#deck the halls bitches!fic

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Thirteen

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: so... yeah it's been 7 months. whatever! i'm back bitches!

Word Count: 7k+

Chapter Thirteen:

You gasped when you woke, folding yourself upright in shock. You only had a few seconds to stabilise yourself before the headache from hell hit you like a drill to your skull. Groaning, you brought your hand to your forehead, and you could have sworn you could feel your brain throbbing. 

“Morning,” Roy said lowly, and you almost broke your fucking back as you turned to look at him abruptly. 

“Fuuucking hell,” you whispered. That was all your voice could handle at that moment.

As your heart thumped incessantly in your chest, your eyes ate him up. Roy sat at the dining room table, legs crossed and donned in a pair of tartan pyjama trousers. A loose fitted white cotton t-shirt covered his top half, and his hair was just slightly ruffled. He brought a coffee mug to his mouth, and smiled to himself in amusement as he took a sip. Nothing of what you’d previously imagined Roy would look like in the morning was what met you there– it was so much better. He looked softer, and calmer. 

Regretfully, you had to look away. It wasn’t just from the way your gut coiled, but from the stabbing pain that had begun in the middle of your forehead. “What the fuck happened last night?”

“Well, as the guys say it.”Roy stood slowly, and made his way to the sofa. Dropping himself next to you, he took another sip of coffee. “You got Danied.” 

Your groans could have been heard all the way over at Nelson Road. The guys would already be there, prepping for a game later that afternoon. You wondered how badly some of them were suffering, or if their bodies were already used to dealing with Dani related hangovers. Yours, however, was not. 

“I guess I went a bit overboard,” you croaked. “We were just having fun, and being festive, and possibly decking the halls far too much for my body to handle.”

Roy smiled. “Yeah, well it’s lucky you didn’t deck the halls with your fucking vomit last night, either.”

You scrunched yourself into a ball immediately, armadillo style, and grumpily shrugged the blanket you’d slept with over your head. You didn’t want the world to see you today, didn’t want to be exposed to the stares of your friends or neighbours, yet– here you were. In front of the one man you’d promised not to see over this holiday period. Drunk you hadn’t read the fucking rule book. 

Gently, Roy placed a hand on your ankle. Your entire body buzzed, as a shudder ripped its way up your body from his point of touch. “It’s fucking Christmas. Don’t worry about it.”

You swallowed away the urge to be sick, but not from your hangover. Roy squeezed your ankle ever so slightly. “Where’s Phoebe?” you asked, trying desperately to change the subject and revert his attention onto something– someone– else, other than groggy you. 

“My sister came by about an hour ago to pick her up.”

“And I didn’t hear them?” you exclaimed, muffled beneath the blanket. 

Roy shrugged. “You were out cold.”

“Fuck my life,” you muttered, before you realised something. Quickly, you revealed yourself from beneath the blanket and smacked your hands into your lap. Your hair was everywhere, an utter mess, but nevertheless you looked towards Roy. “What time is it?”

Roy glanced at his phone. “Just after midday–”

“Fuck!” You practically jumped out of your skin. Scrambling up from your section of the sofa, and struggling to fling the blanket off yourself, you finally stood up. “The pre-game is at quarter past two, which means I’m already fucking late!”

Roy watched as you panicked, but nothing could be done to slap away the affectionate smile he held on his face. You busied yourself by pacing the living room and checking your various messages, a few of which were obviously from the guys themselves, and you cringed incessantly when you read them. When you started counting on your fingers, Roy hoisted himself from the sofa with a subtle growl. 

“Will you calm the fuck down? You’re giving me hives.”

You shot a death stare at him. “I said I’d grab coffee with Rebecca at one o’clock, which I’m now probably not going to make. And I still need to shower, and get the stench of tequila off my body, and–” You stopped talking at the thought of alcohol, and had to place a hand on your chest to stop yourself from gagging. 

Roy abruptly reached out and grabbed your bicep softly. “Stop fucking thinking about tequila.”

You swallowed painfully. “Sorry.”

Roy’s fingers squeezed you softly, and the sensation alone was enough to ground you. You inhaled deeply, and got the thought of booze and lateness and stress out of your mind as much as you could. All the while, as your eyes were stamped shut and your chest shuddered through struggling breaths, Roy was there. He held onto you thoughtfully and with patience; two qualities that Roy definitely wasn’t known for. 

When you opened your eyes, you found Roy’s steady gaze on yours already. “Sorry,” you repeated. “I’m good, I’m fine.”

“And I’m Shania fucking Twain,” he said sarcastically. You let out an amused huff, and his face softened. 

The mere seconds you had looking at each other in this way was enough to make your heart hurt beneath your ribs. Just a little bit, just a tinge, but it only acted as a reminder of how this– you and him– wouldn’t ever work. You saw it in Roy’s gaze, too, and when he swallowed the words that rested on his tongue, just waiting to be said out loud. Maybe they never would. 

Roy gently removed his grip from you, but the softness didn’t leave his face for a second. “Can I get you a coffee?” 

You relaxed instantly, hardly registering your problems in that moment after his offer. You didn’t care about time anymore, or the fact that you had plans; you only cared about him. All you could do was nod, hit with the sudden urge that you didn’t want to leave so suddenly. It was you that had instigated this Christmas meeting, you who had shown up at his house– drunk– with no other intentions, other than wishing him a Merry Christmas. The word ‘wholesome’ had never come to mind alongside your actions, but you were struggling with what to describe the situation now. 

It was wholesome, and it was all you. 

Until it wasn’t wholesome anymore, and certainly not all you. 

“Last night,” you started, swallowing back some nerves that fluttered up from the pit of your stomach. “Before I fell asleep.” Roy took a small step back. “What were you saying?” 

You looked at him as innocently as possible, despite the increase in your pulse. Roy’s demeanour changed instantly, as he quickly raced his eyes up and down your hungover form. Quickly, he swivelled around and headed for the dining table. He picked up a small package that lay in the centre, next to other Christmas cards and scraps of old wrapping paper, before he turned back to you. 

Roy stopped a metre from where you stood and stuck his hand out slowly. “I got you a present,” he said softly. 

As you took in the image of him, your make-up stained eyes almost started to well. You could feel the tears ready to form, and begged to whatever fucking god was out there not to burst into tears. You sucked in a breath, but scoffed it back out as an inappropriate giggle erupted from within you. 

“Jeez, Roy,” you said, smiling. You stepped closer before taking the gift from him, and shot him a golden stare when you held it in your hands. 

Roy smiled. “Sorry it’s late.”

You scoffed again. “That was definitely my fault for falling asleep with a beer in my hand.”

Roy chuckled lightly, and innately you knew you’d never forget the sound of it. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered back. 

Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them. Roy caught on immediately and stepped forward quickly, going to comfort you in whatever capacity he could– but you stopped him. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said, waving him off as if everything was fine. “I’m just hungover, and tired, and late– fucking late!” You remembered the entire situation so fast that you almost dropped your gift. “Coffee will have to wait. I need to run home.”

“I can drive you.” Roy offered, almost desperately, but you waved him off again. 

“No point. You have a studio to get to, and I have a very tall blonde woman to try and meet before the Richmond game.” Quickly, you shuffled out of the living room and towards the front door. You clutched your belongings in your arms– your jumper, your scarf, your jacket, Roy’s gift– and attempted to slip on your boots as fast as humanly possible. 

Roy appeared at the end of the hallway. He no longer looked soft, as he started stomping closer to you. “I’m not due at the studio till two o’clock. Let me drive you to Nelson Road, or fucking something–”

“Really, you don’t need to.” You tied your laces messily, knowing that you only had to survive getting out of his door and off his drive before you could finally burst. 

This was just it, wasn’t it? This– him and you, the gift giving, the coffee, the softness– was all too fucking much. You regretted going to see him last night, you regretted infringing on his Christmas like this, and now he desperately wanted you to stay. 

It was all a recipe for disaster. 

You whipped yourself up to standing and dared to look at him. “Besides, I’ve already overstayed my impromptu visit.”

Roy furrowed his brows angrily, getting worked up. “You haven’t been here in a fucking month, fell asleep after two bloody minutes, and you think you’ve overstayed your welcome? Just– fucking stop, and I can drive you, and we can–”

“Roy.” 

With the tone shift of your voice, Roy stopped. His chest rose and fell quickly; an attempt to calm down the erratic beat of his heart. You looked into his eyes deeply, and everything translated as clear as if you’d spoken the words. 

We’re not supposed to do this, remember? This is what you wanted, and I can’t be here anymore without it being painful. Let me go. 

He stepped back a little and un-balled his fists. He nodded, and bit down on his tongue to stop himself from choking, or saying something he’d definitely regret. 

You nodded back. It was all that needed to be exchanged for you both to understand. Grabbing the handle, you opened his hulking, oak front door and stepped into the cold Richmond air. Before you closed it behind you, you turned back to him.

Roy looked defeated, tired, slumped. His arms dangled by his sides without strength, and the look on his face had you rethinking your entire decision to leave; love-sick, or swarmed with thoughts of what could have been, if only he hadn’t put a boundary on how far this thing between you could go. His jaw was the only thing that stayed rigid, stuck, like he was clenching every single muscle to stop himself from spilling words onto his porch. 

You smiled sadly. “I’ll see you on the telly.” The front door slammed shut. 

You grappled for air as you ran up the steps to the Dogtrack. Coffee with Rebecca had been postponed, and you’d savoured the time you had to recover and get ready before you had to shoot out the door again. You navigated the inside of the stadium like the back of your hand, until you emerged outside into Richmond’s box. Rebecca sat in her usual spot. You dropped yourself down next to her and sighed deeply, finally letting yourself relax after an eventful early afternoon. 

“Hm.” Rebecca huffed in amusement. “Hello, darling,” she said with an air of knowing. 

“Don’t.” You dropped your bag to the floor and crossed your legs sturdily, wrapping yourself up comfortably and warmly within your puffer coat. 

“Good Christmas?” she still asked. You refrained from rolling your eyes, but knew you owed her an explanation.

“I got Danied.” 

“Oh, how those boys love you,” she said, laughing to herself. “They were quite jovial in the locker room this morning. There was something circulating about you performing Elton John’s Benny and the Jets after dinner.”

You shut your eyes and tried not to cringe at yourself. “Was that all?” you said, opening your eyes slowly. 

Rebecca shrugged. “Other than the abrupt departure and denial of needing a lift home while pissed beyond belief– no.” She smiled at you so widely that you couldn’t help but copy her. You sighed again and faced the pitch, praying innately that she couldn’t divulge you from a single stare. 

“I’m never gonna live this down, am I?” you asked.

“I can drop it altogether,” she stated. “If– you tell me where you raced off to so suddenly afterwards.” You turned to her, your smile all but gone. You swallowed painfully, traipsing through a maze in your head at how you were about to go about this conversation. 

You hadn’t told Rebecca about what had happened between you and Roy after the double date. You hadn’t told Keeley, either. It was a secret that you hadn’t intended to keep, but it had all seemed like the easiest option. To let things dissolve until the prying questions from your friends about yourself and Roy came to a close. That– and the fact that talking about it out loud made it all the more real. 

Sure, it’d been a month since the talk, the deal, the confession– whatever you could call it without it being too sad. And sure, you’d told yourself everyday that it was the easiest option to take. Less complicated, no strings attached, all that jazz. 

But– and it was a massive but– it didn’t mean you and Roy could immediately switch everything off when you were around one another. It didn’t stop those tired stares from earlier that afternoon, or the soft way Roy handed you your Christmas present (and the fact it was burning a hole through the lining of your bag, unopened). 

You smiled sadly at Rebecca. “I have something to tell you.” 

Rebecca shuffled in her chair, her expression dropping into one of concern. Quickly, she reached out and grabbed your hands with her own. “What’s going on?” 

You sucked in, ready to speak, but were cut-off by the whirlwind that Keeley Jones took with her everywhere. She dropped herself into the seat next to you, making you and Rebecca flinch. “Fucking hell– I almost got stuck in the mob outside!” Keeley exclaimed. She turned to you both, and her face dropped instantly. “Oh god, I interrupted you, didn’t I?”

You smiled at her softly and let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” you said gently, meaning every word. She embraced you without question– firmly, warmly, as if she was attempting to make you feel better without even knowing what was wrong.

“Right on time, Keeley,” Rebecca said. Keeley reached over you to grip Rebecca’s hand in her own. She took one of yours in her other, and the three of you held each other’s hands lovingly. 

“What did I miss?” Keeley asked. 

“Well–” You sighed. “Where to start?” 

You told them everything, your girls. They listened, and squeezed your hands in their own at the right moments. They smiled sadly when you spoke, and looked at you like you were gold, and never interrupted. At the end, they hugged you from both sides. 

The boys ran out onto the pitch, with Ted, Beard and Nate at the sidelines. The whistle blew, and the match started. 

You tried not to think of him, but it was impossible. You thought of Roy as the ball was kicked into play in the centre; cameras on him, suit donned, hair slicked back and beard shaved to perfection.

You thought of him because you’d finally said it out loud– he’d turned you down, stopped this thing between you before it’d even had the chance to start, and it would be okay. In time, sure, but it would be okay. 

When you got home that night, you remembered the present in your bag. It was wrapped neatly, too neatly for what you’d assumed Roy was capable of, and topped off with a small card. You opened it in the darkness of your bedroom and read the words slowly. 

Just another thing to remind you of home. Roy.

You swallowed away the want to cry and opened the gift. Inside a small box was a strip of four photos, the kind you get from a photobooth. You stared at them in awe, flashing back to the night in which they’d been taken– a month before your departure from the club. 

Yourself, Ted, Roy and Sam were shoved uncomfortably into a photobooth in a local Richmond night-club. The four of you were squished beyond belief, but that didn’t stop you from thinking of it fondly. A drunk and impromptu night, right before the beginning of Roy’s troubles with playing the game. It had been your idea to get everyone into the booth, and you’d practically dragged Roy in against his will. You and he were shoved into one corner so badly that you’d practically had to sit on his lap. Sam sat on Ted’s lap beside you, and they smiled together into the camera. Each photo showcased a different laugh, a different smile, but not from Roy– until the last picture.

That’s when you’d draped your arm around his shoulder and looked at him face on. He’d looked back, and, in that millisecond of softness behind his eyes, the photo had been snapped.

You’d totally forgotten about that moment, had never actually seen the photos until now. Roy had picked them up. He’d kept them all to himself for this long. Even after the end of his career, his time at Richmond, all of it. He’d kept them. 

It had been there once, the possibility of something. It had been there more than once. You and Roy, Roy and you. It was snapped up in moments like then that you hadn’t realised until the end of his career. He may not have realised it either, until that time in his Jeep where feelings had seeped into the leather of those fancy car seats.

There was only so much you could think of the what could have been before it all became too much. The one that got away, the right person, wrong time, whatever it was. You’d been thinking about all of that since after the double date, but you didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

There was nothing you could do about it but move on. You couldn’t ponder or think in hindsight or imagine a different possibility. You had to move forward, and that’s what you were taking his gift as. Recognition that it was there, but now it was gone. 

You clutched the photo strip to your heart, just for a moment, and then you let it go. Perhaps this was exactly what you’d needed. Perhaps it was what Roy had needed, too. In some backwards way, it made everything clearer. There was no bad blood and there never would be. Your feelings were free, and a weight had lifted from your shoulders. 

At the end of the day, you’d run after Roy Kent once, and it had still resulted in this outcome. At the end of the day, you’d both confronted what you felt and still picked the option that was best. 

For the first time in a month you slept soundly, without thoughts that rattled around your head. Your mind was clear, so was your heart. Christmas in Richmond had finally come to a fucking close. 

A few weeks into the new year, Roy Kent was restless. His routine was static now. The constant grind of getting up, of filming, of dealing with the press. He was still a favourite on the telly, and you still watched him religiously. Alongside your own sluggish work, getting home to a new episode of Soccer Saturday spurred you forward. It kept you in the loop, in the know, and despite Roy being on the other end of the television screen, it kept you in his life. 

Pluto Press had become worse. There was no reason for you to deny it, and no way you even could. You’d been there for eight months now, and were very much out of the honeymoon phase. You hadn’t touched your novel since before Christmas, and you were feeling the repercussions of it. 

On the other side, Roy was feeling that same shift. The disconnect from the football world was grating on him more and more, and with every match missed or only seen from the insides of a studio, parts of him were disintegrating alongside. 

He texted you a lot. 

Jeff won’t stop talking about his wife. I can’t fucking stand it. 

Did you watch last week's game? I can’t believe Bumbercatch scored that shoddy fucking goal.

Isaac is really struggling right now, isn’t he? 

You replied to them all, because Roy was always right about football to an extent. You’d noticed it, too. Isaac McAdoo’s sudden struggle with being captain. The pressure that was placed upon his shoulders last season suddenly came to light. 

At every game you saw live, you noticed it even more. Perhaps that was a knowledge that Roy wouldn’t ever have now, but only saw over VTs. 

During the final week of January, you grabbed lunch with Sam. Sat opposite him in a small Richmond cafe, something lurked in the air. He scanned his menu a dozen times before he picked something, and smiled whenever he caught your eye, but you knew something was up. 

“Hey.” You reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “What’s up?” you asked sincerely. 

Sam let out a long sigh, and his shoulders collapsed. “Truthfully, I cannot pinpoint it. We are doing well in the FA Cup, the days are starting to get longer, yet I feel this immense pressure that I cannot explain.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. “Richmond are under a lot of pressure. I’m not surprised that you’re feeling it as a player.”

“It’s Isaac, too,” Sam said smally. “He has not been himself for a month now. We’ve tried to help him, to reassure him and show him how hard we’re working, but it doesn’t seem to be sinking in.” 

You retracted your hand and went for your glass of wine instead. “Hm,” you hummed. 

Sam’s eyes widened. “You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?”

You nodded, taking a sip from your glass. “He’s overthinking it all. I can see it as clear as fucking day.”

“I know. I just wish he could see it, too, so he could start easing the reins. He has been tough to be around, you know.”

“How so?”

“During debriefs, he yells at us. On the pitch it’s even worse. You saw him during our last game.”

You thought back to Richmond’s match from the week prior, where Isaac had started on Colin after a missed assist. He wasn’t himself in the slightest, and his team were trying and failing to deal with the repercussions. 

“What’s Ted doing about it?”

Sam shook his head. “I do not know, but I hope he does something soon. We are up against Leicester City next week, and we need to be ready for it.” 

You smiled at him apologetically, trying to offer hands on support. There was nothing you could do to fix this for the guys, which was always a hard pill to swallow. You missed them so vibrantly. Half of your days at work were spent thinking about the next time you’d get to watch them all play, or drop by during training, or see them like this with Sam; outside of the office or the stadium. 

“Anyway– enough about football. How are you doing? How’s work?” 

You grimaced immediately, but tried to hide it by taking a large gulp of your wine. 

Sam saw through your facade, and frowned immediately. “Is it that bad?” 

You slammed your glass on the table. “Define bad?” 

Sam copied your grimace, but sat higher in his chair. “Come on, lay it on me.”

You sighed deeply, and readied yourself to word vomit all over the table. “It’s not even the hours, or the commute, it’s everything else. They delegate work to me like I’m two levels higher than my current position, and sure, it’s nice that they trust me for that, but what I’m paid hardly covers my job description, let alone the extra work. I have no time to write anymore, my boss is a creep, my colleagues never want to grab a drink after work anymore, the centre of London fucking sucks, and– well–”

You inhaled, paused, and exhaled again.

“It’s not AFC Richmond. It’s not you guys.” 

Sam’s smile filled you with warmth, and it was his turn to reach across the table for your hand. He squeezed your fingers affectionately, and you thought about whether or not to tell him about Roy. It was probably best not to divulge everything to him, not because you thought he’d spill to the team, but because you were trying to move on still. 

Still.

“You know you are always welcome at Nelson Road. We miss you too.”

“God, that just makes it worse.” You dropped your head into your free hand. “I know Rebecca would find a job at the club for me in a heartbeat, but Keeley has taken over my role and is so much better at it. She deserves the spot more than I do, and I just– I can’t fathom asking for favours.”

“What about Roy?” Sam asked, and your body stalled. You sat up straight, and slid your fingers away from him quickly. 

“What about Roy?” you repeated. 

“Is there nothing you could do for him? You know, a personal assistant, or his agent, or something like that.”

You snorted immediately. “Are you joking?”

Sam smiled in amusement. “I’m just saying it could be a good opportunity,” he joked.

“Oh, fuck off,” you huffed. 

“You have always been an unlikely pair, you and Roy,” he said. “You make a good team. Plus, I have never seen someone put him in his place like you have. It takes a strong person to do that.”

“Enough,” you said, smiling. You finished off your wine and looked sadly at your empty glass. “I need another fucking drink.”

“Get a bottle,” Sam said. You perked your brows at him excitedly. “I have– what is it called?- gossip.”

“Sam Obisanya has gossip. What the hell has been going on?”

Sam shuffled on his chair in excitement, and your heart melted. You loved him so. “Keeley encouraged all of the players to get this dating app–”

“Bantr,” you said the name before Sam even could. 

“Ah, she has got to you, too.”

“Long ago. But go on.” You rested your elbows on the table and dropped your chin into your hands, ready to hear everything. 

“Well, I have been talking to someone.”

“Someone,” you repeated, widening your eyes. 

“Yes. And, well, she is intelligent and smart and loves literature.”

“Awh, Sam!” You almost exploded out of your seat, too full of excited energy to care about others sitting around you in the cafe. “Have you met up yet?”

“No, not yet. But I hope to ask her soon. The guys are being very supportive.” 

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all the gory details when you finally meet up.” You grinned at him mischievously, and he slapped your arm playfully. 

“I don’t kiss and tell!”

“For me, Sam Obisanya, you will kiss and tell.” 

For the remainder of lunch, you and Sam gabbed like you’d known each other since you were children. It always felt foreign whenever you were reminded of just how little time had passed. You’d only known the guys for less than two years, yet Richmond and the team had become your home. You’d only known Roy for that same amount of time, and… well. Look what happened there.

In fact, not to your knowledge, these same thoughts littered the minds of every member of AFC Richmond alike, every once in a while. For Rebecca, she thought of her departure from Rupert, and how much she’d grown in that time without him. For Keeley, she thought of her career, and what else she could do to open doors for herself as a businesswoman. For Isaac, he thought of his leadership, and how he’d never be able to replace the likes of Roy Kent. 

And for Roy– he thought of you, and what he’d halted before it’d even started. He thought of Richmond, his old team, and what he’d left behind after he’d all but abandoned them. 

Secretly, Ted thought of Roy, too. He thought of picking up his phone and texting him, he thought of asking for his help while Isaac struggled to see the bigger picture of the game. Ted’s thoughts soon became reality, and then it was too late to take back the text that he chose to send to the ex-Richmond captain. 

A few weeks later on your way back from work one Friday, battered and bruised both physically and metaphorically, you caved. You got out your phone and clicked the call button next to Roy’s name, not even thinking twice about it. 

He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey,” he said softly, as soft as Roy Kent could possibly say anything. 

“Hey,” you spluttered, smiling to yourself. 

“Hey,” he repeated, both of you at a loss for words just a tad. You hadn’t called each other many times, and never without a warning text beforehand. 

“We should probably stop saying ‘hey’ before it becomes an endless cycle.”

“Hey,” Roy said again, and you giggled down the phone. “What’s the occasion?” he asked. 

“Long day– week– at work, and I’m in desperate need of a drink with someone that doesn’t care about useless things like gossip, or shit reality telly, or… or…” Your mind went blank. 

“Two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.” Roy finished your sentence.

“Exactly! Useless!” you exclaimed. 

“A drink sounds lovely,” Roy began. “But, I can’t tonight.” 

You stopped walking suddenly, overcome by disappointment. You swallowed back the urge to cry just a little, but crying about Roy being too busy this evening to go for a pint was fucking crazy. You weren’t crazy, and you blamed it all on the general lack of sleep and emotional trauma from your fucking day job. 

Instead, you opted for a joke. “Got a hot date?” you asked, panicking slightly. Roy growled lowly. Evidently, it had not been funny. “Okay, so no date, then.” You attempted to save yourself. 

Roy thought to himself, sat on his sofa in his gym gear about to leave his house– what could he actually tell you? This evening, he’d agreed to meet Ted and Isaac to impart some wisdom onto them in an attempt to help Richmond at their next game. This was the closest Roy had come to being around AFC Richmond since he’d retired, and he knew you’d latch onto that idea immediately. 

Perhaps, a lie was best. Perhaps, it was easier this way. 

“No, you’re right,” he said convincingly. “I am going on a hot date.”

“Oh,” you let out. You didn’t mean for it to sound so sad, or for your voice to be so coarse. It just slipped out like that. You coughed dryly. “Oh, right!” you exclaimed, trying to save this trainwreck of a conversation, and a poorly made joke that you couldn’t actually believe was real. 

Roy was dating. Four months since he’d shut you and he down, and he was back to dating. 

“I need to go soon, actually.” Roy knew he’d fucked up. “But– how about next Friday?”

Truth be told, you’d love to say yes to his offer. Inside, however, you were deeply raging. It wasn’t the fact that you hadn’t had sex in borderline two years, or that Roy had moved on far quicker than you had since before Christmas, it was because he actually had a fucking date. And you didn’t. 

Or, perhaps, you did. 

“I can’t,” you blurted. “I actually have a date, too.” Jesus, you should have gone to school for Drama. You started walking again as you felt something that resembled confidence surge through you. You wouldn’t let Roy win, not this time around. Sure, there was nothing there anymore in ways of romance or more, but there was still competition. 

“Oh, right.” Without meaning to, Roy said exactly the same as you had. 

“He’s not much of a football fan, either. It’s quite refreshing.” You lied.

Roy stood up from his sofa as fast as humanly possible. “What?” he almost bellowed it. “Well, he sounds boring as fuck. Great job.” 

“Well, my previous experiences with footballers haven’t exactly gone perfectly, have they?” you said smugly. 

Roy short-circuited in his living room. To anyone that saw him from outside, he’d look like a statue about to fall off its perch. “I– well. You–”

“Am I wrong?” You knew you’d got to him. 

Roy breathed in deeply through his nose. “No. Now fuck off,” he said sternly. “Have a good evening.”

“Have a good date!” you yelled in amusement, before Roy hung up the phone immediately after.

You strolled back from Richmond underground station with a smile on your face. With each passing day, things between you had got easier. In some weird way, talking about dating other people had allowed a barrier to descend. Friends. Good friends. You were content with that.

The Saturday after, you entered the Dogtrack on a particularly cold afternoon in February. The air cut you deep to your core, but the buzz of electricity from the approaching match was enough to warm you. AFC Richmond were still very much contenders in the FA cup, but McAdoo’s captain tactics had still been subpar at their last game. 

As you made your way to the home box, you prayed that he’d eased the reins. Football was a game after all, and you missed seeing that spark in Isaac’s eyes whenever the ball came into his corner. Rebecca and Keeley were talking away as you sat in your seat, too engrossed in conversation to notice your arrival. 

“Ted said it was a success, so I guess we just have to believe him,” Rebecca said. 

“Good on Roy, though! It’s been fucking months since he’d even stepped foot on a proper football pitch,” Keeley said jovially. 

“What’s this about Roy on a football pitch?” you questioned, crossing your legs to get comfortable. Keeley twisted herself to face you happily, wrapping her arms around your neck in greeting. “Hi, babes,” you whispered to her fondly. 

“Roy didn’t tell you?” Rebecca replied. “Last Friday, he helped Ted with the Isaac problem.”

Keeley sat back in her seat once more, tightening the Richmond scarf around her neck warmly. “We’ve nicknamed it the Isaac problem. Seems fitting, don’t you think?”

Last Friday. Last Friday night. You sighed heavily and raised your shoulders to your ears from a lack of what else to do. “Well, I’m sure Ted was a very hot date,” you muttered.

Rebecca and Keeley caught eyes confusedly. “What?” they said simultaneously. 

You waved your hand at them. “Nothing. I’m just an idiot. Nothing new.”

Keeley found your hand quickly. “Everything alright, babes?”

You nodded at her, softening your expression. “Yeah, yeah. Just been a long few weeks at the office.”

“God, you need to get the fuck out of there.” Rebecca crossed her legs strongly, raising her chin. “You know, I could speak to admin and see if there’s space–”

“Rebecca,” you interrupted her. 

She waved her hand this time, brushing off your sternness. “I know. It’s fine.” 

“Let’s just watch the match, okay?” you leant over Keeley to grab Rebecca’s hand. “It’s positive that Roy helped Isaac out, he’s got heaps of experience being captain here to have done something. And it’s… well.” You smiled to yourself. “It’s good that he’s back around the game a bit more, isn’t it?”

Rebecca patted your palm. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

The three of you settled into your seats in comfortable silence, feeling the growing roar of fans as the time until kick-off loomed ever closer. You surveyed the pitch before you, noticing the thin layer of frost on the green grass, the white breath of ten-thousand fans, the blue tint of the sky as if colour graded by an expert film editor. 

You always associated the Richmond team colours with one person, not the entire team as a unit: Roy. It was Roy you’d first met almost two years ago in that car park out the front of the training facility. Sure, he was wearing black as is his custom, but when you’d spotted him in his football kit on the field, the colours were forever imprinted behind your eyelids. The reds and blues all over the Dogtrack, the blue letters on Ted’s believe poster, the number six above Roy’s all cubby. He was everywhere. He was everywhere around you. 

But, he wasn’t here today. He hadn’t been to an actual Greyhounds’ game since his retirement. He hadn’t stepped foot on the grounds, or spoken more than a few chaste words to Ted and Beard in the city– he’d only really spoken to you. And you weren’t a part of Richmond anymore, not really. You didn’t have an office a few doors down from the locker room anymore, you didn’t have lunch with Rebecca with too much wine involved for a working day, you didn’t have Roy. 

All of a sudden, your chest compressed painfully. Your heart rate accelerated, your breathing spiked. You felt sick, ill, like you could easily sit on the cold concrete of the stands and never stand up again. You didn’t know why it’d taken you so long to realise that everything had changed, and you could have sworn you’d felt the shifts from last year when they’d all happened. If that was the case, then why now, why here, did you feel so utterly alone that you could hardly stand it?

You’d moved past this! You’d settled somewhere new, with new people, in a different, grey part of the city. You’d adapted to the ways you’d still fit in– lunches, quick drinks, impromptu visits to Roy’s or Mae’s or Keeley’s or whatever. That’s how it all worked for you, and it had been doing so since last year. So, why now?

“Babes.” Keeley grabbed your hand swiftly. “Are you okay?” she questioned, but you didn’t have the emotional capacity to look her or Rebecca in the eyes. You knew you’d burst if you did. 

“Darling.” Rebecca leant closer to you. “Breathe. Just breathe, sweetheart.”

They watched as you broke down in the stands again, not four months after Roy had broken things the first time. Now, this was a different ball game. Complete and utter rejection of the life you thought you’d finally made for yourself, by yourself. A life that wasn’t actually what you fucking wanted anymore. It was all shit. This was all shit.

You sucked in a stuttering breath. “I don’t think I can be here right now,” you said coarsely. 

Rebecca and Keeley nodded quickly. “Okay, what do you need? To go inside? To wait for the game to be over?” Rebecca said.

“To go.” You gulped down a large breath. “To go now.”

“Okay,” Keeley said strongly. “Go, babes. Do what you need to do.”

You got up as quickly as you’d sat down, and started towards the inside of the stadium. You moved slowly, needing to clutch your hand to your heart at the halfway mark just to make sure it was still beating. Anyone could see this was a panic attack, but you didn’t want to admit that things had gotten this bad. The culmination of everything finally hit you in the face. Innately, you’d known this was going to happen, but you didn’t think it’d happen here. Your home. 

The crowd growing louder didn’t exactly help, but when they cheered suddenly at the teams arriving on the field, you could feel the vibrations within you. You could feel your blood, your flesh, your heart beating. You shut your eyes and breathed it all in, not daring to turn around and look at the pitch. 

Then, the cheering increased. They were screaming, yelling, exclaiming, doing whatever football fans did when something big happened. Had someone scored already? That wasn’t possible– kick-off was another thirty seconds away. 

