doorframe to watch her change into a tank and loose shorts. “If I’m the problem, then it won’t be difficult for you. Right?”

“Of course not,” he said, challenge gleaming in his eyes. “And when you come back begging me to fuck you, I promise I won’t be mean about it.”

“That’s adorable.” She tossed her worn clothes in the hamper and walked into their bedroom, not even giving him a spare glance once he started stripping. “I can’t say I’ll do the same for you.”

“Fine,” Cassian answered. He sauntered into their bedroom only wearing boxers, and while normally she would’ve shamelessly ogled him, she wasn’t going down easy. Instead of reaching for him, she loosely braided her hair for sleep and busied herself with making sure all her devices were plugged in. “If that’s how you want to play it, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” Nesta echoed. She pulled down the comforter and got under the sheets, taking an immense amount of satisfaction from the disbelieving look on his face. “Good night, Cassian.”

Cassian turned off the light before sliding under the covers, too. “Good night, Nesta.”

The next morning, Nesta woke up to Cassian plastered across her back as usual. She could tell he was awake from the way he was gently rubbing circles into her stomach, and while on any other morning she would’ve ground back into his morning wood, this wasn’t any other morning. 

“Good morning,” Cassian murmured into her ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. 

“Good morning,” Nesta whispered back. Her body was already responding to his hands and his lips and his voice – Jesus, he wasn’t even trying, she needed to pull herself together – but she wasn’t going down without a fight. “Are you going to shower first?”

“Shower?” he asked, clearly confused. It was a Sunday, so they didn’t have anywhere to be, and they usually spent them lounging around and catching up on chores after a few rounds of morning sex. “What do you mean?”

“To take care of that,” she answered, pushing back into him just enough to be a tease. “Unless you want to take back what you said, of course.”

“I don’t have to take it back when I was right,” he replied with a low chuckle. His morning voice should be illegal, she thought to herself. “But whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“Then I hope your hand feels better than mine,” she fired back. She wiggled out of his grip with a little more body contact than necessary, taking her time to stand up, turn to face him, and stretch in a way she knew emphasized her chest. “I’m going to eat something.”

Nesta made sure Cassian saw her smirk before she turned and made her way to the kitchen, feeling more than confident that she was winning this war as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. Her good mood only got better as she heard her boyfriend grumble all the way to the bathroom, and she was practically whistling by the time she finished eating and took her dishes to the sink so she could wash everything. 

She was washing her bowl out when Cassian finally emerged, dressed in a low-cut green tank top and a pair of black shorts. He’d pulled his curls back into a loose bun, a few strands escaping toward the front, and damn if the sight of him almost made her want to reconsider their competition. “Are you going to the gym?”

“Yup,” Cassian answered. Even though their kitchen had more than enough room, as he passed her he put his hands on her waist and made a show of grinding his front to her back. “Excuse me.”

“The protein powder’s in the other cabinet, idiot,” she told him, thoroughly ignoring how much he’d set her ablaze with just that one touch. 

“Oops,” he said sarcastically. He pressed himself against her again as he went to the right cabinet, taking his time to really make sure she felt every inch of his muscled body against hers before he grabbed the protein powder. “My mistake.”

She just rolled her eyes as she dried her now-clean bowl, moving to put it away on the second shelf of the cabinet where they kept their plates and bowls. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Need some help with that?” he asked from behind her, crowding her between his body and the counter. He reached out and plucked the bowl from her fingers, rocking his hips up as he put it with the rest of the clean dishes, and she had to bite back a moan at how good it felt. 

At this angle, it would be so easy for her to lean her head back on his shoulder and let him have his way with her. To let him hoist one leg up, pull her loose shorts to the side, and fuck her until she couldn’t walk. To let him—

Nesta mentally shook herself before she let her fantasies go any further. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and she was already losing her cool like this? She needed to get a goddamn grip. 

“Thank you,” Nesta managed to get out without her voice giving her away. It was a relief when he backed away from her with a little chuckle, like he knew exactly what direction her thoughts had traveled in without her saying a word. “Have a good workout.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Cassian replied, still amused. He gave her a quick kiss on the temple before he finished shaking up his drink, grabbed a handful of snacks to hold him over, and moved toward the door. “Don’t break your vibrator trying to replace me!”

“Fuck you,” she called out. He laughed before shutting the door behind him, leaving her alone and thankfully distraction-free.

With Cassian out of the apartment for a bit, Nesta found it wasn’t nearly as difficult to keep her focus. She did her usual weekly cleaning, updated their grocery list, and started a load of laundry. By the time he made it back home, she’d done some yoga, showered, gotten dressed, and was in the middle of moving their laundry to the right place.

At the sound of Cassian’s keys opening the door, Nesta yelled her greeting from where she was bent over fishing clothes out of the washing machine so she could throw them into the dryer. “Hey baby!”

“Now that’s a sight for sore ears,” Cassian replied. She turned and rolled her eyes at the sight of him openly ogling her. “Don’t stop on my account, sweetheart.”

“There’s no more clothes to move,” she told him dryly. She tossed some dryer balls in with the wet clothes and started the drying cycle, already moving to fold the dry clothes from the first load that she’d tossed on their bed a few minutes prior. “How was the gym?”

“Good,” he answered, following her into the bedroom. “Sweaty. I’m gonna shower.”

“Have fun without me,” she told him with a smirk.

He winked at her before yanking his shirt over his head. “Oh, I intend to.”

Cassian’s shower didn’t even last ten minutes, so Nesta was still folding clothes when he emerged from the bathroom. She looked up from where she was folding one of his shirts and immediately did a double take when she realized he was completely naked, his usual oversized towel nowhere to be seen, and she swallowed thickly at the sight of him still glistening from his shower. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Nesta asked, trying and failing to keep her eyes on something appropriate. 

“My favorite towel is in the hamper,” Cassian answered with a smirk. It only grew as he watched her follow a droplet of water trailing down his abs and toward his rapidly hardening cock. “Not my fault, sweetheart.”

Damn. She hated that he wasn’t actually wrong, but she knew there were plenty of clean towels in their linen closet. “There’s still lots of towels in there, baby.”

“And use an inferior towel?” he replied with a heavy, put-upon sigh. “You know I have sensitive skin.”

“Yep,” she responded tightly. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to strangle him or sink to her knees and let the hard length of his cock in her throat strangle her instead, but she had to stay strong. “Which is why all our towels are Turkish cotton.”

“Hmm,” he said with false thoughtfulness. She nearly ripped through the lace underwear she was folding when he leaned against the doorframe and his cock shifted with the motion, leaking arousal and practically begging her to put her mouth on it. “You’re so good to me, Nes.”

That was playing dirty, and he knew it. Her body was practically conditioned to respond to his praise, her breath coming faster as she pressed her thighs together to try and ignore her arousal. It only got stronger as he took himself in hand, the obscene sounds of him stroking his hard cock threatening to break her like nothing had before. 

“Fuck off,” Nesta eventually snapped, forcing herself to break out of her trance. She grabbed as many clothes as she could carry and practically ran into the closet to start putting them away, knowing if she didn’t leave now, Cassian would never stop bragging about how he’d won. Even through the door, she could hear the sound of his laughter. 

But she wasn’t going down that easily. 

✵✵✵✵✵✵

After Nesta got a chance to calm down — and finish putting away their laundry — the rest of their Saturday night went quietly enough. They ordered Indian for dinner and spent the night in front of their TV, catching up on Heartstopper while they munched on naan and butter chicken, and Cassian only tried to get a rise out of her once. He only pouted a little when it didn’t work, but that didn’t stop him from cuddling up to her as usual when it was time for bed. 

In the end, it wasn’t the skimpy clothes or the innuendos or the sudden increase in bending over that did it. In fact, it happened when Nesta wasn’t even putting in any extra effort – which, in hindsight, she supposed was as wholesome as the two of them could get. 

When Sunday morning rolled around, Nesta woke up before Cassian for once, and she quietly slipped out of bed to make herself some tea so she could curl up with her book for a little while. Maybe it was playing with fire to read such filthy material when she couldn’t put all that restless energy to good use, but she’d been so preoccupied with messing with her boyfriend that she was falling behind with her book club.

Once she had a steaming cup of Earl Grey ready, it was easy to get cozy and lose herself in the morning light and the sounds of her pages turning. She was so immersed in her book that she didn’t even notice that she was being watched for a solid couple of minutes, and once that awareness slowly trickled in, she looked up to see Cassian leaning against their bedroom doorframe watching her.

“Good morning,” Nesta said pleasantly, reaching for her cup of tea and taking a large sip. From the way he was looking at her, she had a good feeling about how this morning was going to go, but she had to let him come to that conclusion on his own. “What did you want to do for breakfast?”

Cassian crossed the room in a few long strides, his eyes dark and intent on her. “You.”

“Not on the menu,” she replied. She reached out with her foot and stopped him in his tracks, doing her best to keep her composure as he grabbed her ankle and started rubbing circles into her skin. “Did you need something, baby?”

“Please, Nesta,” Cassian said, his eyes a little wild. “I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Nesta said back, doing her best to seem unimpressed. She knew nothing drove him crazier than when she acted like this, so it was only a matter of time before he completely caved. “Pathetic.”

“Sweetheart, please,” he replied. He gently let go of her foot and sank to his knees in front of her, crawling the last bit of the way until his hands were resting on her thighs. “I am so, so, so, sorry.”

“And?” she prompted. She made sure to slide her bookmark into place before looking down her nose at him, setting her book on the nightstand and out of the way. “What are you sorry for?”

“For acting like you were the problem,” he answered in a rush, his words almost running together he was so eager to get them out. “When it was me who couldn’t handle it.”

She leaned forward and sank a hand into his hair, thoroughly enjoying the way his breath hitched at the movement. “So what does that make you?” 

“…Very sorry?” he guessed hesitantly. God, she loved seeing him this way, all eager to please her and just desperate enough to do whatever she wanted. “Nesta, please . I need you.”

“Wrong answer,” Nesta said, pulling on the curls she had gathered between her fingers. “It makes you a needy little slut.”

Cassian inhaled sharply and tried to nod his agreement as best he could with her hand still pulling at his hair. “Yeah. Yes. Uh huh.”

“Why don’t we try that again, hmm?” she asked, though they both knew it wasn’t really a request. “What does that make you, Cassian?”

“A needy little slut,” he repeated quickly. He was breathing so quickly it was a miracle he was still able to talk. “Your needy little slut.”

“There’s a good boy,” she told him, deeply satisfied at the way his eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the words. “Why don’t you show me how good you are?”

“Anything,” he panted. “Anything you want.”

Nesta spread her legs and fixed him with an expectant look. “Do I have to spell it out for you, or are you smarter than you look?”

Cassian didn’t waste any time, thankfully understanding exactly what she was asking for. He reached for her pajama shorts and helped her wiggle out of them — and her underwear — before diving in with a vengeance. She dug her hands into his hair as he got to work, using the flat of his tongue just the way he knew she liked it and not wasting his time with too much foreplay.

Nesta moaned and leaned back against the couch, more than happy to relax and let him do all the work. She’d been so on edge that it only took a few minutes to push her over it. She came with a loud cry, arching her back and tightening her grip on his hair to get closer to his tongue. It had only been a few days since her last orgasm, but that was seemingly enough to make this one more intense than she was used to. 

More intense than the usual intense, anyway. 

“Bedroom,” she demanded once she’d caught her breath. “Now.”

Cassian nodded and scrambled to his feet, giving her a quick look at the way his hard cock was tenting the front of his pajama pants before practically sprinting to their room. 

Nesta took her time even though her body was screaming for more. She knew the anticipation would drive him even more wild, so what was the rush? She made sure to put her mug in the sink and grab her clothes before she casually walked toward their bedroom.

“Take off your clothes and lay down on the bed,” Nesta ordered after she’d stepped into the room. “Face up.”

“Okay,” Cassian agreed. He whipped off his pajamas and underwear, throwing himself onto the bed so fast it was a miracle nothing broke under him. “I’m ready.”

“Mhmm.” She pulled off her shirt and tossed her clothes toward the hamper, eyeing his hard cock with disdain as she walked toward the bed. “I can see that.”

The meaner she was to him, the more it turned him on. He was hard enough to pound nails, and while she normally might’ve savored the feeling of it in her mouth, she wasn’t feeling particularly generous right now. Instead of lowering her mouth, she got on the bed and straddled him, his hands automatically settling on her hips to keep her steady.

“You’re not coming until I say so,” Nesta said, slowly grinding against Cassian’s hard cock just to tease him. “You understand?”

“Y-yeah,” Cassian said back. They’d played this game before, and they both knew she’d stop if and when he said the word. “I understand.”

“Good,” she replied. She didn’t give him any warning before lifting up, grabbing his cock, and sinking down onto it in one long slide. “Fuck, I missed this.”

The sound of his whimper was like music to her ears. “God, Nesta—”

“You almost got me yesterday,” she admitted as she slowly rocked back and forth on his cock. She couldn’t believe she’d gone days without him stretching her out like this. “Walking around with your dick out like — fuck, yes, that’s it — like a fucking whore.”

“Couldn’t help it,” he panted. He bucked his hips up to meet her thrust for thrust and they both groaned. “Needed you so bad.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been so goddamn stupid,” she retorted, starting to speed up now. “But maybe you just like being stupid.”

“I’m an idiot,” he agreed. He groaned after a particularly well-timed thrust and his grip got that much tighter on her hips. “A needy idiot.”

Their pace sped up even more after that, Nesta leaning all the way forward so Cassian could get his knees under her and thrust upwards in earnest. She couldn’t help but kiss him then, moaning into his mouth as he really let her have it, their headboard slamming into the wall over and over again with every thrust. 

“Jesus, you feel so good,” Cassian moaned, shifting his grip so he could grab her ass and thrust that much harder and faster. “So fucking perfect.”

“You close?” Nesta asked. At his frantic nod, she pulled all the way off his cock so she could reach down and squeeze the base of it tightly. 

He hissed loudly. “ Ah — fuck, Nesta!”

“Just making sure you keep your promise,” she told him. When he’d calmed down enough, she let go and gave him a mean smirk. “Thanks for telling me, baby.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” he groaned. 

“I told you I’d be mean about it,” she replied sweetly, “so I don’t know why you’re surprised about that now.”

“I didn’t think you actually meant it,” he responded, only a little exasperated.  

“If only I cared what you thought,” she fired back. “Fuck toys don’t get to have opinions.”

Sitting as close as they were, Nesta could feel the moment Cassian’s cock twitched at the words. “You like that, hmm?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Love it.”

“Maybe next time I’ll gag you,” Nesta mused aloud, shifting to sit next to him so she could take his cock in her hand. “Then you really wouldn’t get to have any opinions.”

“Oh, shit,” Cassian gasped. His gaze flicked back and forth between her face and her hand stroking his cock, like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to look at more. “Nesta, please .”

“Maybe I’ll tie you up, too,” she continued, tightening her grip on him almost to the point of pain. He moaned and thrusted up into her hand, arousal leaking steadily from the tip and showing her just how much he liked this. “Use you like my personal dildo.”

At his full-body shiver, she let go of him completely and laughed at his look of utter betrayal. “What are we, fourteen? You’re not coming in my hand.”

“Of course not,” he answered through gritted teeth. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, only opening them when he could handle looking at her again. “Now what?”

Nesta chose to take pity on him and ignore his mouthiness. “Come here.”

Cassian sat up and let her tug him on top of her, settling between her legs where he belonged. Nesta reached down and guided his cock between her legs, both of them moaning when he thrusted inside her, and it didn’t take long before they were going at it like rabbits. It was all she could do to dig her nails into his back, wrap her legs around his waist, and hold on for dear life.

God. How had she survived going without this for so long? 

“Nesta, I’m so close,” Cassian panted into her ear. He pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses to her jaw and her neck that made her run even hotter than she already was. “Please, please— ”

“You can come whenever you need to,” Nesta finally told him. She figured she’d dangled his orgasm in front of him for long enough. “You earned it.” 

The words had barely left her mouth before Cassian was coming. He slammed into her one last time and stayed deep, his entire body trembling from the force of his orgasm as he moaned her name and rode it out. 

“Fuck, that was good,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re so good to me.” 

After they’d both caught their breath, Nesta found herself lying half on top of Cassian while he gently ran his fingers across her freckled shoulders. Their sheets were a mess and they both needed to shower, but she wasn’t going to move for anything. Now that she wasn’t practically vibrating out of her skin with how badly she wanted him, being in his arms was far more comforting than it had been compared to the last few days.

“So maybe we do need it,” Cassian eventually said.

Nesta just dug her face more aggressively into his chest, intent on enjoying her sleepy afterglow for as long as possible. “If you don’t shut the fuck up, next time it’ll be two weeks.”

“Shutting up now,” he replied, pulling a huff of laughter from her. He’d admitted how wrong he was many, many times already, so she didn’t even bother correcting him; they both knew how right she’d been. “I was an idiot. Let’s never do this again.”

“Best idea you’ve had all day,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too,” she answered automatically. “But I really do need you to stop talking. That was exhausting and I need to nap.” 

“Okay,” he agreed, leaning down to press a kiss into her hair. “But after we nap, how do you feel about round two?”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

[sarasa-cat]

Personal rant regarding covid 19 in the US.

My list of “dead to me” non-essential small businesses and private educational schools/groups/thingers grows larger and larger every week.

Yes, sure, I fully understand that (1) your business model has previous thrived on and catered to face-to-face group interactions, and (2) you are based in a country that is providing little to no economic relief. I get it. Really, I do. I see the tough situation you’ve been put in. I know what an empty bank account and a pile of bills looks like.

But ffs, if you can move your entire business online and/or into a fully socially distanced “pick up window” style model (like many family owned resturants which have converted 100% to take-away and won’t even let people inside), just freaking do it. DO IT.

And those who are on that increasingly long “dead to me” list are ALL ABSOLUTELY CAPABLE OF DOING THIS because they either already have a partial online component or others offering similar products/services already have a successful thing going after switching entirely to online (or online + pick up window).

Some people just feel a need to be difficult and this is why city, county, and state govs just need to implement real shutdowns in the US. Actual, real, shutdowns with big fines that will be placed on you and your business.

And sorry if this isn’t the so-called american way.

...

And don’t even get me started on how people in america are just blithely traveling long distance and gathering for dinners and holidays like what the ever living fuck are you people that stupid?

[dcbbw]

Crash (Quote Me on This)

This story is my submission for the Quote Me on This challenge, hosted by the always lovely @riseandshinelittleblossom. My quote: The trouble is you think you have time will appear in bold.

My pairing for this fic is Sock Game Liam x Riley B. You should know that this was not my original idea for the prompt; I was thinking of revisiting my Secrets of Cordonia AU and making Annabelle Beaumont the lead character, but while researching whether roosters are allowed within city limits (they are not because roosters crow, thus violating a noise ordinance), I thought of the DC AU gang.

I ran it past a hastily thrown together Panel of Experts and the answer was a resounding NO. Thus followed pleas, negotiations, and promises that this a one-time AU and a true one-shot.

THANK YOU, Panel for your reads and suggestions, and for not revoking my cards and memberships to the SGL Fan Club.

THANK YOU to all who will read this story. Your likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated more than you know.

Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Word Editor rates this work at 97%.  Asking for grace with the medical terminology; my knowledge is limited to Grey’s Anatomy.

Song lyrics are from Pink Light, covered by Marika Hackman and I own no rights.

Nearly all characters belong to Pixelberry

Word Count: 3,383

Song Inspiration: Possibility, Lykke Li

Warnings: Descriptions of car accidents

The trouble is … you think you have time.

But you don’t.

None of us do. Not really. A universal complaint is never having enough hours in the day, never enough time to complete the tasks and chores, meet the deadlines.   

 The fact of the matter is time is always passing. Seconds into minutes into days into weeks into years. Time is in constant motion, and even when it stops for you, it’s moving for everyone else.   

 I’m lying in my bed, cellphone in my hand and head propped by pillows. My finger hovers over Liam’s name as I purse my lips. Why am I being such a simp and wimp about this? 

 Because it’s Liam.  

 I’m ready to go all in with him. I’m ready for the relationship … ready to be his girl. His woman. Farts, fights, make-up kisses, breakfast in bed at 3pm, morning breath. I’m ready for all of it.  

I think.  

Because with all this comes sex.

And sex changes everything for me.

It’s easy now to be in love with him while there’s no strings, no sex, and I stay in my lane: We can laugh, joke, flirt, make out, embarrass ourselves and there are no consequences.  

We can have the deep conversations and exchange of secrets, we can give each other drunken kisses, we can call each other bitches … and nothing changes. We both still show up the next day, ready to do it all over again.  

Once we have sex, once we make the commitment … there’s a nakedness and vulnerability that makes us both susceptible to judgement and criticism that wasn’t present before. It’s easier to walk away because the anticipation is gone, replaced by expectation.  

 You have to meet expectations. 

It’s happened enough times that I know I don’t want it to happen again. Men I’ve had history and friendships with had absolutely no issues stomping my heart, dismissing my feelings, and walking away from me. As if I’m without value and not worth the effort of decency and respect.  

So I let it happen again   I loved someone who's indifferent   That's why I can't sleep at night   That's why I keep sleeping in  

As long as I remain single, I’m independent, confident … a catch.  

But it’s Liam. I’m in love with him. He says he’s in love with me.

There's a pink light in my apartment It comes mid-morning as a reminder That at the right time, in the right surroundings I will be lovely, but I can't help thinking

 Shaking my head impatiently, I dial his number. He picks up on the second ring.

“It’s late, Riley B. What’s up?”

His tone is distracted, and I hear the clacking of a keyboard.

“Are you still at work?” I ask incredulously.

“Making the big bucks so I can pay rent and take care of my best girl, duh!”

“Seriously, Liam … it’s late!”

“Not that late, but it has been a long week. Already at 68 hours this week and it isn’t even Friday Eve yet.”

I feel guilty and stupid and selfish. I’m worried about telling him my feelings, and he’s working his ass off to provide for me. What woman would second-guess that?

Me. I’ve mis-read the signals before. Every time before.

“Hopefully you’re taking some time off soon.”

“I do plan to utilize my weekend.” A brief silence. “Are you okay? Not like you to call past your bedtime.”

I giggle softly even as butterflies run amok in my tummy. “I wanted to know if you could meet for lunch tomorrow. I -I wanna talk to you.”

“About?” he prods.

“Us.”

“You know what? I’m at a stopping point and headed to you right now!”

“It’s late, you’re tired, and probably haven’t had dinner. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“HAH! I had a honeybun and Mountain Dew around six. And I am never too tired for you, love. I’ll stop and get McDonalds for both of us. See you soon.”

I am unworthy of this man.

He hangs up. I glance at my reflection in the mirror and make a face.

I’d better get ready.

A half-hour later, I have taken the world’s quickest shower, straightened the bed, slapped a wig over my hair, and put on lipstick. My phone rings and I rush to answer it; I know it’s Liam.

It isn’t Liam.

It’s the hospital. A nurse addresses me by name and informs me that I am the emergency contact for one Liam Rys.

She mispronounces his last name. I don’t correct her.

She asks my relationship to Liam.

“I’m his girlfriend,” I answer slowly. Words I have never said to Liam, I am telling a total stranger.

“There’s been a car accident. A serious one. Mr. Rys is in critical condition, and we need permission from an immediate family member to perform emergency surgery.”

“Which hospital is this?” 

“Sibley Memorial. I’m Nurse Pickens and the surgeon is Dr. Ramsey. Miss Brooks, time is of the essence here.”

She gives me a direct number to call back on; I look for a pen, but all I can find is a Sharpie. I scribble the number on the palm of my hand.

“I’ll let his brother, Leo Rys, know. He’ll call you shortly to grant consent.”

I hang up, feeling an icy cold permeate my body. Time is decelerating, and every movement is in slow motion. With a shaking finger, I dial Leo’s number. It rings three times before his sleep-filled growl fills my ear. “Riley, what’s up?” 

“It’s Liam,” I manage over the catch in my throat and tears in my voice.  

