#(Commenting on the name generally is one thing and I still giggle at the dub jokes 'Is he?' 'IZZY??? No were waiting for TAI' etc)

[diamond-coral]

Play by the Rules

Steve x Reader, Tony x Reader, Implied Steve x Reader x Tony

Summary: Working for the powerful CEO, Tony Stark, was a nightmare. Especially when you have to deal with his new, and equally as powerful, partner; the CEO of S.H.I.E.L.D. Inc., Steve Rogers. You have a plan to leave it all behind, but Tony has his own plans for you.

This is my first writing for @ darkficsyouneveraskedfor and @ harper-emory-writes Dark Bingo challenge: crossing off the squares Blackmail and CEO AU. I’m nowhere near a bingo but I’m super excited that I’ve started !!

Warnings: 18+ only! NON-CON/DUB-CON(ORAL (M RECEIVING), INTERCOURSE, MENTION OF ANAL), BLACKMAIL, VOYEURISM, sexism in the workplace, swearing.

 “We’ll review the new contract with S.H.I.E.L.D. today during the meeting. I’ll need two printed copies of it as well as a printed copy of our current one with Asgard Corp.” Tony snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Y/n, are you even listening to me?”

You look up from your notepad. “Of course, Mr. Stark. Just taking notes.”

Tony scoffs. “Wasn’t half the reason I hired you your ability to retain information without wasting time by writing things down?Since when did you start taking notes?”

Since I became willing to do anything to not have to look at you and remember that you were balls deep in me just last week.

“I’d just like everything to go smoothly for this meeting. I understand it’s a big deal for the company and for you, sir.”

Tony studies your face. “Well in the spirit of dedication, I’ll need you to stay a couple hours extra.”

You try to avoid scrunching up your features at that. Although you had been looking forward to curling up on your couch when you got home, you would never dare counter your employer, so you just nod.

“Rogers will be here in an hour,” he continues. “I’m expecting you to greet him, so I’ll have an intern go out and get you an outfit.” 

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark, I believe the attire I’m currently wearing is satisfactory, is it not?”

Tony eyes your black blazer and pants paired with flats. “It’s not,” he states as he gets up from his chair across from you at your desk and fixes his tie. After pausing to consider your confused look, he elaborates. “You gotta show some more skin, sweetheart. It’s the only way a woman like you will be able to make it out here.”

Your mouth falls open as he turns and leaves you to process his offensive comment.

“Bastard,” you mumble.

You could run Stark Industries in your sleep. In fact, Tony had already appointed you head of three separate divisions as well as let you bring a few of your own original projects and ideas to life in the years you had been here. You saw your own potential and Tony had been generous enough to help you expand and experiment with it. A couple more years and you could leave Stark Industries behind to start your own company with the connections you’d already made.

Which is why you remained compliant with Tony’s every demand. No matter how much it hurt your pride (especially when a drunk hookup with him practically destroyed your pride), nothing would compare to the sweet victory of running Tony’s company into the dirt when you started your own. You did your own projections. Tony wasn’t short of enemies, and with their help and your own skill set, you’d make double the profits Tony did in half the time.

So you put up with the touches, grabs, and comments from Tony. He had such a large company to run that he barely noticed that the three divisions he absentmindedly handed to you were the most successful. You’d giggle and bat your eyelashes as long as Tony didn’t notice you practically undermining his company.

Play by the rules,

But be ferocious.

_________________________

Twenty minutes later you’re interrupted from your pile of paperwork by a soft knock.

“Come in!” you call out.

A boy with short brown hair lets himself in. You’d seen him around as Tony’s shadow.  

‘What was his name again? Patrick? Pietro? Pierre?’

“Oh, Peter! How can I help you”

“Hey, Ms. L/n, Tony asked me to bring this up to you.”

Peter holds up the clear dry-cleaning bag, and it takes all your effort not to grimace at the short black pencil skirt inside. Instead, you give him a tight-lipped smile.

“You can just leave it on that chair, thank you,” you say.

As Peter leaves you get up to inspect the clothing Tony so graciously provided for you, and you notice a note attached.

leave a couple buttons undone ;)  -TS

Scoffing, you throw the note in the trash as you pick up the clothes and lock your door.

You’d begrudgingly play a little eye candy knowing you’d get your revenge in a couple years.

But how much could this escalate in a couple of years? 

“Stop it,” you mutter to yourself while pulling on the black blazer.

Once you're finished changing, you receive an alert that Steve Rogers had checked into the building. 15 minutes early.

You hadn’t even met the fucker and you already hated him.

________________________________

“Mr. Rogers!” you greet the blonde in a painfully cheery voice. “You’re early!”

“Well, this is an important meeting, sweetheart,” he replies, and you cringe at the pet name, handing him a clipboard and pen.

“This is just a quick confidentiality contract, Mr. Stark would like you to sign,” you inform. “Basically just saying you agree not to share any contents of the meeting or contract to any outside parties until you and Mr Stark have solidified and confirmed all aspects of your partnership.”

“Ah so Stark is already confident he’ll get a partnership with my company?” Steve muses and scribbles his signature. He looks up, handing the clipboard and pen back to you, and you motion for him to follow you down the hall.

“So what’s your role here exactly?” Steve asks, following behind you. “Are you an intern, receptionist...maybe a call-girl?”

You don’t bother turning at his teasing remark, instead answering calmly. “I run the three most successful divisions here, Mr. Rogers.”

“Impressive,” he remarks, but it sounds more of a mock from him. “And Stark still keeps you as an assistant.”

Your brows furrow at that comment. “How do you know I’m an assistant? And why would you ask what I did here if you already knew?”

“Women like you are just so fun to rile up. Stark and I had a meeting earlier in the month, and he talked of you very fondly.”

Well that didn’t sit right with you. You coordinated all of Tony’s meetings and practically created his everyday work schedule. “Mr. Stark didn’t mention meeting you already.”

“We decided to go over all possibilities of this transaction. It wasn’t much.” Steve brushes your comment off as he enters the elevator with you.

The doors close and you feel trapped. Through the short conversation you’ve had with this man, you can already tell how calculating he is. Every word, every movement, has been intricately steered by him for his benefit. And you couldn’t even begin to explain how belittled his stature made you feel; sheer power barely contained by an expensive three piece suit. The dark blue made his blue eyes more piercing in comparison. Everything about him radiated dominance. And for a woman like you who was practically clawing her way up the corporate ladder, that was a problem.

“You coming?” Steve’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He stood by the open elevator doors, arm gesturing out for you to lead. “Time is money.”

“Well then you have plenty of it, don’t rush me,” you snap.

“Feisty,” he muses, lips turning upwards.

Steve follows behind you, and you can feel his gaze burning on your ass. You’re more than grateful when you reach Tony’s door, having to refrain from frantically knocking, trying to escape the stare of the man behind you.

“Enter,” a voice calls from behind the doors.

You push open the large door and stand to the side, allowing Steve to enter the room before you.

“Mr. Stark,” Steve greets, crossing the room to give Tony a firm handshake.

“Rogers.”

The men begin to talk business and you take that as your cue to leave, turning back towards the door.

“Y/n, have a seat,” Tony calls out to you. You glance back at him and beckons you over with two fingers.

“Um, Mr. Stark, there are no other chairs,” you stammer.

“Don’t worry, doll, I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t offer a lady a place to sit,” Steve declares. You expect him to get up, but he just spreads his legs a little wider and gestures to his lap.

Eyes flitting to Tony in panic, your employer just nods and gives you look of warning as if saying ‘don’t mess this up��.

You let out a breath and hesitantly make your way to Steve.