“Oh my fucking God!” Keeley jumped up from her seat immediately and bound towards you. “Babes.” She gripped your shoulders gently. “You might want to turn around.”

“I just need a minute,” you said, calming down slightly. 

“No, I think you’re really gonna want to see this,” she tried again. “Come on, just one small look, and then you can go wherever you need to go for some peace.”

Reluctantly, you followed her instructions. You turned back towards the pitch, overseeing the players in their starting positions, the ball not yet in play. The fans weren’t yelling at the team, they were screaming at something– someone– else. 

As your eyes focused, you realised what you were seeing. 

Adrenaline spiked through your blood, as invigorating as an ice pick to a frozen heart. You lunged towards the home box wall, gripping your fingers over the edge as you looked down at him. As if on cue, Roy Kent tilted his head to the stands in search of you. When he found you, he stopped. He smiled. Your frozen heart shattered instantly. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told Rebecca and Keeley. Then, quite stupidly, you jumped the wall of the home box and into the stands. 

“Hey!” Keeley.

“Be fucking careful!” Rebecca.

As soon as your feet hit solid concrete, you ran down the steps of the stands without a second thought. That’s when you heard it all– his chant. 

He’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where, Roy Kent! Roy Kent!

It echoed throughout the pitch like a homecoming song. It hadn’t been heard here since last May, when Roy hobbled off the pitch during his last game of football ever. 

“Roy!” you yelled. You didn’t think he’d hear over the immense noise, but he turned back to you immediately. Almost like he’d been listening out for you this entire time. 

Roy paced it to your side of the stands, past Ted and Beard, past the guys on the pitch, past the incessant roar around him. You did the same, descending more stairs each time you stepped forward. When you reached the last few, you jumped them, bombarding into the locked gate at the bottom barrier. 

Roy caught you by the shoulders before you folded in half like a lawn chair. His grip sprouted those same colours in your mind– blue, red, blue, red, blue, red. 

“Thanks for dropping by,” Roy said, smiling so excitedly that you could hardly believe what was happening. 

“I could say the same for you, you know,” you replied, utterly overcome. 

“Turns out I missed it here. Just like you, I missed it here.” His thumbs gently rubbed your shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. 

“We missed you, too.” You wrapped your fingers around his forearms, just as an excuse to hold him a bit longer. 

“Coach!” Ted yelled from twenty metres away. You caught his eye quickly, and you knew the game was about the start. Roy heard him, too, but didn’t move a muscle. 

“Go. You have a team to coach.” You pushed Roy ever so slightly, just a small nudge to remind him of where and what he was. A coach at AFC Richmond. “Go!” you chuckled, pushing him gently in his chest this time. 

Roy sent you one last colossal smile, then dipped forward to place a warm kiss on your cheek. He bound away as soon as he had, and jogged back to Ted, Beard and Nate at the sidelines. The stadium erupted as the whistle blew, signifying the start of a new era for the Greyhounds, and perhaps– for you, too.

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[randomtacoscry]

WIP Wednesday

I’m BACK bitches (bros and nonbinary hoes <3)! I FINALLY wrote something for my fic and thought I’d share it here! Enjoy!! (There’s more after the break)

Specs: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw/Jake “Hangman” Seresin - Words: 3,120

Bradley wakes that night. He can feel the carrier sway with the force of the sea as he sits up in the dark room. He turns to look for the other pilot but once again, he’s gone.

“Where the hell are you going?” Bradley mutters to himself and he feels himself growing increasingly more interested in whatever the cocky pilot fills his early mornings with. He’s been gone almost every night for the past two weeks, but every morning, he manages to be back in their shared room, alive and ready for the day.

“It’s stupid.” Bradley hasn’t gotten up (or at least been able to get himself out of the room to find the other man) yet and he wasn’t going to tonight. It was dumb; just another way for Seresin to goad Bradley into showing that he maybe gives a shit about what the pilot may be up to- and he really doesn’t, he’s just wondering. Bradley falls back to the stiff mattress and pulls the thin sheet back over him. Taking a deep breath, Bradley can feel his eyes getting heavier and he’s fine going back to sleep. Right? Seresin- the guy doesn’t matter. Bradley’s had times where he couldn’t sleep… Although that doesn’t mean sneaking out of his shared room to do god knows what.

“Ughhh.” Bradley moans to himself, bringing his hands to his face. Fuck it. He throws on a thin gray shirt before heading out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

The carrier is pretty much dead silence on this level; the only thing filling the air is the sound of Bradley’s soft breaths as he makes his way through the long halls. Any noises are reserved for the radio and engine rooms which are both located much farther back on the carrier. Bradley makes his way up to the hanger deck, navigating the slim steps and hallways with ease after so many months here. With the room’s exposure to the elements, the air is cooler- a swift breeze moves through the space and Bradley makes out a figure, his form silhouetted only by the waves reflecting the moon’s light. Bradley doesn’t notice that he can recognize the man from the way his shoulders are built, chiseled yet rounded, and how the tight fit of his shirt pronounces the curve of his waist and all the other factors that Bradley would kick himself for thinking of.

Bradley makes his way over to the man before he can change his mind. He hesitates- Seresin can’t sense him yet- his body more relaxed than Bradley’s ever seen them, his breaths coming and going in a slow, deep rhythm. He seems different here.

“What brings you out here?” The second Bradley breaks the silence, the other pilot’s shoulders tense and Bradley can feel the man force himself to turn only slightly, making sure he doesn’t seem startled.

“Could ask you the same.” He turns his face back to the endless blue and Bradley matches the pilot’s pose, leaning his arms on the railing, and breathing in the salty breeze.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Bradley offers because maybe it’s not so hard to be somewhat cordial to the guy- olive branch and everything. Seresin nods before taking another deep breath and Bradley almost begins regretting coming out here in the first place. Maybe he should go-

“Me neither.” He’s quiet but the waves aren’t loud enough for Bradley to miss the words. He almost wants to ask the pilot more. Or maybe mention that he’s noticed him sneaking out of their shared quarters to find a semblance of solace somewhere else- after the prospect of losing someone in the air almost became a reality- not that Bradley would ever consider the two of them to be on a solace-giving basis. They weren’t even friends. Barely acquaintances. “I keep thinking about it.”

Bradley almost misses the words being trapped in his thoughts, but at least the other pilot knows Bradley’s not stupid. He can obviously tell something is going on- what with the lack of short comments, digs, and snide remarks coming from the blond the previous weeks.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Obviously. Bradley almost feels dumb for saying it himself. Obviously Marilyn’s engine going out wasn’t Seresin’s fault but it doesn’t change the fact that he would’ve had a front row seat to something every pilot hopes against seeing if the situation had ended badly.

“I know,” He takes a breath before continuing, “I just couldn’t do anything.” Bradley meets his eyes for only a second before he quickly turns his gaze back to the black sky, only lighting the world with the full moon above and the millions of dim specs beyond. Bradley watches him; his eyes- oftentimes sage in color are now a dark forest green- flicking between the soft flow of the current and the abyss of the night sky. He swallows between breaths and his throat moves with the action, his skin tightening slightly before it relaxes once again. His hands are almost completely still; the only movement being his thumb slightly grazing the knuckles of his other hand and Bradley feels the odd urge to stop it. To grab his hand and still it, if only for a single moment, from the restlessness of the pilot’s thoughts. He’s good at it. Pretending he’s fine; only slightly cracking this facade in the middle of the night to get some air. Bradley hates that he almost couldn’t tell.

Years.

Years of practice with people who constantly pretended everything was okay until the lie blew up in their faces and Bradley was part of the collateral. He should know how to spot someone who hides. Not just behind some mask but parts of themselves as well. Seresin may be something asshole-adjacent and it may get on Bradley’s nerves occasionally, but he’s not blind to the fact that the man is hiding something. Bradley just knows it’s not exactly his place. Maybe Javy’s. But not Bradley’s.

“Well you did something.” Bradley speaks while turning his gaze away from the blond and can feel the man look at him curiously. “I mean, you flew him in.” Bradley hears a light scoff and lets himself look back at Seresin’s disbelief.

“He would’ve made it anyway.” The man plays modesty; a role Bradley is somewhat surprised he knows of.

“You were almost out of gas.” Bradley nods knowingly and the younger pilot just shakes his head.

“Ah, well, I don’t expect you to know what it’s like livin’ on the edge.” A twang of a southern accent peaks through as he speaks and it reminds Bradley of home. Maybe he should take the comment as an insult of some kind- on brand for the fellow pilot- but it more so reminds Bradley of the stupid jokes and railery that filled his mom’s home when his dad’s old friends would come to visit. It’s nostalgic and almost embarrassingly comforts Bradley more than it offends him.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Bradley goads Seresin, feigning nonchalance and the other pilot turns towards him scoffing.

“What would you call it?”

“Reckless.” Bradley faces the man straight on and while he may mean that, it’s not necessarily in a bad way. At least not in the situation a few weeks ago. Sure- it was a dumb risk, but he assisted another pilot in getting back to the carrier at his expense. Maybe Bradley just didn’t want to say selfless. “You were reckless.”A slow smile finds its way onto Seresin’s face and of course the guy’s taking it as a full blown compliment.

“Well, Bradshaw,” He adds his southern drawl back onto Bradley’s name and he almost likes how it sounds on the man’s tongue, “sometimes it’s good to do something reckless.” Bradley doesn’t miss how Seresin’s eyes glide up his body before landing on his face; sizing him up in a way. “Could help you loosen up.” He says it as an afterthought, with a smirk, and there’s something inside of Bradley that feels like he’s not fully understanding the other man’s implications. The man doesn’t wait for a response, instead heading back into the hanger to their shared room.

Bradley was raised by almost two polar opposites; two complimentary, complete opposites. One reckless, the other… Well, he didn’t like to think much about either of them. Reckless? Loosen up? Bradley was fine the way he was. He managed to become one of the best pilots in the Navy almost incomprehensibly quick due to the lifetime of knowledge he’s had since he was two. He’s done perfectly fine playing by the rules and following the books. He didn’t need recklessness to live. To loosen up. To fly. He could do that on his own, by himself, as he’s had to do everything since becoming a pilot. So Seresin could have his recklessness- and maybe end up hurting someone in the process.

That’s what it did.

It hurts people.

Only now Bradley wasn’t so sure it was just one of them who was reckless. Maybe neither of them thought of any of the shit they did- and it nearly killed Bradley himself. To witness, to experience, to remember. Fuck. Bradley needed to sleep- and quieting his mind of memories of his past was beginning to seem more and more tempting.

[kurokoros]

Title: Deck The Halls, Bitches | Part Eight: You, Me, and the Hickey, Too

Rated: Mostly T, some adult situations and innuendos scattered throughout.

Summary: One week before Christmas, Lucy realizes she has a problem. In her frustration, she may or may not have told her entire extended family she was bringing a date to Christmas. She lied. Cana’s solution? A Craigslist Ad posted by one Natsu Dragneel. Too much whiskey, crazy family members, and a multitude of awkward situations only serve as obstacles. There will be casualties.

Word Count: 8814

FF.net | Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Her nose is cold.

That’s the first thing Lucy registers upon waking up. The rest of her is warm to the point where it’s bordering on making her itchy with sweat—thankfully, that’s not the case. She’s quite comfortable all curled up against Natsu’s chest with her limbs tangled into an absolute mess with his—but her nose is cold. Now, usually this wouldn’t bother her in the slightest if she were at home, however, Makarov never turns on the damn heat in this house, so rather than her nose being a little chilly, it feels like it’s about to freeze off.

Lucy quite likes her nose on her face, thank you very much.

She groans, refusing to open her eyes as she clings to the last bit of sleep tugging at her subconscious. For once, she’s perfectly content with just lying here and not moving at all—soaking up the afterglow, so to speak. She’s ridiculously warm, she’s extraordinarily happy, and, do to unfortunate circumstances, she’s also very much awake.

Huffing, Lucy cuddles closer to Natsu’s chest, her bare skin pressing against his wonderfully as she tangles her legs with his, hooking a leg around his in order to drag herself closer to him. Her arm crawls across his stomach slowly beneath the blanket, fingertips barely ghosting across his skin as she slips her arm around him. Natsu sighs beneath her, his own arms tightening around her, fingers curling loosely against her skin, making her shiver slightly against him.

Lucy shifts herself upwards, wriggling against him slightly as she shifters her head from his chest to the crook of his neck in order to bury her cold nose against his skin. She sighs against him as he squirms at she sudden chill, clinging tighter when he start to shift away. Keeping her eyes squeezed shut, Lucy presses herself upwards slightly, just enough to press a gentle kiss against the underside of his jaw. His pulse jumps beneath her lips, but she merely lets them linger against his skin, in no rush to pull away from him. Her fingers begin to move, tracing nonsensical shapes against her side with a lazy touch. She pulls back slightly, only a breath away from him, before leaning in once more, pressing a second butterfly kiss to his skin.

It’s nice—just lying here next to him, as if the rest of the world just doesn’t exist. It’s quiet and warm and Lucy is completely and utterly content to just lie here and cling to sleep. Maybe, if they don’t go downstairs they can just stay here forever.

Lucy brushes her cold toes against Natsu’s bare legs, stroking them slightly. A low groan leaves Natsu’s throat at the sudden chill and she hides a smile against his throat. He huffs, arm curling tighter around her as he feels her grin, his fingers curling around her hip and squeezing suddenly, drawing a soft, surprised squeak from Lucy.

Natsu laughs, his chest vibrating against hers, and Lucy realizes he’s a lot more awake than she assumed he was. Her lips twist into a puzzled half-frown, not entirely sure why he’s even awake at the moment. Not once has he woken up before her in their few nights together—which isn’t all too strange, given that Lucy barely sleeps and wakes up at the crack of dawn every damn day. Usually, she’s up before the sun, which kind of sucks, if she’s being honest. So, either Natsu didn’t get much sleep at all last night, or Lucy finally managed to sleep in later than six in the morning for the first time in literal months.

Her lips pull into a smile once more, giddiness flooding through her. She’s always had insomnia—but she’s never taken medication for it because she hates how it makes her feel. She doesn’t like feeling groggy in the morning or the way it feels like there’s cotton shoved into her mouth—and it’s never really been a huge issue with her. She’s always gotten just enough sleep so that it hasn’t hurt her grades or made her feel sick. However, she has suffered through some nasty headaches in the past.

It’s just that the insomnia got worse after her birthday during the summer, when her date had called her to try to hook her up with one of his many rich, snobby coworkers that were old enough to be her own father. She hadn’t been able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time after that.

That’s why she started taking the late shift at the bar with Gajeel. Getting some extra cash seemed a hell of a lot better than staring at the wall and willing herself to fall asleep.

Natsu suddenly slips two fingers underneath the fabric of her underwear, skin warm against hers. He snaps the fabric against her skin gently, teasing the skin beneath playfully. Natsu’s fingers begin to trace strange shapes against her naked hip as he pulls her closer to his side and Lucy smiles.

He snaps her panties against her skin again and leans in to graze her teeth against his neck, nipping at him playfully in retaliation. Natsu chuckles, twisting to press his lips against her forehead as best he can and intertwining their legs even more, if that’s even possible at this point. Maybe she shouldn’t be quite this cuddly with someone she’s known on a personal level for just under two weeks—though, that’s rather moot at this point, considering he had her pressed up against a wall and moaning last night—but there’s just something about Natsu that makes her feel comfortable. It’s like she already knows him like the back of her hand. Hell, she’s told him some things she hasn’t told anyone else besides her family. He’s held her when she cried.

That means more to her than he’ll ever know.

And maybe it will all end after they get home, but then again, maybe’s don’t mean shit to her.

Natsu’s thumb brushes over her hip softly, barely ghosting across her flesh, and Lucy shivers at the soft touch, his fingertips tickling her bare skin slightly. “Good morning,” he murmurs against her hair, breath warm against her skin. His arm curls around her tighter, drawing her flush against his side almost languidly—as if they have all the time in the world to just lie here and do nothing.

Lucy exhales heavily against his neck, finally letting her eyes slip open with a pout. Though, she certainly appreciates the view in front of her, she thinks, gaze trailing down Natsu’s bare chest slowly, the blanket having slipped down to rest just above his hips at some point in the night. “What time is it?” she murmurs, sliding her palm up his bare stomach lazily, nails scratching at his skin gently. She glances up in time to see him swallow thickly.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to peek down at her, eyes alight with humor. “About seven,” he whispers back, as if speaking too loudly will burst the little bubble they’ve found themselves in. Natsu smiles down at her, a slicker of amusement in his gaze. “You actually slept in today,” he murmurs, his hand sliding from her hip to her rib cage, resting just beneath her breasts.

She snorts, palm settling over his rapidly beating heart. Lucy drums her fingers in time with the beating. “Seven isn’t sleeping in,” she mumbles against his collarbone, letting her eyes slip shut once more. Natsu laughs against her hair, the low rumble vibrating through the both of them. She grins against his skin.

“It is for you,” he muses, fingers tapping against her ribs gently, drawing a breathy giggle from Lucy as she rolls onto her stomach and hooks a leg between both of his. She props herself up against his chest, caging him against the bed with her arms and resting her chin against his chest. Natsu sends her a lazy grin as he stares down at her, palms sliding down to rest against her bare thighs.

Lucy wets her lips, staring down at him, something curious and wonderful in her gaze. She shifts against him slowly, pressing a lingering kiss against his beating heart. “We had sex last night,” she tells him, more so than asks. Lucy tilts her head to the side slightly, peering up at him and positively stealing his breath away. Her thumbs brush against the naked skin covering his ribs, barely ghosting against him in slow circles.

She’s not sure why she’s saying it out loud—the evidence of what they did is very clearly scattered across the room for them to see in early morning light. The sun has just barely begun to rise—a sliver of light peeking through the curtains and casting shadows on the wall beside them. Maybe she needs reassurance of what he said to her last night. Maybe she needs something more than that. Maybe she just needs to say it because that makes it real.

Swallowing a bit thickly, Lucy’s gaze shifts from his briefly before snapping right back, gauging his expression with mild trepidation.

His grip on her thighs tightens just the slightest, fingers pressing into her skin and leaving little indents on her chilled flesh, the blanket slipping from both of them to pool around their tangled legs. His eyes never once leave hers. “Should we not have?” he whispers, as if speaking too loud with utterly shatter the moment and send them slipping into something sad. He swallows as well, gazing down at her with something heartbreakingly honest in his eyes.

Not for the first time, Lucy wonders if her grandmother is wiser than Lucy has ever given her credit for.

Lucy finds herself unable to look away. “I didn’t have any problems with it,” she tells him, voice a bit shaky, but entirely honest. She wouldn’t change a thing about last night. Not one single thing. “Did you?” she asks gently, voice dipping so low that she can barely hear herself. There’s something pleading in her voice—something begging him to tell her that last night meant something—that all of this meant something.

Because it sure as hell meant something to her.

And Lucy isn’t in love, she knows that, but maybe she could be, given more time.

Or maybe Ida’s right, and they’re all just too scared to call it that, because only fools rush into things like this. Though, maybe they’re fools in love, all the same.

Natsu’s fingers slide from her thighs to her waist slowly—almost lazily as he stares at her, gaze drinking her in and swallowing her whole. His palms are warm against her sides, and that’s when Lucy’s heart decides to do something funny in her chest, positively squeezing with something she can’t begin to describe. “I can’t say that I do,” he whispers back to her, his own heart stuttering beneath her lips.

Her lips curve into a small smile at his words, but she hides it against his chest, placing another soft, slow kiss against his heartbeat. She knows that he can feel it, judging by the way his own lips curve up at the ends. “Okay,” she tells him, but a breath away from his skin, “then, we’re good.”

He nods, still staring down at her. His fingers tap against her waist lightly, drawing her gaze to his face. When she does, he grins down at her, pulling his lower lip between his teeth, gaze practically sparkling. “Do you think they heard us?” Natsu asks her playfully, drawing a fingertip all the way up her spine to the base of her neck, drawing a shiver and a breathy sigh from Lucy.

She giggles, shaking her head. “God, I hope not,” she tells him, shifting upwards so she’s hovering directly above him, lips mere inches from his. “They’ll never let me live it down if they did.” She laughs again, wrinkling her nose as she thinks about how noisy they must have been last night. They weren’t exactly screaming for all to hear, but there’s still the off chance that they may have been a tad louder than they should have been.

There’s a good chance that Laxus may have heard something, but he wouldn’t dare make fun of her for it. Lucy had caught him and Mira in some rather compromising positions back before they were married. He knows better than to mock her.

“Well, you did start it,” Natsu reminds her, finger sliding back down her spine slowly. He grins as she wriggles against him, arching into him as his fingers brush against her skin. Natsu lets out a little laugh as Lucy huffs.

She sends him a dirty look, eyes narrowing just the slightest as she peers down at him critically. “You’re the one that shoved me against a door,” she snaps back, trying to fight back a smile. “And it’s not like you did anything to stop me,” Lucy tacks on, leaning up to nip at his chin.

Natsu laughs outright this time. “Touché,” he murmurs, palms sliding back to her hips as Lucy swings a leg over his hips, straddling him. She grins at him, hovering just a breath away from his lips.

“It takes two to tango, Honey,” she tells him teasingly, leaning back just the slightest as he tries to kiss her, playfully avoiding the advance. Her thumbs brush against his rib cage once again, drawing a little sigh from somewhere deep in his chest.

His eyes lock with hers, an equally teasing glint in his own eyes. “Does that mean I get to call you babe, now?” he jokes, squeezing her hips softly as his warm breath puffs against her lips. His nose bumps against hers, he’s so close, but neither of them make to pull away.

She leans in, placing a butterfly kiss against his exposed skin. He shivers beneath her, and Lucy’s smile widens as she continues to pepper his jaw with little kisses, humming to herself when he tilts his head slightly to give her better access. Lucy’s grin turns wicked. She wets her lips, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Whatever the hell you want,” she murmurs against him, one hand slipping down his side to finger the hem of his boxers.

Natsu rolls the two of them over, pressing her against the mattress gently. For a moment, he simply stares down at her, one hand rising to cup her cheek, thumb brushing against her skin slowly. “Good,” he finally says, smiling down at her fondly. And then he leans down, kissing her softly. She smiles against his mouth and he releases her after several long seconds, beginning to place little kisses against her cheek and jaw and chin.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she teases, looping her arms around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. He takes the bait, leaning down to kiss her again, only harder this time, mouth pressing against hers with just enough pressure to make her head spin. She grins against him, sliding an arm down around his shoulders. His teeth nip at her lower lip, followed by his tongue brushing over the same spot playfully. She sighs against him, feeling him smile against her mouth.

He hums against her lips, palms sliding up her sides slowly. His tongue teases the seam of her lips, silently asking entrance that she grants easily. His tongue sweeps into her mouth, brushing everywhere, skimming over the back of her teeth and the roof of her mouth, wrapping around her own, already familiar with her from the night before.

She gives the intruding appendage a sharp nip and he retaliates by gripping her hips sharply, making her gasp against him. She tugs at his hair and he growls low in his throat, pressing closer still. His teeth tug at her lower lip again, nibbling it and tickling her slightly. Lucy giggles against his lips, feeling them quirk up into a smile a moment later. She quickly catches his lower lip between both of hers, nipping at him before drawing her tongue against his lip ring. He pulls away from her with a wet pop, breathing heavily. She simply smiles up at him, panting as well.

“And how was that?” he pants against her ear, lips trailing across her cheek and jaw and chin lowly. He’s not kissing her anymore, just touching her. She tilts her head to the side and his smile widens, his lips trailing down her neck languidly as he settles on top of her, pressing her further into the mattress. He finds a particularly sensitive spot just below her jaw and Lucy releases a shaky breath.

She wheezes out a little laugh, completely breathless as she clutches at his arms. “I’ve had better,” she jokes, humming slightly as he continues to peruse her neck lazily. An amused sound leaves him, his arms curling around her back underneath her and pulling her flush against his chest. His lips press against her rapidly thrumming pulse, her breath catching in her throat as his teeth graze her skin.

“Hey, Lucy,” he murmurs against her throat, placing butterfly kisses all the way down to her collarbone, hands sliding high on her back play with the clasp of her bra. He bites down on her neck gently, and she can’t seem to catch her breath, merely humming in response. His lips leave her neck suddenly, and when her eyes flutter open they lock with his. Natsu leans down, nuzzling her cheek softly and making her giggle before pulling back once more. “When we get home,” he starts slowly, gaze locked with hers, “do you want to go on a real date?” Natsu asks her, wetting his lips and swallowing thickly, something like trepidation shinning in his eyes.

Her breath catches in her throat, eyes widening just the slightest as she stares up at him. She uncurls her arms from around his neck, fingers trembling slightly as she cups his face in her hands. Out of all the things she was expecting him to say, that hadn’t been one of them. Her cold fingers smooth against his skin gently, and he leans into her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her palm, eyes never once leaving hers.

“I would love to,” Lucy tells him, smiling up at him softly, heart squeezing in her chest. Natsu’s lips twist up into a grin, a toothy smile spreading across his face before he ducks down and presses a kiss to her temple, tucking her under his chin a moment later.

They seemed to have done this backwards, Lucy thinks, smiling against his collar bone and leaning up to press her lips against his skin. Him meeting her entire family before the two of them have even gone on one date, and all. She doesn’t mind, though, if anything, it just proves that their relationship will be interesting.

Lucy likes interesting.

Before either of them can say anything else, there’s a banging on the door. “Hey, Lovebirds!” Loke calls from the other side of the door, something sarcastic in his voice. “Put your clothes on and get down here so we can open shit!” he tells them, voice slightly muffled. A moment later, Lucy can hear him walk away.

Natsu shifts away from her, his eyes wide and alight with amusement as he peers down at her. Lucy groans, wrapping her arms around his back and pressing her face up into his neck. Another defeated groan leaves her as Natsu laughs.

“I think he heard us,” he date tells her, his laughter vibrating through her.

Lucy hits him with a pillow.

By the time Natsu and Lucy managed to get downstairs, everyone else was already settled around the tree, waiting patiently for the pair of them. Granted, it had taken them a longer time than should have been necessary for them to finally leave their room—which is entirely Natsu’s fault really. They would have been down much sooner if he hadn’t have shoved her up against the door again in order to pepper kisses down her exposed neck.

Unfortunately, neither of them had bothered to look in a mirror that morning, leaving the pair of them completely unaware of several very important marks on their exposed skin. Lucy had managed to cover up most of the light bruising on her hips and thighs, tossing on a pair of leggings and Natsu’s shirt from the night before in her rush. The collared shirt was buttoned haphazardly, crooked at the bottom, but she couldn’t have cared less about the buttons, given the way Natsu had slid his hand under her shirt and up to her chest as soon as he saw her in it, slipping a hand under her bra to squeeze her breast.

She had giggled and shoved him away reluctantly, telling him to put a shirt on so they could join everyone else.

Lucy never once thought to take a look at her neck in the mirror as she pulled her hair up into a messy bun, far too distracted with the way Natsu kept pressing butterfly kisses against her shoulders and the back of her neck.

It was only after they made it downstairs and saw matching smirks on the adults’ faces that she realized something wasn’t quite right. Lisanna had taken one look at her and burst into laughter, Bixlow doing the same a moment later. Loke had shot the two of them a disgusted look, blanching at them and turning away, pretending to gag. Aries had blushed, sending Lucy a small wave, but unable to meet her gaze. Mira smirked at the two of them, waving off her blissfully unaware children and placing a placating hand on Laxus’s arm.

Her father, of course, looked nothing short of disgusted as he turned away from her, but that’s nothing Lucy isn’t used to. He father never was able to look her in the eye without something shameful in his gaze. Ida, however, had a very curious reaction. The woman had smiled at Lucy, very much the cat that got the cream, her gaze drifting from Lucy’s eyes, the her neck, and finally to Natsu in rapid succession. Her smirk had only widened at Lucy’s confusion before Ida finally tapped a finger against the side of her neck slowly, grinning all the while.

It had taken all of ten seconds for Lucy to realize what her grandmother meant, her eyes widening comically as she remembered Natsu’s rough treatment of her neck the night before. She had briefly lost her breath in that moment—remembering the way his lips and teeth and tongue had felt against her sensitive neck as he pressed her against the door, hands squeezing her hips as he rocked against her and—

It had taken everything Lucy had not to slap a hand over the hickeys covering her neck, and when she looked up at Natsu, he at least had the decency to look sheepish. Though, she couldn’t entirely blame him, as her gaze locked on a rather tender looking spot just beneath his jaw, the skin there slightly discolored.

Well if her family hadn’t heard them, they definitely knew what happened after seeing them.

That had been nearly an hour ago, however, and most of her family seems to have either forgotten about it, or simply decided not to bring it up. Which is a good thing, obviously. She really doesn’t need to have a chat with her family about her sex life. Her disheveled state had also kept her father away during the whole gift giving process. He had taken one look at her and then left the room completely, much to her amusement.

Thankfully the Christmas haul was over and everyone had dispersed throughout the house. Lucy had received a multitude of gift cards for Christmas, an old necklace from her grandmother that must have been an heirloom, three pairs of colorful thermal socks from Aries, and Loke had thrown a condom at Natsu when no one was paying attention.

Lucy hadn’t missed how he shoved it into his pocket, her thighs clenching slightly as he sent her a look out of the corner of his eyes.

The family room is quiet now, everyone disappearing to do their own thing. Laxus and Mira went upstairs to pack as Elfman whisked the twins outside to play, Evergreen trailing behind them. Ida and Makarov are in the kitchen chatting with Loke and Aries about when their wedding would be, and Lisanna and Bixlow are plopped onto the couch beside Natsu and Lucy, cuddling together and staring at the other couple with wicked grins.

Frankly, Lucy doesn’t give a damn where her father is.

Lucy sighs, leaning back against Natsu’s chest as he curls his arms around her, fingers plucking at the hem of his stolen shirt absentmindedly, his chin coming to rest against the top of her head as he pulls her onto his lap. He hides a smile against her hair, the fingers of his free hand coming up to rub against one of the bite marks on Lucy’s neck almost apologetically—almost, because he doesn’t even try to hide the satisfaction in his eyes or the way his lips twist into a smirk against her hair.

“Hey, Lucy,” Lisanna coos suddenly, leaning off the couch slightly to poke her head in front of Lucy from where she’s curled up on the floor. The other girl blinks her big, blue eyes at Lucy, fluttering them innocently, but Lucy narrows her eyes slightly, not missing the evil glint in her friend’s eyes. “You’re still coming to the party right?” Lucy nods slowly, unsure what Lisanna is getting at. The other girl beams at Lucy’s affirmation, smirking. “Good! Your hickey can come too, if it wants,” she tacks on slyly, giggling.

Lucy swats at her friend, but misses as Lisanna jerks back, cackling. Bixlow snickers as well, and Lucy can fell Natsu’s lips against her temple, attempting to placate the fuming girl in his arms. His grip on her tightens, and Lucy crosses her arms with a huff, knowing she won’t be able to reach Lisanna. “Shut up, Lisanna,” she settles with, sending her friend a dirty look. It’s not a good comeback in the slightest, but it’s all Lucy has at the moment.

“What!” the other girl giggles, mock offense crossing her face. “I’m just being polite,” she tells Lucy, eyeing the bruise on Lucy’s neck appraisingly. Lucy blushes. Lisanna had pulled out her phone earlier to give Lucy a good look at just how good of a job Natsu did on her neck. The hickey is big, an off purple color towards the center and red at the edges, and exceptionally sensitive to the touch, she learned when Natsu pressed him lips against it when no one was looking, drawing a shaky gasp from Lucy. Jerk. “I want your hickey to know that everything is okay and I appreciate it,” Lisanna tells her, patting her on the shoulder before reaching out to poke the hickey lightly.

Lucy raising an eyebrow at Lisanna, lips pursing slightly. “You appreciate my hickey,” she says blankly, sarcasm threatening to creep into her words. She holds it back though, eye twitching slightly in annoyance.

It’s just a hickey, dammit. It’s not like she’s sprouted wings or a purple dragon is trying to crawl out of her neck. Actually, that would be really gross. Eww.

Lisanna claps her hands in front of her, grinning widely. “Well, yeah,” she says, scoffing like it’s obvious. “Look at that monster!” she continues, throwing her hands up. “Natsu did a damn good job.” The man behind her grins, one arm leaving her waist to high-five Lisanna. Lucy elbows him in the stomach. He ignores her.