I can’t see Leo, but I imagine him shifting to an upright position; I hear the rustle of bedsheets, his voice murmur to Madeleine, and when he speaks, his voice his more awake, fully alert.  

“What about Liam? What happened?” 

Haltingly, I tell him what the nurse at the hospital told me. I hear his phone clatter as it drops to the floor.  

“Leo?” I ask in a wavering voice.

“I’m calling now. Are you okay to drive here to pick me up?” His voice is both curt and harried.

“Yeah,” I manage through fear and tears.

“I’ll be out front.”

When we arrive at the hospital, Liam is already in surgery. Leo and I meet with police officers who tell us a woman, drunk and high, ran a red light at the intersection of Rhode Island Avenue and 4th Street, NE at an incredibly high rate of speed.

He was less than five minutes from my apartment.

The uber driver, who had the right-of-way, was halfway through the intersection when the collision happened. The vehicle carrying Liam was t-boned. The impact was so great, Liam was tossed to the other side of the car; his height, weight and the speed of his trajectory caused the rear passenger door to be broken open, and he was tossed headfirst onto the concrete.

They give us his possessions: cellphone, wallet, keys, briefcase. They will keep us informed on the legal proceedings to follow.

Two long hours later, we meet with the surgeon; his expression is weary and defeated. Liam has a skull fracture: brain edema and numerous cranial bleeds. One of his arms is broken, as well as one of his legs. The muscles in his other leg have deep lacerations from shrapnel and glass fragments.

He isn’t breathing on his own and is in a deep coma not medically induced.

Leo runs trembling fingers through his hair as he listens. “He’s an organ donor and a DNR,” he says softly in response.

Dr. Ramsey nods, stating he will make notes in Liam’s chart.

I sit tall and straight in my chair, shock and disbelief my constant companions. How did we get here? It was supposed to be like any other visit. I’m supposed to be teasing Liam about those godawful fish sandwiches he loves and fighting him for his fries.

Instead …

I feel time stop, but it’s only for me. The surgical unit is still busy: nurses answering phones, the wounded coming in on gurneys and portable hospital beds. Leo and the doctor have moved to a corner of the room, speaking quietly; I see him occasionally nod his head.

Tears fall from in my eyes. I feel Leo lay his hand on my arm, and I look up at him.  

“He was leaving the office. I told him he needed dinner because it was so late and you know he hadn’t eaten,” I say in a halting monotone. “He was going to bring us McDonalds.”

Awkward silence.

“We need to make some calls,” Leo chokes out as he swipes the back of his hand across his eyes.

Leo calls his parents and sister, who will be on the first flight out of Logan. They’ll get a rental car at National Airport and meet us here.

I call numbers in Liam’s contact list: Thomas Mendez, Donna from HR, Penelope. I didn’t hesitate to call his ex; I may have more of Liam, but she had more with him. She deserves better than to hear a soundbite on the morning news. 

Leo and I leave the hospital; I drop him off. Before he exits the vehicle, I ask him about our immediate circle.

“Madeleine called everyone. They’ll meet us later this morning at the hospital.”

I say nothing; instead, I pull off and make my way to Liam’s apartment. But when I get there, I can’t bring myself to go inside his building. I put on my hazard lights and stare up at his darkened windows until the sun rises. 

It’s now been three days since Liam’s accident.  

It’s been a routine of home and hospital. I am at the hospital at 7am, and sip tea while I chat quietly with Constantine and Eleanor, who have been there since 6. By 8am, the gang has arrived as well as Urthula, Thomas Mendez, and Penelope.

More people want to come visit: Liam’s staff, his basketball buddies, co-workers, but the hospital is already bending the rules by allowing so many of us to see him.

I remove myself from the crowd, and stare out of windows, overhearing snatches of conversation:

“He’s the best damn attorney I have ever had the pleasure of working with. He has a GIFT for the law, and he makes it all look so easy, y’know?”

“Remember when you two were teenagers and got in that brawl in the front yard? And the entire neighborhood came to watch? Poor Mrs. Saunders, you boys traumatized her for a month!”

“Liam was so good to me. If it weren’t for that partnership, we’d still be together!”

I have no idea what others do when they are visiting with Liam. Somber expressions and rigid postures walk in; tear-streaked faces and defeated slumps walk out. Liam always smells of warm water and soap after his parents’ visits.  

It’s my turn to visit with him.

I sit on the rolling stool placed next to the hospital bed. The room is quiet except for the hum and beeps of machines. He lays against white sheets, his dark, dark hair a stark contrast to the pillowcase. His blackened eyes are closed, his jaw slack. Tubes snake out of his mouth. His pallor is pale and ashy.  

“Good morning,” I say with forced cheer as I place his slack hand in mine.

No response.

“You know, you owe me a lunch when you get out of here. And you missed out, buddy … I was gonna treat you that day.”

I smile tearily at his limp form. “I guess I can tell you what I wanted to talk about.” I draw in a shaky breath. “I’m in love with you, and I am so ready to be your girlfriend. And for the yin and yang tattoos you keep insisting we get. Just so you know, I’m yang.”

Nothing. The spikes on the electronic graph stay the same. The numbers telling his vital signs remain the same.

Nothing changes.

I choke back a sob. “You know, if this were a movie, THIS is the part where you mumble, ‘I knew it!’

I sit holding his hand, chattering about how hospital socks have no game at all as my eyes take in his features until a knock on the door lets me know my time is up.

There's a pink light in my apartment It comes mid-morning as a reminder That at the right time, in the right surroundings I will be lovely, but I can't help thinking

That maybe if you stayed For an hour or two When the sun came up When I last saw you Maybe if you'd seen The soft pink light I wouldn't be Alone tonight

 The doctor is in the waiting area when I exit Liam’s room, clipboard in hand and a somber expression on his face. We all look at him, eyes filled with hope and wariness.

They want to take Liam off life support.

The swelling in his brain is not subsiding and is now causing herniation. The burr holes were ineffective against so much bleeding. The broken leg isn’t healing, and he may never use the other leg due to deep laceration to key muscles. Even if he were to awaken from his coma, it was more than probable Liam would be and remain in a deeply vegetative state. His quality of life would be both poor and costly at best.

Eleanor looks tearfully at her husband; Constantine’s expression is stoic, his jaw clenched. Leo looks helplessly at the floor. Lena has turned her back on us, her shoulders heaving. Our closest friends look at each other with horrified expressions.

Noooooo

Thomas strides to the doctor, yelling that he isn’t giving Liam enough time, that comas can last anywhere from a few days to a few weeks.

The doctor reiterates that Liam’s brain is dying. His injuries are too severe. There’s nothing more they can do.

My skin feels as if red fire ants are crawling everywhere on my body; it stings and is itchy. My eyes fill with tears and I’m beginning to hyperventilate. I’m no longer sitting in the hard chair.

No.

I am ash and flesh and blood and bone splattered across the gleaming linoleum floors of Sibley Hospital.

I’m losing my best friend of 10 years and the only man who’s ever loved me. Who’s ever been in love with me.  

Oddly enough, my only thought at this time is who will get his socks.

And then, time stands still.

I bolt upright in bed, my body clammy with sweat and my heart racing in fear. My stomach is filled with rocks, and dread flows through my blood. My hands paw frantically through wrinkled bedsheets until I locate my phone. My breathing is heavy and labored as I quickly dial Liam’s number.

It rings one, two, three, four times. I’m screaming for him to pick up.

He does.

“Riley B?” he questions in a voice thick with slumber.

I glance quickly at the digital clock on my nightstand.

3am.

“LIAM!” I scream. “I -I-I have to see you!” I stammer in a voice filled with sheer panic.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? What happened?” Concern and worry thread his tone.

“I’ll be fine once I see you,” I sob in relief at hearing his voice, knowing he’s home.

That he’s safe.

“Oookay … I’ll catch an Uber or a cab or something. I can be there in 15.”

“NOOOOO!” I wail in fear. “I’ll come to you. RIGHT NOW!”

I hang up before he can say anything else and toss a hair bonnet over my uncombed hair. I look down at my black camisole and bare legs. I spy a pair of black yoga pants on the floor. They’re still kind of clean and I slip them up over my legs and hips. I shove my feet into my bedroom slippers, grab my purse and phone, and run out the door.

I pull it shut but don’t bother to lock it.

Maybe if you stayed For an hour or two When the sun came up When I last saw you

On the curb, I look twice both ways up and down the street. I live on 12th Street NE, an extremely busy crosstown road. There’s a section between Quincy and Otis, my cross street, that is curved and basically a blind man’s bluff for both motorists and pedestrians.

Of course, cars don’t slow down.

It’s DC. Move or get hit.

But it’s the middle of the night; except for a couple of cop cars at the 7-11, the street is deserted. I notice the streetlamp I am parked beneath has gone dark. Safely across the street and inside my car, I see that my hands are still trembling. After starting the car, I put on some music to help calm my nerves.

I place my palms on the steering wheel in the classic 10-and-2 stance.

Get yourself together, girl. It was just a dream. A really bad dream.

The phone rings, and I answer it immediately. I already know it’s Liam.

“Riley B, what is going on? Are you certain you aren’t hurt or in trouble?”

I pull in a deep breath, but my voice is still shrill. “I just need to see you, Liam. I can explain when I see you, but I promise you I’m okay.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “How long before you get here?”

“Ten minutes at the most.”

“I’ll meet you outside. It’s late.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me and hang up.

I glance up at the street. Empty.

I don’t look in the rearview mirror. I don’t hear the bus deadheading to Brookland station due to music and conversation and horrible visions still lodged in my brain.

If only the bus were headed in the opposite direction to Fort Totten; even with his headlights off, I would have seen it.

I pull out just as the metrobus pulls up on me. I brake hard and try to reverse; the driver jerks his steering wheel as his brakes squeal against asphalt.

In the wrong direction.

He jerks towards me.

There is a horrible screeching of metal on metal; I see my front end crumple and fold as if it were paper. My eyes widen as the bus continues to push into my Armada and my car pushes into me. Into my body.

My SUV is pushed back, and there is a sickening crunch of metal as it hits the large tree I had parked next to.

There is pain as my window shatters, raining glass over my face and neck and  arm, and metal pushes into my calf and thigh.  

I scramble to back away from the driver’s door, but the console blocks me. I try to lift my leg, but it’s weighted down. I try anyway and let out a scream filled with pain and anguish.

My neck jerks backwards as I am pinned inside my vehicle. I feel blood spurting from my thigh, and I briefly wonder if it’s my femoral artery. I can’t process it because I’m becoming weak and light-headed. My vision blurs, but I’m not crying.

The pain is everywhere and I’m so tired.

I hear the police sirens, and someone calling for an ambulance. I close my eyes while I attempt to control my breathing.

So I'm living inside my mind I keep retracing that storyline Thinking, if I start again I can change the way it ends

I see Liam:

Lying on his side in my bed, his cheek propped on his fist, smiling lazily at me as he watches me stare at his broad shoulders, and muscular bare chest.

Standing next to me in his kitchen as he studies a Youtube cooking video, ignoring the fact I’m already cooking the meal.

Arguing with me in my living room while I roll my eyes at him with my arms folded across my chest.

A luminous smile on his lips as the backs of his fingers caress my cheek. “I’m in love with you, Riley B,” he whispers.

And then everything goes black.

Maybe if you'd seen The soft pink light I wouldn't be Alone tonight

The trouble is … you think you have time.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @the-soot-sprite @hopelessromanticmonie @mom2000aggie @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @liamrhysstalker2020  @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet  @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @bbrandy2002 @queenrileyrose @debramcg1106 @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame​ @riseandshinelittleblossom​

Quote Me on This writers: @dcbbw @debramcg1106 @burnsoslow @argylemnwrites @twinkle-320 @yourquietarioso @bebepac​ @peonierose @leelee1098 @angelasscribbles​ @lucy-268​

Quote Me on This readers: @twinkleallnight @harleybeaumont​ @txemrn​

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Sweet Tooth [Spencer x gn! Reader]

A/N: this is for my “Donuts” square on my CM Bingo Card for @cmbingo​ AKA The four times Spencer gave you donuts and one time he didn’t. 

CW: absolutely none, complete and utter fluff.

WC: 1.5K

Find my Masterlist here.

You would always remember the first time you saw him. The morning rush had you exhausted, sweaty and somewhat flustered. You swore every DC man and his mother got their coffee for their morning commute at your shop. 

Just as it was dying down he stepped up to the counter, large hazel eyes and a slightly awkward smile. 

“Black coffee please.” His voice was like honey to your ears. It took a few seconds for you to register his words. 

“Uh...yeah sure. Coming right up.” You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and turned towards the coffee maker. “Anything else?”

The man mused this for a moment. He had unruly curly hair and a jawline that could cut glass. 

“Do you have a donut recommendation?” 

You finished his coffee and slid it across the counter as you contemplated this.

“Well my favourite is strawberries and cream. But you have to have one hell of a sweet tooth for that.”

He smiled with a small nod. 

“I’ll take one of those.” 

You got a paper bag and cautiously placed the delicacy inside. 

You rang up his order and he paid. You slid his donut across the counter but he smiled playfully.

“It’s not for me.” He slid it back, his eyes sparkling at you. “Enjoy.” 

And with that he was gone. 

You stared dumbly at the spot he had just been standing. The moment had been so fleeting it was almost as though it had never happened.

But there was a strawberry and cream donut on the counter in front of you.

***

Three weeks passed and there was no sign of your mystery donut customer. Every time the little bell over the door chimed over those three weeks your heart skipped a beat and your eyes would dart to the door. But it was never him.

Over time you started to think you must have imagined him. You’d been exhausted that morning and maybe your mind had created the handsome stranger as a distraction.

Or if he had been real, he’d probably been a tourist which would explain why you hadn’t seen him again. And every day your hope dwindled a little more that you ever would see him again. 

You weren’t even sure why it mattered. It had been a fleeting moment, a small act of kindness but for some reason it had stuck with you. Maybe it was his intoxicating eyes or his warm smile. 

After you returned from your break that day and were getting your apron back on, something caught your eye. It was a paper bag behind the counter with your name on.

“What’s this?” You asked your colleague with a frown. 

She turned from where she was cleaning the coffee machine.

“Oh some guy came in and asked what the sweetest donut we did was. I told him it was probably the caramel sensation and he paid for it and told me to keep it for you.” She shrugged.

“What?” You picked up the bag. “Who? When?”

“Some guy.” She shrugged again. “Tall, messy hair. Said his name was Spencer I think.”

“When? How long ago?”

“I don’t know?” She laughed. “Maybe a quarter of an hour ago?” 

Your heart dropped and soared all at once. He’d been here and you’d missed him. But he’d left you a donut. 

You cautiously removed the donut from its bag and before you took a bite you muttered to yourself, “thanks Spencer.”

***

Two days later right smack bang in coffee lovers rush hour, he appeared again. He sidestepped being served by your colleague and as a dad and his boisterous children stepped away, he materialised in front of you.

“Hi.” He smiled. “How was the donut?”

“It was good thanks.” You blushed, you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Good.” He blushed slightly too. “So you know my name, am I allowed to know yours?”

You giggled a little and pointed at your name badge pinned to your apron.

“Y/N.” 

Oh god he felt foolish. He’d never thought to look. 

“Oh yeah.” His blush deepened. “Sorry.”

“Can you hurry it up!” A large, angry looking man behind Spencer grumbled. “I don’t got all day for your flirting.”

You both blushed again at his words.

“Uhm...black coffee?”

“Yes please. And a donut of your choice.” 

You set about making his drink, trying not to stare at him but it was hard when he was so gorgeous. 

You picked out two chocolate sprinkle donuts and bagged them separately. 

“Why two?” He frowned a little when you slid one over the counter. 

“It’s your turn to have a donut on me.” You pulled at all your confidence and winked at him. “Coffees on me too.”

“What? I can’t do that.” He shook his head a little frantic. 

“You’ll think of a way to return the favour.” You smiled at him and then you moved on to serve your next customer while Spencer just stared, slightly slack jawed. 

***

Another few weeks passed and Spencer didn’t come back into the coffee shop. You worried you scared him off with your blatant flirtatiousness. Maybe you’d come on too strong. 

Just when you’d resided yourself to the fact you had indeed frightened him away and that he was probably getting his fix at Starbucks rather than your small boutique cafe, a delivery man of all people proved you wrong.

He nudged the door open with his hip, a large flat box in his hands.

“I’m looking for Y/N.” He grunted slightly as he came to the counter.

“That’s me.” You pointed at your name badge. How did people always miss that?

“These are for you.” He set the box down on the counter. 

You stared down at the delights through the transparent lid. At least a dozen donuts of all varieties laid inside. 

You looked back up but the delivery man had already gone. 

You carried your treats through to the back office and opened the lid where you found a small note inside. 

You unfolded it and read the messy handwriting inside.

Y/N, 

Sorry I haven’t been in for a while, my job is hectic. But I wanted to make up for it, so here is a donut for everyday I haven’t been able to see you. Hope to see you soon,

Spencer.

You felt yourself blushing as you read his words over and over. He wasn’t avoiding you. You hadn’t freaked him out. He sent you a donut for every day you’d been apart. 

God this man was something else. You couldn’t wait to thank him to his face. You just hoped you didn’t have to wait too long.

***

It was another week before you spotted that mop of curly hair sat at a table outside the coffee shop in the DC sunshine. 

You waited for the place to quieten down, placed two chocolate custard donuts on plates and took your break. 

You took a few deep breaths as you pushed open the cafe door and stepped out onto the street. He had his back to you reading a newspaper as you approached. 

“I thought it was high time I returned the favour.” You spoke, making Spencer almost jump out of his seat. 

You giggled a little and without being invited you slid into the empty seat opposite him. 

“Oh hi Y/N.” He spoke, regaining his composure and folding his newspaper. 

You slid him one of the donuts.

“Hi Spencer.” You smiled back at him. 

You kept eye contact as you both took a bite of your respective donuts. 

“So, as much as I love trading donuts back and forth,” you started between mouthfuls. “Are you ever going to ask me on a date?” 

You weren’t sure what came over you, you were never so forward with men. But Spencer was different. You would do anything it took to make him yours. The attraction between the two of you was palpable. He’d made the first move with the donuts, now it was your turn.

“That’s why I’m here.” He smiled at you and it sent shivers down your spine. “What time do you get off work?” 

“Five.” 

He looked at his watch, it was just before two.

“Ok, I’ll be right here when you finish.” 

“You’re going to wait all that time for me?” You couldn’t hide your blush.

“As long as I have coffee, I don’t mind waiting.” His smile turned a little shy and you thought it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. 

“I’ll make sure you never have an empty cup.” You finished your donuts, your eyes fixed on one another. “I need to get back.”

“I’ll be waiting.” You pushed your chair back and stood up. 

“Where do you want to go for dinner?” He looked up at you, eyes sparkling. 

You thought about this for a second before you grinned. You started walking away and turned to speak over your shoulder. 

“I donut mind Spencer. I donut mind at all.” 

[abarbaricyalp]

Hand holding 37

37) not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

I assumed SamBucky. If not, just let me know!

Reblogging with the AO3 link ASAP so hopefully it'll stay in the tag this time.

i wanna hold your hand

Bucky had been in Delacroix for six months when the invitation rolled in. He flipped the heavy, glossy card over in his fingers, stacked the multiple envelopes and smaller cards and pieces of tissue paper together, and then looked at the fancy golden script again.

Albert James Wilson and Stephanie Marie Pujols cordially invite Captain Samuel Thomas Wilson to celebrate their wedding with them on the Third of August Two-Thousand-and-Twenty-Five.

There was more text--RSVP instructions, food preferences, a location--but Bucky’s eyes kept drifting to the scrawled message at the bottom of the invitation next to a quickly drawn shield.

Please bring Sergeant Barnes as your plus one -❤️ Stephanie-

He just about flung the invitation across the kitchen when he heard the door open. “Will you go get the rest of the groceries out of the truck? It’s about to open up and I don’t want to be dragging shit through the rain,” Sam said as he stumbled through the entryway to the kitchen. “Oh, you saw the card, great. You can remember what day it is. They sent a Save-the-Date ages ago but I totally forgot about it.”

Bucky felt a little hollow in the chest as he listened to Sam carry on like it was nothing that someone Bucky didn’t even know asked for him by name. Asked Sam for him. “Uh, who's Albert?” he finally managed to get out through the heavy lump in his throat.

“He’s one of my cousins. One of the babies. I think he’s, like, twenty-six or something? Maybe a little older. Him and Steph have been dating for ages but they took everything really slow. She went to grad school and they always said they weren’t getting married until they were totally graduated and had jobs. And then, you know, the Blip and all.”

Sam set the bags of groceries down on the oven and started to stack cans below the cupboards they went in, fruits by the baskets on the breakfast bar, drinks on the other side of the fridge.

“Right,” Bucky said and tapped the invitation against his metal hand. “Do you think it’s really a good idea for me to go?”

Sam shot him an unamused look. “Listen, you don’t get to invite yourself to the fun parties on the water and then decide that you don’t want to sit through a long ass wedding. Besides, you’ll like the reception. Lots of dancing.”

“Sure, it’s just… I mean, they don’t know me. This is a serious moment and they’re just asking for a stranger to come sit in the audience and watch them...fucking become one under the eyes of God.”

“You’re so Catholic,” Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re coming with me. I’ll be bored out of my mind if you don’t. Besides, if you don’t go, who’s gonna be the ugly, old one?”

“I hate you,” Bucky sighed.

“I know. Now go get the groceries before the bread gets soaked.”

Bucky had been promised dancing and food. But, while most of the church had cleared out for a local dancehall for the reception, Bucky found himself standing awkwardly by the altar while approximately four million pictures were snapped of the wedding party. Sam, leaning against a beautiful statue that he probably shouldn’t have been leaning against next to Bucky, was the only thing keeping Bucky from royally losing his entire mind.

He hadn’t been in a church basically since DC all those years ago. Who knew about before then. Occasionally, when he’d been on the run, he’d crept into an empty rectory to snag a few minutes of quiet where he could rest his eyes without feeling like someone was staring at him, waiting for a moment of weakness on his part. And, sure, growing up Catholic had put this indelible mark on his soul that reacted to any church, empty or not. A deep longing and belonging that he’d never been able to fully grapple with.

But empty churches where he just wanted to sleep were not the same level of overwhelming that a church in the midst of celebration was. Now, all that longing and belonging was spilling over his ribs and soaking into the rest of his body, alive and hot and so tangible he felt like he could almost reach inside himself and touch it.

He missed this.

He missed the happiness and the family and the love that he could find in the walls of a church, in the midst of a celebration. He missed being able to feel something bigger than himself.

The bride and groom hadn’t stopped smiling and laughing all afternoon, always good sports about redoing a photo or trying a new pose or bringing new people into the same picture they’d taken a thousand times already. They couldn’t take their eyes off of each other, couldn’t let go of hands or waists or cheeks.

God, Bucky missed it.

“Okay, how about something with all of the couples?” the photographer asked. “Mom, dad, get on in there. Any bridesmaids and groomsmen paired up? Alright, you go there. Sirs? Sirs?”

“Yo, Sam!” Albert called out and Bucky looked up sharply from the jostling of people in love with each other and the moment.

“I’m not here with anyone,” Sam called back.

“You’re holding your date’s hand?” the photographer said, clearly unsure of what was before her own eyes now.

Sam and Bucky both looked down at their interlocked fingers, hands pressed between their thighs, and then jumped apart with muttered apologies.

“Uh. We’re not. We’re not.” What a stupid thing to have to say after everyone had just seen them. “We’re not together,” Bucky finally got out.

Stephanie frowned deeply for the first time all afternoon, a scheming furrow appearing between her eyebrows.

“Alright… Well then, is that everyone? Okay, cheese it up hard…”

The pictures continued.

“Sorry again,” Bucky said a while later while he and Sam stood shoulder to shoulder in the church’s small bathroom, both looking at their own reflections while they washed their hands.

“Nah, it’s fine. I probably just kept shifting closer to you,” Sam said and there was a strain in his voice that Bucky couldn’t quite place. He didn’t think he’d heard it before. Not on Sam.