‘How much could this escalate?’

The words from earlier rang in your head, but you brush them away and tentatively place yourself on one of his muscular thighs, angling yourself inward. You can’t hide how your face twists into a look of disdain as Steve’s arm snakes around, pulling you further up his leg so you’re back right up against his torso.

“Mr. Rogers I-” Your voice is nothing but a squeak before Tony interrupts you.

“As I was saying,” Tony interjected. “Your profits will grow exponentially if you add Stark Tech to your security services. Which is why I get 60%. I’m already doing you a favor by growing your profits.”

“I want 50/50. Stark Industries will gain consumers from S.H.I.E.L.D. We both get more buyers from the partnership, so I say it should be an even split.”

“Well we both know you’re not just getting the consumers, Rogers,” Tony spat. 

That has your attention fully invested in the conversation. What could Rogers possibly get from the company that Tony would be so mad about parting from? You look down at the contract on the desk in front of you and your heart stops cold.

“Mr. Stark, why is my name on this contract?” It was there. Under ‘assets acquired’, it was the last thing, as if added as a last moment bargain.

Tony just ignores you. “Steve, you’re taking the head of Stark-Touch Smartphones, my most profitable branch, you can’t just expect things to run as efficiently when she’s gone.”

“I’m taking her twice a week, I highly doubt that’ll make much of a dent in your operations,” Steve scoffs, and you tense up. “How about this. I get her for two weeks- straight- a month, and I’ll split it 45-55.”

“Mr. Stark, what’s going on?” Your voice quivers.

“Your boss here just agreed to sell you to me, as my...assistant,” he explains, hot breath fanning your ear. His free hand that’s not on your waist moves to grip your bare thigh up your skirt. “Two weeks a month, for every month, for as long as you work for him.”

“No!” you suddenly shout, wrenching your body from his grip to stand up. “I will take the comments, I will take the stares and the touches, but I will not be whored out like this. Mr. Stark, I quit.”

Stark just tsks and rises from his chair to stand in front of you. While shorter than Steve, it still feels like he towers over you with the demeanor he holds. “That’s just it, y/n...you see, you’re not gonna be quitting to start that new company of yours.”

Your eyes practically bulge out of your head as he mentions your future plans.

“Yeah, I know, you’re not as good at hiding as you thought. At least from Peter that is. Kid’s a whiz at the computer. Had him plant a bug on your home laptop and do a little sweep of your personal account. And I gotta hand it to you, the numbers you ran? Almost perfect. Every single projection and hypothesis you had would’ve gone through. You factored in almost everything. Almost. But you forgot one thing, sweetheart.” Tony’s hand flies up to grip your jaw and uses the momentum to throw you into the wall a few feet behind you. He’s back on you in an instant, seething, as the grip on your chin is bruising. “You forgot me, bitch. You forgot what would happen if you cross Tony fucking Stark. I’m the most powerful man in America. I can ruin your life with a snap of my fingers.”  Just as quickly as he was on you, Tony’s anger switches to calm, and in the blink of an eye, he’s off of you, casually smoothing his suit down. “Well more of a push of a button.”

Smirking, Tony reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone while you remain frozen in fear, glancing at Steve who just looks amused at the show in front of him. At the sound of Tony coughing to get your attention, you look back in front of you at the phone he’s now holding out. Black and white security footage is displayed on the screen, and the moment Tony presses play, you know what it is.

Your voice rings through the speaker, the moans, expletives, and begging coming out of your throat are clear as day as Tony fucks you over your desk.

“Harder, daddy!”

“Please, please, let me cum!”

Your eyes water. “Stop it,” you murmur, but the video keeps playing. “I said stop it! Please!”

Tony chuckles. “So now you understand what’s at stake here? One push of a button, one phone call to Peter, and this video will be up all over Time Square. Forget starting a company, you’ll be blackballed all over America from even being a receptionist.”

You’re defeated, your entire future crumbling before your eyes.

 “What do you want from me.”

“Well I think leaving me or the company is now obviously out of the picture, so for now, I want you to give Steve here a little trial of what he just bought from me.”

“Please...please no,” you croak, but Tony just holds up his phone and raises an eyebrow.

As you start to make your way toward the other man, Tony grabs your jaw once more. “Don’t half-ass it,” he grows in your ear before shoving you to Steve.

Eyes lowered, you stand in front of Steve and shrug your blazer off. “What would you like me to do...sir?”

“Suck me off.”

You’re barely able to breathe, sinking down to your nears, as tears begin to flow freely from your eyes.

“You’re so pretty when you cry doll,” Steve murmurs under his breath.

There is no dignity left in you as you unbuckle his belt and open his fly. The soft zip is deafening to your ears, and you reach in and pull out his hardening cock.

Shit. He wasn’t even fully hard and he was big. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t send a pang down to your core.

Giving him a few shy strokes, you then place your mouth over him, hollowing your cheeks as you lightly suckle at the tip. You pull back and take a deep breath. 

‘Don’t half-ass it’

You dive back in with renewed vigor, taking as much of him as you can and running your tongue across the underside of him. He’s hot and heavy in your mouth, and you find yourself pretending you were somewhere else with someone else, enjoying it. You let out a moan at his taste and Steve responds with his own groan, hand caressing your hair as you slightly speed up. His hand winds itself into your hair, and he begins thrusting his hips up into your mouth, extracting a whimper from you. Each buck of his hips turns harsher as his hand pushes down on your head to force his entire length down your throat, and at this point, you’re drooling onto his expensive slacks. He’s about to cum and you feel it; his thrusts becoming erratic and his entire body tensing, but before you can speed up and get this nightmare over with, he wrenches you off his dick and pulls you into a heated kiss, hands coming up to grope you all over.

You let out a startled squeal as both hands grasp your blouse and rip it down the middle, buttons flying everywhere, before he proceeds to do the same to the black lacy bra you're wearing.

“Ride me,” he commands.

All shame has left you at this point as you proceed to straddle him, your skirt now bunched up at your waist, and sink down on his length. The mewl that comes out of you is from how his girth is stretching you, and after what seems like eternity, you’re bottomed out and unable to move.

“Move,” he orders.

“I can’t,” you whine. “It-it’s too much.”

“Move.”

You let out another whimper as you slowly raise yourself a couple inches and sink back down, feeling every single vein on his cock brush against your walls. A few more attempts later, Steve grows impatient. A low growl is torn from his lips while he grabs your hips tight and slams you back down on his impossibly hard length.

You can barely hear the string of strangled screams and moans as he brutally thrusts into you, moving your body up and down and using you for his own pleasure. Every punishing plunge into your cunt punches the air from your lungs, and Steve’s groans are animalistic.

You glance over to the side to see Tony fisting his own dick, and the only thing that tears you away from staring at him is a particularly hard thrust from the man in the chair below you.

“Fuck, doll, your gripping me so tight,” Steve grunts.

The sound of skin slapping and the squelching of your now wet pussy is so overwhelming you don’t even register another set of hands on your waist.

“Bend her over more, Rogers. I wanna fuck her ass.”

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Eight // Wanda Maximoff

chapter seven | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter nine

author’s note: Y/C/N = your cousin’s name, also this is later than I wanted today but i’ve been super busy so sorry for that! Also, I’ll be responding to comments from the last one as soon as I’m free. Enjoy 😊

"...okay, so now use the water to dilute the colour."

I did as Wanda said, dipping my brush in the glass of water and diluting the watercolour I was using, but I must have used too much because it made the paint run and then the paper started to get too damp to hold together.

Wanda facepalmed, sighing as I smiled sheepishly.

"My bad...?"