Natsu presses a quick kiss against her forehead, lips twisting into an amused smile. Lucy rolls her eyes, thinking he’s way too okay with all of this. “If you think that’s good, you should see what Lucy did to my back,” he tells the other couple suddenly, an utterly serious look on his face.

Lucy gasps, nearly choking on her spit. “Natsu!” she hisses, utterly mortified by his comment.

Bixlow quirks a brow, reaching over Lisanna to pull up the back of Natsu’s shirt and asses the damage. Lucy groans, shifting to bury her face against Natsu’s shoulder. Bixlow whistles approvingly at what he sees. “Damn, Bro,” he muses, clearly impressed with Lucy’s handy-work. “She got you good.” He drops Natsu’s shirt and turns to Lucy, who glares. “I didn’t know you were a freak, Lucy,” he jokes, jerking back to avoid a slap in the face.

“Shut up, Bixlow,” she hisses back, baring her teeth at him threateningly. So maybe she did do a number on Natsu’s back. So what? He certainly wasn’t complaining about it at the time! And why is she getting made fun of for the massive hickey? That was Natsu’s fault, not hers! They should make fun of him instead! “I hope you choke,” she tells him, pouting slightly.

Bixlow gasps, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “Rude!” he barks at her, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Rude and uncalled fo—”

Lisanna slaps a hand over his mouth, cutting him off before he can finish. She rolls her eyes, turning back to Lucy, the humor leaving her eyes slightly. “But, seriously,” she starts, you are still coming right?” Her head cocks to the side curiously. “I need to know a rough estimate of people so I can get Bixlow to buy enough alcohol.”

Said man pulls his girlfriend’s hand away from his mouth, frowning at her slightly. He quirks a brow at her, crossing his arms and sending her a curious look. “Why do I have to buy it?” he complains, staring down at the girl on his lap.

Lisanna rolls her eyes playfully. “Because I said so,” she jokes, jabbing a finger into her boyfriend’s side and making him yelp. He bats her hands away, but smiles nonetheless.

“Fair enough,” he replies, shrugging halfheartedly.

Lucy rolls her eyes at the two of them, tilting her head back to rest against Natsu’s shoulder, a small smile playing on her lips as she curls closer to his chest, feeling his arms tighten around her just the slightest. “Yeah, we’ll both be there,” she promises, much to Lisanna’s excitement. She’s pretty sure she promised this last night, but it’s probably good to reaffirm their plans now that everyone is sober. “Cana won’t miss a party and I can probably drag Gajeel along, too,” she tacks on.

“And they’ll both be bringing dates?” Lisanna asks, peering down at Lucy.

“Most likely.” Lucy shrugs, lips pursing as she thinks about her friends. Cana will definitely want to bring Kagura with, and even if the other girl isn’t really the party type, Cana will probably drag her along anyway. Gajeel will go with enough hounding, and Lucy can get Levy to go easily enough. “Cana’s persuasive and Gajeel won’t go unless I can get his girlfriend to go, too, but she loves me, so she’ll come if I ask.”

A little underhanded? Definitely. Does she care? Not at all.

Lisanna beams at her. “All right, cool! I can’t wait!” Her eyes narrow suddenly and she twists to face Lucy directly.

She raises a brow. “What?” she asks Lisanna, sighing slightly.

“Will your hickey be coming too? I only ask because—”

Lucy reaches behind herself blindly, latching onto the first thing she finds, and then tosses a handful of wrapping paper at Lisanna, who merely laughs as the shiny gift wrap does absolutely nothing to her. Lucy pouts slightly, then rips a bow off of another scrap of paper. She lunges forward, slapping the sticky part onto Lisanna’s forehead as the other girl squeals in surprise.

That’ll teach her.

By noon, everyone is gone besides Natsu, Lucy, and the other Heartfilias. Laxus, the Strauss’s, and their significant others all left around ten in order to make it to a Christmas Day lunch with Mirajane, Elfman, and Lisanna’s parents. Loke and Aries left not long after them, the pair having a five hour drive ahead of them and not wanting to get caught in traffic on their way home. The goodbyes had been full of hugs and promises to see each other soon, as well as Lucy swearing to come visit the twins the next time she has time off.

All in all, the weekend went pretty well, save for a few hiccups between herself and her father, but she doesn’t want to think about that at all. Maybe next time they’ll work through some of their issues, but it’s too late for that right now. She barely even wants to look at him and he clearly has nothing to say to her. And she’s okay with that. Maybe now he’s finally gotten the message and he’ll leave her alone.

“Goodbye, Zvyozdochka,” Makarov tells her, pulling Lucy into his arms from his spot on the porch. The pet name rolls off his tongue lovingly, arms squeezing around her tightly as he murmurs goodbyes against her hair, some in English, others in thick Russian as he repeats them over and over.

Her heart squeezes in her chest, tears coming to her eyes as she hugs her grandfather. She really does wish she could see him more, but it’s hard with the schedule she keeps. If she finally manages to be promoted from an intern at Sorcerer Weekly, maybe she can quite her job at the bar and have more free hours to visit her family. “You too, Dedushka,” she whispers in response, pulling back just enough to smile at him.

Makarov grins back at her, lifting his hands and resting them against her cheeks softly, cupping her face in his palm. She raises her hands, fingers curling around his wrists. “I better see you soon, yeah?” he asks, smiling wider when she nods, tears spilling over her eyes. He wipes them away with his thumbs, shaking his head softly. “You were away too long,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion.

Lucy nods again, laughing through her tears. “You will,” she tells him softly, swallowing back a sob as she stares back at her old grandfather, praying that this won’t be the last time she sees him, just as she does every time she has to leave. Makarov’s age always scares her and she hates that he’s alone in this house, but he won’t leave and she respect that. “I promise.”

“Good,” he replies, releasing her with a grin, “you stay away too long,” he jokes, turning from her to pull Natsu into a hug as well, much to the younger man’s surprise. Lucy giggles, heart warming as she watches her date’s arms curl around her grandfather.

She turns to Ida, who sweeps her into her arms straight away. “Goodbye, Lucy, my dear,” she coos, releasing her just as suddenly as she had hugged her. Ida always has been a flighty one, always flitting around and never staying in one place for too long. Lucy has no idea when she’ll see Ida next, but she supposes that’s half the fun. “I’ll see you soon,” Ida promises, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t have too much fun, yeah?” she jokes, glancing behind her at Natsu, winking.

“Grandma!” she gasps, scandalized, but Ida merely cackles and releases her, practically skipping her way to Jude’s car and tossing the door open.

Lucy shakes her head, giggling, and sighs when Natsu walks up behind her, arms curling around her waist gently as he tugs her against his chest. Lucy tilts her head back, smiling up at him as she hears Makarov chuckle and head back into the house. Natsu grins right back at her, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek, before unwinding his arms from her and lifting his bag from the ground, tossing it over his shoulder before wiggling his eyebrows and dashing to her car. She giggles again, about to follow him when a voice stops her.

“Lucy,” he father says sternly, stepping up to her before she can spin on her heel and take off after Natsu. She considers ignoring him, pretending she hadn’t heard and just making a run for her car, but shakes the thought away. If he wants her to be the bigger person, fine, she’ll be the bigger person. He’s been the one ignoring her all day, not the other way around.

As much as she would love to just walk away, she just can’t. He’s always had this power over her—this innate ability to keep her under his thumb. No matter how many outbursts she has at him when she’s tipsy and angry, she always turns back into that scared little ten year old girl whenever she’s faced with him the next time. Sometimes, she considers herself something akin to a kicked puppy, always crawling back with her tail between her legs, apologizing even though she’s done nothing wrong.

And maybe that’s how it’s always going to be. Him too stubborn to listen and change, and her too emotionally damaged to cut him out of her life for good. Somehow, she keeps hoping he’ll change and that they’ll reconcile, but it’s been four years since she first started hoping that, and nothing’s happened yet. Who knows, maybe this will be the last time and she can finally—finally move on with her life.

She’s tired of his sharp tongue and degrading words. She’s had enough and knows that she deserves better than that—she deserves a lot better than that.

“So you’re going to talk to me now?” she snaps suddenly, gaze jerking up to meet his icily. Her heart squeezes painfully in her chest as he takes another step towards her, but she fights back the urge to flinch away. Lucy crosses her arms over her chest, jaw clenching tightly as her father stops no more than a yard away from her.

His eyes narrow slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line that Lucy knows means trouble. She steels herself, waiting for him to say something bitter or cruel—something more socially acceptable that slapping her across the face, but no less biting. “I tried to talk to you last night,” he reminds her, back straightening so that he’s towering over her, glaring down his nose at her, disappointment written across his face.

Lucy takes a half-step back, shaking her head slowly as a laugh bubbles in her throat. She swallows it down, arms curling righter around herself protectively. She’s used to the disappointment, but it always hurts just as much as it did the first time she saw it. “No,” she corrects him, giggling slightly. It’s too high pitched, too strained, and it sounds false even to her. All of her courage from the last two nights is gone and all she wants to do is disappear. “You tried to berate me in front of everyone, thinking I wouldn’t talk back,” she says, a trace of venom in her words as she tries to mask the trembling of her hands.

Her father sighs heavily, as if she just doesn’t understand and he’s too tired to keep explaining things to her. Lucy wonders if her father thinks she’s stupid—if she just can’t think for herself. She knows her father is a sexist pig, amongst other things, but does he really think she’s so simple-minded that she doesn’t know the difference between an apology and victim blaming?

She lived with his emotional abuse for years. She knows better now, even if he still terrifies her.

“I was trying to solve the problem,” her father says slowly, taking another step forward, apparently ignorant to Lucy’s obvious discomfort. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. That seems like the most likely option. He reaches out to place a hand on her shoulder, but she flinches back immediately, eyes wide as she stares up at him.

Lucy inhales sharply through her nose, suddenly finding her nerves as he drops his hand back to his side, seemingly startled that she doesn’t want him to touch her. Lucy sneers, lips curving back over her teeth threateningly. “And which problem is that?” she asks rhetorically, not giving him a chance to respond. “The one where I won’t sell my body to a strange man just so you can make a business deal?” she snaps at him, grinning sardonically. “The one where you don’t listen to a word I say?” she continues, shrugging and letting out a bitter, watery laugh. “Or how about the one where you made me feel worthless for eight years? The one where you made me think I was the problem?” He takes another step forward, hand clenching at his side, but she stands her ground this time. “What about that one, Dad?” she asks lowly, voice nothing more than a whisper against the breeze.

For a moment, she thinks he must not have heard her, as if her voice had been carried away with the falling snow. Lucy suddenly becomes increasingly aware of the weather, her fingers beginning to freeze painfully from the cold as snowflakes stick to her messy hair. She’d forgotten to grab her gloves out of her bag earlier, and she doesn’t need to look down to know that her fingers have begun to turn a burning red with the cold.

“I didn’t know,” her father says after a moment, voice softer than she’s ever heard it before. Her gaze locks with his and her father has the audacity to look ashamed. Somehow that only serves to make her angrier. Is he really only realizing all of this just now? Did he seriously think the things he did were okay?

Lucy laughs in his face, but it’s bitter, something toxic curling through her stomach. She feels sick all of a sudden. Very, very sick. “You didn’t know?” she repeats incredulously, shaking her head slowly. Behind her, she hears a car door slam, but pays no mind to it. “You didn’t ever stop to think,” she nearly shrieks, hand flying up and fisting in her hair, “that telling your fourteen year old daughter that the only thing she was worth was what’s between her legs was fucked up?” she asks, voice dipping into a whisper and cracking as she finishes. Tears burn at her eyes and she laughs again, shaking her head rapidly.

How could he have possibly thought that any of things he did were okay? He was raised by Grandma Ida, he should have known better! Then again, maybe who raises you has a lot less to do with how you turn out than Lucy ever thought. Look at Lucy, she’s absolutely nothing like her father—she never wants to be.

Her father sighs again, sound tired, but she turns away from him, locking her gaze on her boots, watching snowflakes swirl through the air and land on the smooth leather before melting, leaving little streaks against her shoes. Lucy’s fingers begin to tremble from the cold, but she ignores the biting feeling of her palms.

“I’ve made some mistakes,” he says softly, reaching out for her once more, as if a hug and a half-assed acknowledgment will fix everything between them. As if all of their familial problems can be solved just like that, years of hurt and anger just brushed away like it meant nothing.

Lucy thinks her father must be the delusional one if he thinks he can touch her.

“Yeah,” she agrees quietly, steel lacing her words, “you have.” Her agreement seems to have shocked him, despite the fact that this is exactly what she’s been saying for years now. Lucy is usually able to forgive and never forget, but this time she can’t bring herself to do it. He made her life hell, she doesn’t owe him anything anymore.

She just wants to go home.

Her father stands stock still as he ponders her agreement, shoving his hands in his pockets and squaring his shoulders. At least he doesn’t try to touch her again. “But so have you,” he says suddenly, breaking through her thoughts and causing her to take a step back in shock, her eyes going wide.

“Me?” she sputters, eyes snapping up to meet his cold ones. She’s never seen love in Jude Heartfilia’s eyes, at least, not directed at her. She doubts she ever will. “What the hell have I ever done?” she asks him, voice cracking. All of the fight leaves her, self-doubt beginning to creep into her mind. This happens every time they talk. He always finds a way to turn things back on her.

Maybe she is the problem after all.

He snorts, hand leaving his pocket to gesture to the hickey on her neck, the light bruising appearing ever darker against her pale throat not the she’s surrounded by the snow. “Parading around with that thing on your neck,” he spits at her suddenly, causing her to take a step back at the sudden anger in his voice. “Like some little harlot.”

She slaps a hand over the mark, eyes wide as she stares up at her only living parent. Hurt floods through her even though she knows she should be used to comments like that by now. She’s come to expect them, actually, but that does nothing to sweeten the blow.

He takes another step towards her, but freezes just as suddenly, gaze locked on something over Lucy’s shoulder.

“Hey!” a voice barks from behind Lucy, tone low and dangerous. Lucy relaxes, the tension leaving her shoulders immediately as she recognizes the voice. Natsu steps up behind her and coils an arm around her hips, drawing her back against him gently. She latches onto his arm with shaking fingers, leaning back against his warm chest as soon as his arm is around her. “You don’t get to talk to her like that,” Natsu threatens lowly, grip tightening around her as she sinks into him.

She can’t see his face from her position, but she knows Natsu isn’t happy. He got into it with her father once already over break, he’s clearly not going to be happy about having to do so again. At least she isn’t crying this time. Natsu might just knock her father out if she was.

“I’m her father,” she hears her dad argue, a lilting scoff to his voice, as if he finds it amusing that Natsu doesn’t like the way he talks to Lucy. Then again, what has her father ever cared about what anyone thinks about the way he talks to his own daughter? Out of every aspect of his life, that’s the one thing her father’s never given a damn about.

Natsu practically growls against Lucy’s ear. His fingers dig into her side harshly, but she can barely feel it. Natsu, however, loosens his grip immediately once he notices it. “And I don’t give a shit,” he snaps back at her father, glaring at Jude over Lucy’s hear, rage boiling in his eyes. “You don’t get to talk to her like that,” he repeats with a snarl, fingers splaying across Lucy’s stomach, as if covering more of her with make her disappear from her father’s gaze entirely.

“Natsu,” she whispers gently, sighing slightly. Talking with her father just isn’t worth it. She slides a shaky hand from his arm to his palm and his hand relaxes, letting her thread her fingers through his gently. She squeezes his fingers, shaking her head softly, but he ignores her in favor of continuing to berate her father.

“You know you made her cry, right?” Natsu continues, voice so low she almost can’t hear him. She didn’t realize how angry he must have been the last time, when he walked into the kitchen and saw her crying. He seemed more concerned with getting her out of there then, but now she’s not crying and apparently Natsu’s fuse is a hell of a lot shorter than hers.

Lucy sucks in a shaky breath, back straightening as she clutches his hand tighter. They need to leave, now. “Natsu, just leave it alone,” she says softly, so only he can hear, but he just shakes his head and gives her hip a gentle squeeze with his free hand. Clearly, he isn’t as ready to walk away from this as she is.

He continues yelling at her father, though much softer this time, all traces of steel leaving his words as he speaks. “You made your daughter cry herself to sleep,” he tells Jude quietly, voice accusing and utterly unfriendly, and Lucy glances up in time to watch her father flinch back as if he’s been slapped across the face. “What kind of parent does that?” Natsu asks, malice lacing his tone. The question is mocking bitter and harsh, but not asked angrily. Natsu manages to mask his rage with curiosity, as if truly wondering how Jude could do something like that.

He father swallows thickly, but his voice is shaky when he finally manages to say something. “You know nothing about me, Boy,” he retorts.

Natsu just laughs. “Yeah, well, neither did you,” he reminds her father, “but that didn’t stop you from taking one look at me and writing me off, did it?” Her father doesn’t answer, but Lucy doesn’t care at this point. “Frankly, I’m just calling it like I see it.” Natsu unwinds himself from her arms, taking her by the hand instead. “Stay the hell away from her unless you have something that’s not bigoted to say,” Natsu snaps, tone final. He gives Lucy’s hand a tug, and Lucy lets him lead her away from her father with a light touch, his free arm coming up to wrap around her shoulders.

Behind her, she can hear her father’s car door slam shut, the car pulling into reverse a moment later. She releases a shaky breath, shaking her head softly.

Natsu stops about halfway to her car, stepping in front of her and cupping her face with his warm hands. Lucy blinks up at him, meeting his eyes slowly. There’s still anger burning in his green eyes, but it dims when she looks at him, melting into something soft and sad. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs, gaze flickering across her face slowly, searching for something.

Lucy sends him the best smile she can manage, but it isn’t much. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he whispers back, hands fisting against his shirt. She sighs, eyes squeezing shut for the briefest moment. “Let’s just go home,” she tells him.

“Okay,” Natsu nods, but doesn’t move, instead, he steps forward and wraps his arms all the way around her, one hand moving to tangle in her hair as the other rubs soothing circles against her back over her jacket. Her own arms slip around him, drifting to his back under his leather jacked and tangling with his shirt. Natsu squeezes her against his chest, pressing his cheek against the top of her head gently.

She wets her lips, swallowing thickly as she presses the side of her face against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against her ear loudly, as if threatening to beat straight out of his chest. “Thank you,” she whispers, cuddling closer to him.

Natsu doesn’t respond for a long while.

“So about that date,” he says suddenly, changing the subject so easily that it causes a surprised giggle to bubble out of her throat. He smiles against her hair, shifting to place a gently kiss against her temple, lips lingering there as he continues to speak. “How do you feel about Mongolian takeout and watching movies on my couch?” he murmurs against her skin.

Lucy pulls back just enough to peek up at him, a soft smile spreading across her face. “I think that sounds great,” she tells him honestly, pressing up on her toes to place a soft kiss against his lips. When she pulls away he leans down to snag another quick kiss, making her giggle once more.

In hindsight, she’s glad that she wasn’t able to take shifts at the bar this week. If she had, she never would have meet the man standing in front of her, heartbreaking honesty shining in his eyes as he peers down at her, something soft and fond in his expression.

This may just be her favorite Christmas yet.

Natsu leans down to give her another soft kiss and she meets him halfway, arms raising to loop around his neck and pull him closer to her.

[firedragonironfist]

Today I'm going to announce my top 10 nalu fics!!! Yay!!! God there are so few good ones I'm dying. Please save me by giving me recs.

1. Ignite by Absent Angel (fanfiction.net) (18+)

Everyone knows this one lol. Canon compliant. 8/10.

2. Deck the Halls, Bitches by Revendell101 (fanfiction.net) (complete) (18+)

Au. It's not the best written, but also not the worst. Loads of fluff. Maybe a bit too much? If that's even possible. Loved it tho. 7/10.

3. The Keys of Fire by LoneStorm (fanfiction.net) (complete) (PG)

Au. It started out funny and cute and continued to be funny and cute but the fighting just got repetitive so I skipped most of it. It's a pretty long though, like over 100k. 7/10.

4. Of Myths And Monsters by storybooksandfairytails (fanfiction.net) (incomplete) (18+)

Au. Good!! So good. I'm so upset it's incomplete. 10/10.

5. Of Piercings And Dreams by notjustanyfangirl (tumblr) (complete) (18+)

Au. Yes!!! Best friends to lovers. Pierced and tatted up natsu?? Count me in!! 9/10.

6. Smoke and Peaches by Toxineena (fanfiction.net) (complete) (18+)

Canon compliant. This is literally just smut. But also with feelings? Possibly best nalu smut I've read. Characters are in character. Kind of. 10/10.

7. Sweet-rot by freyjabee (ao3) (complete) (18+)

Au. This... kind of traumatised me. Like there are a LOT of heavy topics. Please read the tags. But so, so good. There's PLOT TOO. 10/10.

8. Trial By Fire by eviltrinity (fanfiction.net) (complete) (18+)

Au. I like this a lot!! Detective lucy and arsonist natsu. Very cute and them working together?? Squeal!!! 9/10.

9. What Hides In Plain Sight by notjustanyfangirl (fanfiction.net) (incomplete) (18+)

Au. Very fun to read!! It's not complete bur they get together and everything. It's just the plot that needs concluding. 10/10.

10. Of Dust and Shadows by riverofmemo (fanfiction.net) (complete) (?)

Au. This is one FAT fic. It's more than 500k words, and it's very interesting. Plot heavy! PG. 10/10

[woos-lil-oreo]

Love Scene

Pairing: Song Min Gi x Female! Reader

Word Count: approximately 3.1k words

Warnings: Slight Voyeurism???, Mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing/swearing, biting, spitting, Reader is a slight pillow princess, UNPROTECTED SEX (plastic wrap your peenie weenies), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, slight use of pet names... I think that's it.

Author's Note: Most of this is a BIG self-indulgence XD and that Mingi gif always get me going... AnYwAyS, This fic is NSFW!!!! If you are uncomfy, do not read! If I miss anything, please tell me. If you wanna join the taglist, send me an ask and let me know. Don't steal... all that ✨ jazz ✨ music. Drink your water and enjoy my dirty lil harlots 😉

Taglist: @shusan @woowommy @ceopjy @joongsprincess @yunhofingers

Intro and Masterlist ✨

This is the happiest day of your life. You are dolled up in a beautiful snow-white dress decorated in speckled sequins and intricate rhinestone designs.

Your makeup is simple yet glamourous with a simple natural smoky eye with a shimmer in the inner corners. There is this aural glow of happiness around you, and you genuinely feel like a princess.

You are standing in front of your handsome fiancée with your hands holding each other, who is decked out in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt accented with a deep royal blue tie and shiny black Oxfords.

Hongjoong’s friend, Maddox, recites the point in the script where the vows would be repeated by you and your soon to be husband.

The vows. A spiritual binding of words that will connect the two of you until the end of eternity… or until you two get tired of each other, whichever comes first.

As you repeat after Maddox, Mingi’s eyes glisten with tears of joy. As much as he willed himself not to, one little miscreant of a tear dared to fall. You drop one of your hands to go wipe the tear stream off of his cheek.

The guests proceed to awe in adoration. Seonghwa fans his eyes to prevent his tears from falling, while Hongjoong is sporting a runny nose and a giant crocodile tear down his cheek, clinging to Seonghwa’s shoulder.

As you listen to Mingi recite his vows, tears start to well up in your eyes. You grip Mingi’s hand a little tighter to calm yourself because your makeup is beautifully done, and you’d be damned if you let a teardrop and a dried tear stain appear on your cheek. Jae-hee would have your ass. You got through the ceremony without tears!

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” Maddox proclaims. You turn to Mingi, who now has one of the brightest smiles ever on his face, and he leaves a nice, sweet, lingering peck on your lips, still holding your hands.

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that!” Wooyoung screams out, earning himself a nice smack to the forehead from Yeosang. Wooyoung winces and rubs the spot while the guests laugh at their interaction and turn back to you when Mingi lets go of your hand and smirks.

Mingi pulls you to his chest, grabs you by the waist – pulling you close to him – and kisses you. As the kiss gets deeper, he places his hand on your cheek – steadying your head, and your hands work their way to the back of his head.

The crowd begins to root the two of you on, and Jae-hee screams out, “You guys are literally about to get a room!” You both pull away from each other and look at your husband. Mingi has a very thin layer of shimmer lip gloss on his mouth, and his cheeks and the tips of his ears are red.

A now very flustered and blushy boi Maddox quickly recollects himself from what he just witnessed and mutters, “They don’t pay me enough,” with a chuckle before he announces, loud and proud, “I-I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Song Min Gi!”

Everyone stands up from their seats and creates a round of applause as the newlywed couple leads the processional to the area where the wedding party, which is beautifully attired in soft peach pink dresses and deep royal sapphire blue accented suits, is to take pictures of one of the most important days you will never forget.

~25 minutes later~

The host has completed the introductions for the most chaotic wedding party that has ever existed, and everyone is getting to their seats in the venue.

The reception hall is absolutely stunning! The same colors of the wedding party are accented with gold. Diamonds are loosely scattered across the table, tealight candles alit floating in water vases, giving the room a soft glow in addition to the dimmed lighting.

The caterers are dressed in a clean white shirt, a black vest, and slacks. The guys have a royal blue sleeve garter, and the girls a soft peach one.

Once everyone has settled at their tables, Jae-hee and Yunho approach the front of the makeshift stage to make their toasts as Maid of Honor and Best Man.

Jae-hee grabs the microphone first, and she is already tearing up, and she is usually not one for emotion often. “Y/N, we have been friends for so long… we are practically sisters. I’ve watched you grow into a beautiful and confident woman… and even though I put you through some shit….” All of ATEEZ shakes their head and groan in agreement, and the rest of the guests laugh in response.

Jae-hee rolls her eyes and continues. “I’m so happy that you have found the love of your life and that I wasn’t the first to get married.” You roll your eyes and get up to hug her, and she meets you halfway. While in her embrace, she whispers, “I love you, baby girl,” and you respond with the same hushed tone, “I love you, too,” letting one measly tear run.

You two kiss each other’s cheek, and you return to your seat, and Jae-hee returns to the stage. She grabs Yunho’s handkerchief to dab away her tears before they fall through mascara. “Mingi, I officially welcome you into the messy integration that is our family.” Mingi chuckles and nods in response.

The mic is passed to Yunho. “Mingi, you have grown into an immaculate young man who is decorated with accomplishments and people who love you. I’m really proud of you, and I wish you two the best of luck. Y/N, I have watched you become each other’s yin and yang. You may be a bit of a handful,” you roll your eyes and chuckle. “… But we love you so much, and we welcome you into our quote – end quote ‘messy integration that is our family.’” Yunho walks over to give you a kiss on the cheek, and bro hugs Mingi.

“Cheers!” After an emotional toast from Hongjoong and Seonghwa, it was time for the party to begin, and I mean both aspects of the term. Which explains why you are now seated in a chair in the middle of the dance floor. Mingi is standing across from you with a slightly evil glint in his eye.

Hope You Do by Chris Brown blares through the speakers in the venue. You immediately cover your warm cheeks with your hands to conceal the blush and warmth there, knowing what is to come. Mingi starts to remove his suit jacket… and Yeosang, Yunho, and surprisingly, Jongho remove their coats as well.

As the trio wines and grinds on the floor behind the Groom, Mingi moves closer towards you to go and remove your garter.

When he reaches you, he does not even take the time to bunch up your dress and goes straight into hunting for the garter. His big hands rub around the top of your knees to find it.

When he does, he drops his hands to the floor to give himself leverage. He proceeds to leave a speckled trail of kisses up your leg and bites right below the garter, causing you to yelp in surprise and the crowd to holler out.

Mingi drags the garter down your leg to your ankle and removes it from your foot. At this point, there is a tension between you two that begs and pleads to be relieved.

Mingi stands to his feet, grabbing your hands to guide you straight up off the chair. You two make eye contact, and you can see the tension. “Alright young bachelorettes, come out to the floor and catch you a bouquet!” The host says in the mic, and all the women move to the floor, ready to start drinking, the actual after-party, and the real fun.

When all participants are on the floor, you pretend to throw the bouquet to keep them on edge. After a few false turns, you finally throw, and Jae-hee sprints to the front to catch it effortlessly.

“Yeahhh bitches, I’m next to get married!!!” She jumps up and down as you laugh and the other ladies leave the floor.

The host announces that it is the fellas’ turn to come out on the floor. It was not as many males as females, but there was a good amount present. Mingi played the same card as you: pretending to throw the garter until he did.

In an ironic twist of events, Jongho caught it on the top of his head like a flower crown. When he patted his head to confirm he sort of caught it, he made eye contact with Jae-hee.

They both quickly look away with a bright pink flush on their cheeks, which causes you and Mingi to laugh together. He wraps his arms across your shoulder blades and squeezes your shoulder. You look at him questioningly, and he nods to the door. You nod and grab his hand, running to the back door with your husband.

Seonghwa will have your ass for running out and leaving him and Hongjoong to clean up your mess, but that is a tomorrow problem, and you have more… pressing matters to deal with.

Mingi is flying down the street with you in the back seat to compensate room for your dress. As he tries to get to your home without getting a ticket, you untie his tie and proceed to rub down his chest, slow and meticulously popping one button after another.

Before you could decorate his neck in pretty little hickeys and love bites, the car jerks to a stop, and he power strides to your door and opens it. He grabs you in his arms bridal style out of the vehicle.

You were surprised at how easy he made that look, especially with all of the extra fluff on your dress. He carries you into the threshold with ease, kissing you as if his life depends on it.

When Mingi blindly finds your room, he puts you down on your feet, spins you around, and begins to unzip your dress. He kisses under your ear and down your neck as your dress pools around your feet. He breaks away to rest his forehead on yours.

“As much I would love to pound you into the mattress right now, I would like for our first time as a married couple to be gentle,” he breathes out. You nod your head, and he slowly turns you around to unclip the black strapless bra, allowing your breasts to drop.

He returns his mouth back to your neck and softly twists your nipple between his fingers, eliciting tingles to run all over your body. As good as the feeling was, you remove Mingi’s hand and spin around to face your husband. You walk backward until the back of your legs hit the mattress and lean back.

MIngi crawls on top of you and slowly kisses you. You can feel the passion and love through it, causing you to shiver. Mingi, once again, pulls away from you to drag your black lace panties down your legs. He throws them across the room and stands from the bed, peeling away the dress shirt you opened in the car.

The shirt drops to the floor, and he begins to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor. The pants come next, along with the boxer briefs, and they pooled around his ankles. You bite your finger and lick your lips with lust-darkened eyes as you are being blessed with this private show.

Mingi returns to your V of your legs and brings your ankle to his mouth, leaving delicate kisses down the inner side of your leg until he reaches the inner thigh, where he leaves a bite – causing you to giggle and squirm a bit.

He lifts himself to where his penis grazes your labia. He rubs the tip along your slit and teases the tip inside of your core. “You ready, baby?” He sticks the reddened tip inside, just to pull it back out, and repeats this a couple times until you are a whining and moaning little mess. He finally pushes his dick past the tip and slowly moves into you, allowing you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock.

You moan in relief and very, very, VERY slight pain due to his girth, and Mingi doesn’t stop until he is at the hilt, meeting you pelvis to pelvis. He doesn’t move for a second, trying to collect himself before he busts in you from the tightness of your honey pot. You shiver as he pants in your neck, leaving goosebumps wherever his warm minty breath hits.

You grind your hips around, signaling that you have adjusted to his size, and he moans out at the action. He begins to pump inside very slowly in and out of you, with his brows scrunched and his bottom lip being bitten.

You hear the squelching noises from his slow pace. When you started getting louder, Mingi moves a bit faster, seeing that you are slowly reaching your orgasm, and frankly, so is he. “Baby, I love you so much,” he mutters like a mantra as he helps you both reach new heights.

You two have made love before, but never to this extent. After every mutter, your heart from knowing that this is the man you will spend the rest of your life with. You place your hand on the back of Mingi’s neck to kiss him, but before your lips could make contact, Mingi stops.

He licks the base of his thumb and places a firm pressure on your clitoris, and then kisses you, his tongue swirling around your own. You two are seeing specks of light under your eyelids from cumming so hard. It may not have been anything degrading, rough or intense in that sense. Still, it was absolutely beautiful joining souls with your lover.