“Sometimes I kind of tune out what that arm’s feeling,” he said. “There’s- a lot of nerve activity, y’know. I didn’t notice I’d grabbed you.”

“It was the moment,” Sam agreed. “We were watching a bunch of other people hold hands and shit.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He shook water off of his fingers and then wiped his hands on his slacks. “Can we go eat now?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding quickly. “Let’s get outta here. I’m sure other people are waiting.”

The dancehall was dim, lit up only with white string lights draped over the rafters and around the tables and columns. It smelt heavenly, a mix of well cooked food and an open bar and desserts that Bucky couldn’t even name. Sam grabbed Bucky’s wrist--this time he felt it--and pulled him through the crowds lingering at the dance floor’s edge. He gave as short answers as was possible to stay polite until they got to the food.

Sarah was waiting for them.

“What took you two so long?” she asked. “I’ve had to fend off a dozen people looking for Captain America.”

“You will not believe what happened to us at the church,” Sam said, loading up a plate with more food than Bucky felt comfortable taking. It was fine because Sam was making Bucky a plate too and they were pretty similar in portion size.

“Oh, yes I will,” Sarah said. “Stephanie told me all about it.”

“What? How did she beat us here? We got in our car first.”

“Why did you two lie to that poor photographer?” Sarah asked.

Bucky looked up with a meringue half in his mouth. “We didn’t? She made the assumption herself.”

“You said you weren’t together,” Sarah clarified. “Why are you playing coy with me?”

“We’re not together,” Sam insisted for the second time that day. Bucky ignored the cinch of his heart and grabbed a brownie to add to Sam’s precarious stack of food.

Sarah brought two fingers up to the bridge of her nose. “Samuel Thomas,” she said and Sam squawked out an indignant sound.

“Don’t say my name like that. You sound just like mom.”

“You’re lucky it’s me and not mom listening to you lie to yourself.”

Sam was about to argue with her, Bucky could tell, when the plate in his hand suddenly tipped. Bucky’s hand shot out to steady it, fingers sliding over Sam’s to hold it still, wait for the food to stop moving before adjusting their hands under it to continue carrying it.

Sarah shot them a very pointed look. “Cass and AJ are holding our table down and Mrs. Reynolds has already said she wants at least two dances from you,” she said to Sam.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said, just a little sarcastically. “Come on, Buck. And grab an extra roll. AJ’s gonna take all the good desserts if we don’t distract him.”

Sam did far more dancing than Bucky did. Just about all night, he had someone on his arm, cutting in, or pulling him back to the floor. Between everyone at their table, they cleared the plates Sam had made but Bucky didn’t think Sam had had half of what he wanted. He made sure to collect another plate when he was sure everyone had had a chance to eat and kept it safe at his side, even with AJ curled up in his lap, snoozing against his metal shoulder soundly. True, most kids couldn’t eat while they were asleep but after watching him put away way more carbs and sugar than Bucky thought should be possible, he wasn’t putting anything past the kid.

When Sam managed to drag himself away from all of his fans for the sixth time that night, and when he shot Bucky a curious but pleased glance between AJ and his shoulder, Bucky just said, “Sugar crash,” and pushed the plate of food over to Sam with the arm not currently holding AJ in place.

Possibly, AJ got his appetite from his uncle if the way Sam dug in was anything to go by. “Jesus, man, breathe,” Bucky laughed and passed over the bottle of beer he’d been nursing most of the last hour.

“Thanks. I forgot how much a full night of dancing takes out of you. Not as young as I used to be, y’know,” Sam said and took a long pull from Bucky’s drink.

“You literally moved a boulder off a road yesterday,” Bucky pointed out.

“I only had to do that once and I had the jetpack. I’ll tell you, my feet wish I had the wings about now,” Sam answered. He put away a roll and one of the sweets Bucky didn’t know before finally sitting back a little, forearms rested on the tables. He’d discarded his jacket after the fourth or so dance and at some point he’d rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows. That, plus the brown suspenders over his light blue shirt had him looking like a hundred old memories in Bucky’s mind.

“AJ and I filmed you a few times,” Bucky said to distract himself from the sweat cooling on Sam’s forearms. He brought his phone out and left it on the table as it played a video. Sam leaned forward and then laughed.

“Oh, you liked that one, huh?” he asked.

“Nah, that was AJ’s choice. I liked this one,” he said, swiping to the previous video.

“Of course, something more lindy-hop,” Sam said with a nod. “That lady called me every single day after mom died, y’know. She always said it was ‘cause she missed her already and our voices were similar, but I think she was worried about me.”

“Who was this one?” Bucky asked, flipping through a few more clips.

“Oh, shit,” Sam laughed. “I can’t believe you recorded that. We went to the prom together junior year. Her dad hated me. He’d probably hate that this video exists.”

“Captain America couldn’t even clear the bad blood?” Bucky joked.

“Hell no. Prom night, he busted into the living room after the dance thinking he was gonna catch us in some act but we were just watching movies. It was never like that with us, but you couldn't convince him.”

Bucky flipped to another video. “Her son joined up with me but ended up dropping out and going Navy instead. - She was my first boss. - I played baseball with that guy and he came out a few months after we graduated. - I dated her daughter very briefly. - That’s the daughter and the little one is her daughter. - That’s my favorite teacher’s son. He just wanted to say hi from his mom.”

“Hey, what are you looking at?” AJ asked groggily suddenly. He leaned over the table, small hand coming to rest where, once again, Sam and Bucky’s had drifted together on the other side of the phone. This time they couldn’t jump apart.

“Uncle Sam, Uncle Bucky danced with my teacher and she said he had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen,” Cass shouted as he came bounding back to the table with Sarah in tow behind him. Bucky had seen her dance with a handsome man for three dances in a row so if she cut any new knowing looks at where their hands were being held hostage, he had some retaliation this time.

Bucky finally let Sam drag him out to the middle of the dancefloor just as things were beginning to wind down. Many guests had already left for the evening, catering had cleared out the food, though Sam and AJ really did their part in making sure there was no bread left for them to clean, and the band had packed up and left a local DJ to close out the night.

This time, Bucky was more than aware of his hand sliding into Sam’s, his metal hand settling against Sam’s shoulder, thumb brushing over the strap of his suspenders. Sam’s other hand was warm and welcome against his hip. Bucky couldn’t help but step closer to him as they swayed to the slow song.

“You were really good with all the kids all night,” Sam said. “I saw them dogpile you earlier.”

“Kids like me,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Entertaining them was my job at weddings back when too. All those nights of dancing and I never got to show off at family functions,” he joked.

“You showed off plenty. I think it’s gonna be you Mrs. Reynolds asks for next time someone gets married. Hell, maybe she’ll be marrying you.”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Hey, she’s got spirit. I think if we’d gone a few more dances, she might’ve found one I didn’t know.”

“Well, it was a jazz band. Can’t blame you for not keeping up when you didn’t grow up with good music.”

“We had jazz,” Bucky said with a roll of his eyes. “It was nice, getting to see more of your life.”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, it was nice stepping back in time a little bit, getting to see how everyone’s grown up.”

“You’re so loved here. Not Captain America. Sam Wilson. People adore you.”

Sam ducked his head shyly and Bucky reached up to catch a knuckle under his chin. The music had stopped and their feet must’ve realized it before their brains because they weren’t dancing anymore either.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Sammy,” someone called from across the room. Bucky recognized the groom’s voice. “You haven’t let go of his hand all night. Just kiss him already.”

Sam and Bucky both looked down at their tangled fingers and let out a little laugh. “Well, if it’s what your fans want…” Bucky suggested.

“Shut up, man,” Sam laughed and leaned forward to kiss him.

[iamtheblondestblonde]

The Clark Kent Effect

Part One

AN: So this is meant to be the beginning of a (semi short) series, depending on how well it’s received. Feedback is therefore more than appreciated and always remember I love reading tags. Feel free to message me or send me anons as well, every interaction makes my day :) 

To all my American followers: please go vote tomorrow, I don’t even live there but I still know how important it is.

Word Count: 2.9k (short boi)

Warnings: alcohol and one swear word maybe? 

Part Two

My other writing can be found here

While your costume had seemed like a great idea two days ago you now thought differently.

Technically it was a great costume, but only because you hadn’t exactly planned on needing to step out of the club to make an angry phone call. Alas here you were, legs shaking and teeth clattering because of your stupidly short dress, this situation the last nail in the coffin that would finally pronounce your disaster with Colin dead for good. You weren’t sad about it in the least, only cold. If only you’d thought of grabbing your jacket on your way outside this wouldn’t be as bad, it was the end of October and you were in New York after all, but you’d been so angry to see his caller ID on your screen that you’d stormed out without thinking, which you now deeply regretted.

Stepping back inside was like heaven and running into a wall at the same time, if said wall was made out of hot air and the smell of sweat, hairspray and alcohol. You really shouldn’t be happy about stuffy air, but at least you weren’t shivering anymore so you were going to mark it down as a success in your books. Since the restrooms were close to your right you made a quick detour, checking if everything was still where it was supposed to be.

At least your boobs hadn’t fallen out yet and you dismissed the judgy stares in the restroom as you readjusted your cleavage and reapplied your bold red lipstick. Normally you’d stare as well, not judging but usually intrigued by women who portrayed such confidence but tonight you were one of these women and you wouldn’t let anyone else ruin it. You’d earned a good night out after finally escaping Colin’s manipulative fuckboy ways and telling him to get lost for good.

So with your chin up and your shoulders straight you stepped out of the restroom, determined to find your group of friends again so you could get drunk and finally have a good time. It took a bit longer than you’d like to admit, your heels only barely giving your tiny frame a height advantage but then you finally spotted the fluffy halo of your best friend. After making sure that it was really her – there were enough angels in this room to make any priest happy after all – you quickly made your way over to her.

Or at least you tried.

You’d only gotten a few steps in when your heel got caught in the costume of a guy dressed up as mummy – which really only consisted of his regular clothes and what you estimated to be about three rolls of toilet paper – and you stumbled. You could already see yourself in the emergency room of the closest hospital with a broken nose from crashing to the ground, blood running down your face and staining your already red dress. Perhaps you could play it off as a part of your costume but it’d still hurt and your night would definitely be over.

But none of that happened because you were saved by a very handsome Superman. He’d stood with his back to you, you’d definitely spotted his broad shoulders underneath the stretched blue fabric earlier, but he’d turned in your direction right before gravity had decided to take its toll on you. Apparently his costume was justified though, because he caught you with cat-like reflexes, wrapping his hands around your arms and pulling you back towards an upright position before anything damaging could happen.

He was a lot taller than you so the first thing you really noticed of him was his throat and perhaps you really should’ve dressed up as a vampire because you noticed that he had a very sexy throat, if that was even a thing. Your weird thoughts were interrupted by him chuckling though and your gaze quickly snapped up to meet his and you really weren’t sure if you should congratulate or scold yourself for how you’d managed to end up in his arms.

The handsome stranger was wearing glasses in true Clark Kent fashion and his hair was better than any DC artist could have dreamed of, perfectly tousled in the way that showed that he liked to run his hands through it and you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t tempted to do the same. In the dim lighting of the club you couldn’t make out the color of his eyes behind his glasses but they could honestly be yellow and he’d still be hot as fuck.

Sometime during your almost-fall your hands had ended up on his chest and you really should be embarrassed about the fact that you were practically feeling him up but somehow you couldn’t find yourself to care enough to let go. You relaxed your hands from the tight grasp they had on his shirt and instead carefully splayed them out on his chest as if you were going to push yourself off of him but not really doing so. With how you were pressed against him you could feel the heat radiating through his shirt and how firm his body was, his muscular built more and more evident with every passing second. His hands had started to wander as well, moving up from the side of your arms towards the top of your shoulders, the size of them burning itself into your mind as you just stared at each other.

If one were to ask you what day it was right this moment, you honestly wouldn’t be able to answer them despite everyone in this club dressed in Halloween costumes. Mozart himself could have returned from the dead to perform “Eine kleine Nachtmusik” with a string quartett in the middle of this dancefloor and you probably wouldn’t have noticed right now, too caught up in the eyes of this handsome stranger.

When he reached up with one of his hands to adjust the little devil’s horns on top of your head you blinked in surprise, finally snapping out of your daze.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry, I totally didn’t mean to crash into you but my heel got caught and-“, you began to ramble, your sense of common decency finally kicking in but he only laughed and since neither of you had taken a step backwards yet you could feel it rumbling through his chest.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind having beautiful girls quite literally falling for me”, he joked and if he were any other guy you probably would’ve scoffed at his choice of words but somehow the boyish charm worked well for him and you found yourself grinning as you came up with a response.

“Mmm let’s hope this isn’t a normal occurrence for you because I’m not a fan of getting caught in traffic.” You finally found the strength to take a, very reluctant, step back, untangling yourself from his grasp and dropping your hands but still smiling up at him. He definitely had the potential to be your catch for the night. You could really use the distraction after all.

Your blissful thoughts were interrupted by someone tugging at your arm though, a look over your shoulder revealing a pouting angel dressed in white and with a bouncing halo. It seemed like Emily had found you instead after you’d gotten distracted by your hero.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over the place for you”, she whined and you could tell by her slurred words that she’d gotten quite the head start while you were outside on your phone as she was well on her way to get plastered. Otherwise she never would’ve interrupted a conversation with a hot guy either, it was an unspoken wingwoman rule after all.      

“Come on, Dana just brought a new round of shots and you need to catch up!” And with that she tightened her grip on your wrist and pulled you away. You barely managed to tell the handsome stranger to come find you later before he disappeared between the writhing bodies and was out of your sight.

Way too many shots later you found yourself on the dance floor, intoxicated and having a great time.

Your thoughts hadn’t wandered to Superman in quite a while, too consumed by alcohol and the thumping beat of the music, until you spotted him leaning against the banister of the top floor, drink in one hand and definitely watching you. Again, this would be creepy if he were anyone else but in this case it only made you appreciate the current sensual song even more, your eyes never leaving his as you moved your body to the beat. You were planning on going home with him later either way, you could tease him a little more before then, show him what he could have if he played his cards right.

He was still watching you a couple of songs later when your throat had gotten dry and your heels were starting to grow uncomfortable. In need of a break you pointed towards the bar, hoping that he’d understand and when he nodded you smiled brightly, excusing yourself from your group of friends so you could grab some water. You were done drinking for tonight, much more exciting things laying ahead of you and you wanted to be sober for them.

Water was apparently a welcome change from the regular orders the bartenders got because you were served immediately, a cool bottle set in front of you seconds later. You checked over your shoulder before taking a sip, spotting your Superman as he made his way towards you with a smile, one you returned before turning back around to climb on the stool that had just freed up so you could give your feet a well-deserved break.

When you felt a tap on your shoulder you fully expected it to be the hot guy, your most dazzling smile instantly on your lips as you turned around but it quickly fell off your face as you realized who it really was.

When you were younger you’d often imagined yourself in this moment, thought of what you’d say when you’d finally see him again after all this time apart. A small part of you had pined after him for years and fantasies of how your eyes would meet from across the room and how everything else would stop mattering had filled your daydreams once upon a time. But as you looked at him now there were no butterflies, no fireworks and you could still hear some remix of “Monster Mash” blaring over the speakers, the world was definitely still turning.

Perhaps you’d built up what had been between the two of you in your mind in the years of his absence, put him on a pedestal – he deserved to be one though because through everything he had been nothing short of a great guy – but as you looked at him you realized that all that was in the past. There was just a warm afterglow of what once was. As you looked at him now, there was absolutely no doubt that you didn’t love Anthony Beauvillier anymore.

“I wasn’t sure if it was really you, but wow Y/N you look great”, his familiar voice met your ears and it took you a second to realize that he’d slipped into French, the way the two of you had done countless times as teenagers.

You probably resembled a fish with the way you were opening and closing your mouth without saying anything but you couldn’t help yourself. Seeing Tito in this club had hit you like a fright train and you hadn’t expected it at all, which only made it worse.

Almost 20 Million people lived in New York State and over 8.3 Million in New York City alone. Brooklyn housed well over 500.000 people as well and yet you still managed to run into your ex in this club, despite the both of you growing up in Québec. If you were any good at math you would calculate the probability of this happening but you’d always sucked at it and it really wouldn’t help your situation either. You reminded yourself that you both worked here now but that was absolutely beside the point.

Before you managed to embarrass yourself even further you shook your head to clear your thoughts, smiling at the guy who had once held your heart before making the break into the NHL. He was dressed as a boy scout, with medals pinned to his shirt, the scarf thingy and everything and the costume was so incredibly him that you immediately felt catapulted back into your teenage years. It was easy to fall back into your old routine then.

“Oh yeah, do you think your Mom would still speak so highly of me if she saw me dressed as a slutty devil?”, you joked and he threw his head back in laughter, taking you even more by surprise when he threw his arms around you in a hug. It was a bit awkward with you sitting on the bar stool and all and it made you realize that he himself didn’t even feel the same anymore, his career of being a professional athlete shaping his body into a much more bulkier version of the one you were used to.

As you looked over his shoulder you caught the gaze of your Superman and your thoughts immediately returned to him. What must he be thinking of you hugging another stranger at the bar after telling him to come see you? The confusion was evident of his face, a crease between his eyebrows giving his thoughts away and you noticed how he scrunched up his nose in a very cute way so you immediately pulled back from Tito, reaching up to adjust your horns as a disguise for your sudden movement.

“So, did you finally manage to make your dreams of living and working in New York City come true?”, he asked as he took a step closer to let someone else pass by and you nodded, amazed that he still remembered after all these years. He really was one of the good guys.

“Yep, I finally made it, although it’s not as glamorous as I thought it would be. But maybe that’s only us working class people, I’m sure it’s a lot different in your line of work.” Thankfully he picked up on your teasing and wasn’t insulted, only laughing even more as he finally had the space to move next to you so he could look at the crowd as well.

“Speaking of work..”, he trailed off as he switched back to English and to your utter disbelief he waved your Superman over. Superman was reluctant to move at first, that much you could tell by looking at him, and since you watched him extra closely you were probably the only one to catch him flinching a little as Tito threw his arm around his shoulders but his confused expression was obvious as he looked between the two of you.

“Y/N, this is my teammate and best friend Mat, I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Mat, this is my ex Y/N. You’ve also heard of her.”

Of course you’d heard of Mathew Barzal, last year’s Calder winner and rising star among the NHL’s elite players but it seemed like you were a victim of the Clark Kent Effect because you hadn’t recognized him at all with the glasses on.

Now your Superman had a name but the only thing you could focus on were the words “best friend”. No matter how hot Mat was and how much you’d wanted him before, very much imagining him helping you out of your tight dress, you couldn’t do that to Tito.

Mat seemed to come to the same realization as you because he plastered what could only be described as a business smile on his face, extending his hand for you to shake. You took it, relishing in the way his warm palm felt against yours and allowing yourself to enjoy his touch one last time before letting go and smiling at him with sad eyes as you introduced yourself.

Tito stayed to order a drink, pulling Mat and you into a conversation and therefore preventing your escape and while that was already bad enough in itself, he unknowingly took your breath away when he asked Mat:

“Hey, did you ever find that hot klutz you told me about? The one that fell into your arms earlier?”

Tito had his back towards the both of you so he didn’t see the way Mat looked down at you with sad eyes as well before pulling himself together and responding:

“Yeah, but turns out she’s not available after all.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur, you’d returned to alcohol after saying goodbye to Tito and Mat and promising Tito to stay in touch, so you barely remembered climbing into an uber hours later and only really came to your senses when you chugged a water bottle in your kitchen.

“Wait, weren’t you planning on going home with that hot Superman you mentioned earlier? What happened to him?”, Emily asked from her spot on the couch, her usual spot after a night out since your apartment was closer.

“I guess he left”, you answered, not really willing to go into any details right now.

“Aw, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

And wasn’t that the truth.

[readingtherooms]

Vanilla

Summary: After a long day, you just want to lay down on the couch. Unfortunately, our resident genius got there first. 

Pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

Requested: nope!! just me being in love w baby spence

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff. 

Word Count: 1568

A/N: hey guys! sorry this is a little all over the place, but i thought it was cute. I wrote this with season 1 in mind, but it’s really up for interpretation. I don't currently have a taglist but I think i'm going to start one so let me know if you want to me on it! The moodboard below was made by me however the images are not mine!

It’s almost midnight, and the team is flying back to DC from Seattle. The case had ended well. (Y/n) should be relieved. She wasn’t. She had fought with her brother right before she left, and going home means she’s going to have to talk about it.

 “I’ve never been good at that. Talking. I much rather just hug it out, I've always been tactile”, she explains to JJ as she gets out of the car. 

Boarding the jet, everyone is welcomed by fluorescent lighting and the overwhelming essence of day old coffee. Spencer quickly makes himself at home on the couch, as Hotch and Gideon settle into a game of cards. (Y/n) tries to read, but after twenty minutes of staring at the same page, lost in her own head, she debates giving sleep a shot. She glances over at Spencer. He’s awake. 

“Is there any hope of me convincing you to give up the couch”, she mumbles as she sits down across from her best friend

“Is there any hope of me convincing you to come to the Jacques Delille convention with me on Saturday?” He quickly responded. (Y/n) sighed - her and Spencer had been friends at CalTech, long before she got the job with the BAU. Over the years, she grew quite fond of the eclectic conventions he would drag her to. She loved listening to Spencer go on his signature tangents, it gave her a chance to just listen. Not worry about being awkward or saying the wrong thing, like she did around most people. With Spencer, all she had to do was listen, and she loved it. Unfortunately, she was going to be spending her Saturday in a much less pleasant manner. 

“I already told you, I have to go to brunch with my brother” she groaned. 

He chuckled, “Well then I’m not moving”. 

“You know what, screw it” she thought to herself. She was tired, she kept getting caught up in her thoughts, and if she was being completely honest with herself, she was in desperate need of physical affection. 

“You don’t need to move” she stated bluntly.

“Wait, what?” Spencer responded, not even attempting to hide the surprise in his voice. He didn’t know (y/n) to go down without a fight.

“But you can’t stop me from laying on the couch” she countered. He responded only with a slight tilt of his head, and a look of confusion. (Y/n) stood up and walked over to where he had propped himself up. 

“Can I lay on you?” she half-whispered, her confidence starting to falter. 

“W-What?” he looked up at her with bewilderment in his eyes.

“Nevermind, it was a stupid idea.” She said, barely loud enough for him to hear. The fleeting confidence she had only moments ago, had completely drained out of her. She turned to walk towards the bathroom, attempting to escape the situation.

“Wait” he stopped her, despite still being perplexed by what she had just asked. “You can, uh, lay on me - if that's, uh, what you want.”  He clears his throat. 

“Are you sure?” (Y/n) responds, equally as flustered. He nods in response. 

After an uncomfortably long pause, she begins to lower herself onto the tan leather, leaning back as she does so. 

The next three minutes were chaotic to say the least, with neither of them not knowing exactly what to do. However, after those three, awkward, giggle filled minutes, (y/n) found herself lying between Spencer's legs, her head gently resting on his chest. She knew he wasn't always great with physical affection, she kept asking him if he was comfortable. He, in return, continued to reaffirm that he was, in fact, comfortable. 

A few more minutes went by, and soon (y/n) felt herself drift asleep, lulled by the soft fabric of his cardigan, and the gentle movements of his breath. 

Spencer, in contrast, was anything but peaceful. 

This just isn't the kind of thing that happened to him. Pretty girls don't just want to lay on him. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He had just about convinced himself that this was a dream, when (y/n) shifted slightly, snapping him back into reality. 

He was suddenly very conscious of his arms. He had them resting lightly over her shoulder blades, in a position which he originally thought to feel natural. Doubt started to wash over him, he had never really done this before. Despite Derek's mocking, he wasn't actually a virgin, but it was in that moment that he realized he had never actually cuddled before. What if his arms were in the wrong place? What if (y/n) is judging him? Wishing she had never asked to lay on him? 