She glared playfully before ripping a page from her sketchbook. "Try again, milaya (darling). And use less water this time."

I squinted in the sun as I glanced at her. "Can't you just accept I'm not very good at painting? Or art in general?"

She shook her head, taking the torn page from my grasp and replacing it with a new one. "No way. You're not getting out of it that easily. It's not hard, I promise!"

I groaned lightheartedly. "You said that about drawing. And about using acrylics. And about using chalk."

"And I'm saying it about this, now c'mon, try again," she encouraged with an amused smile before returning to her own painting.

We were sat in my garden, hanging out and making the most of the lovely day we were having. The Spring breeze was getting warmer as we transitioned into Summer and it was a nice change of pace from the usual bad weather we had. So nice that Wanda wanted to do some painting and also teach me how to. But art was never my strong suit and I'm sure she knew that but still proceeded to try anyway.

Sketching out the tree before us for the third time today, I attempted to provide an outline that I could eventually fill in with green watercolours. Unlike Wanda though, it wasn't fun. My eyes veered over to her and I smiled to myself as I admired the look of concentration on her face – her 'art' look, I dubbed it. It was this very specific expression she got whenever she worked on a painting or drawing, and it always reminded me of that first time I saw it, after we met in the stationary store and when she took me back to her room. Absolutely wonderful.

"I don't hear a pencil moving," she said, not looking up but beginning to smile.

"That's because I'm looking for... what did you call it?" I racked my brain, thinking back to the day in the store when she talked about inspiration. "Vdokhoventi?"

A sharp exhale escaped her lips as she finally lifted her gaze to meet mine. Attempting not to laugh, she tilted her head adorably. "Vdokhnoveniye."

I quirked a brow. "Is that not what I said?"

She giggled, shaking her head. "Definitely not."

I grinned, shrugging. "Well, that's what I meant."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not it, so eyes on your page."

"Oh, how dearly mistaken you are, love," I said quietly, leaning close and giving her a knowing smile.

She looked up, expression softening with a smile. Her eyes were heavenly, pupils dilated as she squinted in the sun, and they flickered to my lips before she settled on nudging me in the shoulder slightly. I snickered, leaning my head on her shoulder since everybody thought we were as close as best friends, so it wouldn't look suspicious. She sighed contently, letting me watch as she moved her paintbrush, painting a flower that was peeking through the grass we were sat on.

I could have stayed there forever, in that moment, sitting with Wanda and watching her paint under the sun. But of course, all good things come to an end when you don't want them to.

"Y/N, dear," I heard my father call, and when I looked up, I saw him approaching Wanda and I from the direction of our house.

Straightening up, I watched as he attempted to sit on the grass, but his legs were too long and he struggled to cross them. With a hearty chuckle, he stretched them out, slightly bent, and leaned on his hands.

"I'm getting too old for this, ladies," he said humorously, making Wanda and I smile.

"What d'you need, dad?" I asked, raising my brows.

"I just wanted to check in and see if you were ready for tonight," he said casually, making me furrow my brows. He seemed to notice my confusion, prompting, "Tonight? Your cousin's birthday party?"

"My cousin's what-now?"

He sighed, massaging the point between his brows. "Y/C/N? They organised this months ago. We're all expected to be there." His glanced to Wanda. "You, too, dear."

Wanda hummed, pulling her gaze from her painting and looking to my dad. "Yes, I'm aware. Got my dress ready and everything."

My eyes snapped to Wanda's with surprise. "You knew about this?!"

"You should be more like her," my dad muttered, as Wanda smiled with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

I looked back to my father. "I was planning on helping Y/B/N with his manuscript tonight."

My dad waved his hand. "I've already talked to him. He's agreed to work on it before the party starts so you're both on time."

I groaned, already tired at the sound of yet another party. Did it ever end?

"Don't be late," he ordered, though his voice was anything but stern. Cue another groan. He smiled before looking to Wanda's painting. "Wow, that's great, dear. Apparently you've got Y/N here attempting to do the same?"

Wanda chuckled as she handed him my several failed attempts. "Key word being 'attempting'."

He accepted the pages and stifled a smile of amusement. "Wow... maybe you should stick to writing, Y/N."

I ripped the pages from his grasp. "Cheers, dad, really."

He laughed before leaning forward and kissing my forehead. "It's all in good faith, dear. Now remember. Don't be late tonight, okay?"

I sighed, which he took as my response, before pushing himself off the grass with a grumble. Dusting his trousers, he nodded to Wanda and I before leaving us be.

"You could've told me I had yet another party to attend tonight," I told Wanda with narrowed eyes.

She shrugged, smiling helplessly. "I thought you knew."

I laid back on the grass with a dramatic sigh. "I just don't understand why our life revolves around extravagant parties, balls and dinners."

"That's just how it is, moya lyubov' (my love)," she said with a warm smile.

I looked up at the sky, raising my hand to shield the sun from my eyes, though my heart fluttered at one of the many nicknames she called me in Russian. "I'd rather live in the middle of nowhere. Where nobody expects anything of me and there's no stupid parties to attend."

She rested a hand on my leg before laying beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder. I relaxed my head on hers, appreciating how well we fit together.

"Same here," she agreed, making me gasp playfully.

"What? Don't you love the glitz and glamour?"

She laughed quietly. "I do, but I like the peace and quiet more."

I breathed out, fingertips brushing hers. "Maybe I can be a little late tonight... accidentally run over time so I don't have to stay as long."

Her fingers tugged on mine between us as a warning. "No. I'll be left alone and I'll be bored. And when I'm bored, I drink."

It was my turn to laugh. "You won't be alone, Wanda. You'll have Pietro."

She shifted so she was no longer leaning on my shoulder but instead tilting her head to look my way. "I want you."

I turned my head and gave her a small, promising smile. "I'll try to be on time."

She quirked a brow. "Try? You will."

My eyes flittered away, ready to argue otherwise, but she sat up and grabbed her paintbrush. I sat up, too, ready to tell her I would try, but I flinched when she flicked water towards me from the tip of it.

"Are you serious?" I asked, wiping the water from my eyelids with tongue-in-cheek.

She chuckled and I grabbed my paintbrush and did the same, watching her squirm when it flicked on her face.

Suppressed smile on her face, she wiped away the water and glared with dazzling eyes. "You shouldn't start what you can't finish, milaya (darling)."

Smiling from ear to ear, I quirked a brow devilishly. "Oh?"

"You're so lucky we're in front of people," she said lowly, leaning close enough to be platonic, but her hand slipped under my dress and creeped up my leg, making me involuntarily shiver. "Or you would be in serious trouble."

I stopped her hand from going any higher, the rings on her fingers cold enough for me to not melt under her touch. "I highly doubt that, love."

She held my gaze, intoxicating and mesmerising all at once. A sly smile tugged at her lips as she said, "Don't test me then. You heard your father. Don't be late."

I exhaled, licking my lips. "Fine. I won't be."

—

Later that afternoon, I found myself sat in my brother's study as the two of us worked on his latest manuscript together. It was a love story, his (my) specialty, and I was helping him to sort out his sentence structure when he decided to question me.

"Will you entertain me for a moment?" he asked randomly, making me look up from the pages.

"I'll probably regret it, but go on," I said jokingly, before looking back down and adding some notes to the paper.

His chair creaked as he leaned back, eyes watching me thoughtfully. "Are you in a secret relationship?"

I almost choked on my spit as he asked this, heart dropping to my stomach with panic. He couldn't know about Wanda, right? We'd been so careful.

Thankfully, I played it off well as I merely glanced his way before distracting myself with note-taking.