~The Next Morning~

You wake up feeling floaty, like you are lying on a cloud. Your husband is asleep with his arm draped around your waist. As you face Mingi, his features are soft, and it looks like he is in bliss. You place your hand on his cheek and caress the apple.

When you are done admiring your husband, you carefully move his arm to his side to make breakfast. You are successful in not waking Mingi and hop out of bed, still naked from last night’s escapades. “Wow, it feels nice to say that,” you think as you grab your husband’s dress shirt and run to the bathroom to clean Mingi’s cum that has dripped down your leg.

~A few minutes later~

You are now in the kitchen, whipping up some waffle batter. The table is decorated with a nicely plated array of bacon and a bowl of freshly washed and cut fruit. You finish plugging in the waffle iron when your husband wraps his arms around your shoulders and spins you around.

He quickly lifts you on the counter. “Good morning, Mrs. Song.” He says huskily from his morning voice. You try to reply with a greeting, but Mingi catches the words in your mouth. Your lips are smashed together from Mingi’s fervency, and his long and slender fingers start to move down to your hole.

“Oh my goodness, babe. You’re so wet for me.” He teased. You moan out while he rubs your entrance, spreading your slick up and down. “You like this, don’t you?” He asks when he pushes a finger in, causing you to scream in response. “Those weren’t proper words, but I’ll take it.” He responds while adding another finger in and drastically changing his pace. You cry out due to the incredible speed. Mingi looks up at you.

Your head is tilted back, tiny pants coming from your mouth, and hands grabbing the counter as if to ground yourself. Mingi lets a drop of spit fall from his mouth and adds another finger to add more lubrication and bring you closer to climax.

You start to squirm on the counter, which is now soaked in your fluids, and whimper softly. A telltale sign that you are almost there; you just need that one little push. Mingi kneels down to be face to face with your cunt, and he stares at your dripping core as if he was hypnotized by how well you are taking his digits.

A loud moan from you knocks him out of his trance, and he adds one more finger and starts to apply suction on your button. A blinding white light flashes behind your eyelids, and a fuzzy warmth roams all over your body.

You breathe heavily from your high, and Mingi slows his speed, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. He slowly removes his fingers, causing you to whimper from overstimulation, and brings them to your mouth.

You immediately open your mouth to welcome in the appendages and begin to suck them as if your life depends on it. The spit dribbles from your mouth down your chin and along Mingi’s forearm. He gently pulls at your jaw to open your mouth and spits in your mouth.

“Swallow.” He growls, and you do not think twice about disobeying him. He returns to kiss you, mixing your natural taste with your juices and his tongue.

He pulls away, and your fucked out state is adorable: your eyes are dilated from here to Hell, saliva glistening your chin, your cheeks are heavily flushed, and your ass is drenched with your cum.

“If this is what I wake to every morning, I’m not complaining.” Mingi chuckles. “You didn’t even get to have breakfast yet.” You laughed. He looks with an eyebrow raised… “Oh, you meant actual food?” You nod your head.

“As long as I have you, I don’t think I’ll need anything else.” He cheesily says. “Yeah, sure, that’s not what your body will be saying.” You retaliate as you jump off the counter, cringing when you hear your butt peel off the corner from your juices.