He lifted his right arm off of (y/n), and managed to pull his cell phone out of his pocket without too much movement. He really didn't want to do this, but he honestly couldn't think of a better alternative. He cursed himself internally, and reluctantly opened his phone, tapping on his second contact - “Derek Morgan”

Spencer : Derek, please turn around. Do not make a scene. 

Spencer sees Derek's head whip around as he reads the message, eyes widening when he notices (y/n). Despite being fairly certain that she was asleep, Spencer shifts his arm so that his phone was out of her line of sight. 

Derek : MY MAN!!!!!

Spencer : Don’t be dramatic, I need help. 

Derek : Dramatic?! Help?! Man you’ve liked this girl since COLLEGE 

Spencer : Trust me, I know. However, what I don't know is how to do this.

Derek : Do what? Cuddle?

Spencer : Yes, where do I put my arms?

Derek : Dude, you just gotta be natural

Spencer : That is completely unhelpful. Are you aware who you are talking to? Yesterday you watched me walk into a door. 

Derek : Yes, and I got it on video. Alright I guess I’m going to have to coach you through this. 

Spencer : Yes please. 

Derek : You owe me

Derek : Okay, take your right hand, and set it right above her waist

Spencer : My right or your right?

Derek : The hand with your phone in it

Derek : Now, your left hand, set it parallel to your right hand

Spencer : Does this look right? 

Derek : You’re doing great loverboy, are you finally gonna ask her out? 

Spencer : Maybe. 

Derek leaned over the back of his seat, clearly taking a photo. Spencer furrowed his brow. 

Spencer : Why did you take a photo of us?

Derek : Penelope. 

Spencer chuckled to himself lightly. He felt much more at ease than he had five minutes ago. Scanning the jet, he noticed that Derek had gone back to staring out the window. Everything seemed at ease. Hotch was facing away from Spencer, with a passed out Gideon across from him. JJ and Elle were both sleeping across from Derek, JJ lying on the brunette’s shoulder. 

Then there was (y/n). She was so peaceful as she slept, Spencer found himself entranced by her. He tucked back a strand of hair that fell onto her nose, and he felt her hum lightly with contentment. She smelt like vanilla, she always has. It was more than just perfume though, she must use vanilla body wash, shampoo as well. Is it possible she’s been using the same body wash since college? 

That is how Spencer Reid fell asleep that night, with (y/n) in his arms, thinking about the smell of vanilla.

-

Two hours later, Spencer’s eyes slowly started to crack open. (Y/n) was awake, nestled into the crook of his neck. 

“Hey sleepyhead” she teased. She received only an incomprehensible mumble in return. She looked at her watch, 4 AM. 

“We’re going to land in about a half hour, so I’m going to untangle myself and hopefully avoid a disapproving look from Hotch” she whispered in his ear. She placed a kiss on his forehead, before leaving the couch and returning to her original chair. 

The kiss was so soft, so light, that Spencer wasn’t even sure that it was real. The morning light was just beginning to spill through the small jet windows, and he waited for his eyes to adjust, before escaping to the bathroom. He was desperately trying to process what had occured in the past few hours. His mind was flooded with questions. 

Does this mean she likes me like I like her? 

Did she just need the comfort of a friend?

Is Derek going to make a big deal out of this?

IS THIS a big deal?

Hotch was awake, was he watching us? Does he care?

How does she always smell like Vanilla?

He finally realized that he would never find answers to all these questions standing in the jet bathroom. He fixes his hair, and steps back outside. 

“Hey (y/n)?”

“What’s up Spence?” 

“How do you always smell like vanilla?”

(Y/n)'s face lit up, giggling at his question. Suddenly, all the questions in Spencer’s brain felt like they were melting away. 

“Everything’s going to be okay” he thought to himself.

Everything is going to be okay because (y/n) is sitting in front of me

She’s smiling 

That smile could grow roses in the desert. 

Everything is going to be okay because she’s sitting in front of me

She’s smiling 

She’s smiling and she smells like vanilla

Oh, how I love vanilla. 

[dreamifics]

Immature

Oneshot

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Talk of sexual activities and stuff but no smut

Y/N joined the Avengers shortly after the big fight between Tony and Steve. Stark recruited her due to Fury's orders, she used to be under control of Hydra, like Barnes.. All of the Avengers had no problem with her, only one..

''Stupid Rogers!" Y/N shriek as she stares into her bathroom mirror..

Once again, Rogers benched her, because and she quote

'She used to be just like them!'

They were supposed to raid a Hydra facility, and something snapped at Steve's brain when he saw that Y/N was going too.

Y/N sighs, she just gripped the porcelain sink and steadied herself, she was ready to kill Steve, she was so angry.. Y/N just washed her face with the cold water from the faucet, hoping that it'll help ease the anger in her blood.

She exits the bathroom and was greeted by Bucky, he was sitting in her bed.

"Hello Tinman.." Y/N gave Bucky a smile.

"I want to apologize for--"

"You don't need to apologize in behalf of Steve.. I'm cool.."

"Are you really?"

"Yepp!No word of Captain Ass can get to me.."

Bucky crossed his arms, he knew she was lying.. Y/N just awkwardly smiled at him, she walks to her bed and dived in her bed..

"You can leave now, your boyfriend's might be missing you now.."

And in queue Sam and Steve popped up in her door, Steve was furious.. His eyes were fixed to Bucky, while Sam was just smiling slyly..

"Speak of the devils.." Y/N mutters as she gave Steve a deadly glare.

Bucky stood up from her bed and gave the two men a small nod.. Steve was still looking at Bucky but it soon averted to Y/N, she just raised her eyebrow at him.

"Have a fun mission, you two.."

"Will do, Y/N" Sam answered and gave Y/N a smile which she gladly gave back.

"Oh, Bucky!Pouvez-vous s'il vous plaît pousser le capitaine hors de l'avion pour moi?" Y/N spoke in french knowing that Bucky will understand.

Can you please push Captain out of the plane for me?

Bucky just laughs and shakes his head as Sam grabs him and drag him out of Y/N's sight. However, someone still hasn't left and it made her anger bubbled up even more.

"I swear to God if you don't leave, I'll squeeze your kneecaps.." Y/N said jokingly? She was not sure, she might just do that if Steve won't stop his douche ways..

"Cut it out, Y/N.." Steve ordered..

Y/N rolled her eyes, she sashay her way to Steve and move her face closer to his.

"You're not my Captain, you don't get to order me around.."

Y/N was supposed to walk away but was stopped by Rogers hand in her arms.. However, his hands didn't hurt her, his touch was soft and gentle.. Typical Steve..

Always a gentleman..

"I'm the Captain, you'll obliged to me.."

Y/N scoffs as she takes her arm away from him, she looked him deeply in his and saw that there were anger filling his blue eyes.. This guy really hates her..

"And what if I don't?What would you do?Fire me?Spank me?" She sassed but Steve eyes soften and his eyes wander to her body..

Y/N brows furrowed, what was Steve doing? He just stared at her and his cheeks suddenly got flushed.. Di-Did he just imagine what Y/N has said??

"What?" Y/N was weirded out, she hated the eerie silence between them and to top that up he might be imagining sexual things or so she thought..

"Capsicle, let's go!" Stark voice boomed out through the whole tower, it made Steve snap back to reality and he just walks away.

This made Y/N flabbergasted, he walked away just like that.. After the awkward silence and him being flustered, he just walked away with no explanation or whatsoever. Y/N just huffed in annoyance and flops back down to her comfortable messy bed..

What is wrong with Steve?

Days passed and it seems that Y/N is finally at peace, there were no longer eyes watching her.. Yes, Steve has given up.. How does she know? Simple, Steve is now avoiding and pretending she doesn't exist.. Which is fine by her, but there's this small pain in her heart.. She missed Steve acting like a douche..

Y/N mentally slaps herself, she used to complain about Steve always criticizing and annoying her but why is she missing it now? Y/N sighs as she slams her head in the table infront of her. A piercing pain welcomed her as her head hit the table but she ignored it.

"Umm, can I go on with my briefing?" Tony was standing in the middle of the big briefing room..

Y/N put her hands up and gestures an 'okay', she completely forgot that she was sitting with the Avengers in the middle of a meeting..

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Wanda was the first to ask her that, Y/N just let out a groan.. All of them just shared knowing looks and Tony fakes a cough.

"If you want to rest, you can go.." Tony chided..

"Alright.."

Y/N stood up and was almost to the door when Steve's phone suddenly rang, he answered it..

"Sharon?"

This name made Y/N stop, are they together? They look nice together, she hope that they'll break up soon.

"I'll be there.." Steve endes his call and stands up..

"Sorry everyone, I have a date with someone.." He push passed Y/N leaving her heart on the floor..

He has a date? Why is she even concerned about that? She doesn't care, Steve's stupid anyway!

"Wow, Capsicle is going on a date, I'll be damned.."

"And with Sharon?She's nice.." Wanda chirps in..

Meanwhile, Natasha notices Y/N who was dumbfounded and hurt by all the recent events..

"Aren't you gonna go, Y/N?" Nat asked with mischievous eyes wandering to her face..

Y/N put out a fake smile and left, how is she feeling this way? Does she like Steve? She groans as those thoughts eat her alive, maybe she just need a fresh air..

Yes, fresh air..

That's exactly what Y/N needs, she has been cooped up in the tower for weeks now.. She sped up to her room and grab her keys, jackets and Tony's credit card.. He won't mind it, that man is richer than the whole US goverment..

Y/N jogs to the elevator, turns out she's not going to be waiting for the elevator alone.. Steve is right there, also waiting for an elevator so he can go to his fancy date with someone else..

"Fuck.."

Y/N was deep in her thoughts that she didn't realize that Steve was looking at her.. She cleared her throat and walked up to the elevator doors..

"Up or down?" Steve asks making Y/N look at his stupid handsome face.

"Can't you figure it out Sherlock?" She's grumpy and she doesn't care.

"What?" Steve questioned.

"Down!"

"Could've just said that.."

"We're on the fuckin--"

"Language!" The infamous 'language', he's being dramatic as hell.

"Fine!We're on the freaking top floor and your asking me if I'm going up or down?"

"I didn't notice."

"You're just stupid.."

The elevator was taking forever, normally it would be up in a minute but she's been standing her for almost five minutes and the elevator is still a no show.

"This is taking forever, I'm going to take the stairs.." She was going to the staircase when the elevator doors opened..

"You're impatient.." Steve mumbles.

"Asshole.." Y/N mumbles back..

And before she knew it, she's pinned to the floor.. It happend so fast, Steve has pinned her down to the floor.. Their face were only inches apart, it made Y/N blush but she somehow hid it..

"Let me go, Steve.."

"Not until you beg for forgiveness.."

"Beg?Didn't know you had a kinky side, old man.."

Steve got flustered by her words, still he didn't let Y/N go.. She started to fight back by getting the upper hand and overpowering Steve.. Now she's on top, she smirks and inch her face closer to Steve's face.

"Dominant, I like that Cap.."

"Although, next time ask for a girls permission before you go and pin her to the floor.."

Without thinking Steve kissed Y/N, her eyes widen but soon she melted to the kiss. It started out soft but it became rough within seconds.. All of the unsaid feelings were mashed into the kiss.. She was out of breath but she didn't want it to stop.. Steve pulled back and smiled sweetly at Y/N, she was confused but she smiled back..

"You like me back?"

"No shit, Sherlock.." Y/N smiled but instead of Steve saying language he smiles back..

"You're so immature.."

They both laugh as Y/N got up and offered her hand to Steve, he gladly accepted..

"Go, you'll be late for your date..Wouldn't want to keep her waiting.." Y/N shooed Steve away but he just stands there..

"You are my date.."

"Well powder me in sugar and call me a donut.. Was all this planned?" Steve nods and Y/N just shakes her head in disappointment, she interlock her arm to Steve's arm.

"Let's go eat some ribs and steaks, Cap.."

On the briefing room with all the remaining Avengers,  they were cheering and celebrating as they watch the two from a surveillance camera.

"Not bad, Cap.." Natasha mumbles as she eats popcorn with Wanda and Bucky.

By commenting, or reblogging this post, you’ll be telling me that you’re interested in being on my tag list! You’re also welcome to DM me or send me an ask if you’re more comfortable with that :)

If you guys have any request for a oneshot about ( marvel characters, DC characters, stranger things, game of thrones, brooklyn 99, friends, basically anything! I accept everything!)

[lovelyirony]

oh my GOD mechanicfam is god tier just may i present an au where tony adopts harley after his mom and sister die in a car crash (post-mandarin) and so tony's the only person harley knows to go to and harley's the thing that makes rhodey and tony get their HEADS out of their ASSES

Harley keeps the business card that was left on the workshop of his house. He kept it in a kitchen drawer that his mom never used, because it full of the “nice” dish towels that were only taken out come Christmastime. 

His fingers shake as he grips the phone, punching in the numbers. 

“Can I ask who’s calling?” 

“It’s...um. Harley. Keener. From Tennessee.” 

There’s a shift on the phone, and Harley feels a bit guilty because it is late, but he doesn’t know where else to turn. 

“What’s up, kiddo?” 

“Um. I need help.” 

“With what?” 

And that’s when Harley loses it. He can barely enunciate the words, and he’s trying to furiously wipe away tears as he hears a litany of curses over the other line. 

“I’m...I’m sorry, I just didn’t know who else to call and I don’t know what to do, and-” 

“Kid, don’t you worry. I’ll be there in...two hours. Hell, maybe one if I can break the sound barrier. You have anything to eat yet?” 

“Um, no?” 

“Okay, then we stop for food when we get home.” 

“Home?” 

“...we’ll talk when I get there.” 

-

Tony, in all honesty, does not know what he’s doing. God knows he had two stellar examples of parenting from Howard and Maria. 

But he knows that a kid like Harley will get torn apart, and he...he can’t let him do that. 

“Are you sure about this?” Rhodey asks. 

“Yes,” Tony says. “I’m sure. We’ll...I’ll figure it out. I promise.” 

“You act like I’m not going to help you,” Rhodey says. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back. You have a way of transporting him back?” 

“Already ordered a car to the airport, we’ll be taking a plane back home.” 

“Bring him back safe.” 

“Always.” 

- 

Harley collapses into Tony’s arms when he touches down, armor barely off. 

“Please,” he sobs. “Please just get me out of here.” 

- 

Tony wasn’t going into the situation blind. He had seen the article from their newspaper about the crash. 

Harley said he had been riding his bike. Abbie really wanted to get a burger, and he hadn’t wanted to go. 

“They would still be here if I had gone,” Harley says bitterly, and Tony’s heart has a pang of hurt because he understands that feeling all too well. But right now, Harley doesn’t need someone to understand everything, he just needs to be cared for. 

Tony sits down with him at a kitchen table and doesn’t miss how Harley stares at the two chairs across from them. 

“I want to talk with you,” he says quietly. “I want to know what you want to do.” 

Harley looks at him. 

“I...I wasn’t really expecting you to come.” 

“We’re connected,” Tony says, a soft smile on his face. “I always will, whenever you want. Now, I’m just here to help you figure out what you want.” 

“...what are the options?” 

Tony’s willing to go through hell and back for this kid. He doesn’t tell him this verbatim, but the sentiment is there. He’d be willing to do anything, so long as he could see Harley safe and happy wherever he was. 

- 

Harley sits outside for a moment, breathing. 

And then he can’t breathe. 

Abbie’s looking up at the night sky, smiling. 

“It’ll always be like this, right Harls?” 

“Right,” Harley says, smiling nice and easy. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to us.” 

Except he did. 

It was all over the news, and everyone knew about it. 

He comes back in, and Tony can probably tell that he’s at his absolute worst. 

“I can’t stay here. I-I need to leave. Now.” 

“Alright, let’s go.” 

- 

Driving in the car is a mostly silent affair. Tony hums along to AC/DC and tells Harley about new projects. 

Their first rest stop, Tony goes out with Harley, watching him carefully. 

“I’m not gonna break,” Harley snaps. 

“Not saying you’re gonna.” 

“Well I’m not.” 

“Okay. Rhodey’s at the house waiting for us when we get there.” 

“He on leave?” 

Tony nods. “Three months. Lucky.” 

“Yeah.” 

Not a lot after that. 

At some point, Harley dozes off, leaning his head against the door. 

Tony sends a message to Rhodey when they’re boarding the plane. Harley’s still a little groggy, and mostly content to just blearily go and find a seat and pass out. 

He sleeps the whole flight home, and Tony is left with his thoughts. 

Thought One: Maybe he Should’ve Left This Alone. 

Thought Two: He needs to answer Pepper’s email regarding the press conferences and publicity things, get that all worked out. 

Thought Three: He hopes Rhodey has some sort of food ready. 

- 

Rhodey sees Tony and Harley stumbling in, and he’s struck for a moment by just how similarly they carry themselves, how Harley’s eyes dart around like Tony’s did when he first moved into their dorm. 

“Hi,” Rhodey says. “You hungry?” 

“Um.” 

“We’ll sit down anyways,” Tony says. “Planes are the worst, Harley. They zap all your energy no matter how long you sit on your ass.” 

Rhodey sends Tony a look that says “you should probably watch your language.” 

Tony sends back a look that says “now’s not the time to discuss my behaviors.” 

- 

Harley sleeps. 

He’s surprised he does, because he wakes up about nine hours later, and he feels like he doesn’t deserve this long of sleep. He gets slammed with the current news of his life all over again, and his lips tremble as he gets out of a bed that he thinks is too nice for him, and stares into a mirror. 

“Mr. Keener?” 

Harley jumps. 

“...is that you, Jarvis?” 

“It is indeed, Mr. Keener. An honor to make your acquaintance, Sir has told me so much about you.” 

“Please tell me he didn’t tell you about the potato gun.” 

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” 

Harley grins up at where the voice emanates. 

“Your presence is required for breakfast, if that is alright.” 

“That’s...that’s fine.” 

He’s not hungry, but Rhodey slides him a plate of toast and eggs. 

“Try to eat as much as you can,” he says. “Tony can finish off the rest, if he ever comes down from his bed.” 

Harley nods, nibbling on the toast. 

“You want jam or anything? We have grape, and...only grape. This peach looks questionable.” 

Harley snorts. 

“I’m good. Thanks, though.” 

“No problem.” 

They eat in awkward but companionable silence, and finally Harley speaks. 

“Tony said you’re on leave for three months.” 

“I got lucky,” Rhodey says, grinning. “I get to stay here with you guys for longer than three weeks. A full guarantee, unless of aliens.” 

“They’re that much of a concern?” Harley asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Only at high levels,” Rhodey says, giving him a lazy wink. “You didn’t hear it from me.” 

“If anything, you would hear it from me,” Tony says, wrapped up in a gaudily-patterned robe. “Hello dearest, hello little one.” 

“I’m not little,” Harley grumbles. 

“You are shorter than me, you are little.” 

“For now. Doc said I’m supposed to be over six feet.” 

“Hm, we’ll see,” Tony says. “But enough about that. We have to have a little chat.” 

Harley’s heart leaps with anxiety. When adults talk about having a chat, or talking, it’s...well. It’s never a walk in the park. Or a jog for that matter, either. 

“What about?” 

“How we can help you.” 

Harley sighs, burrowing deep in his seat. 

“We have to talk about this?” 

“Yeah, we do.” 

- 

Harley gets set up with a therapist who he’s not sure he likes yet, but so far she’s been pretty nice. A bit of a mess, because she comes into their second session late and with iced coffee. 

“Oh shit, I should’ve asked you if you wanted something,” Joan says, fretting. “Um, hi Harley. How are we doing?” 

“Um, fine? I guess? For someone who’s dealing with a lot of change?” 

“Oh, that’s great to hear. Do you mind...?” She breathes for a minute. “There was a really cute girl in the elevator for the dentist office above me, and I had to avoid her so that I wouldn’t talk about things and ruin things, so I took the stairs. Do you mind if I just drink my coffee for a moment?” 

“...knock yourself out.” 

So they sit there for a few moments, while Joan catches her breath and Harley wonders if he can text her his coffee order later. 

“Alright, let’s talk you, Harley.” 

- 

Therapy goes well. As well as it can go, honestly. 

And Harley? Well, he settles. 

And he notices things. 

Rhodey is still with them, two months and three weeks in. This is his last week, and Tony is miserable although he won’t say anything. 

Harley notices how Tony will automatically move closer to Rhodey, and Rhodey welcomes him into his space as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

They bicker at each other, but Rhodey slides scrambled eggs onto Tony’s plate as he argues, and Tony leans over and grabs the coffee mug that Rhodey favors. 

- 

Apparently, they’re not together. 

This leaves Harley very confused. 

Tony gets all flustered and in denial when he asks about it. 

“Why would...why would he...why would he be with me?” Tony asks, moving around the kitchen. “He has more to life than that. Now come on, get your shopping list together, kiddo. I’m not gonna hear you complain for another week that we didn’t get your pumpkin-carving-coffee-creamer-whatever.” 

“It’s pumpkin spice, and you would know that because you pretend like you don’t use it.” 

“We’ll get two bottles this time,” Rhodey says, only coming in on the tail-end of the conversation. “Tony, babe, remember to get the provolone slices when we’re there for the deli sandwiches.” 

“Got it, honey.” 

Harley stares. 

They’re so...domestic. 

Harley hasn’t seen that often. Certainly didn’t see it with his parents before his dad left, and his mother...she didn’t get to have that with anyone else afterwards. And his sister, oh god-

“Kiddo, you okay?” Rhodey asks. His hand is on Harley’s shoulder, eyes full of concern. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“Just...just thinking about my mom. And my sister.” 

Rhodey brings him into a hug. 

Harley breathes in and out for a moment, absorbing the clean smell of Rhodey’s shirt and focusing on the touch. 

“Okay. Okay. I’ll be fine. Let’s go, before Tony gets to choose the car and we have to fit fifteen bags into a Maserati.” 

“Then we’ll have to leave you at the store,” Rhodey teases. “Let’s see if we can get a rational car.” 

-

Grocery shopping is...it’s nice. It’s one of Harley’s favorite things to do, as boring and uninteresting as that may be. 

He mostly just likes watching Tony and Rhodey do it. It’s entertainment, and they’re so practiced together. 

Harley isn’t sure if his mom and his sister are still looking on, but he always gets their favorite snacks, just in case. He puts a bag of hot fries and a carton of strawberries into the cart, and then he grins as he finds Tony and Rhodey still arguing over whether or not they should get two bundles of green onions for the Wednesday dinner or not. 

“Come on dad,” Harley says, throwing the extra bundle into the cart. “It’ll be good, and we can probably make some sort of soup garnish for the end.” 

He moves the cart, and he doesn’t even see how Tony and Rhodey stare after him. 

“So obviously, I’m dad,” Tony says. “That’s me.” 

“Or is it?” Rhodey asks, faking suspicion. “We don’t know until a full investigation is launched.” 

“Oh full investigation my ass,” Tony says. “Come on, before he leaves us in the dust and ends up getting far too many packages of candy.” 

“Like you minded, heathen.” 

Tony pushes off the grocery cart, and Rhodey has to smile for a moment. 

He’s going to miss this. He only has a few days left, and then he’s back and he’s alone, and he’s not alone, but he...

Rhodey always misses Tony. He’s tried to convince himself over the years that it’s just what best friends do, but he doesn’t think that best friends think of each other in the way that he thinks of Tony. 

And now there’s Harley. 

Harley, who is so much like Tony, and so good. He smiles, and he jokes, and Rhodey now can’t imagine life without him. 

He doesn’t want to miss out on a thing, honestly. They’ve already joked about teaching him to drive in New York traffic. 

And he wants to come home. He has his own place in New York, honest to god doesn’t know why he pays rent on it since Tony usually has him stay over anyways. He should sub-let or rent it or sell it. That’d be common sense. 

-

Dinner goes well. Both Rhodey and Harley have a good rhythm in the kitchen, even with Harley’s questionable music taste and Rhodey’s inability to follow a recipe. 

“People who follow recipes are chumps,” Rhodey says, dumping more garlic powder into the mixture. “Never follow a recipe.” 