"Why would you think that, Y/B/N?" I asked like he was insane.

He shrugged in my peripheral. "I don't know... I've been wondering for a while. You've just loosened up so much more. And you're not as uptight as you usually are."

"Cheers," I said sarcastically.

He leaned forward, head resting in his palm. "This all happened right about the time I met Wanda..."

I swallowed hard, quirking a brow at him to play down my panic.

"I saw you with Pietro the other week," he continued, and I could finally breathe when I realised what he was insinuating. "I'm happy if you're happy, Y/N, but I'm not a fan of you sleeping with my publisher."

At that thought, I shuddered and proceeded to shove Y/B/N on the arm. "Don't say that. And I would never."

Just your fiancé, I thought guiltily.

"Good," he said with relief, straightening up. "Because you're not supposed to do that until you get married."

I rolled my eyes dismissively in response, but wondered if that still applied in a world where one was not allowed to marry the person they loved.

Y/B/N gave me a reassuring glance. "Look, I'm okay with it, I guess. But I'd appreciate the heads up so I can give him a stern talking to."

Realising there was a hint of mirth in his voice, I looked up and gave him a warning look. "Don't you dare."

He laughed, patting me on the back, to which I shrugged off with annoyance.

"It's the Maximoff charm," he commented knowingly. "The twins have that effect on people, don't they? Wanda sure has it on me."

A short silence fell after he said that and I chewed on my lip curiously, unable to stop myself from speaking until it was too late.

"Is her love reciprocated?"

He looked down to me from his daydream, no doubt of Wanda. "Pardon?"

Knowing there was no backing down from the conversation now, I avoided his eyes. "The engagement between you both was arranged... you're clearly in love with her, but is it returned?"

His lips twitched into a frown. "I'd hope so."

I hummed, diverting my attention away from him and to the pen in my hand.

"Why? Did she say something?" he asked, voice laden with worry.

"Of course not," I reassured him.

"But you'd tell me if she did?" he asked eagerly.

I looked his way and saw him peering down at me, hanging onto my response. I nodded lamely, which seemed to put him at ease as he sank into his chair with relief.

We spent the next few hours working on the manuscript without a hitch, but I noticed the time and realised the party was already in full swing. Wanda's words came to mind and I hoped she wouldn't be too annoyed at my lateness.

"We're wrapping it up now, don't worry," Y/B/N said, noticing me check the clock. "Thanks for the help. I'm gonna get this to my editor tomorrow. Your amendments should help make the process go a lot smoothly."

I hummed in response, feeling a heaviness settle on my shoulders as he mentioned his editor. It was always the same routine – I helped him with his manuscript, he got it edited, got his book published and got all the credit. And I was stuck in the same position, wishing I could do the same.

"What is it?" he asked with a sigh, sensing my mood.

Playing with the corner of the manuscript, I met his gaze. "I help you with your writing, but I never get anything from it."

"You get to help me," he pointed out, not seeing the issue. "Isn't that enough?"

Pietro's offer came to mind as I said, "What if I wrote my own book? And got published with my name on the cover?"

He squinted as he studied me, trying to find the humour in my words. Letting out a laugh, he shook his head.

"Y/N, that's absurd."

I raised my eyebrows hopefully. "I mean, is it? Would that be so bad?"

He pressed his lips together and breathed out through his nose. Resting a hand on my shoulder, he gave me a condescending look.

"I'm saying this because I care," he said, making me feel like crap. "But yes."

As if I didn't already know the answer, I asked, "Why?"

He motioned with his hand like it was obvious. "Because. People would look at you differently. You'd be undesirable. You know men don't like smart women. I'm just looking out for you as your brother."

I looked away, the bitterness at his words stinging more than usual. "Well, I like smart women."

Thinking I was joking, he chuckled. "Don't go saying things like that. One might misinterpret."

My teeth pressed into my lower lip hard, trying to contain my frustration.

"You can do this every now and then," he said, referring to the manuscript, "but any more isn't possible. Besides, two authors in one family? That's insane."

I forced a smile, but I wondered if his last comment was the real reason he wouldn't let me at least try to get published.

"Anyway, never mind that," he said indifferently. "We should probably head out. Dad is not going to be pleased. Especially since I promised we wouldn't be late."

I nodded, sliding my chair out and wanting to be anywhere but here right now. "Yeah, come on."

He gave me a sneaky smile. "Can't wait to see Pietro?"

I slapped him on the arm before standing up, ignoring his laughter. Nothing to make an already-depressing night worse than going to a party you didn't care for.

—

Wanda Maximoff was a very difficult drunk to be around, I'd learnt that the hard way.

As soon as Y/B/N and I rolled up to my cousin's house, a third of the guests were drunk and the rest were tipsy. A typical Y/L/N get-together. Y/B/N was instantly dragged away by some family whilst I was quick to make myself scarce, attempting to find Wanda. But the place was bustling with people and there were way too many rooms to check.

I found Pietro before I found his twin, as he was poking around party favours on a table in the corner, attempting to make out what were in the bags.

I found Pietro before I found his twin, as he was poking around party favours on a table in the corner, attempting to make out what were in the bags.

"If you're expecting a brand new fountain pen, you won't find it in there," I teased, making him jump.

He sighed when he looked my way, realising it was me. "I know that. But there's nothing better here to do, so I may as well know what freebies we'll be getting by the end of it."

I smirked. "Anything good?"

He shrugged, seeming disappointed. "Just some chocolate and perfume samples."

Holding back a smile, I said, "How tragic."

"If you're looking for my sister, she's over there," he said, nodding behind me. "You'll love this one."

"What do you mean?" I asked, brows knitted with confusion, before turning around and following his gaze.

Wanda was indeed stood on the other side of the dining room and I could just about make her out between idle guests. She was chatting to some woman, hands moving erratically and with expression, a grin on her lips.

"What is she doing?" I asked unsurely, tearing my eyes from her and looking to Pietro.

He was withholding laughter as he answered, "Sometimes, dear Y/N, my beloved twin sister gets drunk when she's–"

"Bored," I finished, remembering what she told me this morning. My face dropped as I mumbled, "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh indeed," Pietro said, grinning at his sister's dismay. "Drunk Wanda is a very truthful Wanda. So, any secrets of hers will most definitely be revealed tonight."

Pietro was too caught up in his own amusement to notice my eyes widening.

"One of our servants made me a platter a few years ago," Pietro explained, oblivious to my panic. "It was a delicious cheese platter, the cheese having been imported from France. Then, Wanda proceeded to eat it without telling me. When I asked if she did, she lied. And I only discovered she lied because she got drunk a few weeks later and bragged about how good the cheese was."

Continuing to ramble, though this time in Russian, Pietro complained about said incident, though I wasn't listening as I watched Wanda talk to the woman enthusiastically. I could only imagine what secrets she was sharing.

"Pietro!" I cut him off, earning his attention. "Shouldn't you do something? To stop Wanda?"

The cheese platter story long forgotten, his grin reappeared on his lips. "Nah, it's funny watching her make a fool of herself."

I gave him a look of disbelief before looking back to Wanda, who was laughing at something by herself. The woman she was speaking to seemed partially confused, but smiled to be polite. I gulped, before shaking my head.

"I'm not that mean," I said to Pietro before making a move to stop her.

Pietro booed me playfully, but I ignored him and approached the drunk brunette, managing to catch her conversation.

"–and they're usually such catty bitch–"

"Wanda!" I immediately cut her off, bumping into her side slightly to get her attention. "There you are!"

Green eyes widened with excitement as they met mine. "Y/N! You're here!"

Ignoring her, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her close before looking to the guest she was talking with.