Mingi laughs, grabs some paper towels to clean that. When he’s done, he washes his hands and proceeds to help you cook so you two can build the stamina to christen the rest of your home together. Well, christen is not the right word… more like fuck like rabbits until the morning light returns.

~~~~~

And there's the fic ✨ hope you enjoyed the read ✨ leave an ask and say hi or even follow me or reblog if you did

[acapelladitty]

Heisenberg/Reader fic (nsfw)

Summary: After a short meeting with Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters barely escapes ending in bloodshed, Heisenberg is keen to show you just how much he appreciates your loyalty towards him. (Warnings includes rough sex, mild knifeplay, vandalism and restraints).

Karl Heisenberg was a selfish man.

He was selfish in almost every aspect of his life, and that selfishness also extended to you and your company. It was uncommon for him to allow you to join him when meeting others on his business outside the factory, with the only exception being your regular meetings with the Duke to acquire much needed parts for his equipment and experimentations.

However, a meeting with the Duke was necessary and the only available slot he had happened to directly follow a meeting Heisenberg had already planned with fellow Lord, Lady Dimitrescu. Due to this, options were limited, and the most sensible course of action was for you to accompany him for the meeting and then for you both to attend business discussions with the Duke within his room in the castle.

Which is how you ended up seated within the grand hall of Castle Dimitrescu with Heisenberg glued by your side as you both faced down the Lady of the castle and her three adopted daughters.

“And why should I listen to you?” Dimitrescu asks, her tone haughty as she ran a hand along the hem of her closest daughters’ dress in a loving manner. Cassandra, if the hair colour was anything to go by. Her lack of attention towards yourself and Heisenberg was intentional, a mark of disrespect, and a flare of irritation ignited within your gut at the pettiness.

“Miranda’s rules, not mine.” Heisenberg shrugged, delivering the message he had been requested to, “If you’ve got a problem then take it up with her. I don’t give a shit.”

Enjoying her mothers’ attentions, Cassandra tilted her head at her sisters as she shared a contemptuous look with them at Heisenberg’s words. Their attitude was just as rotten as their creators and it did nothing to dissuade your anger as Dimitrescu responded.

“Mother Miranda should have known better than to send a child to deliver a message to me. A true Lady should not have to deal with a foolish infant who can barely lay claim to the title of Lord.”

Against your better judgement, you can’t hold back a slight snort as Dimitrescu referred to herself as a true lady. Her hate for Heisenberg was without question and that hatred had long since leaked over to yourself and while Heisenberg was somewhat protected by his status as one of Miranda’s children, you were considered lower than dirt and she had made that opinion quite clear across your shared interactions.

She didn’t like you as you didn’t like her, and that was fine.

“Keep your filthy pet under control,” Dimitrescu snarled fixing you with a pointed glare, her hand flexing almost subconsciously against her white dress, “or I will personally put it down.”

“Is she talking to me?” You ask, glancing sideways at Heisenberg and ignoring Dimitrescu as you cut off her insult, “I’m your pet? While she’s sitting there with three bags of flies she dares to call her daughters?”

A loud chuckle escaped Heisenberg’s chest as low growls from the women ricocheted throughout the room at the brazen derision.

“You DARE insult House Dimitrescu?” Dimitrescu bellowed as she stood to her full height, the looming form admittedly very intimidating, “You dare open your common mouth against us while you sit by the side of scum like him?”

“At least he has a sense of humour,” you hold her furious gaze with a steeled spine, confident that you would be protected from harm, “and isn’t a frigid bitch living in a gifted castle.”

A lot of things happened at once as the daughter closest to your position, Bela, seemingly unable to restrain her anger any longer as her mother was insulted, leapt to her feet and withdrew her scythe from within her robes.

“I’ll bleed you dry!” The rage in her eyes was clear and her sharp blood-stained teeth were on full display as she darted quickly towards the couch you occupied, swerving across a small side-table as she advanced.

She had barely crossed the empty space between you when a pained cry escaped her throat as the scythe in her hand was wrenched free of her grip, finding a new home against her throat as the sharp tip of the blade dipped into the flesh there in warning as it froze her in place. The same went for the scythes which were hidden within the robes of Cassandra and Daniela, the weapons no longer beholden to their mistresses wishes as they bowed to Heisenberg’s influence and power and assumed a betraying position against their necks.

Along the edges of the grand hall, the armoured knights rattled as the very air in the room seemed to expand and contract in anticipation. High above, the metal grating which held the windows in place flexed and shook; a clear warning which dared any of them to move.

“Back the fuck off.” Heisenberg snarled into the room, his voice easily carrying above the feral hissing of the three daughters. Having only moved his head forward slightly, his expression was mostly hidden by his positioning and wide-brimmed hat but from your place at his side you can see the rage that is simmering behind his glasses, “Get control of your bitches before I carve them into a million pieces and leave you to clean up the mess.”

The rage that radiated from Dimitrescu’s form seemed to pulse for a moment as she flexed her long claws before a hint of uncertainty crossed her expression as her eyes darted between her three daughters. Unlike herself, they were more vulnerable to attack and it was no secret that Heisenberg’s life was worth more to Mother Miranda then their own.

There was no doubt within the room that Heisenberg would kill them, consequences be damned, and Dimitrescu could not take the risk, no matter how satisfying the reward.

Sheathing her claws, Dimitrescu straightened her back and faced Heisenberg directly.

“You come into my house, brother, and threaten my daughters with violence.” Her tone was measured, the anger buried beneath cold accusation, “Bela!” She indicated to her still body with a loose hand, “Come sit by my side, daughter. This fool and his plaything are beneath us and not worth the effort it would take to drain them.”

“Yes, mother.” Bela bit out, having no interest in peace but submissive to her mothers’ wishes as always.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief as the rattling of the metal within the room subsided and the tension eased off slightly. The three scythes clatter to the ground with dramatic flair as they are released and Heisenberg rises to stand at your side, indicating you to do the same.

“You have your message,” facing Dimitrescu, he inclined the rim of his hat at her with a twisted smirk, “now do as your mother asks and make sure that it’s done in time. This meeting is over.”

Calling his hammer from the floor, it flies into his hand with ease as his free hand comes to rest on your elbow, guiding you towards the stairs in a firm grip.

“See you next week, sister.”

He calls the words over his shoulder, not bothering to spare the lady of the house a glance.

One final insult.

Passing down the stairs of the great hall, a subdued cry of rage followed by hurried footsteps and hushed voices can be heard from the space you recently vacated, and the direction of the disappearing noise suggests that Dimitrescu was retiring to her quarters.

No doubt to complain of the day’s events to her disgusting spawn.

To your side, you can sense a restless energy radiating off Heisenberg as he marches you down the stairs but before you can question him, you find your arm seized in a vice-like grasp as he pulls you into a nearby room which lies opposite the room in which you are due to attend your meeting with the Duke.

Glancing around the room, you take in the space.

It is a small bedroom, mostly consisting of one large four-poster bed which was decked out in the same extravagant nature as the rest of the castle. Overhead, a large skylight made up the centre of the ceiling with its domed shape letting in a vast amount of light while also keeping out the cold. Two sets of drawers and a vanity table make up the rest of the furniture and you turn back to Heisenberg once more to question his actions.

You open your mouth to speak but are immediately cut off by his lips on yours as his hands move to his head to pull free his hat and drop it to the floor atop his freshly discarded hammer. Pulling away for a moment, he does the same with the glasses, dropping them into the same pile before returning to your lips; his mouth insistent against yours as he bites as your lower lip demanding entrance.

“What’s this about?” You ask and a grunt escapes you as he backs you up against the wall, your shoulders connecting with the hard surface roughly as he presses a leg between your thighs.

“It makes me so fucking hard to see you stand up to that bitch,” he grunts, nuzzling his head against your neck as he inhales your smell, “a little warrior, ready to go to war with nothing but your wits.”

“I have you.” You whine back as he bites into the skin of your neck, the force enough to guarantee a mark but not enough to break skin, “I don’t need anything else. You could tear that bitch and her infested little spawn to shreds without breaking a sweat.”

At the praise he presses his body against you and you can feel the hardness against your hip.

Ah.

“So loyal,” he purrs against you, rubbing himself on your hip, “and it doesn’t go unrewarded.”

“We can’t here,” you mutter with great regret even as arousal curls low in your belly, “my biggest fan or her daughters could appear at any time and I’d rather not deal with them while you’re inside me.”

His smirk is almost feral as he pulls free his blade from the inner pocket of his coat; the same blade which never left his person as a final line of defence against possible attack. Running the blade along the hem of your shirt, you suck in a soft breath and meet his eyes, seeing your arousal reflected in his own. He had tried to get you to learn to use one for your own defence but any attempts at training barely got underway before they were lost to more carnal pursuits.

Extending his hand with a flourish, the blade sliced through the air with great force, arcing upwards as it reached its target and smashed through the skylight. The shattering of the glass was loud and you instinctively duck to avoid any of the shards as they litter the canopy of the bed and fall to the floor.

“The fly-bitches can’t stand the cold.” He explains away the act of petty vandalism, shielding your body from the glass with his own as his hand summons his knife back within his grasp, “Now, where were we…”

His hands grip at your wrists, pinning them above your head as his knife works independently at his will; the sharp blade running along the buttons of your shirt with surgical precision as it slices them off, the small buttons bouncing along the floor as they fall free to expose more of your body.

A shiver rattles through your body, a result of both the low temperature of the room as the winter winds enter through the fresh hole in the ceiling and the anticipation of events as you watch his knife slowly remove your barriers. A soft creaking from a nearby lamp holder catches your attention and you jump in surprise as the metal features flies free of the wall, coming to imbed itself around your wrists as he releases them, pinning you into place against the wall.

His knife drops to the ground as his free hands come to rest on your shirt, spreading the fabric open to fully expose your chest and his mouth is immediately drawn to your nipple as he worries the sensitive nub there between his teeth gently. It ignites a warmth in your chest that draws a low moan from your throat as you push out to meet him, encouraging him as your other nipple is rolled between his fingers to the same effect.

“Just one quick fuck,” he grunts against your chest, his hands fumbling at his slacks as he frees himself, his cock twitching in the chilled air of the room, “and then we’ll continue with our business.”

You pant as his hands grip at your slacks, carelessly thrown on before you left, and he pulls them free of you, slipping them down past your knees and allowing them to fall to the floor carelessly as he exposes your clear arousal to his sight.

Lining himself up against your entrance, he pushes in with one swift thrust and the torrid mixture of pain and pleasure rips the breath from you as you clench around him, unable to do much else. The friction is almost too much as he sets a quick pace within you, the burn spurring you on to snap your hips back to meet him as he supports your weight, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist as he sheathes himself within you.

Wriggling against him as he pins you to the wall, you almost feel as though he is trying to fuck you through the stone and the rough growling of his throat as he does so is almost hypnotic as you whine and moan around him. Your fingers grip at their restraints as they are held in place by his power and your heels dig in to the soft of his back as you encourage him on.

As you cry out your pleasure, a rough hand comes to sit over your mouth as it muffles the cries. His fingers taste of oil and metal as your tongue meets them and the familiarity of it is pleasant as you moan around his hand. His cock stretches you as always and the brutal pace seems to be hitting every nerve inside of you as arousal curls your toes and tightens within your gut.

A grunt of surprise escapes you as he lifts you free of the wall, hurling you around with ease and dropping you on the bed as he continues to rut within you. It’s almost animalistic and you can do little but wrap your legs around his hips and meet every punishing thrust as your fingers dig into the flesh of his back.

Even as you whine below him, your orgasm still manages to catch you off guard as the tight band of tension within your gut snaps as your thighs tighten around him and your feet press against his spine, sheathing him within you as you clench around him and milk him for everything he’s worth. You can feel your mess but you ignore it as you focus on finishing him but he’s not far behind and, with a savage growl, you feel his cock jerk and the warmth of his release as it burns through you.

“So fucking loyal,” he snarls against your neck while his cock continues to twitch within you, each word punctuated by a lazy thrust as his pace slows, “so willing and warm and for nothing. Just for me and no one else. Mine.”

The final word is little more than a growl and, sensing that the words didn’t require an answer, you give a low grunt of acknowledgement as you release your grip of his back and allow yourself to relax into the sheets.

The bed is soft against your back as you continue to writhe against him, ignoring the mess that you’ve just made as you both enjoy the other. The chill of the room is offset by the heat of his body as he remains atop you and you focus on the strange duality as you try to steady your heaving chest.

Finally slipping free of you, Heisenberg pauses before pulling his slacks back up to wipe the mess from his cock off on to the soft bedding; leaving a noticeable stain against the expensive fabric with a satisfied smirk as he tucked himself back in.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the immature display, you focus on righting yourself even as your knees lock into place to keep you steady. Your hand dips to the floor to grasp at your underwear and slacks and you pull them on quickly, ignoring the mess which you both made as you cover it with fabric.

Your eyes settle on your poor discarded shirt.

“And what the fuck am I supposed to wear?” You ask, indicating the slashed-up fabric with an open palm. In the cold air, your nipples were peaked and walking about shirtless in the middle of winter was not an appealing thought.

His laughter is open and genuine as he considers his actions, “Oops, maybe should have thought about that. If you weren’t such a fucking tease then this wouldn’t have happened.”

Remaining silent, you stare him down.

“Fine,” he grunts as he shuffles his shoulders out of his coat, “wear this.” He tosses the coat in your direction and you grasp it between your fingers, the fabric still warm as it clung on to his body heat.

Slipping your arms within the coat, the first thought to grab you is that it smells like him; that is, it smells like copper and oil with a hint of spice that you are never quite able to place. The second thought is that it is very heavy against your shoulders and you straighten up fully to balance it correctly as you easily close it over your exposed chest.

As you go to leave the room, his presence fills the space behind you and you can feel him pressed against your back.

“I think I like you in my clothes.” You can feel his grin against your neck, “It makes it clear who you belong to and it makes me want to fuck you again right here and now.”

“Business before pleasure.” You purr, tightening the coat around you as you move through the doorway as you guide him to your meeting, “We can negotiate terms later.”

As fun as it would be, you had both kept the Duke waiting too long and you would rather not be around when Lady Dimitrescu discovered her vandalised ceiling and come-stained bedding.

Fic also available on AO3 @ DittyWrites

[luna-writes-stuff]

CHAPTER II

A Kili X OC fic

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Tw: Use of daggers (not against a person), Thorin being a bitch, none other?

——————————————————————————

Where two people meet, who hate each other more than Anakin hates sand.

"Those are my... Excuse me, not my wine!" Bilbo spoke, trying to stop the dwarves from plundering his pantry. Raewyn had resided in the corner of the room, just in front of the hall, where the dwarves had settled Bilbo's dining table. She gave the hobbit a questioning glance, but he just shook his head at her and resumed talking - nay - yelling at the dwarves.

"Put that back. Put that back! Not the jam, please. Excuse me!" He grabbed multiple condiments, and he stuffed them back in the pantry. Just then, the biggest dwarf walked out, carrying various blocks of cheese.

"Ex-Excuse me..." Bilbo began, not even knowing how to correctly speak to him. "A tad excessive, isn't it? Have you got a cheese knife?"

A second dwarf walked up and smiled at the hobbit. "A cheese knife? He eats it by the block."

"You are not a dwarf." Someone spoke to Raewyn, causing her attention to divert from the still struggling hobbit. In front of her stood a dwarf with white hair, holding a plate of, what appeared to be, tea. She raised her eyebrows and nodded at him.

"Keen observation." She spoke sarcastically, forcing kindness out of her throat.

"What are you then?" The dwarf did not sound rude, even though Raewyn had expected him to. He sounded genuinely interested and confused about her build. As a joke, the woman looked down, as if inspecting her own body, before looking back up and shrugging. "A woman."

"From the race of men?" The dwarf questioned, not catching her joke. Raewyn's lips formed in a thin line as she shook her head. "Sure."

"So, I should just call you lady, then?" The dwarf resumed, making the young woman to widen her eyes and lightly shake her head. "No. Not a lady."

"How do I refer to you then?" He continued, trying to address Raewyn. "Preferably not," she muttered under her breath, but when she noticed Gandalf's glance, she picked up her speech, "but if you must, you can call me Tolmiró."

The dwarf smiled at her and nodded. "Well, my name is Dori."

The woman smiled back at him and gave a nod of her head in recognition to him. "Would you like a nice cup of chamomile tea, Tolmiró?" Dori asked, offering her a cup.

"I just had my fill." She answered, rejecting his offer. When she saw his face fall, she looked back at Gandalf, who was now smiling at the other dwarves who were decking the table.

"Gandalf might want one, though." She spoke, causing Dori's face to light up and walk towards the tall wizard. Raewyn watched as the dwarf walked away, still surprised by his kindness.

"You are not from the race of men." The tall dwarf that arrived earliest noticed. "But you are not dwarven either."

"That is correct." She assured, giving him a questioning glance.

"Your feet tell me you are no hobbit and you are too short to be an elf....what are you?" He now asked, almost suspiciously. She hesitated over what to say, but she shot him a small smile, not trying to draw too much attention.

"I'm just a simple ranger trying to make my way in the wild. Like my father before me." She clarified, not revealing more and not revealing less. The dwarf, Dwalin, was about to ask more of her when Gandalf interrupted. Raewyn let out a quiet sigh, which went unnoticed by both of them.

"There you are. I was beginning to wonder on whether you had left or not." The wizard spoke. The woman send a nod in his direction.

"I didn't. This kind sir," she began, nudging her head towards Dwalin, "has eaten my meal for this evening, so I'm afraid I am still counting on our host's offer for some nice food."

The grey wizard chuckled at her reply, but got halted halfway. A dwarf with an axe in his head signed to Gandalf, mumbling Khuzdul words in between that even Raewyn couldn't hear. She didn't have to wonder for long, because Gandalf quickly answered his apparent question.

"Yes, you are quite correct, Bifur." The wizard spoke, looking around at the swarming creatures. "We appear to be one dwarf short."

"He is late, is all." Dwalin said, causing all three heads to turn to him. "He travelled north to a meeting of our kin. He will come." Raewyn rolled her eyes at his statement. Without any form of comment, she walked into the hall, trying to make her way through the chairs.

"I'll bring a chair up for you, lass." One dwarf spoke. He had a full red beard with many beads. The woman looked at him, before declining his offer.

"I got feet. I can stand."

The dwarf chuckled at her speech, but shook his head. "Nonsense. A lady shouldn't stand at dinner."

"Oh no, I'm not a-" but the dwarf had already disappeared. She sighed and looked at the table. Many condiments had decorated the furniture now. A large plate of ham was placed right in the middle with multiple small dishes surrounding it. The utensils were arranged neatly in front of the chairs, each one of them having their indicidual place.

More dwarves started entering the hall, talking merrily while finding their seats. One of them started walking on the table, carrying multiple cups filled with beer. She recognised him as Fili, who had introduced himself to her earlier at the door.

"Who wants an ale?" He asked, reaching them out to his kin.

"Over here, brother." Raewyn heard, looking at the dwarf who called him. Kili, evidently- his brother.

Dwalin, who had now been seated across from the woman, dumped his drink in a trumpet, causing him to laugh out loud. "Here you go, lass." The dwarf from earlier spoke, shoving a chair her way. She silently thanked him and sat down, shoving her seat towards the table.

"Ale on the count of three." A voice announced, silencing all dwarves. "One, two, up!" And then they all began to chuck, spilling beer all over their beards. Raewyn winced uncomfortably and grabbed a generous slice of ham. When she returned to her plate, one of the dwarves began burping loudly, making her stop in her tracks. When a second one was followed, she closed her eyes for a few seconds before walking back to her seat.

It was going to be a rough dinner.

——

"There are times I wish I was you." Raewyn began, now seated outside of the hobbit hole. The dwarves were talking and laughing, but only small echoes ran across the gardens. Farris, her owl, was seated on her arm, enjoying the attention it was getting from her owner.

"These dwarves are so rude, yet respectful. It's unbelievable." She spoke, softly petting the owl's feathers. The creature let out a small noice and nudged into Raewyn's palm. The woman chuckled at this action and leaned back again the fence.

Her head shot up when she suddenly heard stomping from the hobbit hole. She furrowed her eyebrows and stood up. Farris remained seated on her owner's arm, but her head was now turned towards the green door.

Carefully walking up to the house, Raewyn opened the round door, entering the hall again. She was quick to notice Bilbo's frustrated look as plates were thrown around. A beat of sympathy ran through her.

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks." Kili suddenly sang. Offering the hobbit a comforting look, the Asha wandered further in the hall.

"Smash the bottles and burn the corks." Fili resumed, throwing plates at his brother.

"Chip the glasses and crack the plates. That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" All dwarves joined in, smiling together, as one of them picked up his flute.

"Cut the cloth and tread on the fat. Leave the bones on the bedroom-mat, pour the milk on the pantry-floor, splash the wine on every door." Now cutlery has joined the flying, which made Raewyn decide to drag Bilbo back a few steps - just for his safety. She knew interrupting now would be folly.

"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole. When you've finished, if any are whole, send them down the hall to roll!" The young woman could see Gandalf laughing at the dwarves, making Raewyn frown at him, even though he couldn't see. Bilbo now noticed the owl on the woman's arm and was about to question it when he noticed more plates flying towards his kitchen. Grunting in anger, he left the ranger's side, following the flying cutlery.

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" The dwarves finished, laughing at Bilbo's surprised face when he noticed everything cleaned and neatly stocked up. Many dwarves were still drinking their ale, but Raewyn ignored them, joining Bilbo's side. As she was about to speak, there were knocks heard throughout the house, silencing everyone.

"He is here."

Gandalf walked towards the door, ignoring the hobbit's protests, and seemingly avoiding Raewyn's gaze. When he reached the door, the wizard seemed to halt, but opened it after a short second's thought.

"Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice." A deep voice was heard, causing a sudden angry feeling to rush through the woman. A figure walked into the hall. All at once, it took everything in the her will to not run at him and attack him right where he stood.

"I would have not found it all, had it not been for that mark at the door." The dwarf spoke, shedding his cloak and handing it to Kili.

"Mark? There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!" Bilbo protested, walking up to the dwarf. Gandalf closed the door behind them and objected. "There is a mark, I've put it there myself."

As Gandalf was shortly distracted, the new dwarf's eyes found Raewyn's. His attitude immediately turned, causing the woman to let Farris rest on a wooden structure before subtly reaching for her dagger.

"Asha." He spoke darkly, acknowledging her presence, though not quite merrily. Many dwarves now gasped quietly, some in realisation, others in recognition.

"Oakenshield." The woman responded in the same tone. The tension in the air had become almost insufferable and every dwarf could feel it. The only one who didn't notice it was Bilbo. And how could he? He had never heard stories beyond the Shire that weren't fairy tales.

Raewyn's hand rested on the holster of one of her daggers, but she did not intent to draw it. Not yet, at least.

"You're still standing." She quietly spoke, harsh and venomously. It took Gandalf by surprise to hear her speak this way.

"I regret nothing." The dark haired dwarf returned, making a pang of pain and hurt flush through Raewyn's chest, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

Gandalf coughed awkwardly, before addressing the hobbit. "Bilbo Baggins," he began, causing Thorin's attention to shift to Gandalf, but the woman's eyes never left the dwarves body. Her hand was still beside her dagger and she intended on keeping it their for as long as he was around. Perhaps it was out of protection, perhaps it was out of revenge - she hadn't decided yet. All that she knew, was that she could not be safe around him. Not now, while the dwarves knew about her identity. She knew they would die for their king in a heartbeat, but they would not attack her lest they had good reason to. As long as she remained calm and made no rash decisions, she would be safe for as long as the night should last.

"Allow me to introduce the leader of our company; Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf finished.

"So," Thorin spoke, now much less hostile, but not yet kind, "this is the hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?" The dwarf questioned, confusing Bilbo.

"Pardon me?" The hobbit asked, turning as Thorin circled around him.

"Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?" The dwarf clarified, now offering the small creature a choice.

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know. But I fail to see why that's relevant...." Bilbo spoke hesitantly. Thorin smiled sarcastically at the hobbit, looking at Gandalf.

"I thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." As the dwarf spoke this, the others started laughing.

Dwalin lead Thorin towards the hall they previously vacated for dinner. While the others followed him, Gandalf looked at the young woman disapprovingly.

"What did you do, Raewyn?" He asked, not really expecting an answer. She knew he did not ask why she behaved this way, but rather about her earlier statement.

You're still standing.

The wizard did not know what it meant, but he was aware of the impulsive actions Raewyn could make. When the woman did not answer, he frowned at her and followed the dwarves, signaling for Bilbo to follow him.

When she was sure everyone had left, Raewyn let out a frustrated sigh and threw her dagger into the door, startling Farris. Instead of walking towards it and peeling it off, she threw her second, followed by a third. A frustrated cry almost left her throat, but she knew how to contain it.

I regret nothing.

He said it so cold. So emotionless. It should not have bothered her, but it did. And she hated that it did. There were moments she had dreamt of the day where he would come to her in need of aid so she could refuse, but now the time has come, she was incapable of rejecting. She would not be joining for him, yet she would be helping him. And he did not feel remorse one bit. Not for what he did and not for what he said. The times she had thought about forgiving him had all disappeared in just a few seconds.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she looked up and forced them back, already yanking a fourth dagger out. With more anger than before, she launched it at the door, wedging it right in the middle of it, buried more deeply than the other three. She inhaled sharply and wiped her eyes. Even though no tears had fallen, she did not want her watery eyes to be shown to the rest of the company.

"Come on, Farris." She spoke, her voice now smaller. The owl looked up as if understanding her owner.

"Time to have some discussion about this quest of ours."

——

Taglist: @m-sterboggins @errruvande

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k 

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm. 

Notes: Multipart fic, slow burn. Updates to come soon (and dw, fic’s completed, so you won’t be left hanging ^^)

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

‘You sure you want the job?’ Miya Osamu asks her when she turns up at his shop, application in hand, responding to the advertisement in Onigiri Miya’s window for part time staff -  general help needed, ability to ride a scooter a plus point - it had read. 

There are only fifteen seats in Onigiri Miya, and hardly any space for her to fit her backpack between her knees, but sunlight streams in invitingly from the glass shop front and there is a faint smell of grilled rice and fried fish that reminds her of weekly lunches at her grandparents’ home.  

‘Yes’, she answers, gesturing with her thumb at her scooter parked outside the shop. ‘I think I’m a good fit for this job’. The corner of Miya Osamu’s mouth lifts ever so slightly, and he leans forward in his seat, hand extended to her.  

‘Welcome to Onigiri Miya then’, he says before proceeding to brisk walk her through the ins and outs of the shop, the scope of her responsibilities, work schedule and (most importantly) her wage, leaving her head spinning at the end of the impromptu briefing. Miya Osamu seems passionate about his craft, his face brightening up with enthusiasm when he talks her through the various onigiris he sells, the type of rice he buys (from a boutique rice farmer in Hyogo, apparently), and he’s generous enough to offer her a decent wage, more than what she could be making working in a combini. 

She stands by her bike on the roadside, tilting her face to the setting sun. There is the faintest smell of rain in the air. 

She soon falls into the rhythm of Onigiri Miya. 

Osamu is strangely territorial over food preparation, so her tasks in the kitchen are mainly limited to washing rice (thrice in clean water, drained thoroughly) and doling out cups of tea and bowls of soup. When he finds out that she’s studying accountancy at Osaka University, he immediately places her in charge of the cash register (and later, in charge of their books). Her scooter comes in handy when he needs her to do urgent stock runs or deliveries to customers. 

She learns the name of their regular customers - Abe-san, who only ever orders salmon onigiris with a side of pork bone soup. Kawasaki-san, who spends half her meal complaining about her aches and pains to a sympathetic Osamu. Mina-san, who turns up every day for breakfast after Osamu includes spam onigiri on his menu after he overhears that she misses her hometown of Okinawa.  

Osamu calls her over at the end of her shift on a busy Saturday night. ‘I’ve a large order for an old customer of mine. D’you think you could help deliver it?’ 

There is a gleam in his eye that she does not quite like.  

‘You sound like you’re sending me out to slaughter’ she comments half-jokingly, to which he responds with an amused shrug of his shoulder. She considers whether it’s bad form to throw her shoe at her boss’s head, but decides not to waste her time. So she shoulders the large sack of food, heading off on her scooter to a neat apartment building in a quiet neighbourhood.

Well – it would have been a quiet neighbourhood but for the music blasted from the top floor of her destination. She has to cover her ears the minute the elevator opens and wonders if their neighbours are deaf or dead because there is no way otherwise the apartment wouldn’t have copped a noise complaint. Grimacing at the tape over the doorbell, she knocks politely on the door. 

There is no response. 

She knocks once more, less politely this time, but still the door does not open. ‘Hello, your delivery is here!’ she calls firmly, slamming her fist down on the sturdy wooden door. 

There is still no response.  

She’s about to turn around when the door crashes open and a blonde head pops out. Her jaw falls open because standing before her is the spitting image of her boss that just sent her out with this order, albeit blonde and ever so slightly broader.  

‘You’re not ‘Samu, but you’re pretty’, he leers, leaning against the doorway. 

She’s tempted to deck him but she’s pretty sure that would mean losing her job. So reminding herself that all that’s standing between her and her bed is this delivery, she bites her tongue and extends the bag of food to him. ‘Your order, sir. Payment please.’ 

‘Didn’t ‘Samu mention that I don’t need to pay?’ The blonde Osamu replica tugs the bag of food towards him, frowning when she refuses to let go. 

‘Not that I know of - and I can’t let you have your order unless you pay for it’, she answers firmly, foot against the door. 

He straightens into his height in a thinly veiled attempt to intimidate her - and while he’s at least six foot of solid muscle from what she can see, it’s thanks to years of working in her father’s shop with men at least a full head taller and broader than her that she’s not afraid to tip her chin up at him with her widest, sharpest grin until he looks away to draw out a couple of thousand yen bills from his pocket, enough to cover the bill. 

‘Fine, fine - tell ‘Samu he wins’, he grumbles, slamming the door in her face. 

She waits until she’s back at her scooter and a good distance away from the apartment before she dials Osamu’s number. 

‘What was that?’ she asks without preamble when he picks up.  

‘What was what?’ Osamu answers, sounding uncharacteristically amused. 

‘Don’t play cute with me! Did you just make me deliver food to your brother?’ 

‘My twin actually’, and he ignores her squawk of indignation. ’Did he pay up?’

‘What do you take me for - of course! I didn’t let go of the food until he did.’

‘Huh’, Osamu responds, sounding surprised. ‘That’s the first time he actually gave in’. And with that, he laughs merrily and hangs up on her. 

She shrugs it off as one of her boss’s weird quirks. 

Except it doesn’t stop as being a weird quirk but turns into an annoying habit. 

Atsumu quickly becomes a regular customer (she learns during one of the twins’ many bickering sessions that he’s back in Osaka after several competitions), and Osamu latches on pretty fast that she’s far better than he is at forcing Atsumu to pay for the food he eats, so he sics her on Atsumu every time the blonde setter shows up at the shop for a meal. 

‘Pay up’ she orders Atsumu for the fourth time this week. Her tone gives no berth for refusal so Atsumu reaches for his pockets even as he grumbles his complaints about ‘cowardly scrubs’ and ‘ crazy bitches’ at a grinning Osamu. 

‘You should give me a raise for managing your brother’, she complains to Osamu later, and though he raises an eyebrow at her, to her surprise, he does exactly that. 

Osamu proceeds to take advantage of said raise to send her to man their stand at MSBY’s first match of the season, armed with a few hundred onigiris. Business is brisk, but she finds her attention diverted by the sheer speed of the plays and the way the players all seem to have wings in their feet. 

Atsumu in particular catches her eye. Osamu explained to her over a slow day at work about volleyball positions and basic plays, and he boasted about Atsumu’s talent as a setter, how ‘he always takes the best care of his spikers’. Watching him now, even to her untrained eye, she can see how much thought he puts into each of his plays - the way he tricks the blockers to let his spikers fly high above them, the quick side stepping of increasingly frustrated attackers, the dump shots at the most unexpected of times. 

She’s impressed, though she doesn’t want to admit it - because Atsumu has the personality of a puddle of muddy rainwater, and she's fairly sure he'd never let her hear the end of it if he ever finds out. 

So it isn’t surprising when she spots him being hassled by a large gaggle of his fan girls outside the sports hall. They’re hanging off his arms begging him for autographs - and probably something much less innocent from the way his eyes are bugging out of his head. It’s tempting to walk away from him – it’s not as if he’s been particularly nice to her after all, but a few of the more rabid fan girls seem to get a little  too  close for comfort and she figures even he doesn’t deserve that . Plus he probably can’t just shove them off because that might cause yet another PR debacle that she and Osamu have become accustomed seeing in the news, so she breathes a sigh through her nose, cursing her conscience.   

‘Oi asshat, your ride’s here’, she shouts as loudly as she can, shouldering her way to the center of the crowd. His fan girls stare in stunned silence, but Atsumu catches on after she shoves her spare helmet into his chest, and grabbing her wrist for dear life, they sprint all the way to her scooter.  

‘Don’t tell me you’ve never ridden before’, she snaps as he fiddles helplessly at his helmet. 

‘Of course, I have, what d’you take me for, some scrub?’ he retorts when he manages to strap his it on to his head. Her scooter groans under his weight. 

Yes - she itches to retort, because he’s clearly lying. He fights to keep upright as she loops her way through bends on the road and maintains a white knuckled grip on the back of his seat until she comes to a stop two streets away where his fan girls are unlikely to see him. 

‘So, where to?’ she asks him as he wheezes, trying to catch his breath. ‘I could let you off here, or we could grab some food - your choice.’ 

‘Eh… Could we drop by 7-11?’ he chuckles sheepishly. 

‘Really? You want me to take you to a  combini  when your brother literally owns a restaurant?’ 

‘I’m cravin’ an egg mayo sandwich, what’s wrong with that?!’ he yells as she revs off, and she laughs when he squeaks and clings on to her waist. 

They end up at a combini anyway. Atsumu buys his egg mayo sandwich. And a bucket load of oden. And a bagful of karaage. And two pudding cups (singly packed, none of the triple cup kind for him  thank you very much). At least he steers clear of the onigiri section, because Osamu might explode otherwise if he ever finds out. 

‘You’re paying the fine if my bike gets impounded’ she tells him sourly.

‘Relax - it’ll be fine’, he waves his hand airily at her. ‘’Sides, what’s a girl like you doing with a bike?’

‘A girl like me?’ she echoes, tilting her head in confusion. 

‘Y’know - kinda square and all? I assumed so, since ‘Samu mentioned you’re studying to be an accountant’, he clarifies through a mouthful of food. 

‘Square?! ’ she mouths at him, outraged, and he grins unrepentantly back at her, crunching on karaage. She abandons her annoyance to scoot back to avoid the ensuing spray of crumbs. 

‘Do you want me to answer seriously, or was that a rhetorical question, gross pig?’ 

 ‘Please, I’m always serious, darlin’, he drawls. 

She steals a fishcake from him in retaliation and he tries to rap her knuckles with his sandwich. They only settle down when the combini staff glare at them mildly in reproof. 

‘I’ve always wanted to ride a bike ‘cos it seemed like it allowed its rider to be free’, she says, shooting a fond look through the window at her own scooter, rusty and old it may be. 

‘I mean it allows you to get from one place to another, what’s so special about that?’ he asks, cocking his head in confusion.  

‘Mm…well, not just that. You see, when I was younger, I used to be so jealous of my older brothers getting to ride their motorbikes. They refused to let me borrow it, so I stole it one day when they weren’t looking and took off - but because I was so excited, I hit the thrusters so hard on the way up a hill that I ended up crashing on the way down. But right before I crashed, there was a moment when I was on the top of the world with the wind in my face - it was the first time I truly felt  alive .’ 

 She closes her eyes at the memory, her mouth lifting into a smile. ‘And that’s what I become addicted to - chasing that feeling of being completely unfettered from the world, like a bird in the sky. 

He stares at her meditatively, as though she’s a puzzle he can’t quite solve.

‘What!’ she exclaims, the tips of her ears flushing pink, suddenly self-conscious. 

‘Nothin’, darlin’. Just thought that you’re more interesting than I thought’. Ignoring her indignant ‘ what?!’ , he stands up, brushing the crumbs off his lap. ‘Shall we get goin’? It’s about to rain.’ 

 The ride back to his apartment passes in a blur of streetlights and gathering rain clouds, but thankfully it’s not as unpleasant as it was before as Atsumu eases into his seat, moving with her when she drops into a bend, loosening his hands on her waist. Still, she suspects it’s all bravado, as he stumbles stiff legged off the bike when they reach his apartment. 

But as to be expected from a seasoned athlete used to the spotlight, he manages to plaster on a grin, cocky and charming enough to make her blush. 

‘Thanks for the ride’, he says. ‘I wouldn’t mind coming out again with you for a ride sometime’. 

Then he smiles at her, and it’s soft, shorn of the sharp edges she’s used to seeing. It plants an unfamiliar seed of warmth in her core that survives her race home against the storm.

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - December 2020. We made it! It is the final month of this uber crazy year. And what better way to end the year except with....Sterek! Some are Christmas themed, some are not (since I know not everyone celebrates Christmas). I’m really excited to see all the new fics going through for Christmas this year that haven’t been posted yet so I’ll try to reblog as many as I can. Hope whatever you are doing to celebrate (or not) this December is perfect). Onto the list!

You put a Hallmark on my Heart by giantteenwolforgy (1/1 | 3,325 | Teen)

Stiles is funny and smart and kind and is also his daughter's teacher and his boss's son. On the list of people who are off-limits, Stiles has held the top spot for as long as Derek has known him.

Since Derek is Derek, Stiles also happens to rank number one on the list of people Derek is in love with. Seriously. His life is like a bad Hallmark movie.

What They Don't Have by Little_red_2000 (1/1 | 1,340 | General)

Stiles has to find a gift for Derek for Christmas. He chooses himself.

Hallmark Cliché by rieraclaelin (1/1 | 969 | General)

“Daddy, it’s snowing,” Lila said.

“Baby, it doesn’t snow here. You know that,” Stiles said as he looked back over to Lila.

“But it is, it really is! I asked Santa for snow yesterday, and look!” She pulled the curtains away from the window so Stiles could see outside, and what the hell? Those were definitely snow flurries.

Between Dogs and Wolves by artemis69 (1/1 | 25,934 | Teen)

"This is…not four million in cash,” remarks Stilinski.

“Isaac. Did you fail to get my money back and decided to pick up a stripper on the road to bribe me? Because let me make this perfectly clear: this would totally work. Well done.”

Or

The mafia!AU where the Hales owe four million to the Stilinskis, Laura rents Derek (but not as a stripper), Stiles gets a new favorite, Derek gets a new boss, a new puppy and a new family.