“We can call your mother and ask about the blueberry crumble incident of 1997,” Tony says innocently. “If you want to rehash how well that advice went for you. I recall a nearly-burned-down-house?” 

Rhodey scowls, turning to Harley. 

“Don’t listen to a word this man has ever said, he is an unlovable scamp.” 

“Oh really?” Harley says. “Seems to suit you just fine, right?” 

Rhodey momentarily pauses, and then grins. 

“I suppose you’re right.” 

All too right. 

They eat dinner, and Tony as well as Rhodey make no mention of what’s going to happen come Saturday morning. 

At least, until Harley does, because Harley does things like ask questions. 

“So. When are you going for your next mission?” Harley asks. “And where?” 

“Classified, and seven a.m. bright and early Saturday morning,” Rhodey states. “You gonna get out of bed in time to see me off?” 

“Mm, we’ll think about it,” Tony says, biting into the pasta. “The beds are awfully comfy...” 

“Aw shut up,” Rhodey whines. “Just for that, I get to choose the movie, and I’m choosing the not-movie. I’m choosing the BBC Pride and Prejudice.” 

“You suck,” Tony groans. “If you weren’t a gorgeous man, I would have kicked you out decades earlier.” 

“You make us sound ancient.” 

“That’s because you two geezers are,” Harley says, taking his dish to the sink. “Come on, I totally dibs on getting the mint candies.” 

“Absolutely not, you stole them all last, at least let us portion them out,” Tony says. 

“Do we not live as a family? Can we no longer share things?” Harley cries out dramatically, draping his body across the couch. “Am I reduced to nothing but a pretty face?” 

“I don’t know where you get your dramatics from,” Rhodey deadpans. “Truly, I don’t.” 

Harley pokes his tongue out, and gestures for them to come over. 

“We can wash dishes later, we need to see if Mr. Darcy comes back,” Harley says. 

“You know he does,” Tony says, looking over at Rhodey. “He always will.” 

It means...something. They’re not sure what, and they’re not going to ask each other while Harley is busy commandeering the couch and wiggling his way into getting the best blanket. 

Tony on one side, Rhodey on the other, although the latter is busy popping popcorn and thinking. 

He doesn’t even really want to go. He signed up for this tour, and he wasn’t honestly thinking it was going to be his last, but with Harley now, and with how life is going...would it be a bad thing? 

Tony’s always wanted him to do at least consulting work for SI, and he could semi-retire comfortably... 

“Honey-darling!” Tony calls, “the ETA on popcorn? I’m getting desperate!” 

Harley sends Tony a sneaky look, and looks back towards the movie. 

“You should remind Rhodey to get chocolate chips,” Harley says. “You know he likes them.” 

“Of course I know that, how do you know that?” 

“You usually get the popcorn,” Harley says with a shrug. “I know what you know about him. And you know a lot, don’t you?” 

“I...I suppose,” Tony says, getting up. 

Harley settles into his spot on the couch. 

Tony comes up to Rhodey. 

“Remember your chocolate chips,” Tony says. 

Rhodey looks surprised. 

“I thought you hated how sticky they got your hands.” 

“That’s what napkins were invented for,” he says with a laugh. “I’ve been dealing with your chocolate chips for years, haven’t I?” 

“I guess,” Rhodey says. “Just like I’ve been dealing with the fact that you pretend like you don’t like it, but you steal all of it.” 

“Lies and slander, dearest,” Tony says, and Rhodey grins smoothly. 

“Get back to the kid, sweetheart. I’ll be there when all of this is done.” 

And it sounds so goddamned domestic. As if it’s real, as if they’ve been doing this song and dance for years. And they have, but it’s never been...

It’s never been real. Sure, they’ve waited on each other when Rhodey leaves or Tony travels, and they fall in together in a nice and easy rhythm. 

But Tony...he’s a Stark. He needs a good reputation, and while most wouldn’t say his reputation is exactly good, there’s a lot that the public can forgive. Rhodey is not part of that. 

Tony thinks that Rhodey deserves someone better. He knows it, knows it in the way that Rhodey smiles and it’s the best damned thing he’s ever seen, knows it in the way how his eyes track people who need help the most. 

- 

Harley knows virtually none of this. The only thing he knows is that his guardians are the stupidest people on the planet, and now he has a side project besides school and by god it’ll be fun. 

But first, Rhodey is being sent off. Tony’s hands are wandering all over the place, as Harley’s noticed they do when he’s nervous. His do the same. Tony is talking about everything and joking about changes, and Rhodey smiles and nods and they both know what is going to happen. 

Harley, for his part, mostly just tries not to doze off because it’s too early for any of this but also he wants to remember this. 

Rhodey will be gone for one month and three weeks. According to Tony, this isn’t the longest he’s ever been away, but usually he’s not gone for this long. The older he gets, the shorter the missions or projects get. But they need his expertise with rookies. 

Tony, for his part, has packed about three extra bags for Rhodey under the guise of them being “goodie bags” or the army to peruse after Rhodey. 

“I won’t need all of these fancy pieces,” Rhodey says, rolling his eyes. “I’m not even leaving the US this time, cupcake.” 

“You saying you can’t be in danger when you’re here?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Take the stuff dad,” Harley says exasperated. 

“Ha!” Rhodey teases. “So I’m dad!” 

“You both are,” Harley says. “You’re both dad.” 

They grin at each other, at least until Tony furrows his brow. 

“Then how will we know which one you’re talking to?” 

“I’ll come up with a different name then,” Harley says. “I don’t know. Let’s not talk about this while you’re supposed to be boarding a jet.” 

Rhodey shrugs, leaning in for a hug from Harley, and facing Tony. There’s something in his eyes. 

“Stay safe,” Tony says. “Promise me that.” 

“I don’t make promises,” Rhodey says, a smile playing at his lips. 

“For anyone else,” Tony finishes, grinning. He brings him into a hug, probably holding on for a touch longer than necessary. But he’s leaving, so you can’t fault him for it. 

Harley is smiling to himself as Rhodey whispers something in Tony’s ear, which causes him to widen his eyes in delight. 

“Seriously? You’re serious.” 

“As a heart attack.” 

Tony cheers for a moment, before they hear a shout across the tarmac. Rhodey gives a lazy salute. 

“Until one month and three weeks.” 

“Until then, nerd,” Harley shouts. 

Tony blows a kiss, and Rhodey “catches” it and puts it in his pocket. 

Harley sends Tony a look as they’re driving home. 

“So. What did Rhodey whisper in your ear?” 

“He’s going to move in,” Tony says, grinning. 

“He doesn’t actually live at our home?” Harley asks, absolutely flabbergasted. “There’s no fucking way-” 

“Language!” 

“You said ‘shit’ during breakfast, if anything this is just leveling the playing field-” 

“Don’t care, you’re a small child. What would the public say if they knew I was teaching my boy curse words?” Tony says dramatically. 

“They’d probably not be surprised,” Harley answers. “Didn’t you tell the paparazzi to ‘get fucked’ when they ambushed our dinner last month?” 

“Not the point.” 

“Or is it?” 

“You’re detracting from the fact that you get to help me get rid of all of Rhodey’s ugly furniture in his apartment.” 

“Seriously?” Harley whines. “No, I’m...doing something.” 

“Doing what? Eating hot fries on my couch and getting it stained with spicy cheese dust?” 

“...no.” 

“Hm, thought so. You’re coming with me.” 

- 

Rhodey isn’t expecting to miss home as fiercely as he does this time around. He’s irritable, but he finds comfort in talking with some of the other members of the crew about kids. 

“Didn’t know you had a kid,” Hicks mentions. “When did that happen?” 

“About six months ago,” Rhodey answers. “Kid needed a guardian, Tony stepped up to the plate. He’s a real neat kid, really a genius. Just like Tony, in that way.” 

“You live with Tony, finally?” Thompson asks. “Or do you still have that dinky bachelor pad?” 

“I’m selling it,” Rhodey said. “I told Tony I’d help out with Harley, and that’s what I’m doing. Figure since I’m always over there anyways, might as well move in.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t move in sooner, what with you and Stark anyways,” Thompson remarks. 

“What do you mean?” Rhodey asks. 

“You’re...not together?” 

Rhodey looks away, a bit sheepish. 

“Uh...no. We’re not.” 

“But you wanna be,” Owens teases from her corner, eating her sandwich. “You stupid lover-boy.” 

“Aw shut up,” Rhodey fires back. “As if you aren’t all over your husband when you get back.” 

“But I, my dear old man, am married,” Owens says. “Put a ring on it! God knows you should’ve, like, eight years ago. Have you even asked him on a date?” 

“He has other options, and a life outside of me,” Rhodey says. 

“Bullshit,” the team crows, laughing. Rhodey just shakes his head, and bites into his sandwich. 

He misses them. 

-

Harley and Tony miss him equally as much. Tony is down in the dumps, sulking in his lab while Harley attempts to rebuild a projectile weapon. 

“Do you have a permit for that?” 

“Do I need one?” Harley asks. “I’m not gonna take it anywhere, except maybe when I’m in trouble.” 

“When will you be in trouble?” 

“...you’ll know.” 

“Please tell me you’re not going to be on national news.” 

“Just on regional, don’t worry.” 

Tony sighs. 

“Rhodey is going to want to witness that, so can you wait?” 

“...potentially.” 

- 

Rhodey gets letters from the two of them. He thinks it’s Harley’s idea: after all, Tony would simply just hijack the internet feed and yell at people until Rhodey was called for. 

He gets two pages from Tony with his elegant writing, the writing that almost never comes out because he remembers that Tony was taught how to write in blocky, all-caps letters that he was fond of now. 

Harley writes in chicken-scratch that is barely legible, although he mentions that he’s been learning about lettering from Tony. 

Tony misses you a lot, by the way, Harley writes, he’s been playing all of your favorite songs, and I didn’t know that you liked Three Dog Night. Interesting. 

It’s not surprising that Tony knows and plays his music, not really. But Rhodey is still pleasantly surprised that even when he isn’t physically present, Tony keeps a piece of him around. 

Similarly, Tony writes about Harley. 

The kid misses you, honey. He’s been compiling a list of things he wants to do when you get back. You’re better at hugging him, by the way. Today (well, Wednesday for you) we had a good cry session. Wish you were there, but we made do with what we had. Why did you take your sweatshirt, by the way? Stupid man, now I can’t wear it and drape myself across couches like a scorned widow. Honestly...

- 

Rhodey comes back on a Tuesday morning. Harley’s allowed to miss school for it, which he’s very happy about. 

“That doesn’t mean you get to sleep in,” Tony says. “We’re picking him up at eight.” 

“Why must I be punished for all time,” Harley moans. “Eight? Seriously? Doesn’t the army know that noon exists?” 

“They made up the early rule because of me,” Tony jokes. “But I promise that Rhodey will most likely want an actual breakfast, which means we get diner breakfast.” 

“Yes!” Harley says, pumping his fist. “Waking up early just became worth it.” 

“Yeah sure, just look at the emails your teachers sent you about missing homework and be sure to text Peter and Ned about the classes you missed,” Tony says. 

Harley nods, walking out of the kitchen before pausing and turning back. 

“You should wear that Black Sabbath shirt that Rhodey likes tomorrow,” he says. “It’ll be nice for him to see.” 

Tony raises an eyebrow. 

“And since when did you know what Rhodey likes to see?” 

“Since I was born with vision,” Harley deadpans. “He always picks that shirt out for you when you come back after a business meeting overseas.” 

- 

Waking up at eight a.m. is worth it for a hug from Rhodey. Honest to god, that man gives the best hugs Harley’s ever had, short of Abbie and mom. 

Tony is asking a million questions a minute, and then telling Rhodey about the results of the apartment. A Stark Industries employee is renting it, and Tony managed to save some of the mugs, and chastised Rhodey for stealing a colander, apparently. 

“It was our good one! Why did you leave it in your apartment?” 

“I thought I stored it where we put the pans!” Rhodey defended. “How was I supposed to know that it was at that apartment?” 

“Quit arguing and start moving,” Harley says. “We have breakfast to get to.” 

“Our boy is growing,” Tony says, sighing. “Soon he’ll eat us out of house and home.” 

“We live in a gigantic tower in New York, I think you’re gonna be fine,” Rhodey says. “Although let’s get on it before there’s too much of a wait.” 

“It’s a Tuesday, darling,” Tony says. “No wait. And they know us.” 

- 

Harley enjoys witnessing breakfast. Basically because Tony and Rhodey fall into their respective rhythms as if no one had ever left. Rhodey is fighting about the hash browns, and Tony is reaching all the way across the table for the hot sauce. 

Harley has honestly and truly missed them all together like this. 

Even if Rhodey nabs a sausage from his plate. 

“I’m the growing teen here!” Harley says, gesturing with his fork. “Why steal from your poor, innocent charge? Was it not enough to leave for a month and three weeks?” 

“And three weeks! Honestly honey,” Tony says, distracting Harley enough to steal the other sausage off of his plate. “You should’ve been here sooner, we could’ve eaten more of these!” 

“You both are criminals,” Harley says. “Criminals who I have to live with. This is unforgivable. I’ll waste away into nothing...” 

Rhodey laughs, and he catches Tony’s eyes. 

Yeah. It’s good to be back. 

- 

Living with Tony and Harley isn’t really an adjustment at all. Rhodey had barely used his apartment before, and now is no different. He just gets to decorate his room a little bit more, and contribute more to groceries. 

He’s also around for more of Harley which is...interesting. 

The kid knows something, that’s for sure. 

He is also sneakily good at making sure that Tony and Rhodey get alone time, whether that be last-minute-ditching plans with Pepper or “forgetting” that he was supposed to be going to Ned’s for a video-game championship. (Harley was good at lying, but Tony and Rhodey have had years of practice.) 

Rhodey has a sneaking suspicion that he knows why. 

Harley isn’t a stupid boy, not by a long shot. 

He’s caught on to Rhodey’s stares, the way that Tony and Rhodey have something, but neither really want to acknowledge. 

To acknowledge means to know, and knowing is something that is far more terrifying than most people give it credit. 

- 

Harley eventually has help. 

After all, he and Pepper didn’t just go their separate ways when he ditched his guardians to give them quality dates, and he didn’t just talk about video game strategy with Peter, Ned, and MJ. 

He was planning. Figured it would fit with a life plan, honestly. 

Pepper is quite potentially even more tired than he is, and has agreed to help set up a nice date. 

She’s made deals she never expected to. 

She owes the god of mischief a bottle of wine. It’s ridiculous. 

Peter and Ned have been elected with getting the “aesthetic” right, and MJ has been “helpfully” suggesting where lights go. 

“MJ, if I move them any more left they’ll fall off the building and become a hazard,” Harley grunts. 

“Exactly. Nothing says romance like dangerous situations,” she says with a shrug. “But put them in the tree, and we can link the extension cord behind. It’ll look nice. All Pinterest-y and shit.” 

“Why can’t you help and then joke?” 

“I never joke. You just always like my second plan better.” 

“I don’t know whether to be terrified or alarmed!” Peter calls from his spot of building the cheese-board. 

“They’re synonyms,” MJ says. “When are we going home, by the way?” 

“As soon as Rhodey finishes up with his afternoon run, and Tony realizes that dinner is still a social concept,” Harley says. 

“Time, then?” 

“...five-thirty.” 

“Perfect.” 

“I’ll call my mom about the pizza,” Ned says. “We still thinking one pepperoni and one veggie?” 

“Sounds great,” Peter says. “What movie are we watching tonight?” 

“Twitter polls said Clueless over the Leonardo DiCaprio version of Romeo and Juliet. Sorry Ned, looks like your choice will be next week.” 

“My heart hurts, but it understands,” Ned says sagely, placing a hand over his heart. “I will see Mercutio soon enough.” 

- 

Tony was not aware that their rooftop had lights. He doesn’t remember putting them there. 

He was also pretty sure that Harley had a question about the flight patterns of birds in relation to GPS technology in drones, and it was weird that it was outside, but- 

There’s a cheese-board. And now he gets why Pepper made him change shirts. He knew that his shirt wasn’t ugly! 

Rhodey is standing across the way, looking at the dinner set-up and the tealights flickering gently from their placement. 

“Is this...did you do this, Tony?” 

“I don’t have this much of a creative eye,” Tony says, eyeing the intimate table placement. “Maybe Pepper?” 

“She doesn’t do lights...” 

“Harley,” they both say in unison, laughing. 

There’s a note at the table, written in the same near-illegible handwriting: 

Either get together or I get to make a Twitter thread. Your call. 

Tony snorts as he looks at the placement of everything. 

“Well...it’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” 

“Is that you saying you’re flattered, but no thanks?” Rhodey asks. 

“No,” Tony says, looking at Rhodey. “It’s not that at all, if you-” 

“You mean-?” 

“What? Is this what’s happening?” Tony asks. His breathing speeds up. He’s quite embarrassed that he can feel his cheeks turn red. He thought he got rid of blushing in ‘96. 

“I...damn it, Tony. I love you!” 

Tony stares. He just stares, and for a moment it doesn’t process, until it does. He flings himself into Rhodey’s arms, and laughs. 

“Holy shit, that’s a relief.” 

Rhodey spins him around, taking a brief moment to kiss him gently on the cheek. 

“Oh, you owe me more than that, soldier.” 

“I think I’m a little bit higher ranked than that.” 

“Oh, and what would that be?” 

“Boyfriend, for one.” 

Tony rolls his eyes. 

“We’re, like, a minute into this and you’re already the cheesy one.” 

“Well one of us has to be, and I’m going to beat you to the punch.” 

- 

Harley gets one text at four in the morning from Rhodey: 

no twitter thread for us. and you need to figure out what to call tony because i’m claiming “dad.” 

Harley cackles, grinning. 

got it, he’ll be pops then. 

Tony texts Harley a minute later. 

if you call me ‘pops’ there will be a mutiny! a mutiny!! 

Harley laughs again, tapping a message back. 

wotever. 

Tony doesn’t respond, choosing instead to roll back over and sling an arm around his significant other. It’s too early to be nitpicking your kid’s grammar. 

[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 5

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: winter, food/drink, fluff

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: Thing are happeninggggggg 👀 Enjoy!

“This place is beautiful, Marcus,” Erin mused, eyes wandering around the restaurant. Like most upscale places, hardwood and chandeliers were the stars of the interior. Perhaps she was a little old-fashioned for liking it, but the atmosphere of dim lights and dark wood was comforting.

“Do you like it?” he asked, a shy smile adorning his face. He didn’t have time to change after work, opting to stay in his button-down shirt and dark pants. Ideally, he would’ve gone home and changed into something a little nicer, just for her, but work had ended later than he anticipated. Thankfully, he wasn’t too underdressed–Erin wore a simple outfit of a dark shirt and skirt, some boots, and a long coat.

Marcus found himself glancing down at her glossy lips as she praised him for picking such a cozy place for their date. There was still a decent amount of snow on the ground, so they didn’t want to travel far. The local steakhouse had seemed like a good option.

Something about the way she spoke, the way she seemed to glow in the soft light of the restaurant, made his heart flutter in his chest. He loved the way her voice soaked into his being, how soothing her tone was. He’d missed that. He’d missed her.

After that day with her and Missy, he couldn’t stop thinking of what a future would be like with her in it. Being in her apartment felt like stepping back in time. It felt like he was being given another chance, another chance to do right by her and show her his l-

“Marcus?”

He blinked, his thoughts slipping to the background. Rubbing his hand along her back soothingly, he asked, “Yes, honey?”

Erin let out a breathy laugh and tilted her head towards the host. “Aren’t you going to let them know we’re here? You said you made a reservation.”

If they were in broad daylight, she would’ve seen his cheeks redden just slightly, Thankfully, she couldn’t. Kissing her forehead, he answered. “Yes, let’s go.”

They were brought to a table situated towards the back of the dining area, menus and glasses of water already waiting. Once again, Marcus slipped past her and pulled out her chair first, making sure she was comfortable before sitting down.

Erin shivered as his hand brushed her shoulder, reminding her of that night in the kitchen.

They quickly fell into conversation, their voices just above an intimate hum. It was nice to have that time with him. She loved having Missy over at her apartment, but she also wanted moments for just herself and Marcus. Maybe it was a tinge of jealousy that remained, or a remnant of fear that he only liked her because she was good with Missy. The thought hadn’t occurred to her until the day after, when one of her parent’s sayings crept back into her mind. But since it had, she couldn’t shake it off.

What if he didn’t really want her? What if he just wanted friendship, or a role model for his daughter? She had no problem with being the latter–every girl deserves to have a role model–but it was the former that she worried about. What if he didn’t want her, and she was going to watch him slip away just like last time?

As she and Marcus sat there, eating and talking about everything and nothing, she felt the coil of insecurity tighten. He told her about his life both before and after becoming a single dad, and how his late wife had encouraged him to pursue his current job.

“And what’s that?” she asked, a small smile on her lips. “You never told me, Mr. Moreno.”

He was about to answer when his phone rang, cutting him off. Frowning, he apologized and told her it was from the headquarters. They rarely called him after hours; normally they reached out to the others. He knew it wasn’t polite to answer during a date, that it was often a sign of disinterest, but Erin insisted that he took the call. Between her time in the FBI and her knowledge of the Heroics, she knew some things couldn’t be ignored.

Hopefully it was just an update.

Then, Marcus’s eyes widened. “I’ll be right there.”

Erin’s brows furrowed at that. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay? Do we need to get Missy?”

Letting out a sigh, he shook his head and fished out his credit card. “The boss called; there’s an emergency and I need to be there as soon as possible.” He stood up and came around to her. Placing his card in her hand, he said, “I’m sorry, honey. This isn’t how I wanted tonight to go. Stay here. I’ll come back for you, alright? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“W-wait, why do you have to go?” she asked, heart sinking. “Isn’t there someone else?”

Marcus’s heart broke as he realized what this looked like. He sighed softly and kissed her forehead gently. “I’m the leader of the Heroics, honeydew. I have to.”

Their eyes met, and he hadn’t seen her as sad since the night he left for DC.

“Okay,” she said quietly, letting go of his arm. “Be safe.”

“I’ll come back for you,” he promised. Then he turned on his heel and jogged out of the restaurant.

---

“Erin?”

At the sound of her name, she looked up from her phone. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Marcus walking towards her, still in his clothes from earlier, though he looked a bit frazzled. Did he not have a suit to change into?

“Marcus,” she breathed, pulling him into a hug. Tucking her face against his neck, she murmured, “I was so worried.”

His arms immediately wrapped around her, enveloping her with warmth. She felt his lips pressing against her temple as he replied, “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m here now. We got everyone out, and the responders are handling the rest.”

“I’m just glad you’re alright. Though I must say, I never pegged you for a superhero,” she said, smiling as he rocked her back and forth. “Though I wish you’d told me earlier during our date. Were you ever going to tell me?”

He cringed. “About that…. I’m sorry our date was interrupted. I know we’ve been looking forward to this for a while, and I shouldn’t have run out on you like that-” “It’s alright,” she interrupted, her voice smooth. Ice-cold air nipped her skin as she pulled away from him. “It wasn’t your fault. I would’ve probably ditched you if there was an emergency at the office.” A soft laugh. “I guess that means we aren’t so different, huh?”

A soft chuckle left his lips. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Those words echoed in his being. Something about holding her in his arms felt right. He never realized how much he missed her touch until she was right there, in his arms, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes. It had been a long time since he felt that warmth in his chest. For a while, since the passing of his wife, he wasn’t sure he would ever feel it again.

He leaned forward just enough that their foreheads touched. “Erin?”

“Yeah?”

It took everything in him to not close the gap between their lips. “I’d like to see you again sometime. Another date, with no interruptions. How does that sound?”

She paused, her breath caught in her throat. Of course she wanted to see him again. Her sweet Marcus, who treated her better in the few weeks they’d known each other than all her past boyfriends and girlfriends combined. Her sweetheart, who came back for her.

A shiver ran down her spine. Her Marcus. How could she forget? Even after nearly a decade, she missed him. And maybe she always would. But, maybe, it was time to let go and leave it all in the past.

Marcus’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Honey?”