"My apologies for her behaviour," I said with an awkward smile, hoping Wanda hadn't revealed anything suspicious.

"No need to apologise, dear," the woman said with an amused smile. "Wanda here was telling me all about how lovely of a sister-in-law you are. Or will be."

Wanda grinned, looking to me and leaning in so close that her nose brushed my cheek. "Yeah, she is," she continued to the woman, though her eyes were on mine. "She's sweet, not like other people make out their sister-in-laws to be."

My face was warm as I cleared my throat and smiled once more to the woman. "If you'll excuse Wanda and I."

The woman barely got out a nod before I dragged Wanda away, trying to keep her lips away from my neck (she was also an extremely clingy drunk). Tugging her into the bathroom down the hall, I closed the door behind us and released a breath of relief, grateful for the escape from guests.

"You look very sexy when you're worried," Wanda complimented, stepping forward and smiling dazedly.

"Wanda–"

She placed her hand on my jaw, moving closer so that her lips were grazing mine as she mumbled, "You came late, milaya (darling). But I still love you."

I'd like to say that I had the willpower to push her away and scold her for acting so obvious about us before, but my lips went numb as she captured them between hers. I could taste the alcohol on her lips as she moved them against mine, making me dizzy and forgetting what I was going to say. Her thumb caressed my jaw and I relaxed under her touch, hands resting on her chest. When she tried to part my lips with her tongue, I seemed to come to my senses.

"Wanda, you're drunk," I muttered, pushing her back gently.

She chased down my mouth again, sucking on my lip and tilting my head back so she could have better access. I tried not to let her win as I kissed her briefly before pulling away. Clouded hazel eyes met mine with a matching smirk.

"You're such a tease," she whispered, her accent thicker than usual and making my stomach flip uncontrollably. Her thumb traced my lips as she continued, "You shouldn't do that when I already know how you taste, moya lyubov' (my love)."

The way she was staring at me made me flustered in place, and she seemed to notice her effect on me as she winked my way.

Shaking my head and trying not to let her win, I said, "Look, Wanda. I'm sorry for being late. But did you really have to get drunk?"

She shrugged, leaning her weight on my shoulder with her hand. "If you hadn't kept me waiting, then I wouldn't have."

I sighed, looking to her apologetically. "I didn't realise the time."

A permanent troublesome smile was fixed on her lips as she watched me.

"Your brother told me how you can be when you get drunk," I said with mild concern, hoping she'd register my seriousness. "You need to be careful, Wanda. We can't have people finding out about us."

"It seems to me," she began agonisingly slowly, lacing her arms around my shoulders, "that you'll have to watch me all night to make sure I don't do anything out of line."

Determined not to play into her teasing, I maintained her gaze with a stern stare. "It seems I'll have to."

She bit her lip, eyes flickering between mine, before leaning further into my ear. In a whispered voice, she said, "That means you can't leave my side, printsessa (princess)."

I clenched my jaw, ready to agree, but a gasp escaped my lips as hers sucked on my earlobe, teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin. Stupid Wanda and her stupid flirting and stupid attractiveness.

"Wanda!" I scolded, though my cheeks were flushed as I pushed her away gently.

She laughed adorably, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "What?"

"You have to behave," I told her, swallowing hard and trying not to let her teasing smile get to me. "You can't do this out there. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed in a way that wasn't reassuring in the slightest.

I rolled my eyes before grabbing her hand and leading her back outside the bathroom, returning to the party. I wasn't planning on leaving her side for the rest of the evening, even if Y/B/N wanted to be with her. The last thing I wanted was for her cute drunken self to reveal something she couldn't take back.

To my relief, she kind of behaved after that. There were times when she would get a little too touchy to be platonic, but a quick stare set her straight. Y/B/N wasn't around much, as when he did join us, he was immediately pulled away by some family friends who wanted to discuss his books. For once, I was glad he was an author, afraid of what would happen if Wanda got too comfortable in his presence.

At one point though, he was able to join Wanda, Pietro and I at a standing table, relief flooding his expression when nobody called after him. His arm wrapped around Wanda's waist and he kissed the top of her head, making me look the other way with distaste. She scrunched her nose up at the action before distracting herself with a drink. I gave her a knowing look, having told her earlier to stop with the alcohol. She pretended not to see me.

"Sorry I've not been able to spend time with you tonight," he said to Wanda, oblivious to her tipsy state.

"It's almost like it's your birthday and not your cousin's," Pietro joked, smiling at him.

My brother chuckled. "I guess. They just all wanna talk about my manuscript."

"Ah, yes, the reason you were late, right?" Wanda asked, eyes falling to mine.

"I'm sorry," my brother apologised, assuming it was him she was speaking to.

"You were helping him, too, right?" Pietro asked, looking to me curiously. "Maybe I'll finally get a glance at your work."

I narrowed my eyes at him, having figured he'd put the subject to rest after last time. He merely grinned in response, finding joy in messing with me, just like his sister. Before I could say anything, my brother beat me to it.

"Don't be getting any ideas. It's just a hobby." He smiled forcefully, before glancing at me. "Isn't it, Y/N?"

"Don't be getting any ideas. It's just a hobby." He smiled forcefully, before glancing at me. "Isn't it, Y/N?"

So he was jealous. Wow.

"You don't need to hide your relationship, y'know," he continued when I didn't respond, looking to Pietro.

The silver-haired publisher choked on his drink as he looked to my brother, clearly very amused.

"I know you're together," Y/B/N said with agitation. "Everybody does. And don't get me wrong, Pietro, I respect you as a publisher."

I groaned quietly, closing my eyes with embarrassment. When I opened them, Pietro was watching my brother with an entertained smile, meanwhile, Wanda was looking between them with a twitching frown.

"But if you're going to date my sister, you should do it the right way," my brother continued stupidly. "It's not appropriate to have whatever this is." He motioned between us with his hands. "It's wrong."

I jumped when Wanda's hand slipped to my arse, squeezing it gently. Thankfully, our backs were to a wall so nobody would have noticed behind us, but I instantly glared at her and removed her hand. She gave me a cunning smile, not bothered by the consequences.

"...and if you're sleeping together like I suspect," Y/B/N was saying, making me flush with humiliation, "know that our friendship is at breaking point. I can't have that blatant disrespect in my life."

Wanda continued to attempt to grab my arse, making me slap her hand away several times, all whilst trying to manage whatever conversation was happening right now.

"I can't believe you just said that," I finally spoke up, managing to keep Wanda at bay long enough. "You're such an idiot, Y/B/N! I told you I wasn't with Pietro!"

Pietro tried not to laugh as he met my brother's intimidating stare. "I value our friendship, too, Y/B/N. Which is why I can promise you I have no... relations... with your sister. I don't like her like that, I can assure you."

Wanda snorted with amusement, before hiding behind a glass of wine when everyone looked her way.

Y/B/N seemed embarrassed as he cleared his throat. "Oh."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, oh!"

"I guess I should apologise," he said awkwardly, looking to Pietro. "I–"

"No apology necessary," Pietro cut him off, raising a hand. "I am thankful for the entertainment however."

"I'm gonna go literally anywhere else," I dismissed myself, unable to take the uncomfortable situation any longer.

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked away. To my surprise, Wanda trailed after, falling into step with me.

I glanced at her unhappily, quirking a brow. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, don't be mad at me because your brother's an idiot," she said with a wag of her hand.

I gave her a suggestive look. "I told you to behave."

She pressed her lips together in a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry... Y/B/N was talking about you and Pietro and I– well, I don't like sharing, remember?"