Sometimes they break people, but mainly, they just snark at each other.

Ships in the Night by whenshewrites (4/4 | 12,677 | Mature)

Stiles was pretty sure he had a message on his forehead that read “Kidnap Me’ because shit like this kept happening. He was fully prepared to be thrown in cell, hitting the cement floor with a curse and a grunt. But he wasn’t prepared to hear a growl when the door slammed closed. Or feel calloused fingers tug at the blindfold around his eyes.

“Derek?”

People Are Dying, Derek! by nana_banana (1/1 | 1,762 | Teen)

Shit is going down in Beacon Hills, as usual. Our favorite dynamic duo is on the job, but Stiles thinks Derek should be more focused.

Take Another Little Pizza My Heart by distortedreality (1/1 | 3,224 | Teen)

Stiles decides the best way to woo his Dream Guy, aka Manager ‘resting bitch face’ Derek, is through insubordination and food puns. It goes as well as could be expected.

Alpha Mate by TheRealDanniX (1/1 | 8,224 | Mature)

Five times someone notices Stiles being Alpha Mate & Denmaker and one time Stiles notices it.

All I want for Christmas is to Bake Cookies with You by TuppingLiberty (2/2 | 4,830 | Explicit)

Stiles is upset when Scott can't uphold their Christmas tradition of baking cookies. Good thing Derek's to the rescue! Christmas fluff.

The Christmas Cabin by halcyon1993 (1/1 | 6,181 | Explicit)

For Christmas, Derek whisks his mate away to a remote cabin in the mountains. He has it all planned out: snow, hot chocolate, lovemaking in front of a roaring fire…but most importantly, he has a life-changing question to ask.

princecharmingwinks special mentions (I have waited forever to rec this! It is just a glorious piece of work <3 )

A Christmas Surprise by KatieComma (2/2 | 17,563 | Explicit)

Stiles comes home from Stanford for the holidays and shows up on the front step of the newly rebuilt Hale house.

Derek was not expecting him.

Stiles barges in and plans to deck Derek's halls because he's a grinch who doesn't plan to decorate.

Merry Christmas one and all ! Hope your final days of 2020 are filled with many loving memories. Please remember to leave kudos and comments for our fabulous writers. Happy reading!

[themonotonysyndrome]

Chaos Horizon

Part 6 of the ‘Successors of the Future’ is out! Man, next week is already the new year... what a year this has been! Anyway, I don’t have a lot of things to say today so let’s get right to it! Oh, and have a happy holiday everyone!! 

Let us never forget that this whole series begin because of the amazing @tri3tri and her equally amazing fics and galaxy brain. If you haven’t check out her blog yet, then please do! I’m such a sucker for family drama and yandere characters and her blog continues to feed me whenever work stresses me out. 

-

A year has passed in Twisted Wonderland. More importantly, for the students in Night Raven College. 

Renata has learned quite a few important things just this one, short year. Yes, she needed allies for the time when her father finally discover her presence here in Night Raven College, but she never expected to honestly care and dare she admits it, love Hoyle and Rex. 

They were nothing like the friends she made in her old school back at the other world. She noticed their true personalities underneath the surface with each passing days. Underneath his sarcasm, gung-ho attitude and sly tongue, Hoyle Trappola is someone who cares deeply for those who managed to see through him; see past his defences. Renata felt blessed to be his close friend after a night the three of them shared in her bedroom, just playing games and watching movies on his laptop. In a rare window of honestly after Renata explains about her family life and circumstances, Hoyle repaid her honesty by admitting that he wish that he could be a better son to his Dad. Being a single father is tough and despite doing his best to shield him from the hardships and struggles, Hoyle overheard one night when his Dad is talking to his grandparents on the phone. How they urged him to consider marrying a woman so he could have someone to support him and Hoyle in the house. 

This was when he was still a child.

Renata didn’t offer sweet, comforting words. She knows that all Hoyle wanted was to vent, so he let him talk while tucking her head on his shoulder and pressed close to his side. She listens because that was Hoyle needed. 

Rex is the total opposite of Hoyle, yet just as bright and amazing in his own way. Underneath his serious demeanours, resting bitch face and volatile impulses, Rex Spade is actually an insightful and gentle-hearted boy who looks out for Renata and Hoyle even when it’s unwarranted. Though it’s quite easy for them to persuade him to join in their shenanigans with a few teasing words and in Hoyle’s case, a challenge. 

Never had Renata enjoyed her school life with friends like these! 

The other important thing - or realisation - that Renata discovered is that her Mama’s friends always kept her in their thoughts. 

Though Hoyle’s Dad gobsmacked expression when he brought her to his home for Winter’s Break was, uh, an experience. To put it very mildly. 

Renata originally planned to return home via the same spell that Headmaster Crowley used all those years ago to send Mama and her siblings back to her world during Winter’s Break. But while Hoyle, Rex and her were hanging out and playing cards in Heartslabyul’s main lounge, Hoyle brought up in mid conversation that his Dad offered their home to stay if she had no way to go during the holiday. 

“You’ve been talking about me to your Dad?” Renata had asked, folding her cards on the table. It sucks to learned that she’s terrible at poker and she pouts whenever Hoyle snickered at another bad hand on her. “Or have you been complaining about me?” 

Beside him, Rex stares down at the cards in his hands, hard. As if they hold the answers to the universe. Around them, the other Heartslabyul students gave their table a wide berth, though there were a few brave souls that greeted Renata when they came over to tease Hoyle. 

Renata happily introduces herself to them as a show of appreciation. 

“A bit of both. Mostly complaining when we had to clean the Hall of Mirrors.” Hoyle easily admits without a shame. He gathered all their cards into a deck and shuffled them. “Anyway, you down? My Dad seems to know your Mum so he offered our place to stay if you don’t have any plans.” 

Ace trappola, one of Mama’s best friend that she mentioned before. Renata would like to see just what kind of man he is. 

With a nod, Renata reply, “If it’s no trouble then, yeah. I’d like to hang out at your place for Winter’s Break. I’ve never been to the Rose Kingdom before.” 

And we’re now back to the present - where Renata and Ace are hanging out at his home; both waiting for Rex to show up with his Dad. 

It’s the last day before they had to returned to Night Raven College. 

“Have you met Rex’s Dad before, Hoyle?.” Renata asked, her eyes glued to the TV as she munches her bowl of cereals. They could hear his Dad walking about upstairs. 

“Have I met him before? Dude, he’s my godfather.” Hoyle scoffed, scarfing down the last bits of his own cereal before placing the empty bowl on the coffee table in front of them. A simple breakfast while watching the morning cartoons are the best. “Rex got his stick-up-the-ass attitude from his Dad.” 

“Ah. So he’s super strict?” Renata guessed. 

“More like serious, but he’s actually silly.” Hoyle amended. “He and my old man love to argue literally about anything and everything. They’re weird like that.” 

Renata just hums. She’ll get to meet him soon enough. Upstairs, his dad hollered at him to clean up so they could go out as soon as the Spade arrives. While the Trappola are getting ready, Renata gathered the dirty dishes from their breakfast and went to the kitchen to wash them. 

Mama always told her to be on her best behaviour if she’s under someone else’s house. 

Just as she puts the last bowl away, she heard heavy footsteps - heavier than Hoyle’s - coming from behind. 

“You really didn’t have to clean the dishes, you know. Usually Hoyle does it before we go out every Sunday.” Said Ace, leaning against the wall. 

“It’s not trouble at all, Mr. Trappola.” Renata assured him. She dry her arms by blowing hot air onto them before turning around to face her Mama’s best friend. “It’s nice that you finally look at me, instead of my horns.” 

“A-Ah, you noticed that?” Ace stammers, abashed that he wasn’t as subtle as he thought. 

“It’s cool, Mr. Trappola. I get that a lot at school too.” Renata admits easily. She’s gotten annoyed at him tip-toeing around ever since Hoyle introduces her. It was obvious that he has questions; it just that he doesn’t know how to ask them. 

Scrambling to salvage the situations, Ace took a moment to exhale harshly before he decides to be his honest self. “It was rude of me, yeah? We all didn’t know what to think when your mother just... disappeared one day and then suddenly, my kid brought back her own kid who just so happen to look like the King of the Valley of Thorns...” He trailed off and then he regards Renata with a severe expression. “What happened your mother, Renata-chan?” 

“It’s a long story, Mr. Trappola.” Renata said instead, smiling ruefully. “And I don’t want to ruin our day. Can I tell you and everyone what happened to Mama and us later tonight?” 

“Sure, kiddo... Is it alright for me to called you that?” 

“Mm-hmm! So what are we doing today, Me. Trappola?” 

It was nice to see the ice chip away from Ace little by little, now that the man sees past her appearance. While waiting for the Spade to arrive, Renata had a lot of fun chatting and laughing with Hoyle and his Dad, now that there’s no awkwardness lingering between them. Ace didn’t waste any time telling the teenagers all the trouble her Mama and him got into at Night Raven College and hearing the life that Mama had before Father kidnapped her was a blessing to hear. 

Judging from Ace’s story, it sounded like her Mama had a lot of people who truly loves her. It’s good to hear it. 

The buzzing of the doorbell interrupted Ace mid ranting how it was Deuce who often got them all in trouble - not him! - and MC never seem to realised that and no one back him up. His reminiscent were put on hold when Hoyle went up to usher the Spades in. 

Deuce Spade immediately blanked out, mouth slack-jawed the moment Renata waves hello to him. He looks as if he just saw a ghost. 

“Yeah, I know how it looks like.” Ace interjects when Deuce couldn’t stop spluttering and stammering, his eyes kept switching to Ace and then at Renata...and then back to his best friend. Ace just clap his shoulders in a comforting manner. Meanwhile, Rex ducked underneath the two men to scurried over where Hoyle and Ace are seated. He squeezes himself in between them to show them the new café that just open up in the Rose Kingdom through his phone. 

Once Ace managed to stressed out to Deuce that Renata will explain hers and MC’s story later in the evening, they all head out to town. 

“You said that you’ve never been to the Rose Kingdom before, Renata?” Rex asked out loud for the others’ benefit. The town nearby to the Trappola house is bustling with life today. “Then there’s so many things you gotta check out! Do you like desserts? What kind of desserts do you like? Have you ever tried ice-cream cake before?” 

“Easy there, Rex. You’re going to overwhelm the poor girl.” Deuce lightly scolded his son. His eyes linger a little too long at Renata before he caught himself and jerk away. “A-Anyway, how about we all walk around first and see what catches Renata-chan’s attention.” 

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Spade!” Renata internally wondered if all of Mama’s friends would react this way when she introduces herself to them. 

That entire day, the Spade and Trappola played the perfect hosts to her. As they brought her to one shops after the other, chill out at the park after lunch and regale how the Queen of Hearts used to govern her kingdom, Renata found herself comparing the Country of Thorns to the Rose Kingdoms with every little things that she saw. Everything is so bright and... open here. The sun is shining down on them and everywhere they go, humans occupied the land but Renata did notice a few beastmen going about with their lives. It was nice to truly witness the world outside of Night Raven College and the Valley of Thorns. 

Hoyle and Rex made sure they kept close to Renata, shielding her with their bodies when strangers stare at her a little too long for their liking and would usher her into a shop or café to distract her from their curious stares. They weren’t subtle about it, but she is touched that they care about her that much. 

Renata is beginning to understand why Mama always talk so fondly about their Dads. 

After dinner, everyone returned to the Trappola’s house so Renata could finally explain herself. The living room is packed full and it reminded Renata of her siblings and Mama crowding in front of the TV to watch a movie. 

“Did Mama ever told you guys that while she was at Night Raven College, she met Father at night?” 

“Father... so your... Dad... really is...” Ace began, but unsure how to even continue but Renata save him the trouble with a nod. 

“Malleus Draconia. Mama said he’s a pretty big deal during his time at the school, being one of the top 5 strongest Magician in this world and all...” 

Hoyle scoffed. “Understatement, Renata. He’s the strongest Magician in all of Twisted Wonderland now. The number 1.” He explains. 

Well. Renata wonders how her little sister would react to this when she tells her later. 

Renata then continue on with the story. “Mama explained that they were friends and that in the beginning, everything was fine. But in the end, their story completely went off the train tracks.” 

And so, for the rest of the evening, Renata did her best to explain what had happened to Mama as honest as possible. They love Mama and so they deserve the truth. 

She told them everything that Mama had told her and her siblings. Of Mama’s friendship with Malleus Draconia and how what looked like a happy ending turned horribly wrong when her Father was consumed with the horror that one day he would outlive his wife and one and only dear friend. His intense love, possessiveness and obsession with her and their children blinded him to everything else - to the point that he kept their Mama and them in a gilded cage. 

Renata kept her dislike over Bellatrix to herself when she explains how they managed to escape from the castle on the eve of her Father’s second wedding. In the end, it was thanks to Headmaster Crowley that they could live freely in the other world. 

Until the Ebony Carriage came to pick her up and now, here they are.

Renata watches her audience did their best absorb the information overload.

“I never thought...” Ace muttered, distressed. His bit his lower lip, thinking hard. “I never thought that Malleus Draconia had MC all along... what a fucked up situation!” 

Deuce is troubled as well. “Poor Prefect... to think the Malleus Draconia fell in love with her... No wonder we couldn’t find her!” 

Beside him, Rex nods furiously while Hoyle is already growing bored of this conversation. “It sucks, but it sounds like your Mum is pretty badass for a magicless human. I mean, being able to escape from the most powerful Magician ever in Twisted Wonderland? The King of all dark Fae? Kudos to her.” Hoyle interjects. “So, what’s gonna happen now? You said that your Dad is crazy possessive over you guys, so I very much doubt it if he’s not looking for you guys. Even until now.” 

Finally! They’re getting to the good parts. 

And so with a curious smile, Renata asks, “Funny that you mentioned that. Do you guy know what Sebek Zigvolt is up to these days?” 

-

Night Raven College’s Entrance Ceremony is always a big event on this island every year. 

He was one of the main characters last year - of the many that was addressed by the Mirror of Darkness - but as a Second Year student, he’s standing among the rest of the older Savanaclaw students now. Scenting the newly sorted First Year cubs and waiting for the whole thing to wrap up already. 

At the centre of the chamber, the headmaster continues to called out names to step forward and face the Mirror of Darkness. 

Amber Leech, Aeacus Shroud, Felix Felmier... the ceremony goes on. 

“Psst! Bakari!” A voice suddenly whisper. 

Bakari turn his head to the side and there’s Renata with her ceremony robes’ hood up, beaming at him. She’s standing away from her Diasomnia mates, a good space between her and the crowd at the back that no one seems to pay her any attention. 

Bakari slips away from the rest of the Savanaclaw students in favour of walking towards her. 

“How’s the fresh meats?” Was the first thing that Renata asked him.

“Some of them look promising.” Bakari admits. “More predators than preys so far.” 

“Oooh, Savanaclaw’s hierarchy is so harsh.” Renata reply a bit absentmindedly. Bakari notices that her green eyes are scanning the room and the crowds around them. Looking for someone. Something unpleasant churns in his stomach but he resolutely ignores it. “Are you gunning for the Dorm Leader’s position?” She wondered.  

Bakari scoffed, his tail flicking irritably just at the mere thought. Unlike his Dad, he has no lofty ambitions to secure a powerful position for himself. “Savanaclaw is governed by the laws of the strong eating the weak. You have to be the strongest in order to be the Dorm Leader and I have better things to do than watching over my dorm members.” 

Like figuring out how to appease his Dad after he told him to stay away from the lizard bastard’s whelp during Winter’s Break. Regardless of her surname. 

As if he’s going to do that though. He wants to fully unravel the mysteries of Renata MC/S. For the time being, she’s the most interesting creature in Night Raven College. 

“Sounds tough.” Renata murmurs. “Well, it’s a good thing that you don’t want to be a Dorm Leader! Otherwise your workload would take you away from me.” 

Bakari just hums. Already gotten used to her offhanded flirting. 

The two of them watch in the background as the group of First Year students gradually thinned out. The headmaster’s loud voice carried to the back of the chamber. 

“... Sherrie MC/S, please step forward!” 

Murmurs erupted when said student pulled down her hood, a pair of black horns is clear for all to see. 

Bakari glance to his side to see Renata beaming. “You were looking for your sister?” 

“Something like that! It’s so nice when everything is coming together, don’t you think?” Renata chuckles, pleased with herself for some odd reason. It just made Bakari more and more intrigue. 

And the uncomfortable feeling within him vanish just like that. 

“...Octavinelle!” 

The murmurs now turn into confused whispers and fingers are pointing as they all watch Renata’s little sister melded into the crowd of new Octavinelle students. Some of the students nearby even glance behind to stare at Renata and when she cocked an eyebrow at them, they quickly turn away. 

“Octavinelle? Did the Mirror made a mistake?”

“I thought only merfolks are sorted into Octavinelle.” 

“Those horns looks just like her’s. There’s no way she’s a merfolk!”

“Maybe her magic is not as strong to be sorted to Diasomnia?”

The students of Night Raven College sure love to gossip, Renata couldn’t help but internally mused. Even worse than those back in her old school. 

“Guess you’re planning to catch up with her after the ceremony?” Bakari assumed, casting a sideway glance to gauge her expressions. 

“I’ll meet up with her tomorrow, after she settles in for the night.” Renata answered. “There’s no need to rush. We have lots of time to prepare for the future.” 

-

Ok! I think I did ok with this oneshot. Editing, was as usual, a bit tedious but the power of Miku’s songs prevail and I manage to push this through! Hope you guys have a wonderful holiday. 

[nalufiction]

Christmas Themed Nalu Fanfictions:

Christmas Wish by Layna Panda

T, Romance & Humor, chapters: 1 (complete)

Summary: "You know what I want for Christmas? I want a—uh—a boyfriend! A boyfriend with... err, pink hair! Yeah, cause, you know, pink hair is the bomb. And a cute grin and an awesome personality! I want him to be obsessed dragons and fighting and eating! He'll be almost six foot and he'll be built and tan and he'll be the best out there. Yeah, that's what I want for Christmas." —Natsu&Lucy

Big Tree Dreams by LoneStorm

T, Humor & Romance, chapters: 1 (complete)

Summary: In which little and ridiculously ginormous Christmas dreams come true. Nalu Christmas tree farm AU. For joannya in the Secret Santa Fairy Tail fic exchange.

One Night by HawkofNavarre

T, Romance & Friendship, chapters: 1 (complete)

Summary: If you fail to catch that train on Christmas Eve, it was probably the dragon slayer's fault. Natsu x Lucy (Dedicated to all my readers.)

Miss Santa by Layna Panda

M, Romance & Humor, chapters: 1 (complete)

Summary: On Christmas, Natsu writes to Santa as a joke that he wants Miss Santa to take his virginity away but, when Christmas night comes and somebody claiming to be Miss Santa comes visit him to fulfill his wish, he knew he was going to be writing to Santa every year. —Natsu&Lucy

Strangers before Christmas by Aky-san

K, Romance & Hurt/Comfort, chapters: 1 (complete)

Summary: Two strangers go out shopping for presents, unaware that their lives are about to merge. Follow along a story about two different people trying to find their own gifts, but finding something else instead. Two people, two lives, two stories, and one look in the eyes that forever changes strangers to lovers. A story about a very special Christmas - NaLu Christmas Story Oneshot

Deck the Halls, Bitches by Rivendell101

M, Romance & Humor, chapters: 8 (complete)

Summary: One week before Christmas Lucy realizes she has a problem. In her frustration, she may or may not have told her entire extended family she was bringing a date to Christmas. She lied. Cana's solution? A Craigslist Ad posted by one Natsu Dragneel. Too much whiskey, crazy family members, and a multitude of awkward situations only serve as obstacles. There will be casualties.

The Twelve Days of Fairy Tail by riverofmemories

T, chapters: 1 (complete)

Summary: "Every year, we do a little Christmas tradition that we call the Twelve Days of Fairy Tail. From the fourteenth of December until the twenty-fifth, one person will get on the nearest table at around ten in the morning and blurt out the song lyrics they've made for the song as well as the last set." In which Lucy experiences her first real Christmas in years and a guild tradition.

A Very Fairy Christmas by CalaveraCandiedSkull

T, Humor & Romance, chapters: 2 (complete)

Summary: AU. In which the high school secretary, Mirajane Strauss, decides that the only way to see her co-workers together in time for Christmas is the employment of dirty tricks. Or in this case, Secret Santa. /Christmas fic! Lots of pairings! No, really. NaLu, GaLe, Gruvia, Jerza, MiFri, ElfEver, Bixanna, Baccana, RoWen, AlBi.

A Lucy Doll For Christmas by HoneyFlower15

K+, Romance & Humor, chapters: 1 (complete)

Summary: It's Christmas time at Fairy Tail and while everyone is enjoying the holiday Lucy is stuck inside a doll. The girls try to help her but Happy steals the doll and gives it to Natsu. Lucy soon learns a few interest things about Natsu on this Christmas. Nalu

The Twelve Days of Christmas by Grizzly98

T, Romance & Humor, chapters: 12 (complete)

Summary: It's twelve days until Christmas eve and Lucy finds a package. In the package is a bracelet and a note signed by a Secret Santa. Lucy must take the twelve days, notes, and gifts and find out who it is. Will she figure it out or will she lose the one person who loves her more than all the stars in the sky? Co-op with XSteleAliniax. Loosely based on the movie.

[chaneajoyyy]

Do you know any images that has plus size characters and Erik in them that I can read? I’m kind of new to the whole fan fics!

I sure do! 

PLUS SIZE CHARACTERS WITH ERIK FICS (UPDATED)

- how i feel, right now, animal, chains series, purple herbs & gardens, risks & new beginnings series, better with time, let’s play, without a doubt, sizzling pans & slow jams, misinterpretations, visions of gold, out business, come through and chill series, nights, slow burn, a siren’s allure, venom, the one, maybe they’re right, sore loser series, i’ll be alright, spooky cookies & vampire fangs, screams in the night series; knock, knock series; imagination, the cure series, poptart man series, this must be our song, conversation starter, heaven is a place on earth, twins?, say it, i’m there, his princess, his for the night, sugar baby series, authority series, baby shark, lemme try, take our time, say the word, sudden reunions series, memories of you, more ways than one, lemme try it again (that’s my face), not in budget, i would like to see it, pease mama bear, she likes me, guess what, times like these, tell me your secret series, he gets it from me, baby see baby do, see what had happened was, who me?, so relax, three kings of dreams, deck the b-…halls?, do it again, be quiet, you so crazy, how that sound?, you’re so handsome, sit still, leave me aloneee, don’t hide, or maybe, send it to mommy, but i’m sick.., you thought i wouldn’t find out, he’d make you his, ballet baba, ain’t that right?, he wasn’t having that, being honest, that’s all it took?, then stop ignoring me, since you can, but i thougth…, jealous, i won’t tell you again series, hit me, no reply, i’ve alway been, you sure?, no more tummy time, toss ‘em, you done now?, sing it baby, doped up, battle it out, for however long, bath time, bedtime stories, i’m sorry, was that so hard?, i owe you that, whatchu say?, hard headed, it should’ve been you, take our time series, baba’s day, whatever she wants, nope, can’t even look at you, not again, nose wide oen, just a bit longer, come on over to my place, fences & bullriders, right now, designated command strips,mr. telephone man series, autumn leaves & cookie thieves, one way or another, you ain’t hear that?, open up, better?, huh? nuh uh, cute enough to eat, she likes me- @supersizemeplz

- all erik fics and headcanons- @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

- all erik fics and headcanons- @eye-raq

- teach me series, when you’re mad series, waffles series, slow ride series, movie night series, let’s talk about sex series, mines, thunderstorm, girl fuck you, eat your breakfast seres (with eat your dinner), secret admirer, amusement park fun, displays of affection, night at the movie theaters, silent hearbeats series, kissing strangers series, worship, loving the way you love it, day drunk, smile for me daddy series, just like you, we goin to hell, breeding time- @thehomierobbstark

- late again, halloween party, imprint, a man in love, v.i.p (includes m/baku), daddy’s home, y’all again?, okay? okay, prisoner of love, family cookout, kiss, what’s cooking good looking, expecting headcanons, food headcanons, crying headcanons, nsfw headcanons, foot fetish series, halloween headcanons, lingerie headcanons, jealous headcanons, kevin’s  heart series, untitled series- @madamslayyy

-carnal stimulation series, next lifetime series, hoe ass erik series, dirty little secrets series, hennything is possible, sunday dinner series (with payback), a.d.i.d.a.s., green goddess, suddenly stevens, beauty is her name, it’s complicated. i’m sorry, the great reveal, neighbors know my name series (part 2 to @hearteyes-for-killmonger‘s story of the same name), the devil speaks xosha, mile high, trap card, act up, let me smell it, up late, i’ll take your man, carry on, dreams & nightmares- @goddessofthundathighs

- headass youtube couple series, fix my crown series (with ‘the puppy’), all skate, cutting ties series, #tsrbaewatch- @apantherinmypastlife

- all erik fics-  @wawakanda-btch

- all fics- @hearteyes-for-killmonger

- say my name series, beg for it, the coat room, charley horse, full court press, house party, boyfriend makeup challenge, gumby, the let out series, disorderly, token, all i wanted for christmas is you, hit the showers, neo, erica; veni, vidi, vici, i will be here, trick or treat, the wakandan boys when they’re sick (includes t’challa and m’baku- @sonofnjobu

- mine, unravel me series (includes belong to you), i missed you series (inlcudes you a’ight and if they ain’t looking), rated e, on braodway, no average bitch,  @brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers (scroll for erik killmonger x reader and erik killmonger imagine)

- all tasting mellow fics- @tastingmellow

- laid up series- @pastelastronomy24

- come lay with me, house hunting series, stretch marks, the footbal jerseyy, you sure?- @marvelmaree

- the deal series, nuggest of truth, girlfriend, all i want is you, care for you- @wakandamama

- rated e for extra petty, elbow deep series- @puffmamaa

- she got game, where’s the smoke, s.d.m., from paris with love, where the hoes at? (with t’challa and m’baku), written all over your face, baby bump series (wit cuddle buddy,, and hc: chubby!erik trying old clothes), not in that way, here kitty kitty, computer blue series, chunk series- @ghostfacekill-monger

- all erik fics- @stripper-patrick

- he spills series (with t’chala and m’baku)- @captainsaveasmut

- i’m cleva series, do me baby (part 2 of @killmongersgurl‘s serieserik’s created a monste)-, @killmongerdispussy

- sorry he’s gone, mad issues series, curiosity happy weight- @curls-and-crosses

- nah baby i got you- @inxan-ity (scroll for erik killmonger)

- all fics- @writerbee-ffs

- paragone series- @dynastynoire

- all fics- @eriksjournal

- the sweetest taste series, late night drive- two of a kind series (includes ‘03 bonnie and clyde prequel), beyond the lights series, mad love series- @wakandaforeverwrites

- all erik fics and headcanons- @plussizeappreciationfics

-thanksgiving w/ mr. stevens and the udakus series (with valentine’s gumbo),  @mermaidchansons

- all erik fics- @muse-of-mbaku

- all fics- @eerythingisshaka

- all fics- @artisticestheticreads

- return the favor series,”you wake up to find your bed void of your sick boyfriend erik killmonger and you’re not very pleased- @taint3dvirgin

- a day at the beach with erik, prompt 19 “what’s cooking, good looking”, stay here tonight, greater purpose of chaos, sharing disney movies with erik, 90s disney movies with erik-  @hidden-treasures21

- new year’s surprise series- @thefantasyride

- for the love of money?, my first & his only, the big chop, braid my hair, short staffed, visiting hours- @bakarilennox

- insecure series, “erik x wakandan!reader where he says ‘you are your own perso. you are not mine. but i hope you will let me love you.”, sabotage, sweet like honey series- @erikslulbaby

- kissing strangers series- @halcyonscry

- baby bump series (with cuddle buddy, hc:chubby!erik trying on old clothes) (chubby!erik), chunk series, special delivery, here kitty kitty,  s.d.m., she got game, computer blue series, where’s the smoke, from paris with love, where the hoes at?, written all over your face, not in that way series- @ghostfacekill-monger

- not enough, a little insecure - @maybecoolwords

- french inhale series- @jewelofwakanda

***PLEASE HIT ME UP TO ADD STORIES***

[kyber-kisses]

Just A Trim

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: blushy!dean because I’m a slut for blushy!dean. deal with it.

Summary: Hair can be a hassle, especially while hunting. The reader decides In a spur of the moment decision to cut it off.

A/n: as someone who has their hair cut short, I kind of get tired of reading fics where the reader is described as having long and flowing hair, so here’s a little twist on the normal. This one goes out to all my short haired readers. (Gif not mine, credit to owner)

Hair.

Why was hair so fucking annoying?

One minute everything is totally fine, and the next? It’s either tangled and knotted, or full of static, and it got dirty so. Damn. Easily.

And then you add the hunter factor to the equation and everything just worsens. It gives the monsters something to pull on, it constantly gets snagged on random things, and to be honest, you had lost count of how many times a monster latched on and took a decent size chunk out of your head.

To put it simply: hair was a fucking nightmare. Having it long was practically a death threat within itself.

You had just gotten back from a hunt with the brothers, muscles sore, eyes droopy, and missing almost an entire lock of hair from your head. Needless to say, the case was not a simple salt and burn.

Falling back into one of the wooden seats in the library, you let out a groan, your head falling back to rest on the back of the chair.

“I quit. Next time you find a case, just leave me behind. I’m tired of getting beaten up by spirits.”

“Oh quit your whining. It wasn’t that bad.” Dean fired back, dropping his duffel on the table and plopping down next to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you the one that got decked by a woman in a Victorian gown? No, I didn’t think so. . . “ you mused, sliding lower in your seat, chin practically touching your chest.

“We told you not to go into the house alone.” Sam butted in, shrugging off his jacket and pulling out his laptop, no doubt already looking for another case.

“Here’s a plan; you two can shut up.” You nodded, heels sliding across the polished floor as you slid further down, fingers flexing against the armrests. You were ready to give up and just slide completely to the floor. The case had completely drained you.

“Aw, poor baby.” Dean cooed, patting the top of your head with a grin, “she’s in a mood.”

“Look what that bitch did-“ you whined, one of your hands going to your head to showcase the lock of hair that was several inches shorter than the rest. “She ripped out some of my hair.”

“I’m not supposed to laugh, right?” The Winchester trying hard to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Giving him another glare, you punched him in the arm, watching him recoil slightly. “It’s not funny!”

“It kinda is. . .”

“Im sorry, are you asking to get hit again?”

Deans silence gave you an answer, and with that you relaxed back into your seat, slightly zoning out, suddenly deep in thought. A minute or two passed before you finally decided to just say: Fuck it.

Fuck long hair and all the problems that came with it.

“That’s it!” Quickly sitting up, you slammed your palms against the tables surface, making both brothers jumps at the sudden sound, Dean almost dropping his beer. Kicking back your chair, you paid no attention to their confused stares as you marched out of the library and down the hallway towards the bathroom.

Once you were out of sight, Dean whipped around to look at his brother, “what the hell was that?”

The younger Winchester only shrugged, raising his eyebrows, “hell if I know. Maybe she finally snapped and is planning your murder.” He joked.

“That’s not funny, Sam.”

“Kinda is. You know you could always just tell her how you feel instead of teasing her like a kindergartner with a crush?”

Deans eyes widened before he sent his brother another glare, “that’s a terrible idea. Never suggest anything like that ever again.”

“Dean-“

“You bring that up again, and one day you’ll wake up tied to one of the trees outside the bunker.” Dean warned, threateningly raising a finger to point at him.

*. *. *. *. *.

Half an hour later, you stepped back out into the hallway, leaving behind a trash can full of hair clippings and flaunting a new look.

Your hair was several inches shorter, the ends just barley hanging past your chin, and tickling your face as you walked down the hallway. Your head already felt so much lighter. You had already run your hands through it several times, the abrupt ends making you smile.

This was the best decision you had made in a long time. Why it took you so long to do, you had no fucking clue.

It was still damp from when you had washed it, but it was already drying. That was another plus, it dried so much quicker.

A wide smile took up your features as you continued down the hall, shaking your head just for the hell of it, and watching the short strands fly.

Fuck long hair. This was so much more fun and easy.

Stepping back up into the library, you carded your hand through your hair once more, seeing that the boys had not budged from their spots. Always working. Why were they always working?

“Hey, you guys find a case yet?”

At the sound of your voice, both brothers looked up, eyes widening in unison, clearly surprised.

“Oh, wow.” Dean breathed, slightly shifting in his seat so he could turn his body towards you.

“What?”

“Your hair- it’s so short.”

“Oh, good to know your not blind.” You mused, giving him a small smile, settling into your seat once more. “What do you think?”

“It looks great, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

Meanwhile, Dean sat speechless besides you, mouth opening and closing as he tried to find words.Your eyebrows knitted together in concern as you watched him. He was never this quiet. Why was he so quite? And why did he have that weird look on his face? The whole thing was worrisome.

“Dean?”

It was like your voice snapped him out of his trance because he quickly blinked, sitting up straighter in his seat, “yeah, it looks- it looks good. Really good. I like it!”

In truth, Dean loved it. He had never seen you with short hair, but now that he had- holy shit. You looked so good with short hair. So good.

“Really? Thanks! I should have done it years ago.” You smiled, going back to run your fingers through your hair, “plus, now I can do this-“ you quickly shook your head again, your short locks flying across your face in a wild frenzy and making you giggle, your nose scrunching up in amusement. You looked like a child just then. So carefree and happy.

Dean absentmindedly reached over once your head had stopped moving, brushing the strands that covered your face back behind your ears. Why was it so soft too? He didn’t think hair could be that soft.

“Oh, by the way, I borrowed your electric razor.” You added casually, successfully making Deans eyebrows draw together.

“WHy?”

Instead of giving him a simple worded answer, you shot him an amused smile, flipping your head forward to reveal the buzzed undercut beneath your short locks.

“Woah!”

“Okay, wasn’t expecting that-“ Dean breathed, “what made you want to do that?” He questioned, letting a calloused hand run along the buzzed section above the base of your neck, the short hairs tickling his palm.

“I was feeling spontaneous.” You sighed, flipping your head back up and shaking your hair around again.

“Sam, Y/Ns hair is now shorter than yours!” Dean exclaimed, whipping around to look at his brother, who only glared at him in response.

“My hair is not that long.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Sammy.”

“So you really like it?” You questioned again, gaining Deans attention once more.

“Yeah, it looks really good on you.”he smiled, casually moving to run his hand through your hair, clearly surprised when you leaned into his touch with a hum.

“Thanks. I was tired of monsters yanking on it, and it getting in the way.” You explained, shifting in your chair to allow yourself to card your fingers through his hair, “now I understand why guys keep it short. . . Except Sam.” You grinned, the two of you giving the younger Winchester an amused side eye.

Sam rolled his eyes, slamming his laptop shut, “okay, okay. I’m leaving. You two have fun running your hands through each others hair, and denying your obvious feelings for each other. I’ll be in the kitchen.” Sliding out of his seat, he was gone before a proper blush could even creep across either of your faces.

“What?”

Both of your hands freezing in each other hair, completely being caught off guard by Sams words. Peaking through a few stray strand of hair, you looked at Dean, his eyes wide.

“Dean, do you li-“ your words being quickly cut off as he ruffled your hair, successfully putting a curtain of hair between you and him, so he could block the view of the blush creeping across his face.

“Hey!” You let out a light laugh, swatting his hand away, and blowing your hair out of your face, eyes locking with his. He was such a child sometimes.

“What?”

“Do you like me?”

Dean let out a breath of hair, glancing away with a slight shrug, “Pfff n-no.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” You fired back, quickly tangling both your hands in his short hair and tugging him down to your level, firmly locking your lips againt his. There was a momentary pause from the hunter before fingers curled into your short hair, pulling you even closer.

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

The End.

Taglist:

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[tackyink]

Still holding onto the hope of running out of steam soon so I can work on other fics. In any case, this has a title now. It’s Degrees of Separation.

I hate this chapter solely because in my mind it was supposed to be one, then it got long and turned into two awkward chapters, and by splitting them I was left with this thing in which nothing happens. Why would you want to read this? I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to read it, even though I did. Repeatedly. To edit out all the typos I’m sure I’ve left in. I’m going to put a Golden Sun stream on the background, play Animal Crossing and drown my frustration in Coca Cola. It’s been a long week.

One last detour before Sabaody. Alex is bored, the Heart Pirates reenter the scene, and Law has an “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions” moment.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

— — — — — — — —

Chapter 3

There was a storm.

Alex didn’t know if it was related to the Aqua Laguna that the ship had set out to avoid or it was simply one of the Grand Line’s meteorological whims, but two days after departure, the noon sky went so dark it was like a moonless night had come down early, the winds picked up, and the waves started to beat against the ship’s hull in an uneven rhythm.

The crew was all over the place, trying to steer the ship and reef the sails as they ushered the passengers inside to keep them from falling overboard. Alex had been caught in bad weather travelling before, but never to this extent. She had a hard time thinking of anything scarier than being at the mercy of a windy sea. Nowhere to run, nothing to do except wait and pray that the waters would take pity on you and let you live another day. Alex wasn’t the praying sort, so while she waited below deck with a group of people as scared as she was, if not more, she couldn’t even do that.

The nervous chatter of the passengers and the parents’ attempts to console their children were muffled by the deafening sounds of the wind, the waves, the creaking wood, and the crew’s rushed footsteps on the deck.

Alex stood the entire time in front of a porthole in the dining hall where they had gathered. It helped with the seasickness from the violent rocking of ship, it was better than to look at the other people, and, ironically, storms were her favorite kind of weather. She wondered what would be worse if they sunk, getting caught on deck and risking being swallowed by the ocean, or waiting for the insides of the ship to become a water tomb. For a long time, or at least it seemed like it, that was the main thought that repeated in her mind, until the possibility of dying felt so remote that she wasn’t even registering. Like when you picked a word and turned it around in your mouth and mind so many times that it lost all meaning. Of course she couldn’t die there. She had never done so before, so why start now?

It was absurd, but it helped. And it turned out to be right, too.

After a while, the storm subsided, and an hour later, the crew let them out on deck again. The ship wasn’t intact, but they hadn’t lost anybody, and that was as much as one could ask for when dealing with an angry sea.

In the end, there was only one major inconvenience: due to the damage, the ship had to change its course in order to dock somewhere safe to undergo repairs.

❦

Her hair had gotten longer to the point of annoyance. The tips brushed her shoulders already; long enough to get in her face whenever it wanted, but too short to tie it in a decent ponytail. Sure, she could have done it anyway, but she was vain and would have rather dealt with the hassle than solve the problem in an aesthetically suboptimal way.

The sunspots on the left side of her face were getting more noticeable, as were the dark circles under her eyes and the shy wrinkles that were attempting to come out. For someone who could spend so much time picking her appearance apart in front of a mirror, she didn’t look particularly healthy or well put together. She supposed that was part of the appeal, in a masochistic way: to find as many faults as she could, and invent some if needed.

Applying concealer under her eyes and red lipstick just for the sake of having some color on her face, she thought she needed to find herself a headband and a healthier pastime posthaste. Porta Bella was a quaint town, but there wasn’t much in the way of entertainment, and she’d had only her thoughts for company for too long.

She had been stuck there for two weeks. After narrowly avoiding disaster, the ship had been moored in the harbor for several days, and by the time it was fit enough to sail, the captain decided to go back to Water 7 to have proper repairs done. The passengers had been given the choice to remain in Porta Bella and find another ship, or to return to Water 7 with the crew. Going back wasn’t an option for Alex when Sabaody was so close that it felt like she could have seen it if she climbed on a tall tree, she didn’t trust a half-baked repair job to keep her safe, and, most importantly, someone had tried to kill Iceburg and Enies Lobby had kind of blown up in the following days of her departure from Water 7.

She didn’t want to think that the tracksuit shipwright had something to do with it, but the conspiracy theorist in her told her that it was totally his fault. That nose? Could totally be used as a murder weapon and nobody would be none the wiser.

The few passengers aside from Alex who had decided to stay in Porta Bella were already gone, leaving the inn she was staying at delightfully empty, but also making her wonder if she had messed up by not taking the first random ship that would let her sail away from there.

The island was small, so much so that Porta Bella was the only town in it, and much of it was empty. For many years there had been a migratory tendency pushing young people from nearby islands to the Sabaody Archipelago, and this one seemed to have fallen victim to it, too. The moderately long recording time of the Log Pose didn’t play in its favor, either. Five days and a half was a long time to wait when the Red Line was only a couple of days away, so not many ships stopped there. An abandoned watchtower in the outskirts of town was the only other notable location.