She smiled. “It sounds perfect. I just....It’s been a long since I’ve felt anything like this. I told you I don’t have very good luck with love, and…the last time I loved someone, I never told him, and he disappeared before I could.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheeks. “We can take things as slow as you want, or not even try at all. But I want to try this with you, Erin. Do you?”

Erin nodded, smiling. “I do.”

“Perfect,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Only if it’s with you.”

The drive back to her apartment was short, the inside of the car nice and toasty in comparison to the brisk winter air. Erin could barely keep a smile off her face when Marcus reached over to hold her hand as he drove.

When she looked over to his side, she noticed the absence of a ring on his left ring finger.

He walked her to her door, a warm hand settled snugly against her back. Their voices echoed through the hallway, soft and oddly familiar.

“Do you want to come inside?”

The door was propped open by her foot, her keys still dangling from her fingers. He nodded, and smiled at the way her face lit up.

“Sorry about the mess,” she began sheepishly, gathering the papers strewn on the dining table into a pile. “I have an undercover op that I need to take care of in a couple weeks, so I was familiarizing myself with the case.”

His brows furrowed as he came up next to her, a hand coming around to rest on her waist. Indeed, the files were maps and profiles. “I thought you didn’t go out in the field anymore.”

She sighed. “I don’t, this was a special request from my boss. I have the most experience, and a leader leads by example, right?” Placing the papers into a folder, she continued, “I still need a partner, though.” “What’s the case?” he asked. Even back in his FBI days,  he didn’t like seeing Erin dressed for an operation. It wasn’t that she didn’t look good–she always looked beautiful–it was that he worried about her. She was capable, strong, and quick on her feet, but accidents could happen. There was no way he was going to risk losing her again; not now, after they finally could be together.

“It’s pretty low-key,” she began, pulling out an overview of the operation. Snuggling closer to him, she explained, “It’s for evidence against an art collector that’s suspected of dealing in the black market. He’s throwing a party on his private island to celebrate the upcoming marriage of his friends. My job is to get in, download some data from his computer, and get out. My plus-one to the wedding festivities is supposed to make things more convincing.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad. I can go with you,” he suggested, his arm tightening around her waist protectively. “If you want. The Heroics don’t need to get involved, it can just be the two of us.”

She turned to face him, eyes wide. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course,” he answered, holding her close. “Even leaders need some help sometimes.”

“Cheesy,” she teased, leaning in just slightly. Her gaze flickered down to his lips as she turned to face him, the papers forgotten. They looked soft, plush and pink.

His hand came up to cup her cheek.

“Just for you,” he responded, finally bridging the gap between their lips.

His lips were just as soft as they looked.

They melted into each other’s arms, Erin’s arms coming up to wrap around his neck and pull him closer. Her body pressed up against his as their lips molded against each other. Golden calligraphy spelled out their unspoken words as they kissed, gleaming and sparkling.

Erin smiled against his lips when he let out a soft moan, arching into his touch. His large hands roamed across her back, leaving fire in their wake.

He gently coaxed her onto the dining table, settling between her legs. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.”

“Me too,” she answered breathlessly. “But now we’re together.”

“Yes,” he murmured, kissing her deeply. A shiver ran down his spine as she whimpered into his mouth, so quiet he nearly missed it. He wanted to hear her again. He wanted to hear how his name would sound on her tongue, how she’d sound at her peak, but it was too soon for that. No, he wanted more time with her; he wanted to show her just how much he loved her before taking things to the next level.

His tongue was tracing the seam of her lips when his phone started ringing again. This time, it was an alarm; the babysitter‘s shift was ending soon, which meant he needed to head home–his other home.

Erin let out a small sound of protest as he pulled away, chasing his lips with her own.

Unable to resist, he returned to her. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning in for another kiss; one that she gladly granted him. His hands came up to cup her face gently, a thumb caressing her bottom lip. Heat surged through him as her lips parted just slightly, allowing the tip of his thumb to catch in the small opening. “I have to go back to Missy, the babysitter needs to leave soon and I don’t want her in the house all alone.”

The mention of Missy brought her back to reality. She didn’t want him to go–not so soon. But his priority was Missy; they could always continue later. Erin nodded understandingly. “It’s okay, Marcus. We’ll find more time soon.”

“Yes,” he agreed, pecking her on the lips. “Soon, I promise.”

---

A long, hot shower was just what she needed after being out in the cold. Erin exited the bathroom, her phone and watch in hand. She was dressed in a black camisole and sweatpants, hair cascading down her back.

As she set her clothes into the hamper, a  glint from her nightstand caught her eye. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was the ring. She’d left it at home for the date, slipping it off her finger as she got ready.

The ring was a memory, a promise. A promise to herself that she would never forget her best friend, her former love. She’d spent countless hours defending it, justifying the purchase and the clear message it sent to people. She’d wanted to tell the world that she’d given her heart away, and that nothing could replace him.

But maybe she didn’t need the ring to remember her Marcus. She knew he’d want her to find someone that made her happy, even if it wasn’t him. He was always sweet like that, supportive and confident. A part of her wondered if he would’ve liked Marcus Moreno. They were both kind, loyal, caring….they were everything she ever wanted. They were patient, understanding. She always longed to have someone–anyone–who would understand her fully. Or even just someone who cared about Erin He, rather than the supervisor He.

Maybe it was time to let Marcus Pike rest in the past. He wasn’t coming back. Even if he was still alive, he never came back for her. He was gone, and no matter how much she missed him, he wasn’t going to come back. No, not in the way she wished for. Only in memories, memories of late-night pancakes and sunny beach trips.

He’d want her to live her life to the fullest, and give and receive love freely.

A small smile on her face, Erin placed the ring back inside it’s velvet box and closed it.

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[scullydubois]

Only the Light ch. 5

read on Ao3 here. read the earlier parts here. 

Description: Mulder & Scully head to Aubrey, Missouri, but not without a few bumps in the road...

WC: 3,527 words

tagging @today-in-fic​

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

Five days. She was five days late. She had never been five days late for anything in her life. Why did it have to be this? Always the perfectionist, she double, then triple checks her math. For once, she hates being right. Five days off, no matter how many times she counts it.

She looks at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It shudders back at her. This is not possible, she thinks. Her cycle is always on time, and she hasn’t done anything lately near the type of activity that would get her pregnant. But by now, she knows better. Anything is possible, including the unthinkable. Especially the unthinkable. No amount of disbelieving can stop the force of the universe. No amount of believing can either, no matter how devout. These are truths she wishes she never learned.

It occurs to her that she sounds like her sister, which makes her chuckle to herself despite the dreary circumstances. That’s what a few weeks of living with someone can do to you. Then again, maybe it isn’t Missy who’s changing her. The voice in her head sounds more and more like Mulder these days. It scares her sometimes...how succinctly he can present his point of view, how she’d spent almost three decades skeptical and comfortable in this belief and now--less than two years later--she could almost believe him. Wants to believe him, no less.

Mostly though, she wants the truth. Which is what he wants too, but he has a preconceived notion of what he wants that truth to be, and won’t ever be satisfied, she thinks, until he is proven right. The thought that he might never have satisfaction makes her stomach ache. Or maybe that’s a symptom of her other problem...regardless, Scully finds that the notion of never getting answers to their quest makes her want to dissolve into thin air. The desire to disappear was new to her. How odd, to care so much it makes you wish you had never cared at all. This was new to her too.

But as always, she has to keep going, keep moving, keep working, keep her sanity. She puts in her earrings, swipes on her lipstick, and switches off the bathroom light. In her bedroom, she puts on her favorite pair of heels (the most comfortable ones) and zips the pockets on her suitcase. She rolls it into the kitchen, where Missy sips coffee with so much cream it might as well be milk.

“You’re here late,” Melissa remarks.

Scully nods. “I have a flight to Missouri.”

“Oh.” Missy sets the mug down. “Will you be home tonight?”

“I don’t know...maybe...hopefully.”

“Yet you packed a whole suitcase?”

Scully casts a stray glance at the luggage. “I like to be prepared.”

Missy frowns. “Don’t you think you should take a leave of absence?”

As if she didn’t hear, Scully asks, “What?”

“All this traveling and the long hours, while you’re recovering from trauma, no less. It’s not good for you.”

Scully purses her lips. “I’d rather be traveling and working than sitting around here all day.”

“You mean you’d rather be ignoring your feelings.”

Scully recoils, as wounded by this as anything. Being seen as you are never gets easier. It hurts just as much as when they were teenagers and Missy told her she was too nerdy to ever be cool (“and why would you want to be?” is the part she always forgets about), or when they were kids and Missy wouldn’t share her dolls because Scully was “not a good mommy.” If psychics were real, Missy would be one.

Not that Scully would admit that.  

“I’ll have plenty of time to process my feelings on the plane,” Scully half-jokes.

“But you won’t!” Missy retorts in good humor as Scully heads for the door.

And then, because they’re sisters and no amount of ill will could change that, Missy yells across the place, “Love you! Be careful! Bye!”

Scully laughs as she unlocks the door. “Bye, Missy! Don’t throw any parties while I’m gone.”

“Uh-huh.”

And so the natural balance of things is restored.

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

She meets Mulder in the terminal at Dulles and they go through their usual morning flight routine: coffee & breakfast (a breakfast sandwich for him, a bagel for her), a stop at the kiosk for Mulder to buy sunflower seeds (he buys her a trashy gossip magazine for fun every time), and a brisk jog to their gate because why “waste time,” as Mulder puts it, by showing up early. There’s usually a remark from Scully about how she’s wearing heels so he needs to slow down, followed by him quipping that she needs to get her head in the game, at which point she reminds him that his legs are at least twice as long as hers.

“It’s not the heels that are the problem,” she teases. “And while we’re on the subject, you wouldn’t be able to pass a sobriety test stone-cold sober in these.”

“You get one cup of coffee in this woman, and suddenly the trash talk comes out,” Mulder says to the air.

“You better watch out or we’ll switch shoes and see how you like it.”

“You underestimate me, Dana Scully.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“I’d prove it, but it would only make you look even more vertically challenged than you already are,” he taunts.

“Not when the heels snap and you turn them into flats.”

“Touché.”

They have some form of this conversation before nearly every flight. It’s one of their rituals, a comforting familiarity in an often uncomfortable line of work. No matter what has happened, they can return to this harmless banter and find solace in it. Scully’s dad died, but they were here. Deep Throat got shot, but they were here. Scully was kidnapped, but they are here again. Scully wonders if the rest of her life will continue this way. She’s not sure if that would be a good or bad thing. She does not say any of this out loud.

They board their flight without any problem. Mulder lifts their suitcases into the overhead compartment as Scully scoots into the window seat. That’s a benefit to traveling with Mulder; he needs the space, so he always takes the aisle seat, leaving Scully with whatever gorgeous view the flight graces them with.

Of course, she usually isn’t looking. Unsurprisingly, Scully’s flight activity of choice is catching up on her reading. The case files, the morning newspaper, sometimes even the gossip magazine Mulder bought her if the case doesn’t keep her busy. She makes a mental note to give this copy to Missy when she gets back. Cheesy stuff like that always makes her smile.

Mulder’s preferred activity, on the other hand, is sleeping. He doesn’t do much of that and has come to realize that a plane is actually one of the easiest, most comfortable places for him to fall asleep. His in-flight power naps are treasured by both him and Scully, who gets through her reading uninterrupted and--every once in a while--uses the occasion to observe the way her partner’s mouth hangs slightly open and his chest rises and falls with his breath. She doesn’t get to notice these things when he falls asleep in their rental car, though that doesn’t happen very often. She’s the one who’s prone to dozing off during a late night drive past cornfields, or deserts, or plains. Perhaps it has something to do with comfort, or the lack of it. She could never sleep on the plane with all these strangers around. The car is much cozier.

The flight to Missouri passes uneventfully. Mulder snores, quiet enough that Scully is almost certain she’s the only one who can hear it. This makes her smile. She wonders, as she frequently does during moments like this, if he is dreaming and what he dreams about. Consorting with aliens, probably. Does he dream about her, or would she be a stranger in his land of dreams? He is no stranger in hers, that’s for sure.

Soon enough the wheels hit the tarmac, and Mulder wakes up almost instantly. Is it any wonder that he’s so at home in the sky? He’s been looking that way for most of his life. It’s the ground that’s alien to him.

Mulder pulls the carry-ons from the overhead bin and they exit the plane in the same way they spent the flight, silent but content. They agreed early on that they wouldn’t talk much on flights. It’s like talking in a library. They get the witty banter out of the way in the airport and leave the more interesting stuff for the rental car. Luckily, they never run out of things to discuss.

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

They move through the airport and sign for a rental car. Mulder takes the keys and they hop in, Mulder in the driver’s seat, Scully on the passenger’s side. Mulder cranks the engine. It grumbles in response.They are alone for the first time all morning.

Scully unfolds a pastel paper map they bought in the shop. “So you’re going to get on I-29 and head north,” she instructs. “Stay on that for a while, it looks like we’re fairly far away from Aubrey.”

“The Bureau couldn’t have picked a closer airport for us to fly into, huh?”

“I guess it’s more cost effective if we finish the last leg of the trip ourselves.”

“It won’t be when I use the Bureau credit card to fill up this piece of junk.” He flashes a smile toward the passenger seat, shifting his gaze off the road a moment to see if she’s smiling too.

She is, but she keeps her lips together, unwilling to give herself away so easily. There’s a telltale sparkle in her eyes though.

Mulder pulls out of the parking lot. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what Melissa was doing at your place the other night. You didn’t mention anything about her being in town.”

Scully purses her lips, keeps her eyes on the map. She’s been hoping that he would not bring this up.

“She’s staying with me for a bit,” she says as casually as possible. “She got a hostess job downtown.”

“So she’s living in DC now?”

“Essentially.” She glances at the map. “Go right.” Mulder listens.

“Where was she living before?”

“The West Coast. An assortment of places. She’s a bit of a wanderer.” She focuses on the map, hoping this will quell the conversation. Mulder doesn’t pick up this signal. He’s watching the road.

“She didn’t come around for your father’s funeral, did she? I don’t remember you talking about her.”

Scully frowns at the map. “No, she didn’t.”

Missy and their father’s relationship had been strained for a number of years. While he didn’t necessarily criticize his eldest daughter for her life choices like their mother sometimes did, he couldn’t understand them, and that was somehow worse. Once he realized that Melissa wasn’t going to fulfill the dreams he had for her, he essentially stopped checking in with her. Not wanting to disappoint him any further, Melissa let them fall out of contact.

This is different from their mother, who makes her opinion about Melissa’s decisions very clear. She’s under the impression that by being straightforward with her daughter, she can have some influence over her life. This has created an odd relationship between them: strained, but in frequent contact. Scully can relate.

“She wanted to be there, but we couldn’t reach her in time. It really upset her, she didn’t talk to my mom until my...incident.”

Mulder casts a sympathetic glance Scully’s way. “Ah.”

They merge onto I-29, their car joining the dozens of others already speeding toward some unknown destination. Mulder is reminded of a thought he often has while driving, and seeing as he’s made Scully share more than she wanted to, he decides to lighten the mood by saying it out loud.

“Driving has always reminded me of a dance,” he says, making brief eye contact with his passenger.

Scully raises her eyebrows, amused by this sudden change of topic. “How so?”

“It’s just a bunch of strangers trying to match each other’s rhythm and not step on any feet.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” Scully replies, unconvinced.

“I mean, it kind of is, isn’t it?...There’s so many songs about it.”

Scully laughs. “I take it back. If there’s so many songs about it, it must be true.”

Mulder smiles. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Speaking of music, Scully switches the radio on. A local country station blasts through the speakers, some song about drinking whiskey and pulling off a gravel road to watch stars from a truck bed.

“See?” Mulder jokes. “Height of romance.”

Scully turns it down, but doesn’t bother to change the station. Mulder now has the courage to ask the question he’s been holding onto.

“So why is Melissa staying with you? Why not get her own place?”

The edges of Scully’s lips tilt down. This again?

“We get along well, so we thought it would be nice. Like being teenagers again.”

Mulder braces himself for an unpleasant reaction from his partner. “So it has nothing to do with your abduction?”

Scully bites her lip.

“Jesus, Mulder.”

“What? You don’t offer information unless I ask. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He glances at her. She’s looking out the window.

“I’m okay,” she confirms.

“You know, if you just elaborated a little bit, I wouldn’t have to ask such prying questions.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “You sound like Melissa.”

“Good. She knows exactly how to handle you.”

“Handle me?” Scully straightens up in her seat. He waited until she was trapped to confront her. What a shitty move.  

“How to talk to you, I mean. You’re good at evading the point.”

“And you’re using your interrogation training against me,” she responds, clearly irritated.

“What do you mean?”

“You lightened the mood so I would trust you, then hit back with the toughest question yet. The one you really wanted an answer to.”

Mulder frowns. He had done this instinctively, not realizing that he was treating her like a suspect.

“I’m sorry,” he responds without hesitation. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Scully crosses her arms. “Of course not,” she says curtly.

The drive continues in silence, Scully only speaking up to give him directions off the map. The country station is the only one with anything to say, the singers drawling about booze, babes, and of course, driving. This frays Scully’s nerves. After one song too many about a pick-up truck, Scully switches the radio off.

Mulder wants to make a joke, but now is really not the time. Instead, he focuses on what he’ll say to her when they get to the motel. She needs to be pushed to talk, he knows this and deep down, she does too. He pushed her too hard though, in a manipulative way, and it’s up to him to straighten this out. He knows Scully well enough to know that if there’s no trust, there’ll be no openness. But that trust has to be genuine, not coerced or manufactured. He’ll have to work on building that up again if he wants to know what truly ails her.

The rest of the drive takes about 45 minutes. They don’t even discuss the case. Scully gives directions, Mulder follows them, and they end up in tiny Aubrey, Missouri. It’s just after noon when Mulder cuts the engine in their motel parking lot.

“You hungry?” he asks.

Scully clicks off her seatbelt, reaches for the passenger door. “I’m fine.”

Mulder watches her get out. He pops the trunk so she can grab the suitcases, then meets her at the back of the car. She lugs her suitcase out of the trunk and sets it down beside her. She’s mad at him, but she’s waiting for him. Mulder takes this as a good sign. He grabs his carry-on and shuts the trunk. It thuds closed, shaking the car.

Scully looks up at him. He expects her to say something, then takes the chance when she doesn’t--

“Hey, I know I overstepped my boundaries earlier, and I’m sorry. I just...I was supposed to protect you, and I failed. I’m trying to make up for that by looking out for you now.”

The expression on Scully’s face is as neutral as ever. She extends the handle on her suitcase and turns toward the motel.

She speaks to Mulder from over her shoulder. She’s not mad now, just insistent. “You didn’t fail.” She starts toward the entrance, rolling her suitcase along with her. Mulder jogs for a few strides to catch up with her. He wasn’t expecting her to take off like that.

“You became an X-file on my watch. That’s failure,” he responds.

“It’s my fault. Don’t guilt trip yourself.”

“Are you kidding me?” He freezes in the middle of the parking lot. Scully turns around and walks back to him, not wanting to have this argument here, or ever really.

“Mulder…”

He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Did Skinner ever tell you that I handed him a resignation letter while you were lying unconscious in the hospital? When I was pretty sure you were gonna die because of what I got you involved in?”

His eyes are dark, dark brown right now. Almost black, Scully notices. They’re not like this often. She sighs, then shakes her head. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“If you had--” he leaves a space for the word ”--that would have been it for me. With the X-files, the FBI, all of it. I couldn’t save my sister, and if I had lost you, the chase just wouldn’t be worth it anymore.”

And so they’ve found themselves sharing a very sincere moment in the middle of a motel parking lot.

“That’s not true, Mulder,” Scully tells him, her voice grating. “You would have been more determined to find the truth.”

He shakes his head. “I would have imploded. Collapsed in on myself. You’re the only thing keeping me in check, and the fact is, we wouldn’t have made it this far in our search if it weren’t for you.”

Scully isn’t sure how to respond. She’s adamant that he would have continued on without her, that he would go far and wide to find answers, and that he would get justice for Samantha and her if they had both fallen victim to the conspiracy. She’s also aware that this is not what he wants to hear at the moment, and seeing as he’s being so complimentary, it would be smarter just to let it go.

“Okay, Mulder. I believe you.” How often did he get to hear that, out of her mouth no less?

“Thank you,” he says, as if she’d just agreed that he would become king of the world, not that he would inevitably fall apart without her. This time, he leads the march toward the motel entrance. Scully follows in-step with him.

They’re heading up the entrance ramp when Mulder stops short yet again. Scully’s forehead bangs against his back.

“Ow!” he jests, letting out a laugh as she turns to her. “You okay?”

Scully’s face has turned as red as her hair, but other than that, she’s fine. She nods.

“I was going to ask if you ever heard what happened to Duane Barry.”

At the sound of that name, the color flushes itself right out of Scully’s face.

“Just that he died in custody.” Her voice is clipped.

“Oh.” Mulder scratches his chin, wishing that he hadn’t brought this up. Of course, this is Scully we’re talking about, and she’s not going to let him off easy.

“Why?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

An elderly couple scrambles up the ramp and walks around them, a bell ringing when they open the door. Mulder waits for it to shut before continuing.

“Well, um, he did die in custody. He stopped breathing shortly after I...uh, I squeezed his windpipe.”

Scully’s mouth drops open. “Mulder, you killed him?!” she hisses.

He moves closer, pulls her farther from the doorway. “That’s a good example of what I mean by collapsing in on myself,” he whispers calmly.

This is so frank that Scully almost laughs. She stares up at him in (relieved) disbelief. “How did you--”

“I don’t know, and I’m not gonna question it.”

Scully nods. “That’s probably for the best.” Their eyes meet, a shared acknowledgement of what they have been through together, because of each other, and for each other. The reality of it is at once tragic and downright comical. Mulder laughs, and then Scully does too.

“You may have gotten more than you bargained for when you walked into that basement office,” Mulder quips.

“Oh yes,” Scully confirms, her voice light and fluttery. “Oh yes.”

They make their way into the motel at last, ready for whatever the case has to offer. They may solve it, or not. Regardless, it is their line of work, and they will do it together.

~~thank you for reading!!

[thatbloodymuggle]

the one with the gun

Tongue Tied (jj maybank) 4/?

masterlist

word count: 4.5k

warnings: cursing, guns

read it on wattpad

playlist

-

For such a pleasant sleep, you'd think Rosie would have a pleasant wake-up.

Wrong.

Rosie was jolted awake by the force of an arm hitting her in the throat. Her eyes shot open in shock, and her body convulsed into a coughing fit. She instinctively threw off the arm that was cutting off her breathing. A sharp snore followed by a grunt sounded beside her.

Rosie turned her head to see JJ's face slumped against a pillow. They must have shifted at some point in the night as he was now on his stomach, and Rosie was on her back. JJ's mouth hung half open, and there was a puddle of drool on the sheets underneath.

"Ew," Rosie grumbled before pulling herself out of bed.

It was eerily quiet now in comparison to the howling wind and pelting rain beating against the shack just a few hours earlier. She padded out of the spare room and into the empty hallway. John B's door was still shut so Rosie assumed he was still sleeping. She made her way to the front room and onto the porch outside.

"Shit."

The yard was a complete disaster. Fallen branches and piles of debris littered the area. It was a miracle that John B's van and boat were still intact.

Rosie wandered through the yard and down towards the wooden dock. She cautiously put her weight on the creaky wood, making sure it was stable enough to walk on. She tiptoed along the length of the narrow dock. Rosie lowered herself down at the very end, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Her toes were inches away from the water below while her legs swung back and forth. She gazed at the calm water ahead, taking in the lingering smell of rain and the sound of chirping birds.

Rosie loved days after storms. She loved the irony of how such an ugly, chaotic thing could bring about singing birds, soft waves, and a beaming sun—as if nothing had ever happened.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there on the dock alone, but her meditative peace was cut short by the chatter of a boy a few yards back.

"Oh, man. That's not good," John B trudged outside with his hands behind his head. "That is not good."