The improper glint in her eye as she stopped before me, watching with amusement, made me feel warm all of a sudden. That day when she first told me that and we proceeded to make love flashed to mind, and she seemed to know as she had a mischievous look on her face.

Clearing my throat, I pointed a finger her way. "Behave."

I should have known by the devilish look in her eyes that she wouldn't.

[iam93percentstardust]

Hello. I am very interested with WinterIron. Enemies to Lovers, abo with omega Tony, accidental bonding, mutual pining, a lot and a loooootttttt of kissing and touching (with "I do it because of bond" excuses).

Please feel free to cross anything you feel uncomfortable with.

Hi there! I wasn't able to get everything in there, but hopefully there's enough? I loved this prompt so much, it was a fun verse to write in 💙

CW for omegas having few rights in this verse and for creepy Aldrich Killian

As always, everything I write can also be found on ao3

~

mate bond: [meyt bond] noun

1. A mental and physical connection that ties two people together following a mating bite

2. A pair bond between spouses

~

[An excerpt from The Other Half of My Soul: An Exploration into Unconventional Bonding Methods by Anderson-Lopez et al, 1972]

“While rare, it is important to note the existence of mate bonds in individuals who have not exchanged bites. These instances have notably occurred during times of high stress for one or both individuals, and are sparked by an inciting incident of some kind, usually a traumatic event. While these types of mate bonds, dubbed soulmate bonds by the media, frequently occur between individuals who are highly compatible, it is not necessary. Curiously, however, it does seem necessary that the individuals are scent matched for a soulmate bond, even though compatible second genders are not a requirement.”

~

Bucky maintained that it was an accident.

Tony had been meant for Steve, after all. That was the arrangement Howard Stark had decided on with Fury. Bucky had only come along as moral support for the first meeting between Steve and Tony. He wasn’t even supposed to meet Tony first, but the crowded ballroom had been too much for him, so he’d ducked out into the hallway, only to come across two alphas menacing an omega. He supposed that some of Steve’s fiery nature must have rubbed off on him, as he normally would have never taken on two alphas by himself, not when he was down an arm. But he’d taken one look at that omega, pretty brown eyes wide with distress, and leapt into action. It hadn’t been until both alphas had been sent off running with their tails between their legs that he’d realized the omega he’d rescued was Tony Stark, Steve’s arranged mate.

Unfortunately (fortunately? No, definitely unfortunately), the arranged match would never come to fruition as Bucky and Tony had looked at each other and immediately bonded without a shared word or bite between them.

Howard was furious, Fury less so—Bucky was still a SHIELD agent, even if he wasn’t the great Captain America, so the planned union between SHIELD and SI would still happen—but both Bucky and Tony insisted that it hadn’t been done on purpose. And, as neither had a mating bite but could still feel the other at the back of their mind, it was hard to disprove the existence of what had once been called a soulmate bond, though was now called the rather unglamorous name of Mate Bond Subtype C, which Bucky thought sounded like an illness.

The media thought it was the most romantic thing they’d ever heard. Steve, who was slowly courting another alpha from SHIELD, thought it was a relief. Bucky, who didn’t want an omega while he was still recovering from the surgery on his arm, thought it was a nightmare at first.

He didn’t know what Tony thought.

They might have shared a bond between them, but Tony had quickly figured out how to shield his feelings. It had taken Bucky a little bit more practice but he too had worked out how to keep his thoughts and feelings private, which was good, because he doubted Tony would like to know what he was thinking.

They’d been bonded for three months and, while Bucky had moved into Tony’s penthouse apartment, they didn’t share a room, let alone a bed. He still took long missions that took him away for weeks at a time. Tony spent more time at SI’s research labs than he did at home. Bucky hadn’t shared Tony’s heat, nor had Tony shared Bucky’s rut, though neither of them had invited anyone else into their beds. And other than their planned public outings where they had to touch to put on the façade of a happily bonded couple, they didn’t hold hands or kiss or lean into each other, giggling.

The problem was—Bucky wanted all of that. He wanted to sleep curled around Tony. He wanted the two of them to be home long enough to share more than one dinner together at a time. He desperately wanted to share cycles, but even more badly than that, he wanted to touch Tony as often as the omega could stand it. Because the problem was also this—sometime in the course of three months, he’d fallen in love.

~

Tony slid his hand into Bucky’s as they stood in the elevator. “It’s just a quick walk around the ballroom, say hi to a couple investors, and then we can leave,” he said reassuringly, giving Bucky a quick smile. “I know how much you hate these shindigs.”

This was true, Bucky did hate them, but he knew that Tony hated them just as much, though he hid it much better than Bucky did. “Don’t worry,” he replied, squeezing Tony’s hand quickly. “I’ll stick to you like glue.”

“Well, maybe not like glue. Like Velcro, maybe. Howard’s got a couple investors that I know he wants me to meet and that I know you’ll hate so you’re more than welcome to go off and find people more to your liking then. I heard Steve’s coming.”

Bucky had to fight to hide a frown. He knew Tony didn’t mean any harm by the comment, but he hated how Tony thought he wouldn’t want to be by his side even when meeting people he didn’t like. So what if he didn’t like them? He’d still prefer to be giving Tony silent support instead of wandering off and leaving him alone for that long.

Before he can respond, the elevator came to a smooth stop, the doors opening on a soft ding to reveal the glittering ballroom Maria Stark had chosen to host the Annual Stark Foundation’s Shareholders’ Ball, meant to honor those who had given so generously to charity over the last year. The room was decorated in delicate ice-like structures, calling to mind the snow blanketing the city outside, though it wasn’t nearly as cold inside. Golden chandeliers reflected off the dark windows, giving the impression of a never-ending stretch of light. It was all so very glitzy and glamorous. Bucky hated it. It was an obscene display of wealth, meant solely to remind everyone that the Starks were richer than anyone else in the room.

“One hour, Bucky Bear,” Tony murmured like he could hear Bucky’s thoughts. “And then we can go get burgers.”

He dropped Bucky’s hand in favor of sliding his own into the crook of Bucky’s elbow, gently steering him towards the first group of investors. Like every other rich person he’d met since bonding with Tony, they were simultaneously smug of their own “generosity” (mere pennies compared to their bank accounts) and jealous, both of Tony’s wealth and Bucky’s luck in landing a Stark (not his words). The smugness was blatant, the jealousy only slightly hidden in the way their eyes lingered as Bucky took the opportunity to brush his lips across Tony’s cheek, quietly telling him he was going to go get them drinks.

“I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me,” he promised, understanding the minute tightness at the corners of Tony’s eyes.

Tony smiled and nodded, attention already turning back to the investors—or, more likely, to his latest project, however much it might have looked like he was paying attention to Hugh Worthington IV. Bucky slipped through the crowd to the bar. Fortunately, it wasn’t crowded yet and he was able to order a whiskey for himself and a scotch for Tony, who always refused to drink the fruity drinks he actually preferred at these parties, almost immediately. As he waited, he turned back to the crowd, idly scanning it. Steve wasn’t there yet, if it was indeed true that Fury had managed to stuff him into a suit and send him off to schmooze. His eyes sought out Tony, who was laughing as he excused himself from the group Bucky had left him with, moving on to another small throng of people.

He smiled despite himself. Tony was lovely like this, despite his discomfort. Bucky got to see him laugh so rarely at home that he cherished every moment he got to see it while they were out in public.

“Sir, your drinks,” the bartender prompted. He thanked them absently and left a tip on the bar before making his way back across the ballroom to Tony’s side.

Tony wasn’t laughing now. In fact, if his pursed lips were anything to go off of, he was pretty furious, and Bucky wondered what had upset him between him leaving the bar and him returning to Tony’s side.