She left her inn room that morning, picking up a tea to go, and hoping that a good slap of early morning breeze in the face would wake her up.

Every day since she arrived, she went to the port to look for any newly arrived ships and talk to the sailors. Every time, if there was a new one at all, she was told that there were reports of increased slaver activity in those waters, and that they were headed anywhere but the Sabaody Archipelago until Marine HQ got its shit together and stopped the kidnapping crews sailing rampant. Given that the Marines must have been scrambling to recover from the loss of Enies Lobby, nobody thought they were going to get on the case anytime soon.

These series of unfortunate coincidences didn’t surprise her. Her life was often comprised of really small strokes of bad luck that were nothing more than inconvenience on their own, but that added up to really grate on her nerves. This was business as usual, so she just had to keep trying. The temporary finish line was only a stone’s throw away.

Not that human trafficking stopped at any point of the year, but she hadn’t taken into account the seasonal opening of the archipelago’s biggest auction. Thinking that not even the schedule of the Human Auctioning House had changed during her time away gave her a twisted sense of familiarity. That son of a bitch kept finding novel ways to fuck her over without even being aware of her existence. It had to be a gift, for sure.

As she walked to the half empty docks, she hoped that that was the day she lucked out. She had already decided that, if she couldn’t find a direct ship to Sabaody in the following three days, she’d take the roundabout way and sail to a bigger island with, hopefully, a wider variety of ships. She would go completely broke in the process (and there she found the thing that was as terrifying as being caught in a storm at open sea), but one had to crack eggs to make an omelette.

Ten minutes and an empty cup of tea into her stroll, she stopped in front the single newly arrived ship and thought that maybe she hadn’t lucked out, but that sure as hell life was full of weird coincidences. Because there were few submarines sailing the Grand Line, even fewer painted yellow, and she guessed that only one with that particular Jolly Roger plastered on it. Her wish of seeing it up close had been granted when she least expected it, and it didn’t disappoint. It had a curious design, half ship and half submarine. A shipmarine.

Feeling revitalized by the pun, she craned her neck and got on her tiptoes to accomplish nothing at all. She couldn’t see any of the pirates on the deck, at least from where she was standing, and what else was she supposed to do, walk closer to find a friendly face and say hi like a functioning human being would? Yeah, no. She simply stood there and stared like a creep.

The paint job of the thing was hypnotic, and she didn’t mean it as a compliment. It looked like the idea of a man who thought the peak of design was making his vehicle look like a wasp with a decal of the word ‘DEATH’ instead of stripes to look extra edgy. And okay, they were pirates, pirates killed people, it was something that came with the job – but plastering it over the ship like that was a little heavy handed, and she didn’t have any doubts as to which guy with matching tattoos had come up with those brilliant design choices. Come to think of it, wasn’t there a song about a yellow submarine? The one from those singers her mom liked when she was young… Maybe the captain was a fan, too. Maybe they sung it on board. She laughed at the thought.

It didn’t leave her indifferent, that was for sure, and that could count as a compliment, since she had seen a ton of ships throughout her life. Props to Trafalgar Law for standing out among the crowd.

If the pirates weren’t around at the moment, it had to mean they were inside of the ship or already out in town. It was early still, but she was sure it was a matter of time until she ran into them – the town was pretty small, around a hundred, counting sailors, on a good day, news travelled fast, and these guys didn’t dress unassumingly.

With that in mind, she kept an eye out for familiar faces and resumed her unfruitful rounds around the port. Another day, another set of rejections. She tossed her paper cup in a trash can and made her way to the coffee shop where she always had the second tea of the day, sometimes even the third, if she was feeling particularly down about her current predicament.

She placed her order at the counter and waited for it. The owner, a balding middle aged man whose name she didn’t know but who had started to get chatty after she showed up a few days in a row, tried to strike up a conversation while he heated the water. “Did you hear? A pirate crew arrived in town last night.”

Alex wasn’t much for conversation in the mornings, and usually her replies to his attempts were rather apathetic, but the owner had struck gold with this particular topic. “I just saw the ship,” she repeated. “Have they done anything?”

“Not yet,” he replied with the clear implication that they soon would. “But it’s a Supernova’s crew, from what I’ve heard. Their captain’s a scary guy – how do they call him…?”

She had mixed feelings about that. She’d seen scary first hand, and in her experience it came in the shape of kidnapping crews, bubble helmets, or suits and fedoras. And ultimately, it was the fedoras’ fault she was in that coffee shop in the first place.

“Surgeon of Death,” she replied. There was no doubt that with that price on his head he was a walking danger, but after their first encounter, she had a feeling he was more the selective type than the let’s wreck everything in our path kind of guy. Not that his list of attributed crimes would lead anybody to think that. “Do you have trouble with pirates often? Being close to Sabaody and all.”

“Sometimes, but they usually go to more interesting places. It used to be as easy as calling the garrison to get rid of ‘em, but with Marineford so close it’s no wonder no one wants to be here any longer.”

“There used to be Marines here?”

“Yes, at the watchtower in the outskirts, but they left after some of the rooftop caved in. Building’s condemned now. A pity, ‘cause the watchtower’s been there forever, and they’ve let it fall apart.”

“That’s a shame,” she said. “How old’s the tower?”

The water started boiling then, and he turned around to remove it from the fire and make her drink. “Tale goes that it’s old as the stone entrance, but who knows,” he said with his back turned to her. “It’s not like we have any experts to come check.” He slid her the drink over the counter. “In case, try to avoid those guys. A woman traveling alone is an easy target for criminals.”

“Yes, I know,” she replied, putting a few belis in the counter and taking the cup by the handle. “Thanks.”

She chose to sit on the terrace, next to the railing that separated it from the sidewalk, to have a good view of the street. She was in a sort of commercial district, if a main street with a dozen of shops could be called that. Most people who stopped at the island had to pass by sooner or later, so it was the busiest place in town. Not so early, though. It wasn’t opening hours yet.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched like a hawk the man who was monopolizing the only issue of the World Economic Journal and snatched it as soon as he got up to leave, so fast that it turned the heads of the other two people on the terrace.

News of the assault of Enies Lobby had been filling pages for a week already, and that day wasn’t an exception. The Straw Hat Pirates had done the unthinkable, and while in other circumstances Alex might have been watching the situation with amusement from afar, she was also pretty annoyed at them, because their stunt no doubt played into the poor supervision in the waters near Sabaody. On the other hand, she hoped that this also meant that neither Marines nor Cipher Pol would be very invested in finding her in the near future if she ended up a suspect.

She was also a little worried about Iceburg’s condition, but the newspapers hadn’t reported his death, so she had to assume he had recovered from the attempt on his life.

She skimmed over the usual columns prattling about the lack of security at sea and how worrying it was that a whole new generation of rookies with astronomical bounties were about to set foot in the Sabaody Archipelago at the same time. She didn’t think having a handful extra menaces sailing around mattered anymore, considering the state of the world at large, but the pearl-clutching sold newspapers, and she wondered about her sense of self-preservation when she realized with disappointment that, at the rate she was moving, she was going to miss the Supernova meetup in Sabaody. Her curiosity was going to bite her in the ass one day, she thought, before remembering that it already had, and that was the exact reason she was in her current position.

She skim read a few pages looking for interesting headlines, getting to the less important news that didn’t warrant spreads, editorials and pictures that took up half the page, and paled when she read the contents of an unassuming text box.

An unfortunate accident in the island of Harlun had blown up the local library while it was undergoing renovations. Nobody had been hurt, said the write-up, but the building had been destroyed in the ensuing fire and an investigation was still ongoing to determine what had happened. At least she guessed that the last part of the article said so, because she choked on her tea as she read it and spit some of it on the paper, making the ink run.

It couldn’t be a coincidence. Well, it technically could be, but no way she was buying that. The real question was if they’d be able to link the Poneglyph to her, and considering she that she was the person who spent the most time in the archive and she had conveniently left right before construction work took place, she had a pretty good chance to win that lottery. Oh, God, what if her coworkers mentioned that she used to go to the archive on Sundays, alone?

Her first impulse was to bang her head on the table and hide it between her arms, but the surface was sticky, so she ended up regretting it immediately. Instead, she put her elbows on the table, and covered her face with her hands. Her heart was beating loudly and her mind was running wild thinking of possible courses of action. She was on a timer. Getting to Sabaody as soon as possible was a necessity now. If there was a place she could hide, ironically, it was there.

“I see life’s treating you well.”

Alex’s heart tried to leap out of her mouth when she heard someone talk to her from so up close, but one of the perks of being born with a stick up her ass was that she only tensed up when she was startled, so she saved herself the embarrassment of yelping or jumping on her chair. She removed the hands from her face to look at the person, and the sight of a spotted furry hat and a yellow and black hoodie punched her in the eyes.

“Oh, hello,” she said, feeling more relaxed when she realized it was the Surgeon of Death leaning against the balustrade, not law enforcement. Her life had taken a turn for the surreal in a very short time, had it not?

His smirk faltered. “You aren’t surprised?”

“Saw your ship,” she said with some difficulty, and she drank some tea to swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat. Of all the times for him to appear... “Town’s small, we had to run into each other.”

“Hm.”

If she exerted a bit of imagination, she’d say he looked a bit disappointed. Why would he? No idea, but it was funny to think he was, and she was in dire need of funny.

He asked, “What are you doing here? This is far from your island.”

Farther than he knew, she almost said, but that was a can of worms and not relevant in the situation at hand. Feeling too overwhelmed to give long explanations, she handed him the newspaper open by the page she’d been reading. Talking could happen once she arranged her own thoughts, and only then.

“That’s…” He took it from her hands and read for a few seconds. An inscrutable expression gradually morphed into a look of pure indignation. “What’s the meaning of this?”

She was taken aback by the unexpected display of emotion. It was odd to see him react so strongly to something that didn’t concern him. “It isn’t that surprising, considering—”

“How is it not?” He retorted, annoyed. “Sora can’t lose against these weaklings!”

She stared at him in confusion. “What?” she blurted out, realizing afterwards that he was talking about the comic strip at the bottom of the page. And to be fair, she was going to tell him to look further up when the meaning of his words sunk in, but then she was the one leaning over the railing to look at the paper he was holding. “Wait, really? That’s impossible!”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

Upon reading the message under the strip, she complained, “On break until next month?” She sat back on the chair, mumbling, “I don’t even know if I’ll be alive next month,” before taking a sip of tea.

“Summer vacation cliffhanger,” he replied. “And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

“Read the news above.”

He looked at the paper again, and his eyes widened the smallest fraction as recognition dawned. That reaction was more appropriate. “Do you think it was…?”

“I’m sure of it. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

“Are you wanted now?”

“I don’t know. They have reason to suspect I knew it was there.” And she added with a bit of humor that she wasn’t really feeling, “If I get a bounty, I’ll say it was your fault.”

“I don’t think that’s going to do you any service.” A smirk returned to grace his features as he passed her the newspaper back. He was clearly amused by her misfortune, and that was the only good thing that had come out of it. “What do you plan to do?”

Alex let out a long exhale through her nose. She wanted to say that there was no plan, but there always was. Planning was something she did obsessively. “I need to get to Sabaody as soon as possible.” It was the only option. She could have elaborated, but again, she didn’t feel like it. Too early, too stunned to talk about serious stuff. Reality hadn’t fully sunk in. “You’re on Sora’s side? Really?”

He frowned at her. He did a lot of frowning, she thought. He was going to get wrinkles young. “Of course I am.”

“But he’s a Marine,” she said, a smile growing on her face despite herself. “Aren’t you one of the bad guys?”

“The Germa are vile,” he retorted, and perhaps realizing he was getting too much into the conversation, he went back to the other, much less fun topic. “Sabaody’s going to be full of Marines in no time, though.”

She was internally screaming, but it came out as a drawn out sigh. “Thanks to you, no doubt.”

“The merit isn’t all mine.”

“I know. You lot have been all over the news for weeks.” He looked awfully self-satisfied when she said that. “I guess you’ll be heading straight there after this place?”

“That’s the plan if there aren’t any stops in between. By the way, do you know how long until the Log Pose sets?”

“Five days, ten hours and twenty-six minutes,” she said blandly, repeating the number she had been told by several people when she first arrived to Porta Bella. It made her miserable, so of course she wasn’t going to forget it anytime soon.

“And the seconds?”

It took her way longer than necessary to realize he was messing with her. “Oh, fuck off.” She returned her attention to the newspaper so she didn’t have to look at his stupid face while he thought he was so funny. “Fishman Island’s right around the corner. Try not to drown.”

“We have a submarine.” He sounded amused still. Alex couldn’t tell if annoying her gave him that much joy or if he was having an exceptionally good day. He was pretty cranky for a while back in Duster Town, but now that she recalled, his mood seemed to improve every time he got one over her. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“Regular submarines can’t reach Fishman Island.”

He frowned again. “Why not?”

“It’s too deep. They can’t endure the water pressure.”

She could sense the levity from moments ago was gone by the way his jaw set. “But we heard ships can traverse the Red Line through an underwater route.”

“That’s why you go to Sabaody first.” She was exerting a considerable effort to give these really boring explanations that no one was going to thank her for. “You find yourself a good coating engineer to put a resin bubble around your ship and that’ll protect it.”

He seemed to study this new information from several angles before he spoke. “That’s good to know.”

“You’re welcome.”

He gave her a pointed look, but didn’t say anything about the jab. “Is it easy to find one?”

“There’s an entire section of the archipelago dedicated to it. It’s going to cost you, though. And depending on who you choose, there’ll be a waiting list.”

“Really?”

“Good coating engineers are few and far in between, and nobody wants to find out someone did a half-assed job on their sheep five kilometers underwater.”

“That’s…” He made a meditative pause. “…Reasonable.”

“I thought you were going to say something completely different.”

“It sucks too.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. Her life would be so much easier if one didn’t have to jump through thirty hoops to cross that chunk of rock. “In a hurry to get to the New World?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to, either, because she was busy contemplating a new idea that had sprung in her mind. One that she’d rather avoid if she had other options left, and she wouldn’t know until a few days passed, but... this coincidence could prove to be useful yet.

“What?” He looked at her with suspicion.

“Nothing.” And just to get on his nerves a little, she added. “Yet.”

He fixed his gaze on her face, most likely gauging her intentions. Alex was incapable of looking at people in the eye, but she was good at faking it and not flinching under pressure, so she stared back.

“Do I want to ask?”

“I don’t know. Follow your instincts.”

To her surprise, he dropped it and took a step back from the railing. “I need to go back to the sub and see if the others are up already.”

Good. “For someone with a target so big on you, you wander a lot without them.”

“I like taking walks alone,” he said, like he didn’t think much of it. Like he could not fathom how he of all people could possibly be in danger from anybody else. “See you around?”

Was that a wish, a threat, or a pleasantry? “Without a doubt,” she replied, not bothering to hide the tedium in her voice. Damn empty town and damn slavers. “This town isn’t big enough for the two of us.”

She could have sworn he smiled a little at that, but Law shoved his hands in his pockets and made his leave too fast to see.

He was far enough that he wouldn’t hear her if she spoke in a normal volume when she remembered something important, so she resorted to raising her voice before the Heart crew did something they could regret. “Go to the Old Brewery if you don’t want to die! The Silver Fountain serves piss for drinks!”

He turned to look at her with the same curiosity back when she’d told him weapons weren’t allowed in the library, but this time he nodded in acknowledgement before making his exit.

The other customers on the terrace stared at her warily, but honestly, she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for them even when the owner immediately came out to ask if she was okay and if the scary surgeon had said anything bad to her. At least something interesting was happening.

❦

Alex had a love-hate relationship with heights.

She inevitably got queasy when she was somewhere high up that didn’t have barriers or anything she could hold onto, but that didn’t stop her from going up there, anyway. It was like a very stupid magnetic pull that one day would end with her skull split open.

(It was the wind and the view. She knew that. It was also one of the few options she had to feel taller than most people.

But mostly the wind.)

The stone arch at the entrance of the town that gave Porta Bella its name was surrounded by the remains of a stone wall. First century, she guessed by the roughness of the stone blocks and the bit of mortar she scraped from between when she inspected it for the first time. It was easily over two meters, and only because the topmost part had fallen off. The blocks that hadn’t been taken away for use in newer constructions were still next to the wall, inviting anyone who’d dare to step on them to use them to climb.

She knew she wasn’t the only idiot who had felt the temptation, because the stone was worn from use. She’d also seen kids running at the top of the wall and no one had tried to stop them, and there were worse ways to channel all the nervous energy she had from reading that newspaper article.

She wasn’t a very proficient climber, but the blocks were positioned in such a way that getting to the top was easy as pie. No doubts someone had moved them for that exact purpose. When she was high enough, she threw a leg over the wall, then the other one, and sat facing the harbor.

The wind was nice up there.

She wouldn’t stand on the wall for all the money in the world and getting down was going to be an ordeal, but that was a problem for the Alex of the future.

That day had woken up to four ships in the harbor, counting the pirates’ submarine. Two would go away at the end of the week. The third was leaving that night. No vessels on the horizon.

She sighed. If the pirates were on an adventure, they sure had the shittiest of lucks docking only in the most boring islands the sea could offer.

With nothing better to do at the moment, and trying to delay as much as possible the moment she’d regret climbing that high, she moved towards the shadow of the arch without lifting her butt from the stone and rested her back against it.

She was at a loss. Sailing further away from the Sabaody Archipelago was counterproductive, but so was staying in the same island for too long, since she had no means of protecting herself if something happened. Then again, if she ended up broke before she got to Sabaody, she’d have to stay in whatever island she was to earn money to keep travelling.

All the options sucked. Maybe she needed to sleep on it to see what the lesser evil was. She had, after all, a few days to make a decision.

She looked at the sea, tinted dark green by her sunglasses, in what she assumed was Sabaody’s direction. So close, yet so far away. The skies were clear and the water calm, and though there weren’t any sailors to be found in the harbor, she could see the shadow of a couple of fishing boats in the distance. Wasn’t there a song that went like that? I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay, wastin' time…

She hummed, looking at nowhere in particular and letting her thoughts drift with the waves.

❦

She knew better than to cut through the lawless areas alone when it was getting late, so she had no one else to fault when she split from her group of classmates after spending their free day in Sabaody Park. It was only her and her stupid pride that didn’t allow her to admit that she didn’t think this was a great idea and that she didn’t want to go back to her room alone.

She broke into a sprint as soon as she heard the smallest rustle behind her, and that advantage proved to be essential, because someone started chasing after her. It sounded like more than one person, but she didn’t have time to look or tell how many sets of footsteps were behind her – she just ran like her life depended on it in the direction of the bridge that connected to the next grove, hoping that there would be other people there, and then—

—then she saw an open bar, a lone building in an even lonelier grove.

She rushed inside it, gasping for air so hard that she couldn’t speak, no matter how much she tried to explain to the bartender why she had barged in like that.

It wasn’t necessary.

“Don’t worry, dear, they’ve been hanging around these parts for a while,” she said, leading her to a chair with a gentle hair. “You’re safe here.” Her warm black eyes turned to someone else, and though Alex had trouble focusing on what was going on, she saw an old man with long white hair. “Why don’t you go take out the trash, Ray? They’ve driven off my clientele enough.”

“Sure,” the man replied, getting up from his stool and going outside.

Alex thought it was a horrible idea to send an old man to fight off a kidnapping crew, but that was because she didn’t know these people yet.

“Don’t worry about him. Here,” the woman gave her a glass of water. “Name’s Shakky. Rest all you need.”

❦

Footsteps approached. She shut up immediately.

“I like that song.”

Singing helped when she had too much anxious energy. It was probably related to breathing control. She had stopped anxiety attacks in the making like that sometimes.

It didn’t help at all when someone had been listening in and she hadn’t noticed.

“Oh. Thanks. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” Bepo said smiling. “I heard from Captain you were here.”

Even though she was sitting on top of the wall, Bepo’s head went past it. If he stood on his tiptoes, he could have rested his head on her legs. On one hand, it was a little aggravating that she had to climb so high up only to be marginally taller than him. On the other, Alex was filled with the urge to scratch his ears.

“Yeah, I’m stuck waiting for a ship,” she told him. “Ideally, you wouldn’t have found me here.”

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“Sabaody.”

“Isn’t that very close? How come you haven’t found a ship?”

“There’s kidnapping crews infesting the waters. You know what those are?”

“Uh… isn’t it in the name?”

Alex blinked. “Right. Don’t mind me.”

He fell into thought for a few seconds. “Why are they kidnapping people?”

“To sell. They get auctioned in the archipelago.”

Bepo frowned. “I see.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” she said, smiling for his sake. “Nothing’s going to happen to your crew. You’re strong.”

He beamed with pride. “Yeah, we are! We’ve been training for years to come here!”

Alex mirrored his expression without thinking. “Your Captain said you’ve been friends since you were kids. Did you—”

“Bepo!” Someone called out. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, sorry!” Bepo said, turning around to see the newcomer. “I was catching up…”

A woman with curly hair and a severe expression walked up to them, hands on her hips, and she looked a little confused when she laid eyes on Alex. She was struggling to place her. “Have we seen each other…?”

“On passing. I’m the Duster Town dumbass that opened the library for your Captain.”

“Oh, yeah, now that you mention it—” The confusion was back. “Isn’t this place a little too far from there?”

“I’m running away from justice.” She didn’t offer further explanation.

Bepo didn’t need it. “So are we!”

A barely contained laugh made it past the woman’s lips. “Oh well, if you’re a fellow criminal…” She extended a hand towards Alex. “Name’s Ikkaku. What did you do, keep too many books past the return date?”

“I wish.” She shook her hand. “Alex.”

“So that’s your name?” Bepo asked.

She turned her attention towards the bear. “I never told you?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Wow, I am rude,” she said to herself. “Anyway, hope you’re ready to take it easy, because you have five long days ahead of you.”

Ikkaku groaned. “I don’t mind, but some of the guys get so jittery after a couple days on land. I don’t suppose there’s a very active nightlife in this place?”

“Actually, there are two taverns in the entire town.”

“Oh, that sounds like something to keep ‘em busy.”

“I don’t think you want to go to one of them, though.” She wondered if the captain was going to pass the message or they would come to regret their choices. “There’s also an abandoned Marine outpost right outside of town, if they don’t want to be drunk 24/7.”

“Might be worth checking out, but I’m pretty sure they’ll take the ale.”

“Can’t blame them.” She was tempted to drown her sorrows in alcohol, and she barely ever drank.

She took a look around the desolate harbor, the small houses and the half-fallen wall with a disappointed look. “Well…” she began, “Bepo, we need you for the crates. He’s been waiting and he’s cranky enough already after—”

“Ah! Sorry!” He said, bowing at her and looking more upset than the comment would suggest. Maybe they didn’t treat him as well in the sub as she had assumed. When he turned to Alex, he also bowed repeatedly. “I’m really sorry, but I need to go!”

“Sure, no problem!” she said, making an effort to sound lively. She felt so fake when she did that. So customer servicey. “See you!”

As the pirates left, she tried to look at them in a different light. While it wasn’t too difficult to believe they would be mistreating the mink of the crew, even if they hadn’t been unkind while she was watching. He seemed shy. Maybe that was all there was to it? But the reaction seemed a little extreme. She would pay closer attention from then on.

❦

Her privileged observation point let Alex see a lot of things that day. She saw more of the crew coming and going, though they didn’t seem to recognize her, she watched one of the docked ships depart, and she met a cat that tried to get food from her, but after a good back scratch realized she didn’t have anything else to offer and walked away, leaving a lonesome Alex staring at the hand she’d used to pet it, wondering how many parasites it had come in contact with.

She immediately went back to the inn to wash her hands and get dinner.

The rest of the evening was spent looking at her Poneglyph folder and her mostly blank notebook. She had carried with her the transcript of the stone and copied some documentation from the library that could prove useful in deciphering it, but she wasn’t making any headway yet. Very little was known about the ancient language, even less was published, and she wasn’t a cryptographer. So far, she had identified what she thought were punctuation signs separating sentences and one of the names in the text.

In her years working in Harlun, she had seen centuries old coins from a currency before belis, and some of them had the legend around the rim written in different languages. Meaning, she knew how to write the name of the island in that ancient language. That was about it. She had a feeling the script wasn’t pure phonetic, either, and that wasn’t something she could attempt to tackle without cross-referencing.

Porta Bella was a nice place to spend a short vacation, sure, but it was impossible to find any books that might help. She had tried. The local bookstore only carried best sellers, and she would have bought that vampire novel that was getting so popular if money wasn’t so tight and she had space in her bag, but as things were, she had to fight frustration and boredom alone.

She had to face the fact that she wasn’t going to do anything useful that night, either. She took off her reading glasses, thinking that trying to sleep sounded like the best idea. Maybe next morning she’d finally have some good luck and find a ship that wouldn’t carry her too far from the Red Line.

❦

Too early for words, and wearing a flannel shirt as a jacket because it had gotten windy, she strode out of the inn with her paper cup and a new challenge. She had thought herself immune to monotony before this, but she had clearly overestimated her brain’s capability to get distracted by anything.

Instead of walking to the docks following the main road, like every morning, she made for the wall again. Stepping on the fallen rock, she reached up with her left hand to the top of the wall and placed the paper cup as far as she could from her, and then she climbed up like the previous day. Well, she tried to, because for some reason early in the morning she didn’t have a lot of hand strength, and she felt a stabbing pain in one of her knees when she stretched her leg to reach the wall.

It took two tries and the fear of having lost her first morning tea, but she got where she wanted.

Cross-legged, she sat on the wall and took sips of her drink while inspecting the docks. No new ships in sight. That time there was someone walking on one of the submarine’s decks, but she couldn’t make out their face, and she didn’t know most of the crew anyway.

The wind had driven all the clouds away, and the dark shadow on the horizon reminded her of how close she had been to getting to the New World before she had to reconsider the entire strategy.

She was about to sigh, but she sensed someone near her vicinity even before she heard the crunch of gravel, so she kept it to herself and looked over her shoulder.

That silly hat was becoming a familiar sight. Trafalgar Law looked up at her from a reasonable distance, having just noticed her. Please don’t get any closer, please—

He changed course and went towards Alex, who didn’t bother to hide how little she appreciated the company less than an hour after waking up.

“Morning walk?” she asked, or grunted, depending on who you asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, annoyingly awake. “What are you doing there?”

“Wasting time.”

Someone with a little more tact, or at least who cared about having it, would have taken a hint and left, but this was not the case. “I want to hear more about Sabaody.”

Oh, she wasn’t nearly awake enough for this, but she made an effort to not be outright rude. “Okay,” she relented. “But you ask me questions, I don’t want to think.”

That was good enough for him, it seemed. With irritating ease, and without having to step on the fallen stone, he boosted himself up against the wall and climbed it in a matter of seconds.

Something caught his attention when he looked up, and he stood up on the stone like the concepts of acrophobia and losing one’s balance were but a faraway ping in his radar. Alex’s mood was souring by the second, granted, a likely thing to happen at that hour. It wasn’t personal.

“Is that…?”

She turned to look in the same direction he was.

“Yeah. Red Line.”

“I didn’t think it was so close.”

“It’s a few days away still. It’s just that big.” She thought of the times she’d been at the base. It was impossible to see the top from its bottom. And, considering what lay up there, perhaps it was for the better. “You saw it from the other side, I guess?” North Blue was adjacent to the New World. In a sense, both of them were from the same side of the Line. How weird to think that they had anything in common.

“Yeah. We entered the Grand Line through Reverse Mountain.”

Expected, but incomprehensible to her unless he had a death wish. “Ships sink there every day. What do you want so bad that you’d risk that?”

“Wasn’t I the one asking the questions?” he shot back.

She gave him a deadpan look, then looked at the cup between her hands. It wasn’t doing much to drive away the numbness of her fingers. How many people had gone out to sea since the Great Age of Piracy began and failed because they bit more than they could chew? And they weren’t the only ones dying. For every decent man that got a ship and called himself a captain, there were ten whose only interest was pillaging villages and getting rich. Was that massive chain reaction what Gold Roger had intended with its final speech? Had it been a final fuck you to world order, or was there something else behind it?

She had contradicting thoughts about it. Roger’s last words had unarguably made the world worse, but…

Well.

The guy had been a badass. Even she wasn’t immune to seeing that. With every new pirate crew that sailed to Reverse Mountain to test its fortune, he kept proving how much bigger than life he had been. Twenty years down the line, he had become as much of a legend as the tales of gods from islands in the sky. The kind of legacy a regular person only dreams of having.

He said, I will never die.

He had been more right than he knew.

She looked at Trafalgar with renewed curiosity. “Are you trying to become Pirate King too?”

He didn’t give a clear answer, despite how easy of a question it was. “What if I am?”

It wasn’t a no. A straight yes would get many pirates laughed out of town even in a place like the Grand Line. There wasn’t a lot of room for romantic ideas of piracy when civilians lived in fear of black flags showing up one day at the port and taking away everything they had.

“Just curious.” She wasn’t feeling articulate enough to explain where she was going to herself, much less him. “Nothing wrong with dreaming big.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt like she had called herself out. Where was she going? After Sabaody, after crossing the Red Line, after getting to her hometown? Those were only checkpoints. But where was her purpose? Inside the bag she had in her room at the inn, or somewhere else?

An awkward silence stretched along with the horizon. For some reason, he decided not to press her for answers and sat down. A small mercy for Alex’s neck.

“After the Log Pose sets, it will point to Fishman Island. How do we get to Sabaody first?”

It was a relief to be able to give an answer she didn’t have to think about. “It should be visible when you’re close enough to the Red Line. It looks like a random cluster of trees popped up in the middle of the ocean.”

“That’s it? Is it safe to dock anywhere?”

“Mostly. The archipelago is made up of 80 groves. 60 to 69 house a Marine garrison, and that’s where the ferries to Marineford and Mary Geoise leave from, so you don’t want to be there. Other than that…” She had to strain to remember the range of numbers. “20 to 29 is the only lawless area open to sea, so you know Marines won’t go there, but since no one’s keeping watch, the competition might try to sabotage you. I don’t know, I never had to worry about that sort of thing.”

“I’m not afraid of other crews,” he said with that devil may care attitude that got pirates killed left and right. “We haven’t come this far without knowing how to defend our ship.”

She wasn’t going to argue his point. “I’m just saying what I know. You do you.” But she took note to keep her opinions to herself, lest he had the urge to express how full of himself he was again.

He looked at her like he was trying to figure out what sort of hidden meaning her noncommittal response held, but little did he know that behind the sleepy façade her prevailing thought was it’s too early for this shit.

“You said you spent some time in the archipelago.” It wasn’t worded like a question, but it was a way to probe for info. She supposed that she would have wanted to know the credentials of her sources, had she been in his position.

She hummed. “I lived there a few years.”

Taking a sip from the cup, she returned her attention towards the outline in the horizon. It had been a constant part of the scenery back then, always peeking out from behind the trees and buildings of the groves closest to the shore. A grim reminder, on one hand, of those who lived above the peasants, but at the same time, Sabaody had been… fun. There was always something happening. Moderately dangerous, but always entertaining. She had forgotten how that felt after the years of routine in Duster Town.

A question brought her out of her thoughts. “Are you from this area?”

“Oh, no,” she said, surprised that he had even entertained the idea. “No, I got a scholarship to study in one of the World Government’s academies. I’m from the other side of the Red Line.”

“From the New World?” He said with surprise, and mulled over this new piece of information until it fit satisfactorily in whatever picture of her he had constructed in his mind. “So that’s where the accent’s from.”

It was unexpected comment after unexpected comment. “Excuse me?” she replied in an incredulous tone. “You are the one with a heavy accent.”

Now it was him who got caught off guard. “That’s not true,” he retorted. He looked like he was trying to determine if she was pulling his leg.

“Yes it is,” she insisted. “Everybody has an accent. You and your crew have that typical northern one that sounds like you’re about to shank the person you’re saying hello to.”

For a moment, she thought he had offended him to the point of silence. Just for a moment, because he didn’t take long to counter with, “You sound like you’re trying to whisper through a megaphone.”

She snorted with laughter as soon as the words sunk in. It was true that she spoke in a low voice most of the time. “If that isn’t the best description of Dressrosan I’ve heard—”

She felt an immediate change in atmosphere, like an electric current shooting through the air, and shut up as a precaution.

Trafalgar has tensed up all of a sudden and was staring at her like she had grown a second head, like she was trying to set her on fire with a glare, or both. “What did you say?”

She found herself tensing up in return, even though she didn’t know what she had done. But when a dangerous guy scowled at you like that, survival instincts kicked in. Goodbye sleepiness, and welcome life danger. “Um… Dressrosan?” She eyed him warily. “My mother tongue?”

His eyes grew wider, but other than that, his expression didn’t change much. “You’re from Dressrosa?”

She suddenly understood. It wasn’t the first time she got odd reactions when she said where she was from, but it had been a while. “Oh, right.” She sighed. “You’ve heard of the whole Doflamingo thing.”

Or… maybe she was wrong. He seemed a little out of it, like he was looking past her at… who knew what was in his head.

After a few seconds without a reply, she deemed it safe to speak. “Did I say anything wrong?”

“…No. I was just surprised.” After that, he seemed to go back to normal, though his voice sounded a little strained. He was still tense. “It’s a long way there.”

Suspicious. Did he know someone from there? “It’s not so much the distance as having the Red Line in the way. Getting permission to cross it takes time.” And she figured that she had run out of it.

“How’s the country?” He asked in a way that tried to sound casual, and maybe, maybe would have worked if he hadn’t made clear already that he had a particular interest in it. “Being ruled by pirates and all.”

She made a disgruntled sound. She had signed up to answer questions about the Sabaody Archipelago, not Dressrosa. There was a reason why she hadn’t been home in ages. “It’s doing fine. Better than fine, in fact. Economy is booming. People are happy.” She delivered each sentence in a quick, clipped tone. “It pisses me off.”

“Why?”

Because she always had to be the odd one out, she thought. And this guy wasn’t getting the message that she didn’t want to talk about it. “Doflamingo doesn’t deserve that kind of credit. He and his crew should go back to the hole they crawled out of.”

He huffed. “North Blue’s had enough of him already.”

Animosity was dripping from his words, and that made her feel a little less displeased and a lot more interested in what he had to say. He could’ve seen firsthand the repercussions of Doflamingo’s actions there.

“That’s true.” She didn’t know much about the specifics, but there was a reason the North Blue was considered the most dangerous out of the four cardinal seas. “I guess he did a number there before he moved onto the Grand Line.”

“You don’t sound very fond of him either.”

Look at that, a flat out admission of having feelings about someone.

“He’s scum,” she said with more venom than she had meant to. “He dethroned the king only to take over himself, reinstated gladiator fights to death, and he has a trafficking empire. The Human Auctioning House in Sabaody displays his Jolly Roger openly. But he’s a Warlord. As long as money keeps flowing and the Celestial Dragons can buy new pets, nobody seems to care.”

“And you do? You say your country’s doing well.”

She didn’t know whether to reply honestly or not. He was trying to dig deeper than she was comfortable with answering, but she was on a roll already. “Dressrosa used to be a very poor country. I’m not blaming the people who have a better life now, but I don’t think you can build anything stable from corruption. Someone will topple Doflamingo one day, and the country will go down with him.” Her tone was increasingly becoming more determined. “And when the time comes, I hope they get rid of kings once and for all.”

“You lost me at that last part.”

“Monarchy is an obsolete form of government. How’s the world going to get rid of the Celestial Dragons if we can’t even get rid of the pests at home?”

He stared at her blankly, and that was when she realized she had talked too much and looked away from him. Ah, to be a life form capable of fusing with granite and dying in the spot…

She heard a short, muffled laugh, and glanced at him. Great, a pirate making fun of her was exactly what she needed to start her day.

“Can’t say I took you for an anarchist.” He was smirking.

“What part of ‘fuck the government’ was unclear?” she replied, still avoiding to look at him. “The more time you spend near Mary Geoise, the more you realize everything has to burn down. Then there are the Marines.” A lost cause. “It’s even their combined fault that I’m stuck here.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded relaxed again. It was like he hadn’t been acting like a weirdo through the entire conversation about Dressrosa. “Aren’t you just waiting for a ship?”

She took a long breath in preparation to give the same explanation she’d been getting every time she spoke to a newly arrived sailor. “Kidnapping crews are infesting the waters ahead. Normal ships don’t want to go near Sabaody because there’s going to be a human auction next week. Marines aren’t helping because the government benefits from the slave trade, and I assume the Enies Lobby debacle has hit them hard. I already told Bepo you don’t have to worry about it, though. They only attack pirates if they think they’re weaklings.” And trying to change the subject to something that didn’t force her to wallow in her misery, she asked, “How much was it already, Mr. Supernova?”

He looked awfully satisfied with his title. “It’s not Trafalgar anymore?”

“I’ve always liked stars.” And speaking of Bepo, she remembered something from their conversation the day before. “By the way, I don’t think I introduced myself. I’m—”

“Bepo told me. I like Librarian-ya better.”

She had an urge to fling what was left of her tea at him, but she held back at the expense of looking away and letting a strained smile show. Not worth the loss of beverage. It wasn’t going to stop him from being an early morning smartass.

The silence that ensued this time didn’t feel as uncomfortable as before, but that bar was so low, it might as well have been underground.