Rosie craned her neck back to catch sight of a shirtless John B. A soft smile tugged at her chapped lips. He was yet to see her on the dock as he continued to assess the damage. Rosie turned back around to face the water.

"Agatha did some work, huh?" another voice chimed in.

Rosie could identify JJ's voice from miles away, but didn't bother turning around again. She was far too content watching her toes almost graze the surface of the water.

"Yeah, she did." John B replied.

The two boys began to clear out the fallen branches from the HMS Pogue.

"Mornin', Sunshine," John B called out to Rosie.

Rosie accepted that her moment of peace and quiet was over, and hauled herself up to her feet.

"Morning, boys."

Her bare feet creaked against the wooden planks as she made her way towards her friends. Their indistinguishable chatter became clearer once she approached them.

"What about the DCS? Wasn't that today?" JJ propped his elbows up on the boat, beer can in hand.

Rosie leaned her body against the side of the boat.

"Nah," John B dismissed him. "They're not gettin' on the ferry," he swung his arm out towards the sky, "It's God tellin' us to fish!"

Rosie frowned, "And when the DCS does come?"

"Another problem for another day," John B brushed her off. "Come on, we'll get out on the water, swing by Pope's place, and get Kie to bring us some beers!"

JJ wasn't hard to convince.

"Fine," Rosie gave in. "But you need to give me a ride to my place first," she crossed her arms. "I need to change and we can grab a quick breakfast."

"Deal." John B spit into his hand and held it out for her to spit-shake. Rosie turned up her nose in disgust. She grabbed his wrist, and moved it to JJ's face instead, wiping the spit off on his cheek. But it only backfired as JJ rubbed his wet cheek against her arm.

The Pogues set off for Rosie's house. Upon arriving, they didn't waste time wolfing down a quick breakfast of cereal and toast, and Rosie got dressed for the day. Soon enough, they were back at the Chateau and piling onto the HMS Pogue for a day on the water.

"To Heyward's we go!" John B zoomed across the water.

Rosie admired the beautiful scenery for the second time that day. The sun was almost at the very top of the sky, warming her tanned skin. It wasn't long until the small boat reached the main docking area of the Cut. As they moved closer to land, Rosie spotted a few familiar faces.

"Hi, Miss Amy!" John B waved at a blonde woman, "You guys get through it?"

"Still here," she smiled before turning back to her work. Once she was out of hearing distance, JJ slapped John B's arm.

"She totally looked at me."

"I saw it."

Rosie rolled her eyes and chucked a towel at JJ's stupid blond head.

As they continued their way along the dock, the damage caused by the hurricane became more evident. Debris littered the water, boats were damaged, and branches were everywhere. It would take ages to clean up. Rosie frowned at the thought.

JJ whistled, "Agatha, what did you do?"

"She's a crazy lady"

The two boys voiced Rosie's thoughts.

"We're gonna be cleaning this all summer," she sighed. Both boys nodded in agreement.

Rosie caught sight of Pope and his dad outside Heyward's just a few yards away. It seemed their place had been hit pretty bad as the two were working on cleaning up the damage. Pope was yet to notice his friends approaching, so John B took it upon himself to catch his attention. He raised his hand to his mouth, and mimicked speaking into a radio.

"We have a safety meeting, attendance mandatory."

Pope's head shot up to meet his friends, "I can't," he sighed, "my pop's got me on lockdown."

"Come on, man," JJ held his hand up to his face the mimic a radio as John B had, "Your dad's a pussy. Over."

Rosie cringed as Pope's dad moved towards the boat to chastise JJ, "Oh I heard that, you little bastard!"

"We need your son," John B called out.

"Yeah, and island rules. Day after a hurricane's a free day." JJ held his arms out with a grin.

Rosie decided it would be best not to get involved, and slumped further into her seat.

"Who the hell made that up?" Pope's dad asked in disbelief.

"Uh, Pentagon, I think. We have security clearance, I have a card," JJ quipped.

Rosie rolled her eyes, but couldn't fight the smirk tugging at her lips. Pope and his dad bickered back and forth for a few seconds: Pope trying to leave, and his dad urging him to stay. Eventually, he dismissed his father's protests and jumped into the boat. JJ and John B cheered, while Rosie shot Pope a warm smile. His dad continued yelling after the teenagers until they were out of sight.

"I don't like your friends!"

Rosie laughed. The boat sped away, setting off to its second destination. It didn't take long for John B to arrive at the Kook marina. Rosie grinned once she spotted her best friend walking down the wooden planks carrying a conspicuous cooler.

"Morning," she waved.

"What you got there," Pope grinned, "Juice boxes?"

Kie played along, "You know, just some yogurts and carrot sticks."

Rosie offered her friend a hand as she climbed into the boat. The second Kie set down the cooler, JJ was rummaging through it. He pulled out several beers with a triumphant smile,

"Aha!"

The teenagers passed the drinks and a bottle opener around.

"Cheers!" they clinked their bottles together. Rosie took a long sip and sighed at the bitter taste.

"Ay Rosie," Kie glanced over at her friend, "Did you bring your boombox?"

"Always. Hold this," she handed her ice-cold beer to Kie. Rosie walked to the front end of the boat to retrieve the retro device. She hauled it to the back, and sat back down, setting it between her legs. Rosie rummaged through her bag for her CD's.

"What're we feelin'? The Stones? Marley? Beatles?"

"Marley. Always," Kie giggled. The other four teenagers shared a knowing look, but Rosie inserted the CD anyways. Bob Marley's melodic voice sounded around them, and Kie handed Rosie her beer.

The teenagers chatted and laughed as the music played and the warm breeze blew.

"Let me show you a party trick," JJ spoke with an impish smile. "Hey Pope, can you go a little faster?"

JJ made his way to the front of the boat. Rosie and the others instantly groaned, knowing what was about to happen.

"Oh God, I'm movin'," John B grumbled, joining Rosie and Kie in the back.

"We've tried this like 6000 times," Rosie yelled at him.

JJ ignored his friends protests, "It's gonna work!"

He positioned himself at the very front of the boat and held up his beer away from his face. As Pope picked up speed, the liquid spilled out of the bottle and flew back into JJ's mouth, but also all over everyone else.

"Oh come on!"

"You're getting beer in my hair!"

"All right. All right! You're done!"

"Stop!"

The boat halted abruply, ending their complaints. They all jerked forwards, running into various items while JJ was thrown overboard. Rosie groaned and struggled to pull herself back up as the wind had been knocked out of her.

"Jesus, Pope!" Kiara groaned.

"Hey, JJ? You okay?" John B called out to his friend as he floated back up from the water. The blond groaned, and Rosie laughed hysterically through her pain.

"Karma's a bitch," she yelled at the overboard boy.

"I think my heels touched the back of my head,"JJ gasped for breath, ignoring Rosie's snide remark. The teens slowly recovered, and peered out of the boat.

"Pope, what did you do?" Kie sighed.

"Sandbar," he replied. "The channel changed"

"No shit."

Rosie stood up on the end of the boat alongside Pope, who was looking down into the water with wide eyes. She followed his gaze to see something massive submerged underneath.

"Guys, I think there's a boat down there," Pope summoned the others forward.

"Woah," Rosie whispered.

The others dismissed him, still disgruntled from the crash.

"No seriously guys, you're gonna want to see this! Look!" Rosie seconded her friend.

Kie and John B scrambled towards the end of the boat to get a view, while JJ swam over to the area. They didn't hesitate to strip down to their swimsuits and dive into the warm water. The water enveloped Rosie as she swam alongside the others down towards the wrecked boat. It wasn't too far down so they were able to get a quick look around, but were forced to float back up to the surface to get some air.

All five teenagers came up in almost perfect unison.

"You guys saw that?" JJ gasped.

"Yeah," Kie laughed in excitement.

"Holy shit," Rosie breathed alongside her friend.

They all swam back towards the boat. "That's a Grady-White," JJ babbled excitedly. "A new one of those is, like, 500 Gs, easy."

The Pogues climbed back into the boat, still jittery with excitement at their discovery.

John B lifted himself onto the HMS Pogue first, "That's the boat I saw when I surfed the surge," realization clouded his eyes.

"You surfed the surge?" Kie and Rosie spoke in unison with a judging tone.

"That's my boy, Pogue style!" JJ applauded and dabbed his friend up.

Pope brought them back to the task on hand, "Do we know whose boat that is?"

"No," John B replied. "But we're about to find out." He opened up a compartment at the front of the boat and pulled out an anchor, preparing himself to dive back down.

"John B, that's way too deep," Rosie voiced her concern. He brushed her off.

"Dude, I'm not resuscitating you. Just making that clear up front," JJ half-joked.

The two girls watched in concern while the boys egged John B on.

"John B," Kie gave him a hard stare. She didn't get a chance to stop him though as JJ pushed his friend in with the anchor.

"Diver down!"

The remaining four anxiously peered over the edge of the boat, awaiting their friend's return. 20 seconds passed.. then 30.. 45.. a minute...

"It's been a minute guys," Rosie mumbled worriedly.

"Should we go get him?" Pope matched her concern. Before they could make any rash decisions, John B broke the surface. Rosie's shoulders slumped and she released a sigh of relief.

"Any dead bodies?"

"Looting potential?"

John B shook his head, and pulled a small object out of the water, "I found this motel key"

"A key?" Rosie deadpanned.

"Great! We salvaged a motel key," JJ added.

John B moved behind the wheel, and revved the engine up again. In seconds, they were zooming down the water again.

"Shouldn't we just report the wreck to the coast guard? Maybe we'll get a finder's fee," Kie suggested, to which the others agreed. The Pogues set off in the direction of the Coast Guard. Upon arrival, John B, Pope, and JJ hopped out of the boat to report the wreck. Kie and Rosie waited on the water, perfectly content with basking in the sun.

"So you spent the night at John B's last night, huh?" Kie turned to her friend as soon as the boys were gone. Rosie furrowed her brows in confusion. Since when was it out of the ordinary to crash at his place?

"Uh, yeah? And?"

"I heard you had a fun little sleepover," she teased with a knowing grin. Rosie's cheeks flared and her eyes widened in realization.

"Fun is the overstatement of the century," she brushed her off, "Who the fuck told you that anyways?" Rosie paused, before adding, "Oh, it was so John B. He's such a gossip."

Rosie hoped that would be enough to get Kie off her back, but she still persisted, "Come on, I need more than that. You slept in a bed together and you both made it out alive? How'd that happen?"

Rosie was saved from further embarrassment by the boys walking back in their direction.

"How'd it go?" she called out.

"Way too busy," Pope shook his head. "Not gonna happen"

"So, what's the plan then?" Kie cocked her head to the side.

John B paused for a moment before digging the key out of his pocket and holding it up, "I think I know how we're gonna find the guy who owns that boat."

Pope protested, but his complaints were ignored.

"I'm in," JJ and Rosie spoke simultaneously. Rosie shot him a glare, which he only smirked at.

Pope shook his head, but Kie nagged him, "Come on, we'll be lookouts."

He very reluctantly agreed, and the teens set off to solve the mystery of the motel key. Soon enough, the boat was wading towards a very beat-up motel.

JJ let out a low whistle, "I thought the Chateau looked bad."

"This place is a shit show," John B nodded in agreement.

"Motel or meth lab?" Kie added on.

"Probably both," Rosie replied.

The place truly was a wreck. The huge sign was knocked down, the roof was covered in tarps, and debris completely covered the area. John B carefully pulled the boat into a good-enough docking area.

"Whoo!"

JJ leapt out of the small boat and onto the land, using a rope to secure the boat .

"All right," John B joined JJ on the grass, "Here goes nothin'"

Rosie moved to follow, but JJ shot out his arm to stop her, "Woah, where do you think you're goin', Princess?"

She shot him a challenging glare and swatted his arm away, hopping off the HMS Pogue. "Where do you think? I'm finding out what's in that room."

Rosie and JJ stared each other down for a few seconds, each waiting for the other to give in. But when you put the two must stubborn people on the island together, neither of them will back down.

"Stand down JJ," John B groaned and pulled him back, "We need someone to keep you in check, anyways. Kie and Pope can stand guard."

Rosie grinned triumphantly and snatched the key from Kie. She strode ahead, making sure to bump into JJ's shoulder as she passed him.

"Hey," Pope's voice made her turn back around. "Don't let him," he pointed to JJ, "Do anything stupid."

JJ and John B replied at the same time.

"Oh, we will"

"I'm not making any promises"

Rosie watched with gleaming eyes as Kie pulled John B back, "Be careful."

John B gave her a warm smile, but the evident concern on her face didn't budge, "I mean it," she emphasized.

Rosie could only inwardly cringe as John B awkwardly laughed and left the boat, glancing back at Kie several times.

"Let's go," Rosie summoned both boys. She set off at a determined pace, not bothering to wait for them to catch up. As soon as they were out of hearing distance from the boat, she called back to John B, "You know for someone who has a fair amount of experience, you'd think you'd be better at flirting. That was fucking painful."

Before John B could protest, JJ joined in.

"Just be so careful, John," he grabbed his friend, mimicking Kie.

"Maybe she just wants us to be careful," John B defended himself. Rosie scoffed loudly, and JJ shot him a doubtful look.

"Since she heard you're being threatened with exile she's just been, like, uh, just be so careful John B," JJ made a show out of rubbing his shoulders, "Uh, just give me that John D already!"

Rosie struggled to contain her laughter. Any other time she would gladly join in on tormenting her friend, but they had a mission to accomplish.

"Bro, you know the rule. No Pogue-on-Pogue macking," he defended himself. "Besides," he attempted to divert the topic, "You're the one who's always hitting on her."

Rosie tuned out the squabbling boys. She heard them say something about how Kie's hot and how JJ's too horny for his own good, but she was too focused on the room numbers. 227...228..

"Here! 229," Rosie exclaimed, stopping abruptly. "This is it."

JJ knocked on the door several times.

"Housekeeping!" he called in a feminine voice that made Rosie subconsciously smile.

No response.

"Should we try it?" Rosie asked, raising the key to the lock on the door. Both boys voiced affirmative replies. With a swift twist, she unlocked the motel door and swung it open.

The group of three slowly made their way into the dark, empty room.

"Check the bag. See if there's a name on there somewhere," John B instructed, shining a flashlight into the dark space. The teenagers all set to work rummaging through the room. John B went through the bag, JJ picked up his jacket, and Rosie checked underneath the beds, but there didn't seem to be anything of great value. JJ wandered over to the nightstand.

"Guys, come here," he called, looking over a map. John B and Rosie both move in his direction. "Maybe this is where they were fishing."

John B stood next to JJ, and Rosie peered between their shoulders (she was too short to look above them).

"No, that's off the continental shelf. That's Big Swell. Nobody fishes there," John B argued.

Rosie tried, and failed, to catch sight of the map. Two 6 foot guys blocking the view of a 5'4" girl was not ideal. She huffed, and moved to the edge of the nightstand instead where she found a small piece of paper with a series of numbers written on it.

"Huh," she examined the sheet, trying to make sense of it. JJ and John B moved to other parts of the room. She continued to examine the note and the map (which she could finally see), trying to make sense of it all.

"Coffee," JJ trailed off as they rummaged through the room, "Tissues for when you get lonely..."

Normally that would earn him a smack upside the head, but Rosie couldn't be bothered as she stared at the papers.

John B opened the drawers underneath the TV to reveal an electronic safe. He began punching in a variety of combinations, but with no success.

"Punching shit at random," JJ mumbled, "That'll definitely work."

"Oh wait," Rosie brought the notepad paper to John B. "Try this."

She watched in anticipation as he punched in the series of numbers. To their delight, the light turned green and the safe clicked open. Once John B swung the door open, both their jaws dropped.

"Holy shit," Rosie mumbled. The two teenagers blinked twice to make sure their eyes weren't deceiving them. Cash on cash on cash. And to top it all off, a gun.

"Uh, JJ? You're gonna want to see this," John B called the blond over.

JJ crouched beside Rosie and John B to look inside the safe and didn't hesitate to snatch up the gun.

"Dude dude dude," he held it in awe. "This is a SIG Sauer," he squealed in excitement.

"JJ put the fucking gun down," Rosie hissed with wide eyes. John B tried to pry it out of his grip, but JJ wouldn't let up.

"This is a fucking spendy gatt, man," JJ ignored his friends, and proceeded to pretend to shoot them and everything else in the room. Rosie watched in horror. JJ was already explosive enough on his own. He was the absolute last person on Earth who should ever be handed a gun.

"Dude, we're not stealing anything," John B scolded him. JJ ignored him, yet again.

"Just take a pic of me, right here," he posed with the gun.

John B stared at him dumbfounded, "You want me to take a pic of you? That's what you want? Make our own incriminating evidence?"

"JJ, put it down now," Rosie nearly yelled.

Their attention was diverted from JJ's gun to the window as something tapped on it. John B rushed over and lifted the blinds. He paused momentarily, before sprinting to the main window and peering out.

"What is it?" Rosie asked, panicked.

"Shit," John B paused for a split second.

"Cops."

Rosie felt her heart beat a mile a minute. The three teeangers put away everything they'd taken out.

"What the fuck do we do now?" Rosie cried in complete panic.

John B scanned the room until his eyes landed on the window.

"Window, quick!" he lifted it open. John B climbed out, quickly followed by JJ. The room was far too high up to jump down, so they flattened themselves against the side of the building on the ledge of the window instead.

"Where the fuck do I go?" Rosie hissed at both of her friends who were already on either side of the window.

"Here," JJ edged to the side, leaving just enough room for the girl to stand next to him. She shut the window closed behind her. The three waited with bated breaths, bodies pressed up against the yellow concrete, focused on keeping their balance.

Rosie slowly craned her neck back to catch sight of Pope and Kie who were waving frantically. She leaned her head against the wall and focused on her breathing in an attempt to calm herself.  Just wait it out, she thought to herself.

John B and Rosie peered into the room through the blinds. They caught sight of the male cop snagging a wad of cash for himself.

"What the fuck?" John B mouthed to Rosie, who wore a similar expression of disbelief.

"What? What's going on?" JJ whispered to Rosie who was blocking his view. She turned to him a placed a finger over her lips, signaling for him to be quiet.

"Later," she whispered.

JJ moved closer to Rosie in an attempt to get a view inside. It all happened in slow motion.

The gun JJ had stolen fell from his pocket. It clattered onto the pavement below. Rosie jumped in shock. She lost her footing. She searched for something to cling onto, but JJ was blocking her from the pole she could've gripped. Her right foot was hanging off the ledge and just as her left foot began to slip, JJ's arm shot out and saved her. His right hand clung to the pole, and his left wrapped around her waist. He pulled Rosie flush against his body. The pair edged as far away from the window as they could. JJ's grip tightened in an attempt to make them seem smaller as the cop gazed out the window to investigate the source of the noise.

Rosie shut her eyes and her heart pounded out of her chest. If they were caught, she wouldn't just get a small fine. As an emancipated minor, she'd be treated like an adult; which meant potential jail time.

The seconds felt like hours, but the teenagers eventually heard the cops exit the room and shut the door behind them.

"Well that was fun," JJ carelessly released Rosie, almost sending her tumbling off again. She glared at him and every bone in her body wanted to push him off, but she refrained.

The trio hurried back into the room, out of the motel, and onto the HMS Pogue. It was certainly enough adventure for Rosie for one day. She nearly cried in relief once she boarded the boat.

"Never doing that again," she sighed.

JJ hopped in behind her, "Could have warned us sooner," he snapped at Kie and Pope, the legendary lookouts.

"We would have," Kie started, and shot a look at Pope, "Except Pope was on the Math Team."

Pope ignored Kie's comment, and looked to Rosie, John B, and JJ as he drove the boat away,

"The cops took everything like it was a crime scene. Did you guys find anything?"

Rosie opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by JJ.

"Did we find anything" he trailed off, and reached behind his back, "No, I don't think so." He paused, before pulling out a wad of cash in one hand, and the gun in the other, "Oh yeah, we did!"

Pope and Kie both shot up from their seats.

"What the hell?"

"Dude, what?"

Kie glared at Rosie and John B for enabling JJ. Rosie held up her hands in surrender, "I'm not arguing with a guy holding a gun!"

Pope rambled on, "I'm gonna lose my merit scholarship!"

JJ shushed him, raising the gun up to his face. "Hey, at least you have us, right?"

"I'm living a nightmare."

That, Rosie thought, she could agree on.

-

taglist:

@tangledinsparkles @lovelymaybankk @my--heroine @thelonelyumbrella @floretsoleil @flick24 @books-netflix-and-pizza @dad-ee-drea @dolanfivsosxox​ @anahgiedd @love-bean​

-

sorry for the abrupt ending, it was getting kinda wordy and I needed to cut it off! next part will likely be up tomorrow. this chapter was mainly filler, but things are about to heat up ;)

stay tuned!

[ot5ismyhome]

12. What Does The Future Hold?

To read from begging click here.

December 1945, Europe

A tall dark-haired person was sitting in the high stood of the bar sipping their drink. A man, in army uniform walked up to them and settled on the next stool. He ordered his drinks and tried to start a small talk.

“I haven’t seen you here much? New here?” he said. He English had an undertone of strong German accent.

“That’s none of your business” they answered. “You and your war” they muttered to themselves, glancing at the man’s uniform.

“You aren’t so better off,” he commented. He added, “Vielen Dank” to the bartender who set down his drink.

Anger burned in their eyes. “How dare you?”

“You have much more potential than sit alone in a bar and sulk over the past. You could create what your mentor always wanted. Fulfil your destiny.”

The words went straight to their heart as they looked at the lanky man in front of them. “How do you know?”

“Words travel faster now-a-days, my friend.”

The person’s mind waged a war on its own. To say they weren’t intrigued by this stranger would be an understatement. “You know bullshit” they said, their voices full of spite at the man, their eyes burning like fire. The person got up to leave.

He chuckled. “I should have expected this reaction. Let me put my offer on the table before you leave.” His eyes studied his companion meticulously. “I provide the resources; you hunt them and bring them to me.”

“Who are you?”

“Werner Reinhardt.”

…..

Present time, New York

Steve and Bucky had moved past their awkwardness and differences. They had finally decided to get back on dating. Given their history, they were afraid of how it would work out. But everything went smoothly for them.

The couple were seated in Bucky’s favourite diner waiting for their food. The conversation was flowing easily between the lovers. It was interrupted by the ringing of Bucky’s phone. He looked apologetically at Steve as he attended it. His face became paler with each passing second.

“Okay I will be there” he said ending the call.

Before Bucky could explain the situation to Steve his phone rang again. This time it was Pym’s assistant. He said he will be there as soon as possible and hung up.

“What happened?”

“Hank had a heart attack. Hope and Scott have left abruptly and they aren’t responding. I need to- I’m so sorry. It’s just-”

“Hey, I understand. We’re good.” 

Bucky hastily kissed Steve goodbye and left. 

…..

The Council of Five except Bucky landed in Washington DC. At the airport they were met by Rosalind Pierce, the head of Advanced Threat Containment Unit (ATCU). After the smuggling came to light, the government wanted to form a face organisation to deal with advanced threats. Rosalind Pierce, former MI6 and CIA agent was apt for that. She greeted them with a warm smile. They got in the car and left for ATCU headquarters.

“Our advisors are eager to meet you. Mr. Banks will show you to the conference room” she said once they arrived at the headquarters.

The Council of Five waited in the conference room. None of them were eager for the meeting.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Steve asked, looking at Jiaying.

“They know about us. We can’t do anything other than make a treaty.”

“Pierce sounds fine. Let’s get on her good sides and renegotiate our terms.”

“I wouldn’t put much faith in her. She is still human”

“It beats me that you hate humans and still run a hospital for them.”

“I don’t hate them. I just don’t trust them” Jiaying said. Her voice had lost a friendly banter. Natasha noticed the sudden change in the ambience of the room.

“We can’t oppose them directly. But whatever decision we make, we will give a united front.”

Gideon Malick and Senator Ellen Nadeer walked into the room. Seeing the two vampires, Malick broke into a grin and shook their hands. But the Senator kept her distance with a disgusted look on her face. She took her seat without as much as greeting the others. Natasha rolled her eyes as she and Steve exchanged a look. The meeting hadn't even started and here they were showing hostility. Rosalind Pierce, Luther Banks, General Talbot and Colonel Rhodes joined them soon.