“Doll,” he said, letting Tony know he was there. Tony turned and took his drink, thanking him with a quick kiss that Bucky desperately wanted to turn into a longer, sweeter one.

“Honey, Senator Stern here was just telling me about an omega’s rights bill he filibustered so it wouldn’t pass,” Tony said, irritation bleeding into his tone.

“Now isn’t that interesting,” Bucky drawled, irritated himself. The bill in question was a law that he knew Tony had backed, as it would have put a stop to the arranged bondings the wealthy were so fond of. They’d both known it would be a longshot to pass, but they’d remained hopeful. “That’s the one that Stevie supported isn’t it?”

“It is,” Tony agreed. “My alpha here—” He patted Bucky’s chest. “—is close friends with Captain Rogers. They grew up together, you know. Steve spends nearly every Saturday evening with us. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear about this bill failing to pass. Isn’t he supposed to be putting in an appearance at the Senate hearing next week? It would be such a shame if he couldn’t make it.”

Tony’s statement was only partially true. Bucky mostly saw Steve at SHIELD, as Steve, despite being always welcome at their apartment, didn’t want to be reminded of how close he’d come to an arranged bonding of his own. But Steve, who had been an omega before receiving the serum, had always been an outspoken supporter of omega’s rights, and now that he was an alpha, and Captain America to boot, he used every bit of that privilege to push as much pro-omega legislature through Congress as he could. He was a thorn in conservative senators’ sides, like Stern, and it was a minor miracle that they’d gotten him to appear in front of Congress to talk positively about a Republican bill supporting an expansion of benefits for veterans, when he normally disagreed with anything Republican just on principle. Steve’s support would go a long way toward getting that bill passed.

Tony’s veiled threat was effective. Stern, one of the authors of the bill, blanched, making Bucky smile. He loved watching Tony do his thing. There was really nothing better than Tony putting bullies like Stern back in their place.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Stern stammered out before hurrying away.

As soon as he was gone, Tony drooped, leaning back against Bucky. It was nice, being able to lend his support to his omega, but Tony was standing up straight again after only a moment, the façade falling back over him.

“I really hate that guy,” Tony said softly. He looked up at Bucky. “Sorry about using your friendship with Steve like that. I was just so angry. Saw red for a second there.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said. Impulsively, he reached out to clasp Tony’s shoulder, running his thumb soothingly over the soft skin just above his shirt collar. “You guys got a bad lot in life. You do what you gotta do to make it right.”

Tony hummed. “I really wanted that bill to pass. It wasn’t right, what Howard and Fury wanted me to do. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

“Sorry,” Bucky offered up. It was a lame apology, but he didn’t know what else he could say to make it better. He knew very well that if he and Tony hadn’t bonded that night, Steve would be Tony’s alpha.

To his surprise, Tony smiled and nudged his shoulder, teasing, “I don’t know, you’re not so bad.”

Bucky sputtered, nearly choking on his whiskey.

“Oh, look, Steve’s just arrived,” Tony said airily, like he hadn’t noticed the effect his words were having on Bucky. “Let’s go say hi.”

Talking to Steve at these events was always awkward. Tony and Steve were both aware that neither of them wanted anything to do with each other as mates, which made having to see each other a study in unspoken tension. He didn’t think it was that either of them had a problem with the other, and he suspected that they could even manage to be friends eventually, but it was that knowledge that they’d nearly been forced to mate that made things so tense between them. Still, he appreciated that Tony was willing to put up with it so that Bucky could see his best friend. It was the sort of small kindness that Tony unthinkingly did that had made Bucky fall in love with him so easily.

Tonight was no different. Tony and Steve exchanged no more than a few awkward words before Tony excused himself to go meet with Emma Frost. He didn’t bother kissing Bucky this time, as Steve was one of the few people they didn’t have to pretend with and it didn’t seem like anyone was watching them at the moment. It would have been different if they’d met up a few months ago. There’d been more than a few people who’d somehow got it into their heads that Steve and Tony’s proposed bond was a love match instead of arranged, and they’d all watched eagerly to see how Steve, Tony, and Bucky interacted in those days following Bucky and Tony’s bonding, clearly wondering if Steve was going to pick a fight. They’d been sorely disappointed, of course; Steve and Bucky didn’t fight over anything, let alone an omega that Steve hadn’t wanted.

“So Fury roped you into the dog and pony show, huh,” Bucky asked, eyeing the stiff collar of Steve’s shirt. He’d be willing to bet that it was brand new. Steve was much more at home in a pair of khakis and a flannel shirt than he was in a tuxedo.

“Senator Brandt actually,” Steve said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “He thinks it’s good for me to make appearances and drum up support for SHIELD.”

“Sucks.” There was a niggling worry growing at the back of his mind, unrelated to Steve’s complaints about the brass, but Bucky didn’t know what it was. He glanced around the room, but was unable to spot anything amiss. He tried to put it out of his mind by asking, “How’s working with the Commandos?” He couldn’t entirely keep the bitterness out of his voice. Bucky had been moved out of the Commandos unit a few weeks before meeting Tony, and it wasn’t that he didn’t like being on Strike Team Delta, but he was still irritated that he hadn’t had a choice in the matter.

“Not the same without you,” Steve said, grimacing at him like he knew what was going through Bucky’s mind.

They continued talking about SHIELD as they slowly circulated the room and all the while, that worry was growing stronger, slowly morphing into fear, but it wasn’t until he happened to catch a glimpse of Tony standing in the corner and looking tense and unhappy that he realized they weren’t his feelings. They were Tony’s. Tony was worried and scared and had brought down his shields so that Bucky could feel his emotions and Bucky was standing on the other side of the room like an idiot.

“Excuse me,” he said brusquely, cutting Steve off. “Tony’s in trouble.”

He headed straight for Tony, pushing through the crowd without sparing a thought to anyone he might be offending as he shoved them aside. For once, it was Steve who was trailing after him, offering apologies to everyone who looked offended.

There was a look of naked relief in Tony’s eyes as Bucky marched up behind the alpha Tony was talking to. It was a look he’d never seen on Tony’s face before, at least not directed at him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that his omega was happy to have him there or disliked that Tony had to be relieved at all.

“Something wrong, doll?” he asked, hand clamping down on the alpha’s shoulder.

“Bucky,” Tony breathed. He sagged back against the wall. “This is Aldrich Killian. He’d like to propose—” Tony’s mouth twisted unhappily. “He’d like to propose an omega trade. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he insisted on talking to you.”

Anger flared in Bucky’s chest, hot and furious. Omega trades weren’t common anymore, used mostly in backroom deals to secure a transaction. You treat my omega right and I’ll treat your omega right, and maybe we can have a deal. He knew the rich, traditional alphas Tony had grown up with still occasionally used them, but he hated them. He’d always hated them. The very concept treated omegas like property, like hostages, and the thought of seeing Tony—his Tony—under someone else had his vision shading red.

“Is that so?” he hissed.

Killian, the idiot, didn’t seem to notice Bucky’s growing anger. “Maya’s a great—” he began to say.

Bucky cut him off with a hand around his throat, slamming him into the wall.

“Bucky—” Steve started, a warning in his voice.

“Tell them it’s SHIELD business,” he snapped. “Isn’t that the usual excuse?”