[eiirisworkshop]

Avengers as Teachers AU Fic

For Good Intentions WIP Fest, details of which can be found @goodintentionswipfest

I have a lot of scraps of Avengers fics that, if I’m being honest, I’m never gonna finish.  This is one of them--probably the one that has the most actually written.

***

Start of term is Monday, August 18th.  Student move in is August 15th through 17th.  All faculty are expected on campus to assist with move in.  Any faculty who will be living in staff campus housing must move into their apartments during the week of August 4th through 10th.

Clint Barton set a cardboard box down on what was going to be his coffee table for the next nine months.  His staff apartment was a bedroom, bathroom, and livingroom with kitchenet, all of it decked out in what seemed like Ikea's slightly classier cousin, though Clint had no idea where someone was supposed to get classier Ikea.  He reached in his pocket, pulled out the note he'd found taped to the front door, and unfolded it. Neat, looping handwriting read, “Welcome, new guy, to the psychological crucible known as boarding school.  Brace yourself, the Europeans are almost as crazy as the teenagers, have fun!”

“Heh,” Clint mused to himself, “that's not ominous at all.”

He shook his head, chuckled, and set to work unpacking.  Shortly, he was interrupted by a knock at the door.  He went to answer it and was met with the sight of a slim, redheaded woman leaning casually on the doorjamb.  She grinned. “Hello neighbor.”  She straightened up.  “Everyone is talking about the newhire who's waited until the last minute to move in, but no one wants to be the first to snoop.  I volunteered.” She held out a hand. “Barton, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” He shook the proffered hand.  “Clint Barton.”

“Natasha Romanoff.  I'm in the flat next door.”  She nodded her head to indicate the apartment down the hall to her left, making her auburn curls bounce.

“I think you might be one of the crazy Europeans I've been warned about.”

The woman, Natasha, laughed, eyes glinting dangerously.  “I think I might be. Did someone leave you a new guy note?”

“Yeah.”  Clint snorted, fished the note back out of his pocket, and handed it to her.

She unfolded it and snorted.  “Oh, Maria.”

“Maria?”

“Maria Hill. She's the school counselor.  Does her best to keep us all sane.” Natasha handed the note back.  “Tomorrow is the first teacher workday.”

“I know. Uh,” Clint stepped back, “d'you wanna come in?”

Natasha held up a hand.  “No, that's okay.  I have to finish up my own unpacking. See you tomorrow.  Staff meeting starts at eight, don't sit next to the big blond if you value your hearing.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

She sauntered the few steps down the hall to her door and he closed his.

The next morning, Clint took the stairs down from his apartment on the second floor and found himself in the middle of a group of three young women in the lobby of the staff housing building.  The women stopped talking and eyed him.  He cleared his throat awkwardly and grinned.  “Is all the faculty but me and the headmaster beautiful women?”

One of the women, a fairly petite but curvy thing with curly dark hair and plastic-framed glasses, crossed her arms and studied him.  “I think I like replacement Sitwell.”

“Darcy,” said one of the other two women, a dirty blond with an English accent, “you cannot call him 'replacement Sitwell.'”  She sighed and shot a dark look at the third woman, who looked like she was probably some kind of mixed and was stifling a giggle.  “I'm sorry.  We're glad you've joined the crew.  Now, we ought to all go or we're going to be late.”

The three women and Clint left the housing building and started across the green that lay between it, the main school building, and the student dormitory. The curly haired woman, Darcy, looped an arm through Clint's.  “So, replacement Sitwell, since Jemma here doesn't think I should call you what you are, what should I call you?”

“My name's—”

“Clinton Barton.”  The third woman shrugged.  “I backed up all our digital files over the summer, I saw the hiring paperwork.  I mean it's no secret or anything, I think most of the staff just didn't bother to look up when we heard Fury'd found a new lit teacher.”

“Skye does most of the school's IT support for the school and teaches two classes,” Jemma explained as she pulled open the door to the main building.  “I teach biology and Latin, and Darcy—”

“Political science.  And I'm the history department's bitch.”

The four of them filed down the hall and into the half full conference room across from the headmaster's office.  There was a clump of people—two redheaded women that weren't Natasha, two dark haired men who both looked like they had some Latin blood in their pedigrees, two black men, and a woman with a long black ponytail—clustered around a decanter of coffee near the far corner, and three men were leaning on the edge of the conference table—a tall, muscular blond who Clint figured was the loud one Natasha had warned him of, a brunet with his hair pulled back into a spiky little tuft of a ponytail, and a slightly wiry man in a suit.  The one with the ponytail glanced up, nudged the one in the suit, and nodded toward Clint, who was standing a bit awkwardly in the doorway, having been abandoned by his escort in favor of coffee.  The man in the suit looked at him, stood, smiled, and held out a hand.  “You must be Clint Barton.”  The man clasped Clint's hand firmly.  “I'm Phil Coulson, the other English teacher.”

Before either Phil could continue or Clint could respond, a voice from the other end of the room interrupted, “Excuse me, your first name is 'Professor.'”

It was one of the two vaguely Latin looking men from the group in the corner.  He had dark, wavy hair dusted lightly with silver and a goatee that made him look like somebody's evil twin.  Phil sighed and said conspiratorially to Clint.  “Ignore him.”

“Whoa, hey, no, no, no.  Don't ignore me.”  The goateed man made his way around the table, cup of coffee in hand.  Several other members of staff exchanged looks of amusement or concern.  The other Latin looking man hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.  The one with the goatee slung the arm that wasn't occupied with coffee around Clint's shoulders.  “Hello there, new guy.  Barton?  Yeah. This your first teaching gig?”

“Uh, yes.” Clint glanced around for someone to rescue him but no volunteers stepped forward.  Everyone was either watching or had returned to their own conversations.

“Well, you see, it doesn't matter what you think your name is, the kids decide what your name is.  For instance, Bruce over there—Bruce, say hi.”

The other Latin looking man raised a hand in greeting.

“Thank you, big guy.  Bruce is Dr. Banner.  I, on the other hand, am Mr. Stark despite holding several doctorates.”  Mr. Stark shrugged. “Your department mate is Professor Coulson and always Professor Coulson and the only teacher in the whole damn school who's consistently professor-anything.  I think it's something to do with a suit.”

“Tony, don't traumatize the new guy.”  Natasha had just walked into the conference room, flanked by a brunet woman, both of them in slacks and blouses.

“I'm not traumatizing him, Natasha.  I'm educating him.”

The brunet woman removed Tony's arm from Clint's shoulders.  “As your students will and do attest, your brand of education is often mildly traumatizing. Shoo.”

Tony made a sound of mock hurt and swept back to the corner with coffee. “I will finish educating you later.”

Clint turned to his rescuer.  “Maria?”

She smiled thinly.  “At your service.  Can we please all start sitting.”

Everyone found their way into seats as another clump—three men, one blond with a goatee, one  who Clint at a guess would have said was Mongolian, and one huge, redheaded, and bearded—filed into the room.  The new group sat around the woman with the long black ponytail, who let out the long suffering sigh of a much harassed elder sister.  Clint sat next to Natasha at the end of the table opposite the tall blond who had been talking with Phil.  She leaned to whisper to him, “You're avoiding the wrong blond.”

“Huh?”

“Hello friends!” a voice boomed from the doorway, making Clint jump and fumble in his pocket for a remote he repeatedly hit the volume down button on.  A muscular mountain of a man with long blond hair was standing just inside the threshold with a waif of a woman at his side.  He beamed at the group at the table. “I hope you've all had a wonderful summer.”

The small woman tugged on the big man's arm.  “Let's sit down, dear.”

Clint glanced at Natasha.  “You meant that one.”

She smirked and nodded.  Over the next few minutes, six other people came in: a woman with long titian hair back in a french braid; a tall, slender man with black hair; and older woman with blond curls who put a hand on the shoulders of the tall, thin man and the loud blond one before taking a seat next to the woman with the braid; a severe looking Asian woman; a young man with tight, flaxen curls who Jemma pulled the chair next to her out for; and a slightly heavy man with short, dark hair.  That left only one chair empty at the head of the table.  Soft chattered fluttered around the table.  The small woman who'd come in with the loud blond was sitting next to Clint on the side that Natasha wasn't on.  She smiled up at Clint.  “Hi, I'm Jane Foster.”

“Clint Barton.”  Clint smiled back, hand returning to his pocket to hit the volume up button a couple times.  “Nice to meet you.”

Jane tilted her head curiously.  “Are you wearing headphones?”

“Uh, no.”  Clint unlooped the little grey plastic gadget from behind one ear and held it up.  “Hearing aids.”

“Oh.”  Jane blinked.  “I am so—”

“It's fine.”  He put the aid back on.  “I'm not weird about it.”

“Oh. That's good.”

To Clint's other side, Natasha's eyebrows were raised in amusement with the realization of how ironic her earlier warning about avoiding the loud blond for the sake of his hearing was. Clint elected to ignore the other raised eyebrows around the table.  

A tall man with an eyepatch dressed in a black suit strode into the room, flicking through a folder, and kicked the door closed behind him.  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.”  Headmaster Fury dropped his folder at the head of the table in front of the empty chair.  “Hope you all took damn nice vacation's 'cause in one week we're gonna be overrun with adolescents and all their special brand of crazy.  Before then, we have to get shit done.  First order of business, everybody say hi to Clint Barton.  He's filling the position in the English department left open by Sitwell's—”  he cleared his throat “—resignation.  Try not to scare him off.  Stark, that means you.”  Most of the room chuckled while Tony put a hand to his heart and declared he was wounded.  Fury kept talking right over him, diving straight into an hour of bureaucratic housekeeping and discussion of curriculum.  The headmaster flipped a page in his folder.  “Now that that's done, about extra curriculars.  The chess club Sitwell ran is out unless someone wants to take over sponsorship.”

“I could do it.” Fitz, the young man with tight, curly hair said, his accent distinctly Scottish.

“Great. Other than that, all the extra curriculars from last year will remain the same.  Stark's damn robotics club—which had better not blow anything up this term—drama club, and writer's club, Rhodes has his co-ed boy scouts thing, Hogan's still doing the test prep thing, and there's our one sorry excuse for a sport other than track and field, cheer leading.  Now, Barton has volunteered to coach an archery team.  Any objections?”  There was silence, a few shrugs, and some head shaking.  “Congatulations, Coach Barton, you now get to be one of this school's crazy blond coaches of random sports.”

After the meeting, the staff were released to prepare for the arrival of the students in a week.  Up on a chair, taping a poster to the wall of his new classroom, Clint asked over his shoulder, “So, there's twenty-eight members of staff, including me?”

“Right.” Phil was sitting on a student desk, eating Chinese delivery.  “Are you going to eat anything?”

“Not hungry.” Clint stepped down from the chair.  “Not right now at least.  I'll get pizza or something later.”

“Since we're both teaching freshman and junior classes, we might want to compare syllabi at some point.”  

“Yeah, sure.” Clint sat on another desk.  “But so you, me, Fury, Stark, Natasha, Maria, uh, Banner.  That's seven I can name.”

“Relax, you've got all week.”  Phil held out a box of fried rice.

Clint took to box and a plastic fork.  “I've got a week to learn the names and faces of more than two dozen people, settle into a new apartment, and prep for my first ever first day of class as the teacher.”

“You've done student teaching, and assistant teaching, right?  You'll be fine.”

“Somehow I doubt it's the same.”  Clint shoveled a few bites of rice into his mouth. “I'm also a little scared Stark's gonna make good on saying he'd finish 'educating' me and then whatever he says is gonna be the only way I think of everybody.”

Phil laughed. “You just met Tony today and you've already figured him out.”

“So, he teaches...math?”

“Yup.  He and Fitz make up the math department.”

“Fitz?”

“Scottish kid.”

“Oh, right. Lots of Europeans on the staff.”

“Twelve.”

“Wow.”  Clint chuckled.  “You know, Maria left a note on my apartment door.  She warned me the Europeans are almost as crazy as the students.”

“She's not wrong.  The Brits aren't bad, the Norwegians are, well, they're interesting.  And then there's Natasha.”

“Am I right to be scared of her?”

“Oh yeah.”

Later that afternoon, Clint was sitting behind his desk, hoping the damn thing would feel less awkward by the end of the year and going through lesson plans when there was a knock on the doorframe.  He looked up.  Tony Stark was leaning in the doorframe.  In his band T-shirt and jeans he would have looked more like a high school student than a teacher if it weren't for the grey hairs and the bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.  He raised the bottle in a kind of salute.  “I come to edjumacate you!”

“Are you drinking in the school?”  Clint dropped his pen, busy gaping at the math teacher.

“No way, Fury would have me skinned alive.”  He shoved off from the wall, took a few steps into the room, and swished the amber liquid in his bottle. “This is tea.  I have plenty of booze bottles and it's fun to watch people's faces.”  He took a swig and perched on one of the desks. “As I was saying this morning, the kids decide your name.”

“I'm trying to lesson plan right now.”

Tony waved a hand dismissively.  “You've got all week.”

“As I keep getting told.”  Clint sighed, picked up his pen, and capped it. “So the kids name us.”

“Right. So I'm Mr. Stark, Bruciekins is Dr. Banner—I guess he just looks like a Dr. somebody, probably the glasses—Coulson's Professor Coulson.  I told you those this morning.  Everybody calls the Scott Fitz, students and staff, except when they're talking directly to him, the kids call him Mr. Fitz, which I think sounds like it ought to be the name of a cartoon dog.  Simmons is just Simmons unless she's just professor; she's never Professor Simmons—”

“Sorry, who's Simmons?”

“British chick, light brown hair, bio teacher.”

“Jemma?”

“Right.  Skye is Skye—have you met Skye?”  Tony held up a hand as though to tell himself to stop talking so Clint could answer.

“Yeah, I met her this morning.  She does the school's I.T, right?”

“And teaches computer science.  She's pretty cool.  Thor—big loud blond one with the tiny wife—is Coach Thor to his face, otherwise just Thor.  He's super formal and weird but really friendly at the same time so you almost have to be on first name basis with the man.  On that note, hearing aids, do they have volume control?”

Clint smirked.  “Yes.”  He pulled the little remote out of his pocket. “Remote volume control.”

“Okay, I'm officially a little jealous.  Everybody needs volume control when Thor's around.  Anyway, his wife, Jane—I know you met Jane—she's Dr. Foster or Absent Minded Professor Foster when she's being particularly spacey.  Sif is the only one who's managed to name herself, she tells the kids they have to pronounce her last name correctly or they have to call her Lady Sif.  Nobody can pronounce her last name—it's some crazy jumble of consonants and vowels with extra lines—and the punishment for saying it wrong is extra vocab homework so all the kids call her Lady Sif.”

“Okay, that's hilarious.”

“It is.  But I've got a better one.  Steve, other big blond, he's the art teacher, kids call him Captain.  He's got no military background or anything,—he was scrawny as hell in high school, I think I remember him telling me they wouldn't even let him join ROTC—never been with the police, doesn't do sports.  No, they call him Captain 'cause he's got this dinky little boat that he's ridiculously proud of. Seriously, do not diss the man's boat.”

“I'll remember that.”

“You should.”  Tony took another drink of his tea.  “Oh, before I forget, and I will forget because I never have to remind people of this, every year after the first week of classes, I throw a faculty pool party.  You're invited. There will be alcohol and barbecue.”

“Cool, thanks.” Clint laughed a little.  “You don't live on campus, do you?”

“Naw.”  Tony shrugged.  “I've got a place in town.”

“Rich jackass has a mansion in town.”  Bruce had appeared in the doorway, a plastic bin of batteries, light bulbs, and wires in his arms.

“It is not a mansion,” Tony said defensively.

Bruce looked scathingly at him over his glasses.  “It's a six bedroom, three story house—four stories, counting the basement—with a pool and home theatre.”

“Okay, maybe it is a mansion,” Tony conceded.  “So, yeah, pool party at my mansion for everybody who survives the next two weeks.”

*** Chapter 2

Sunday night, Clint found himself crammed onto Natasha's classier-than-Ikea couch along with Maria, Phil, Bruce, Skye, and the Russian herself, all of them eating fried chicken out of a cardboard bucket—except for Bruce, who had tofu tacos.  Clint sighed.  “No one told me 'student move in' meant 'ninth circle of hell.'”

“I think, by now,” Skye said through a full mouth, her long straight hair pulled up into a very messy bun, “the move in/hell association is so automatic we don't think to say it.”

“Preach.”  Natasha sucked a trace of chicken off her thumb with a dignity that should not have been possible.

Clint snorted.  “On the bright side, I think I've finally learned everybody's names.”

“One day before you have to learn two hundred more,” Bruce pointed out dryly.  

“Uhg, don't remind me.” Clint leaned against the back of the couch.

Phil chuckled.  “Seating charts and class rosters are good crutches.”

“That they are.”  Natasha poked Clint in the shin with the tip of her pointy shoe.  “But if you know everybody's names, let's hear it.”

Clint rolled his eyes.  “Natasha, Maria, Skye, Phil, and Bruce—obviously.”

Maria grinned over a sporkfull of mac'n'cheese.  “Obviously.  Go on.”

“Headmaster Fury. Tony.  Thor, Jane, Loki, Frigga, Sif, uh, Sygin, Hogan, Fandral, Volstagg.  Other Hogan.”

“Happy.”  Bruce tossed one of his taco wrappers into the trash across the room.  “Other Hogan's first name is Happy.”

“Right.”  Clint took a breath. “Pepper, Peggy, Steve, uh, James Barnes who's Bucky, and James Rhodes who's Rhodey.  Jemma and Fitz.  Sam.  Darcy.”  Clint was quiet for a minute.  “I'm missing someone.”

“May,” Phil provided.  “Malinda May.”

Clint rubbed a hand over his face. “I'm going to die this week.  If I don't drown in teenagers I'm gonna get murdered by one seriously intimidating female veteran or another.”  He glanced at Natasha.  “There's what, three of you? Four?”

Natasha lightly smacked the back of his head.  “I'm not military.  But I will absolutely kill you.”

“I think that's my cue to go to bed.”  Clint stood.  “Thanks for dinner.”

As he let himself out of the small apartment, Maria called after him, “My office is room number seven if you start to go nuts.”

Coffee in hand the next morning, Clint was almost to his classroom when Natasha cut him off in the hallway. “I actually have an excuse to kill you now.”

Clint blinked at her.  “Hm?”

“You got up at five thirty and I can hear your alarm clock through the wall.”

“I went for a run and I'm nearly deaf.”

“Don't they make vibrating clocks?”

“Yeah, I have one.  It makes noise too.  I'm not completely deaf.”  He stepped around her, continued on to his room, and set his bag on the desk at the front of the room—the desk he had determined not to sit behind.  It was early enough still that there were almost no students around, Clint's classroom was completely empty, but as the clock ticked closer to seven-twenty, four hundred odd fourteen to eighteen year olds descended upon the school building, uniforms neatly pressed. Clint had never gone to a school that required uniforms but—watching the first few sophomores of his first-hour class trickle into the room, their charcoal slacks or skirts, white shirts, and cobalt ties or ribbons all tidy—he highly doubted the movie like perfection lasted more than a couple days.

One dark haired girl who had the sleeves of her white buttondown rolled up past her elbows had plopped herself into a desk at the front of the room with her bag propped against the leg of her chair, and was studying Clint over a piece of toast she'd apparently filched from the dormitory dining room.  After a long moment of contemplation she said, “You're new.”

Clint resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  He was supposed to be the adult here. “Yeah.”

“What're you doing here?”

“Fury bought me from the circus.”

The girl snorted. “Right.”

“Okay, so I ran away from the circus.”  Clint shrugged.  “One way or another I get to make you read Shakespeare now.”

The girl frowned.  Behind her, two boys who must have been twins snickered.  The bell rang and the rest of the class flooded in, filling all thirty desks.  Clint took a deep breath and stepped to the front of the room.  “Good morning and welcome to tenth-grade English.  I'm Clint Barton, Mr. Barton will do just fine, but I've heard from your other teachers that you're all likely to rename me.”  He paused, relieved to see at least a dozen grins among the class.  “I haven't got a clue who any of you are, so I'm going to take role.  If you go by a nickname or if I butcher the pronunciation, tell me. Okay?”  He snagged his first-hour roster off his desk.  “Katherine Bishop.”

The dark haired girl with the rolled up sleeves waved her half-eaten toast.  “It's Kate.”

By lunch time, Clint had made it through two hours worth of sophomores and one hour of juniors.  Phil, in whose classroom he was eating, had survived three hours of seniors.

“It wouldn't be so bad,” Phil said, punctuating his statement by stabbing a meatball with a fork, “if it weren't for this one kid, Peter. Two girls like him, he's been going back and forth not quite dating both of them since they were freshmen, and there's another guy who, I don't know if he actually likes Peter or if he's trying to be funny but he flirts shamelessly and tactlessly with the poor kid.  All four of them are in my first hour.”

Clint cringed sympathetically.  “Sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

“I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Couple of boys in my first class, last name Maximoff.  That's really not the most common name on earth so I've gotta ask: Any relation to the politician?”

“She's their mother.”

Clint nearly choked on a mouth full of pasta.  “Okay, I knew this was a high end school, but I wasn't expecting that.”

Phil shrugged.  “We're close enough to D.C. that we're a convenient place for better off government types, diplomats, and other luminaries to send their kids, get them away from the city.  And we're a safe place for them too.  I know you've noticed how much of the staff is ex military.”

“I assumed there was some magnet force under the school that attracts badasses.”

Phil laughed.  “It's called Nick Fury and he's in the office, not under it.”

After lunch, Clint had another class of juniors, which went almost exactly like the one before lunch.  At the end of that class, while two of the more interesting juniors filed out, sharing some not entirely typical teenaged chatter—“Still think it's funny they've got the blind kid in the deaf guy's class.” “He's not Deaf, David.  I know you know that.”—the one class of the day Clint had been really dreading began filing in: freshmen.  As the class filtered in, Clint noticed that the freshmen were even more perfectly pressed than the older students.  They stared at him with a wary scrutiny.  A sturdy Latina girl dropped into a desk and crossed her arms defiantly.  Clint raised his eyebrows.  “You okay?”

“Class I just had is full of dicks.”

“It wasn't that bad.”  A boy with headphones around his neck dumped his bag on the desk next to her.

“You're the worst out of all of them, chico.”  The girl sounded ready to punch someone out and looked like she could do it and make it hurt.

“Okay, okay,” Clint intervened, “you, how old are you?”

“Me?”  The boy pointed to himself dumbly.

“Yeah you.”

“Fourteen.”

“What's your name?”

“Peter.”

Clint looked at the girl.  “Your name?”

“America.”

“Okay.” Clint shrugged.  “Peter here is a fourteen year old boy.  As a former fourteen year old boy myself, let me say that they are more or less all dicks.”

America blinked.  “I have never heard a teacher call anybody a dick before.”

“Welcome to high school.”  Clint winked.  She grinned.

The boy, Peter, leaned forward.  “Are you wearing headphones?”

Clint sighed. “They're hearing aids.”

“Dude, are you deaf?”  Peter sounded excited.

“No, I'm Hard of Hearing.  If I were completely deaf, hearing aids wouldn't do me any good.”

America and Peter shared a look then both shrugged.

The freshmen didn't turn out to be as bad as Clint had feared.  The next hour of sophomores, though, was the last class of the day, and Clint had to fight to be listened to.  After that it was curriculum talk with Phil, Skye making him look like an idiot while showing him how to use the gradebook software, dinner in the dining hall, old cartoons, then bed.  The rest of the week went about the same.

Friday, as soon as the final bell rang, the kids all rushed out.  Clint called after them.  “Archery club first meeting is a week from today!”

The last of the kids left and Clint turned to his desk and the stack of persuasive essays he'd had his students write him about their favorite movies with the promise that each class would get to watch the movie that got pitched the best within their class.  There was a quiet whirring behind him and he turned to see something like a streamlined, somewhat scaled-down assembly line robot trundle up to him, a slip of paper held in its three fingered “hand.”  It extended its arm with a soft hum of servos that Clint would have described as curious if he didn't know better.

“Uh.”  Clint took the slip of paper.  A note was scrawled on it in a messy angular handwriting:

This is Dum-E.  He's not very smart but he tries.  New guy, this is your reminder to grab your trunks and get your butt to my not-a-mansion @ 4

-A. Stark

Tony's address was on the back of the note.  Clint hesitated then awkwardly patted the robot's “head.”  “Thanks, uh, Dum-E.”

The bot whirred with what might have been pride and turned to leave—presumably headed back to Tony's classroom.  It bumped into a desk on its way out.  Clint frowned.

A couple hours later, he was walking with Natasha to her car to head to Tony's party—she had volunteered to, or rather insisted that she drive.  Clint stepped into the sleek, black sedan.  “So, Tony has a robot?”

“Yeah.”  Natasha started the car and pulled out of her space. “He's got two.”

“He has two robots?”

“He's disgustingly over qualified to be teaching high school.” She gunned it down the winding drive to the main road.

Once they stopped, Clint clambered out of Natasha's car.  “I am riding back with somebody else, did you used to race?  Holy crap that's a big house.”

Natasha snorted, leading the way along a path from the driveway around to an extremely expensive looking fence over which the sounds of revelry and smells of barbecue floated.  Her beaded flipflops smacked quietly against the flagstones.  “Four stories and a basement.”

Clint followed. “Is he married?”

“Are you joking? Stark, married?  Ha.  No.  He lives here alone.”  She unlatched the gate and pushed it open.

Stark's back yard looked like something out of a magazine, fire pit, koi pond, perfectly green grass, question mark shaped pool with hot tub waterfall, and trapezoidal deck with outdoor kitchen.  The hot tub—accessed from the deck, spilling into the main pool—was full of beautiful bikini clad women, namely the school counselor, IT expert, biology teacher, and the history department's bitch.  The last of whom, Darcy, stood and waved at Natasha and Clint.  “Hey! The Cyrillic Cyclone and the new guy are here!”

Everyone—Stark, Banner, and the guy with the spiky ponytail at the grill; the Scottish guy, Pepper, and the big blond art teacher in the pool; and redhead who wasn't Pepper or Natasha and the two ex-military black guys leaning on the deck rail—all looked around.  Natasha waved back and hissed to Clint, “Stop staring at Darcy's boobs,” before striding across the yard, dropping her purse and coverup on a lawn chair, and settling in as beautiful woman number five in the hot tub.

Clint quickly averted his gaze, shook his head, then went to drop his own things on a lawn chair, then stepped into the pool.  Pepper floated by, hugging an inflatable orca.  She nodded to him.  “Hey, can you swim with those things?”

“Huh?”  Clint hopped down the last step up to his waist in water.  “My hearing aids?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you kidding?”  He snorted.  “Ever since I was a kid I've refused to have hearing aids I can't get wet.”

“Great!” Grinning, Pepper released the orca and splashed him.

He flinched, laughed, and splashed her back.  Some of the splash went past her and caught Steve on the shoulder.  He turned to glare at Clint.  

“Hey!”  Clint laughed. “Pepper started it.”

“Did she now?”

“Steve, Steve! Wait!”  Pepper spluttered laughter through a face full of water.  

“Steve, play nice.”  The guy with the spiky ponytail walked to the edge of the pool, munching a fresh made cheeseburger.

“I am playing nice, Buck.”  Steve waded over to the edge of the pool.  “Can I have some of that?”

The guy with the ponytail rolled his eyes, “Sure,” knelt, fed Steve a bite of his burger, then kissed him.

Clint felt his eyebrows arch.  “I think I missed a memo.”

Fitz chuckled behind him.  “This is the first time you've been around them outside of work hours, isn't it?”

“We behave when the kids are around.”  Bucky set his burger and paper plate down.

“If you can call giving each other bedroom eyes across the lunchroom 'behaving,'” redhead who wasn't Pepper or Natasha came up behind Bucky and pushed him into the pool.

He came up spluttering, long bangs in his face, dripping.  “Peggy!”

“Man, I love this school,”  Clint laughed.

Peggy jumped in the water.  “I went to university with Steve, I've been pushing both of them around for years.”

*** Bonus Scene

“Sonnet one forty one.”  Clint waved his book dramatically.  “Now before anyone starts going on about 'oh what I sweet love poem' I want you to think about what he's actually saying here.  Billy, would you read the first two lines for us?”

The darker haired of the Maximoff twins flattened out the page of his own book.  “In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,/For they in thee a thousand errors note.”

“And what does that mean?”  Clint shoved off from his desk and paced down the center aisle between his student's desks.  “He's saying to his girlfriend that his eyes don't love her 'cause he can see, visually, a thousand things wrong with her.”

The lighter twin frowned.  “Are we sure he's talking to a girl?”

“This time, yes.  It does say 'she' in the last line.  Shakespeare does have some sonnets that we know were addressed to a young man, we can argue about the nature of that relationship later.  Anyway, so he doesn't like what he sees.  Couple lines later he tells us, basically, that if I met this woman I'd want to turn my hearing aids off her voice is so bad.”

The class chuckled.

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 32

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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Sleeping next to Wade wasn’t the same thing as being at home, but they had both woken up less stiff than they would have if they’d slept separately. Even better, Rhonda felt keen, determined, even a little optimistic.

“Stay sharp,” Rhonda warned Wade over their cold sausage and some oatmeal that could be used to cover cracks in drywall. “After last night, I have a feeling one or both of us might get stabbed today.”

“Oh really?” Wade asked as if she had just told him she thought it might rain. “Just a feeling, or do you say that because of the guy behind you twirling a shiv?” Her eyes shot wide and he nodded, “Yeah, he’s looking at you, ready to snap into a Slim Jim. Move left in three...two...yup--” 

Rhonda ducked, covering her head and neck with her hands as Wade flung his plastic spork at a scrawny, dark haired man who let out a gargling shriek when it plunged into his neck, just above his collar. A sharpened piece of plastic that used to be a pen fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. Wade complained, “Dammit! I missed his eye!”

The nearest guard rushed over and glared at Rhonda, “What the hell happened over here?” His hand was quick to tighten over the cattle prod on his belt. 

“I don’t know,” she scoffed. “I don't know this guy. He just fell. Right, Wade?”

Wade replied around a big mouthful of sausage, “He’zh clumzhy on that toi-let wine.” He threw up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. Rhonda mimicked the shrug and took a bite of oatmeal, trying not to gag on it.

Boots thumped on concrete as a second guard showed up, and scowling at Wade and Rhonda, they both dragged the wailing man away toward the infirmary.

With a furtive glance around the mess hall, Rhonda caught a brief glimpse of Mimi a few tables away giving the slightest nod. Apparently, the man wasn’t part of the Vicious 13, and they wouldn’t have to worry about punishment. Lucky.

When Rhonda sighed and pushed her tray toward Wade, he eagerly took up her spork and finished off her oatmeal. How he could seem to enjoy the food was beyond Rhonda.

The Icebox didn't have a yard to speak of - at least not an outdoor yard. Built into the side of a snow capped mountain, the entire complex was indoor. A sealed box. There was a large central space, lined with the cell blocks that stretched for what felt like miles. In the middle of that was a large, open space where the mess hall and "yard" blurred into each other. Past the tables and benches of the mess hall were the weight racks, a pair of basketball goals, and some other equipment, most of it damaged from years of riots. There were very few fluorescent lights. Instead, most of the lighting came from the skylights several stories above. On a bright day, the lighting might have felt like a shopping mall, but there were no bright days on this mountaintop.

After breakfast, Wade and Rhonda hadn’t been put on any duties, so they were free to make their attempts at recreation in the yard. They had settled on a suspiciously rickety weight bench near some other members of the Vicious 13.

As they got the barbell ready for a few sets of bench press, they watched over each other’s shoulders, wary for another potential attack. The barbell was lopsided - there weren’t enough plates to make it even, so Wade pressed some of his own weight on the lighter side for Rhonda’s sets. She was on her second set when a pair of inmates approached.

“Hey, V-One-Three,” one greeted, “Can you add us to your rotation for a few sets?”

Rhonda sat up and before she could answer, the second inmate let out a startled hiss of, “Oh, shit.” They muttered a hurried excuse and quickly walked away. She watched them another moment, then rolled her eyes and laid on the bench again to finish her set.

“Okay, seriously,” Wade said, “Why does everyone in here wanna kill you or avoid you like a celebrity with a rape scandal?”

She puffed a breath, pushing harder against Wade’s resistance. “You know how when dirty cops go to jail, they get sent somewhere outside their county, or out of state? So they don’t have to be in general pop with the people they arrested?”

Wade started snickering. He coughed a little, but still tried to keep his weight consistent on the bar.

Rhonda took a deep breath before her next rep. “Well when I first got here, I was sure there had been a mistake and I made a big deal about being part of X-Men. Guess who put a bunch of people in here.”

“The Avengers?” When she leveled a stony glare on him, he chuckled a little more before asking, “Okay, so what else?”

She shifted uncomfortably, and racked the bar for a moment to catch her breath between sets. She tugged at her sleeve to make sure most of her Xs were covered. “Eventually, I...snapped.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “What does it look like when lawful good snaps? Quit saying ‘bless you’ when someone sneezes?”

Rhonda looked up at him, rusty barbell between them. “I started doing what everyone in here does. Stabbing kidneys, slashing thighs. But then I escalated. I broke a couple necks, and…” she took a deep breath and shuddered.

Wade smiled, a twinkle gleaming in his eye. Rhonda whispered something too soft for him to hear. “Hm?” he held a hand to his ear.

A voice near Rhonda’s feet said, “She slashed a motherfucker open and pulled out his intestines with her bare hands.”

Rhonda ducked under the bar to sit bolt upright, a shiv glinted in her hand. The blue-haired man she had pointed out to Wade when they first arrived stood before them. His arms were crossed, his deep bronze skin seemed dull compared to the bright blue of his cornrows.

Wade’s jaw dropped. Then he gave Rhonda a slow clap. “Look at you! Giving Arya Stark a run for her money! Miss Murder’n’Mayhem!”

The inmate bared his teeth, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, “She took a bite, too. I seen it.” He turned his gaze to Wade and pointed at Rhonda, “This psycho bitch bit off a guard’s finger too. If she’s using you for a slampiece, you better watch yourself.”

When Wade looked at Rhonda again, she was perfectly still, her features void of any emotion. “You have a lot of fingers for someone doing so much talking,” she warned.

Wade made a big show of grimacing and groaning, “Cannibalism? Really?”

The blue-braided inmate shrugged, “Nah, I know you won’t fuck with me. I ain’t given you any reason. Besides, you slash a V-One-Three? Mimi won’t have that. See how quick she makes you disappear.” His chin jutted upward, absolutely arrogant. It annoyed Rhonda, but he wasn’t wrong.

She lowered her shiv, but didn’t put it away. Cold glare fixed on the newcomer, she asked, “You need something, Janks?”

He waved vaguely toward the bench she sat on, “This bar’s in the V-One-Three section. Any of us can use it. Now move so I can do a set. I’ve got messages from Mimi.”

She hesitated to move. “If Mimi’s got something to say to me, she can tell me herself.”

Janks gave another mirthless smile, “Mimi is a busy lady.”

Sharing a pointed look with Wade, she reluctantly got up and let Janks settle. Wade coughed again, so Rhonda had him lean on the heavier side of the bar, so he could have it easier and she could lean with her own weight on the lighter side to Janks’s satisfaction.

Janks was surprisingly strong. He pumped each rep quickly, raw power in his lean muscles. He puffed a breath with each rep. “Mimi says - hhh - she knows the right snake hole - hhh - to get to the top of - hhh - the mountain.”

“Nice code,” Wade quipped. “A little on the nose for my taste, but--”

“What else did Mimi tell you?” Rhonda asked with a sharp edge in her voice.

“Hhh - Nothin’ she doesn’t trust me with,” Janks evaded. “There’s something - hhh - you’ll have to take care of - hhh - she says you’ll know what to do.” 

He paused at the end of his set, and Rhonda let him breathe a second before she pressed, “That’s it? She didn’t give any details?”

Janks scoffed, “How many fuckin’ details you need, Guestbook, huh? I told you everything I’m supposed to.” He curled a finger, signaling he was ready for another set. 

Practically hovering over his face, Rhonda gave a quiet snarl, “Whatever it is, if Mimi’s not happy, you better hope it wasn’t because of a communication error.”

Janks worked another two sets before he left them alone. Wade was coughing too much for Rhonda to let him do a set at all, and instead they took a worn deck of playing cards to one of the tables at the edge of the mess hall. As she started shuffling the deck, careful not to tear the corners any worse than they already were, Wade asked, “You really eviscerated somebody and then made a snack of him?”

Rhonda clenched her jaw so hard Wade could hear her teeth grinding. “I did the guard’s finger, yes. But the first guy...I spat some blood at somebody. You know how stories get twisted.”

“Uh-huh,” he was trying not to laugh.

“This isn’t something I’m proud of,” she snapped, her voice still raspier than usual. “The first time I killed someone, I couldn’t hold any food down for days. And later, I...I either got used to it, or I got better at not thinking about it." She paused and dropped her voice to a near whisper and looked away, "I don’t know which is worse.” Her teeth ground again as she pursed her lips and started dealing the deck evenly between herself and Wade.

His expression softened. “We won’t be here long,” he assured her. “The gang’s probably already on their way here. What’s the plan for these collars? I have a feeling you’ve been making decisions without cluing me in...”

“Let’s play War,” Rhonda flipped the top card of her deck - a queen of spades with her faces scratched out. Wade revealed a three of hearts, and Rhonda took both for her pile. “Mimi will get into the control office and let us in. Until then, we keep her happy doing whatever she tells us.”

Wade started to laugh, but it quickly turned into coughs again. “You let the snake lady gang lord be in charge of the most important part of our plan? Why did you agree to that?” He flipped a seven of diamonds, which beat Rhonda’s two of clubs. 

“I got her to buy in on getting the fuck out of here.” She surreptitiously glanced around, checking for anyone listening.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he grumbled as they tied the next round and each laid out three cards for battle. “You don’t strike me as much of a diplomatic type. What did you promise her?”

Rhonda won the next round and leaned close. “Every inmate in here would give anything to get these collars off. I promised Mimi that if she helps us, she can take collars off whoever she wants.”

Wade fidgeted with the corner of his next card. “And if she chooses people who can wreck our shit?”

She shrugged. “When I first got mine off, I couldn’t do anything. It was a couple days before I could even make sparks again. There’s a chance that the collars affect other people like that too, especially the ones who’ve had them a long time. Their abilities will probably be lessened.”

“I smell a whole lot of maybe in that idea…”

“What other options do you see, Wade?” She slapped her next card on the table. “If we had a year, we could build a cover, we could get a guard in our pocket, make some hiding places, but this is the best we can do right now.” She shook her head and muttered, “Besides, it’s not like we have to take them with us.”

“Inmate!” a guard barked from a distance.

Wade raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised you’d have that attitude, but okay. I--”

“IN-MATE.” The guard was closer now, impatient. “Guestbook!”

Rhonda turned, schooling her features to predatory stillness. A few other inmates had gathered behind the guard, watching. This was the guard who had been with Reyes when the DMC had recaptured her. “Calhoun,” she said flatly. “How’s Reyes?”

Calhoun had bruises around one eye, and though Rhonda couldn’t remember, she suspected she'd put those bruises there herself. He was seething, “He’s out of the ICU, and he asked me to...watch over you until he gets back.”

“Here I am,” she said simply.

“Yeees,” Calhoun drawled. “Here you are.” 

He moved, and Rhonda dove under the table. Cards fluttered in the air. Before she had a chance to roll to Wade’s side, Calhoun and another inmate snagged each of her ankles and dragged her out into the open. Wade jumped, ready to help, but three inmates grabbed him, pinned his arms back, and started punching his gut.

Rhonda clawed at the cement, breaking fingernails as they dragged her. Adrenaline flooded her veins as she scrambled to defend herself. She whirled and caught the inmate in the face with her elbows, breaking his nose and spraying blood, but Calhoun caught her arm and threw her down onto her face. She was nearly to her feet again when a heavy, steel-toed boot caught her in the belly. The breath rushed out of her and she collapsed onto her side. 

Three more inmates pulled at her arms and legs until she was immobilized. 

Calhoun jabbed his knee into her lower back, ignoring her pained grunt. “It’s been a while since we’ve had our Guestbook,” Calhoun leaned over so Rhonda could see his cruel smile, “and we’ve had a lot of newcomers who need to sign.”

Rhonda screamed. Wild, pure rage echoed through the yard.

The guard tore her right sleeve clean off her arm, revealing her lacework of badly inked Xs.

Wade roared in angry futility, even as the inmates holding him kept beating him.

Calhoun took something from his pocket, a tattoo gun cobbled together from CD player parts and office supplies. He slowly ran one hand along Rhonda’s arm, looking for a blank space. “I forgot how full your arm is,” he said. “Maybe we should tear off the rest of your clothes.”

Rhonda huffed and heaved, raging but trying to conserve her strength. “Reyes thought he was tough until a giant Russian mutant had his hands on him,” she growled through her clenched jaw. “Reyes is shit, and you’re shit. You’ll die shit.”

Unperturbed, Calhoun hooked his fingers into Rhonda’s collar and thumped her head hard against the concrete floor. Looking at the inmates who had gathered around them, he flashed his teeth in a horrible smile. He offered up the improvised tattoo gun. “Okay, who’s first?”