The group settled down to discuss the treaty between vampires and the government. To say it shortly, the meeting didn’t go well. The one person who was worth speaking to was Rosalind and the other two were pissing off The Council. General Talbot was a reasonable man to talk with but he wasn’t able to convince the Senator.

After the meeting, the Jiaying, Steve and Rosalind along with Luther Banks left to visit the Museum of Natural History. Jiaying and Steve planned to get to know their new ally better.

“Will it be okay if I ask you for the history tour?”

“Always glad to be of help, ma’am” smiled Steve

“I did History major in my college. I’m just curious if what is studied is true.”

“To say shortly, no. Most of the time the winners write the history. Most of the significant things don’t get recorded. While others get changed as time passes.”

“Then enlighten me.”

….

Talbot, Rhodey and Tony were walking out of the ATCU headquarters. They were talking about the new weapon deal and the budget. Tony was engrossed in the talk that he almost collided into the woman who just rounded the corner. 

“Hi there,” he said without missing a beat.

“Hi stranger.”

“I’m Tony. Tony Stark. And you are?”

“Virginia Potts.”

“May I ask what’s your role in ATCU?”

“To keep the President in the loop.”

“Does the work require you to fly to New York?”

“Does it?” asked Pepper, cocking her head.

“I think it does. Are you free tonight?”

“I am. Why don’t you give me a call?” she said, slipping her number card into his hand. “I got to run now. Having a meeting” she said and walked down the corridor.

Tony put the card in his pocket and stared at the retreating figure with a smile on his face.

“If you are done staring, Mr. Stark, we may to proceed to Smithsonian”

Rhodey snickered at the commentary which made Talbot frown. Tony and Rhodey enjoyed the evening. It’s been long since they had met and this provided a perfect opportunity to catch up.

…..

Malick Mansion

“Let me pour you that scotch,” Stephanie said turning her attention away from the book.

Gideon settled in the arm chair near her chuckling.

“I should thank you for today. Your idea to go public could improve our stand.”

“One thing we need to learn from history. Never repeat the same mistakes.” Seeing the amused look on her father’s face, she continued. “Whitehall wanted to eradicate them. But he was too closed off to the world. Operating from castles and chasing them with a predator prey dynamic. If the world come to know about him, no government would openly support him for the fear of backlash.”

“So, we get to register them and keep a note on everyone. Once they slip up, we act the law enforcement to protect the people for the vampire threat,” Gideon finished.

Stephanie raised her glass. Gideon followed suit with a proud smile.

“To my daughter, who proved to a Malick.

*****

Chapter 13

[alexiessan]

Never alone - Chapter Nine - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Hi everyone! I wanted to thank everyone who likes, reblogs and leaves some comments on my story here! It really motivates me to write and I love interacting with you guys! So thank you!

When I started this story, I thought it would be a short one, like 10 chapters at most, and here we are at chapter 9 and I can see it will be more than 10 chapters... Don’t know how long it will be though.

I think you may have been looking forward to a scene in this chapter... Enjoy !

As she made her way to breakfast with Alya — who didn’t see her left eyes when Marinette made her way from her bed to the bathroom, thanks God — the designer didn’t expect to be literally kidnapped by two of her childhood friends. And from the shock on the reporter’s face, she didn’t expect it either.

“What? Nino, Kim?! What are you doing? Let Marinette go!”

It only made Kim laugh as he tightened his grip on the Eurasian girl’s arm.

“No can do Césaire! It’s time for l’équipe des bras cassés — the team of broken arms — to have a reunion! You’ll get her back tonight! Bye Alya!”

And without waiting for an answer from the journalist, the two boys led her to the hotel’s restaurant, forcing her to sit with the two of them at a small table.

Nino, Kim, and her were childhood friends. They knew each other since they were in diapers and, to her dismay, they grew apart as they grew up. They only grew closer again after they were in the same class again back in middle school, when Alya and Adrien joined the school. She was very happy to rekindle her friendship with the two boys, she had missed them, especially when Chloé decided that bullying her was a good way to pass the time.

L’équipe des bras cassés was a name that one of their professors gave their little group when they were still in primary school. She didn’t know what the name stuck with time. Kim kept calling themselves that way, even if it wasn’t a very flattering name in the first place.

Since they rekindled their relationship, the two teens sometimes “kidnapped” her that way, to the shock of the person she was with at the time. It was the first time they took her away from Alya like this, so she could understand her shock to their behavior.

“So, DC. What are you hiding?”

Marinette froze. One of the inconveniences of their friendship — the very same disadvantage of her friendship with Alya — is that after all their years, they knew her too well, just as she knew them too well. They could read her like an open book and there was no hiding anything from them.

But she could still try.

“What do you mean?”

“Just spill, Marinette.” laughed Nino.

Or not. The fashion designer sighed.

“Why do you even think I’m hiding something?”

“You’re oddly happy, DC.”

“I’m always happy.”

It looked like she was having the conversation she had with Rose all over again.

“Yeah, but you’re not just happy. You’re the same kind of happy that Nino was when he started dating Alya. Or like me when I started dating Ondine.”

“Oh, how is she?”

There was a time before Kim started dating his fellow swimmer, where she thought that he and Alix would one day become a thing. After asking them out of curiosity, Alix told her that she was very much aro-ace and Kim never saw her in such a light.

She was very happy for her friend when he started dating Ondine, even if she wasn’t her soulmate. As of right now, the athlete didn’t know anyone who could be linked with the tattoo he was born with.

“She’s fine, thank you. But don’t try to switch topics.”

Marinette grimaced. She was genuinely interested in Ondine’s well being, but she had hoped that Kim would rant a bit about her and then forget about her.

Thanks God, Nino saved her from having to spill anything.

“You know that if you tell us to mind our own business, we will drop it right? We’re curious but we won’t force you to tell us anything if you’re not comfortable.”

The blue-eyed girl smiled.

“Thanks. It’s just… I can’t tell you now, and I probably won’t be able to tell you for a while yet, but it won’t be a secret forever.”

The Asian boy clapped his hands.

“Alright! You just had to say that, DC! We’ll drop it until you’re ready. It’s just… It’s a secret that makes you happy, right? I mean..; If you were in trouble or anything, you know that you can ask for our help?”

Marinette gave him a one side hug, happy that her friends cared about her.

“Of course I know. Don’t worry, it’s a secret that makes me happy, and I will be even happier the day I will share it with you guys.”

“Great! Now, will you guys be there at my next competition?”

The next few days passed in a blur for Marinette. They were already on their last day in Gotham and she didn’t really want to go back. They would take the plane back to Paris the next day.

She had spent every night with Robin, learning a few moves of martial art. She had seen his rude and cynical side and took it in stride. After dealing with Chloé for years, and then dealing with Lila, she could take Robin. Especially since he wasn’t being mean, just brutally honest. But she needed him to be if she wanted to progress. He was still very patient with her and she appreciated it.

She got used to seeing him every day and while they could video call when she would be back in Paris, it wouldn’t be the same.

She will miss him.

“Hey, Marinette, are you with me?”

The girl focused on the voice calling her, seeing Tim looking at her, obviously worrying.

“Ah, sorry I was lost in my thoughts.”

“I could see that.” he laughed. “I was just saying that it’s time for lunch. You should go find your friends, I’m meeting with my father and my brother.”

“Oh, of course!”

In the past few days, Tim has been a great help in her project for her own business. They had worked on fictional businesses until she understood well how to make a business plan before moving on to her own business. She had a notebook almost full of plans for the MDC company.

A very small company of one person, but a company nonetheless in the eyes of the law.

She would have to create a website when she was back in Paris, she thought. She could probably ask Max for his help. And ask him what his prices were.

Once again lost in her thought, she didn’t notice the man in front of her as she left Tim’s office until she collided with him.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

“You’re early, Damian.” said Tim behind her. Somehow, she could hear the smirk in his voice.

She felt more than saw the boy froze. She took a step back, giving him more space and looked up at his face.

Damian was a boy around her age with black hair styled in an undercut. He had tanned skin and green eyes that looked familiar.

“Oh, you must be Tim’s brother.”

Damian nodded.

“I’m Marinette!” she extended her hand and he shook it briefly. “I’m Tim’s intern for the week.” she smiled.

“Damian Wayne.” he introduced himself.

The co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises put a hand on his intern’s shoulder.

“You will have to excuse him, Marinette, Damian is a bit shy in front of strangers.” He smirked.

The glare the younger boy threw at his older brother could freeze hell.

It did make her freeze.

“Careful, Damian, you’re scaring Marinette here.”

The youngest Wayne flinched, dropping his glare.

“I apologize.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I should head to lunch anyway. It was nice meeting you!”

The young girl waved at them as she left them behind.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she had seen Damian somewhere before.

After Marinette left, the glare returned to Damian’s eyes.

“What the hell, Drake.”

Tim put his hands up as if to show him that he was no threat to his younger brother.

“Hey, now. It wasn’t my fault. And honestly, you didn’t have to glare like that, it’s your own fault that you scared her.”

Damian felt a huge satisfaction as his brother didn’t manage to dodge his kick to the knee.

He turned around, scoffing.

“Hurry up, would you? Father is waiting for us.”

Marinette was sad when the clock struck at 5 pm. During the week, she grew attached to Tim. When they weren’t talking business, they grew to know each other. He would talk about his brothers and his stories about them always made her laugh and made her longing for siblings stronger than ever before. They would talk about their likes and dislikes too and the Parisian really liked Tim as a person.

So, yes. She was sad that she won’t be able to see him again after that.

Tim closed his notebook, looking at her.

“Well, that’s the end of it. It was a pleasure working with you Marinette.” he said as he stood up.

She stood up too, extended her hand.

“Thank you for everything, Tim. I’ve learned so much with you and it was so much fun! I can’t thank you enough.”

The young adult smiled, pushing her hand away.

“Come on, don’t be so stiff. Give me a hug.”

She beamed and did just as he said.

As they broke the hug, the second youngest Wayne handed her a business card.

“Don’t be a stranger. If you got any questions or if you just want to talk, text me or call, alright?”

He grinned and ruffled her hair as she took the card.

“I’ll walk you out.”

As usual, Robin as at her hotel room’s window at eleven sharp, handing her his cape before taking her to the roof.

They sparred a little and Damian taught her the basics of a new move but they didn’t spend as much time on it as they used to.

Soon, they were on the edge of the roof, their legs hanging as they talked of nothing and everything.

The sadness came back for Marinette.

“I’ll miss you, you know?”

Robin looked at her, silent.

“I got used to seeing you every day and… well… I really like you.”

She blushed, not believing how bold she was. She hadn’t planned to say that and she cursed her mouth for moving faster than her brain could think.

“I guess I’ll miss you too.”

The French girl scoffed.

“You guess?” she raised an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean.”

She did. In the two weeks they spent in each other’s company, Marinette learned that Robin struggled with expressing his feelings. When he said that he “guessed that he will miss her”, she knew that he meant that he will miss her too.

The vigilante took something out of his utility belt, handing it to her.

“Here, it’s for you.”

She took the piece of paper, unfolding it to discover a drawing of her and Robin.

She gasped as she saw it.

“Thank you.” she breathed.

A few days earlier, she had told him that he was a shame that they couldn’t take a picture together. Too much risk of someone seeing it on her phone or something. A drawing, though… She could hide it somewhere in her room where no one but her would find it.

It moved her that Robin would do something like that for her.

She could feel him shift beside her, tugging slightly at her hood.

When she looked at him, he was closer than he was before.

She couldn’t help her blush as she noticed that he was looking specifically at her lips.

His lips were suddenly very attractive for her too.

“Can I…” he hesitated a little and she looked directly into his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered.

“Please, do.”

She met him halfway, his lips capturing hers in a soft kiss that put butterflies on her stomach.

One hand still holding the drawing, she put the other on his jaw, deepening the kiss while keeping it chaste.

Kissing Robin, while giving her butterflies in her stomach, wasn’t like fireworks.

No… It was like coming home.

And while he didn’t tell her with words that he liked her too, this kiss spoke for him.

They spent the rest of the night talking and kissing — some kisses a little less innocent than the first one but they weren’t making out — until it was almost four in the morning.

As Robin decided to take her back to her room, Marinette started to take the cape off.

Robin’s hands stopped her though.

“Keep it.”

“What? But it’s your-“

“Just keep it, damn it.”

Marinette could see the tips of his ears go red and she beamed at her.

“Okay. Thank you.”

She took his face in her hands and gave him a soft, lingering kiss.

She didn’t want this night to end.

“Text me when you’re back in Paris safe, alright?”

“Alright.” she breathed. “I’ll see you… sometimes, I guess?”

His thumb caressed her cheek and she leaned into it.

“I’ll see if I can visit you sometimes.”

With one last kiss from Robin and farewells, he took her back to her room, lingering a little at her windows before leaving.

Marinette sat on her bed, seeing Tikki awake on her pillow. She unconsciously put her hand on her lips, her fingers tracing them.

Tikki gave her a knowing look with a smirk.

“Oh, shut up.” Marinette laughed silently.

She hoped that she would see Robin again soon.

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[marvelship-oneshots]

EMERGENCY WEDDING 1 (WINTERIRON)

PART 1 OF 2 AU where Tony and Bucky get married in order not to be forced t testify against each other in court (part 1 of 2) [2.5k words]

Bucky's brain was numb. He was walking in the rain, with no destination, looking at the blood being washed from his hands by the rain. How could something like that happen? How could they think he could do something like that? He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his best friend was gone and never coming back. The thought of having literally his blood all over his body made his sick to his stomach, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to react. He saw his body laying in a puddle of his own blood on the floor of his apartment and he didn't scream, he didn't cry, his brain just shut down. He had no memories of what he did from that moment to the moment he heard the sirens coming for him. Then, he ran until he was far enough from the city. Now, he didn't know where he was, but the police was not following him anymore, that was good. Eventually, he stopped running and started walking along the desert highway, despite the rain falling down on him. Bucky had no idea of what he would do after, nor of where he was going.

Tony needed a break. His life in the city was becoming overwhelming and he just needed to pull the plug for a while. So he hopped in his car and started driving without a destination. AC/DC was playing in the car at full blast while Tony drove down the highway. His mind was focused only on the song, the road was silent and empty. Somehow, driving in the rain, singing whatever song was blasting, in the dark of the night, had always relaxed him. He could barely see the road in front of him and he knew that he should pay more attention to what he was doing, but against his better judgment, he kept focusing on his own thoughts. It couldn't do any good, and he knew it. He was not looking at the road when something, or rather someone, crossed right i front of his car. He didn't see it coming and he didn't stop, basically running over it. He thought it was some kind of wild animal, a deer maybe, but he never would expect to find a full grown man laying on the street. Bucky didn't know why he crossed the road as soon as he heard a car passing by. He just did it. No wonder why he car ran over him. Sony stopped the car and ran out, hoping he ran over a animal and not a person. Bucky was laying on the road, bruised and exhausted. He thought he could die right there, after all, no one would have missed him, every single police officer thought he was a serial killer. Maybe, that was the only way to get out of that situation. Tony kneeled by Bucky's side, bending over him to check if he was still breathing. He was. However, he was covered in blood. "C'mon buddy, wake up, don't die on me" Tony shook him, trying to wake him up. Bucky finally opened his eyes and let out a growl. Tony sighed in relief. "C'mon let me take you to the hospital" said Tony, helping the strange man getting up. He was massive compared to Tony, he wasn't more than two inches taller than him, but he had very board shoulders that made him looked like a giant compared to Tony's figure. Tony helped him getting in the car. "No, no hospital, literally anywhere else, possibly out of the state" Tony sighed, sitting behind the wheel and turning the music back on. They drove in silence, well, Bucky was silent, Tony was humming along the songs, and stopped only when they found a motel. Tony booked a room for the two of them, he didn't want to leave him alone, he was possibly injured. Little did they know, that was the beginning of an amazingly crazy adventure. Bucky settled in the room and went to take a shower. Tony went out to grab something to eat and medical supplies. If Bucky didn't want to go to the hospital, he would bring the hospital to him. Bucky let his t-shirt fall on the ground. His whole body as covered in dry blood. He honestly didn't know if it was his or Steve's. He couldn't stare at himself in the mirror. Bucky slowly walked into the shower and let the shower run over him, washing away the blood. He leaned against the wall, letting himself fall on the floor. He took his hand into his head and finally let himself go. The only reason he knew he was crying was the salty taste of the tears falling in his mouth.

When Tony came back, Bucky was sitting on the bed, blankly looking at the wall in front of him. "Hey man, I bought you a cheeseburger" Tony said, sitting down next to him and handing him a burger. Bucky nodded and started to slowly unwrap it.  "By the way, I'm Tony" he introduced himself, reaching out for him. "James, but friends call me Bucky" Steve was the one to give him his nickname. He smiled at the memory and a single tear fell on his face. "I'm...uhm I'm sorry I ran over you" Bucky shook his shoulders. "I crossed the road, jumping in front of your car" "Are you hurt? I saw a lot of blood" Tony asked concerned. "No, I'm fine" Tony scoffed and turned n the TV. The news were on. Tony looked at the TV then at Bucky and then back at the TV. "Uhm, Bucky, why is your face on the news?"  "What?" Bucky turned towards Tony, took the remote and turned the volume up. "Shit shit shit fuck" On the screen there was Bucky's picture with a gigantic red WANTED written under it. "Care to explain what that is about?" "It's not what it looks like, I swear" "Oh I see, so you're face is not on the national TV and you are not wanted for murder" "No" Tony raised his eyebrow "Well yes, but also no" "Are you going to kill me?" "What? NO!" Tony let out a loud sigh. "Ok, now that I can relax, explain" "I've been framed for a series of murders, including my best friend's" Bucky sat on Tony's bed and Tony scooted closer to him, putting a hand on his thigh. "I'm immensely sorry" Bucky looked at Tony with a mall smile. "It's ok" "What's gonna happen now?" Tony asked "I mean, you are running from the police and I helped you, so this makes me an accessory to the crime. What's gonna happen now? Are we going to live on the run?" Bucky chuckled. "I'm sorry I put you in this position. And I don't know how we're going to get out of this" Tony lightly smiled and walked out of the room, coming back a few minutes later with a bottle of whiskey. He poured some in two glasses and passed one to Bucky. "Ok, first thing first, gimme your credit card and SIM card. We'll leave here here, from now on only cash. we're going to move every couple of days, with disguises." Bucky sipped on his whiskey, looking at Tony in awe. "Then, we have to understand who is trying to frame you. Suspects, leads whatever pops in your mind, you write them here" Tony said slapping a pack of sticky notes on the table. "Questions?" "Yes" Bucky smiled "Why do you have sticky notes laying around?" Tony laughed, tucking himself into the bed. "Seriously though, thank you, you don't have to do this. No one knows that you helped me" "Oh please stop it, we're in this together. Now go to sleep, we're leaving early tomorrow" Bucky chuckled. "Yessir" _____________________________________________________________________ "Ok, so we have a bunch of suspects that are totally unchained from each other. This means we have no lead" Bucky nodded, looking at the binder full of colourful sticky notes he and Tony had composed in the past weeks. Bucky threw himself on the bed, covering his face with his hands. "We're screwed" The TV was on on the news, now next to Bucky's face there was Tony's. "Every single piece of evidence they have is against me and once they get to us they will offer you plea deal to turn on me because let's admit it, I dragged you into this and you have no reason at all" Bucky caved into his pillow. "Then I'll be double screwed" Tony rolled his eyes and walked over to Bucky's bed, sitting next to him and started stroking his hair. "Buck, I might have an idea" Bucky looked up. "We're in this mess together and together we're getting out. See, I have a little bit of law training and there is this thing that will ensure that we're not forced to turn on each other" "And why didn't you say it sooner?" Bucky asked sitting up. "Yeah right. It's called spouse privilege. Essentially, if we're married, no one can force me to turn on you and vice versa" Bucky jumped up and started pacing up and down the room, in silence, with his hands in is hair. He slowly walked over to Tony and kneeled in front

of him. "Tony, will you marry me?" he asked taking one of his hands. Tony started laughing."Yes, yes I will Buckaroo" Bucky sat on the bed ad let himself fall on his back. Tony laid next to him . "Are we really doing this?" Bucky asked. "You'll have to break up with me, because now I am your fiancé" The two laughed. "You would have liked him" said Bucky after a moment of silence. Tony turned his head to look at Bucky. "Steve. You would have liked Steve" Tony nodded. "He was my best friend in the whole world, how could they think I've killed him? Why would I have killed my best friend?" Bucky started sobbing loudly in Tony's chest. Tony gently stroke his long hair until Bucky fell asleep, snuggled against him.

Bucky and Tony pulled out their best clothes - jeans and a white shirt- and pulled up at the docks. There the officiant who was supposed to marry them was waiting for them in front of his boat. Tony had found him on the internet the night before and had booked a wedding. Tony squeezed Bucky's hand before walking up to the man, giving him a reassuring glaze. "Do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take Anthony Edward Stark as your lawfully wedded husband?" Bucky looked at Tony in the eyes. Tony nodded. "I do" he said, moving Tony's ring from his index to his ring finger. "Do you, Anthony Edward Stark, take James Buchanan Barnes as your lawfully wedded husband?" "I do" he said smiling, putting the ring on Bucky's finger. "By the power vested in me by the State of Missouri, I now pronounce you husband and husband" Tony took Bucky's hand, gently squeezing it as the officiant handed then the marriage certificate. Tony left the man the cash they agreed on and the newly weds ran to their car. Tony started driving, smiling at the road. "Are you ok?" he asked Bucky. "This is weird, right? We barely know each other and we got married" Tony chuckled. "It's like you've never heard of an arranged marriage" Bucky gently hit Tony's shoulder. "This is nothing like an arranged marriage and you know it"

They had been driving for the whole morning, making hypothesis on new leads, unfortunately running in circles. "If we turn ourselves in, or let them find us, maybe we'll be able to have more resources and actually get something done" "You want them to catch us?" Tony nodded. "You're out of your mind. I would be risking death row here" Tony shook his head. "No you wouldn't. You supposedly committed the crimes in New York, we will be judged there, so no death penalty for you." "Are you sure? It can go extremely wrong, at least now we're...free" Tony pulled over by the side of the road. "We don't have the resources here to sort this out, if they catch us, maybe we can have a shot" "What if we don't?" Tony shook his head and made a hand gesture meaning that it was not the time to be pessimistic. "It's prison Tony" "Buck, you're my husband now, you're basically a Stark. My father's name still holds a certain power" Bucky looked at him. "Ok, we're doing this" Tony took out his phone, put in the sim card he had been saving and dialed Pepper's number. "Tony...WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" Pepper screamed as soon as sh picked up. Bucky could hear her even if she wasn't on speaker. "Pep, I'm in a huge fucking mess" "Yeah, I know. You have some explaining to do" "Yes, I know, but now is not the time. Get the lawyers ready" A few minutes after Tony closed the call, they heard the police sirens behind them. Tony and Bucky looked at each other, smiling. Tony pressed on the gas pedal, exceeding the speed limit. "You know the phrase forget and it will go away? Well, it does NOT apply to being chased by police cars, trust me on this one" Tony said laughing, turning he volume up. Tony looked at Bucky. He looked scared. Tony held his hand, bringing it to his mouth ad leaving a small kiss on the top of it. "I'm on the highway to hell" Tony started singing along the AC/DC song that was blasting. "On the highway to hell" Bucky started singing along. When the song was over, Tony and Bucky looked at each other and Tony pulled over. The police cars stopped behind them. "Come out of the car, hands where I can see them" Tony and Bucky opened the door, slowly stepping out of the car, with their hands behind their heads. "You're under arrest, You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time." the officers declared, while closing the handcuffs around Tony and Bucky's wrists. The officers pushed them into the car ad drove them to the closest police station, waiting to be escorted to New York. Tony took Bucky's hand. "It's going to be ok, i promise"