What Steve did to placate the crowd growing around them, he didn’t know; he was too intent on Killian to care. “Let me get this straight,” he growled. “You asked Tony for a trade and when he told you no, because I know him, he wouldn’t ever want that and he wouldn’t be quiet about it, you cornered him and insisted you’d only listen to a no from me.” It wasn’t a question. Tony’s thoughts and emotions were flooding him with what Killian had tried to do to him. He growled again at the image of Killian’s hand on Tony’s arm, removed after only a moment. This—this—alpha had tried to put his hands on Tony, had ignored his clear no, and was still babbling on about whatever business deal he wanted out of Bucky—or, more likely, Tony, though as an omega, Tony wouldn’t be able to make that decision.

“It’s a yes or no question, Killian,” he finally snapped, losing his temper. “Did you or did you not ignore Tony’s answer—"

“He’s an omega,” Killian tried.

“He’s a person. He’s a person who was clearly uncomfortable with you and you should never have ignored that. The only reason you’re still standing and not laid out on the floor is because he cares about making a scene, but guess what, I don’t.” His hand tightened on Killian’s throat, making the man wheeze. “Do—”

“Bucky,” Tony said quietly, cutting through his anger.

Without removing his hand from Killian, he looked at Tony. Tony still looked a little shaken, but there was something else in his eyes, something that Bucky didn’t know how to describe.

“Let him go,” Tony continued. “You made your point.”

“He—”

“Yeah, he did,” Tony said, knowing what he was going to say. Bucky wondered if his own shields were down, letting Tony read his thoughts and feelings. “And you were here to stop it, so it’s okay. Let him go, we can go get burgers.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure Killian never laid hands on someone unwilling ever again, but then Steve was there, carefully pulling Bucky away as he muttered to him about seeing what Fury could do about Killian. And that wasn’t exactly what Bucky wanted, but it was better than nothing, and taking care of Tony was his priority anyway. So since Tony wanted burgers, he would go get burgers.

He spun on his heels, intent on heading to the elevators, only to freezes as soon as he saw Tony. They were supposed to be faking it, which meant that he should do something—wrap an arm around Tony’s waist or kiss his forehead or—or something. But Tony had just had to deal with an unwelcome touch. He shouldn’t have to deal with another one so soon afterwards.

Tony surprised him though by stepping forward and sliding his hand into Bucky’s, interlacing their fingers. “Come on, alpha. Let’s go home,” he said, leading Bucky through the crowd watching them. Bucky ignored them in favor of drinking in the sight of Tony whole and healthy, if not happy.

They were quiet in the elevator ride back down to the parking garage, quiet as they climbed into the back of the car, quiet as Happy pulled out onto the road. Then Tony slid across the backseat to tuck up against Bucky’s side. He rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder, and, after a moment, Bucky rested his cheek against Tony’s curls.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Tony said. Bucky could feel the truth in his words through their bond, and he realized that Tony hadn’t put his mental shields back up. “I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I hadn’t been expecting something like that.”

“Shouldn’t have taken it so far though. I know you’re not—we’re not—” He grimaced as he fumbled over the words. He’d been able to admit for three months that he and Tony weren’t in a relationship, why was it so hard now?

Tony hesitated before carefully saying, “We could be.”

“We—what?”

“Bucky Bear,” Tony said warmly, sitting up so he could look him in the eyes. “You have to know—people don’t just do what you did tonight or the night we met, for that matter. Not for me. I—I don’t know, the way we bonded, it threw me off. I wasn’t expecting it and I reacted badly. But—then the way you reacted to Killian got me thinking—maybe we could try?”

“Try?” Bucky whispered.

“Try us?” Tony asked, leaning back in slowly, giving Bucky enough time to move away if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. “Yeah,” he breathed. “We could try. I—I’d like that.”

Tony smiled at him, bright and lovely, and closed the distance between them.

[hydrangeasimagination]

Cadence

Pairing(s): Saiki Kusuo X Gender Neutral! Reader | Onesided! Saiki Kusuo X Teruhashi Kokomi

Summary: When Kusuo feels, he feels with all of himself. It bleeds into everything, from exasperation to pining. Two things that came to him this special afternoon... The afternoon he’d told his mother he’d confess to his crush.

Warning(s): Unrequited Love. Slight Angst.

A/N: I'M SORRY KOKOMI... This is a fandom I haven't written for in a while! I know some people probably don't like her that much?? But it came to me. Think of it like Conan Gray's "Heather", just that Heather isn't the one our love interest has affections for. Oh - the reader is a musician here!! This is longer than usual.

(P.S. The last line of it probably doesn't make sense unless you've watched the Saiki K dub.)

“bolded italics” is Saiki speaking via telepathy, “italics” are thoughts.

“Amorous feelings were something hard to harbor.

Especially if they're directed towards someone that feels unreachable.

Like no matter how far you stretch, you can never reach them.

With heart in hand, ready to give.

Though the seeds of concern at possible rejection, the sting of heartbreak is painful. As is losing the receiver if your relationship predates the confession, if they were close already.

Unshakeable worry.

Even for someone like the invincible Saiki Kusuo.

Settled in his slightly uncomfortable desk, head resting on his palm. His gaze settled on the rolling clouds, thoughts filtering in and out of his head. Half-lidded violets sleepily dreaming of drizzling rain, of huddling close under an umbrella. Spending time under dreary skies with the one to brighten it all.”

"Well her thoughts aren't exactly far off."

A chill washed over his skin, his cryokinesis calming the blood about to rush to his cheeks.

Teruhashi's gaze felt heavy on his back, her commentary matching his recent feelings word for word. Sweeping strands of blue over her shoulder, she discreetly watched him from the corners of her eyes under a veil of lashes.

"Of course, the thoughts of a boy are always so predictable," She nearly giggled "especially when they're in love with someone like me."

His face dropped into a deadpan.

"She's way off though... I feel kind of bad honestly."

Kusuo shook his head, brow furrowing as he slid his gaze down to his desk.

Or rather, what was sitting in it.

"My mom told me not to be ashamed or feel guilty for not reciprocating someone elses' feelings." He breaths in, sliding his ring into his finger.

"Especially when I'm not responsible for them."

The tone of the bell filled the airways, signaling dismissal for students - voices of relief and rejoice. A long school day dragging to a close, its occupants reader to leave and relish in the weekend.

But there was a mission Saiki was on.

One that would have him stay after school as opposed to his want to escape the clutches of his friends.

Most of which were aware of his plans.

He left before he even questioned or asked about plans, skillfully dodging the flow of the crowd. Of course, with the ring, it makes it the slightest bit harder to discern the best route to move through them. But it wasn't a problem for him despite the handicap on one of the more useful powers he has.

The lack of knowledge of those around him in that moment was a little nerve racking(though not any less when it came to matters of the heart), though his general instincts were aware about those on his tail.

He paid it no mind.

He was on a mission.

The light taps of his shoes stopped right at the door, squeaking lightly on the linoleum. Fingers running along the edges of his already immaculate blazer, he slid it open and peered inside.

Notes of music thrummed from within, melody flowing into harmony soothingly.

"Oh, Saiki - san."

The club's president was first to notice him, having been near the door.

Gesturing him inside and quietly pestering him again with a mumble, "I don't mind you coming here but have you reconsidered join -"

"My answer is still no."

This time, Saiki doesn't wait to hear the boy's thoughts even if he could. Instead shifting his attention to the reason he even came to the music room.

Basking under the glow of the window, swaying just slightly with a serene calm. In rhythm with the mellowing sounds of music blending together, he feels his heartbeat sync with it. Then skipping for one or two as he slowly walked across the room, careful to not disturb the other practicing musicians. Though their eyes were also taken.

Fingers skimming over strings, its noise vibrating throughout the guitar as chords shifted and moved.

It didn't stop as the fingers' owner, you, smiled at him. Soft and easy going, silently acknowledging his presence before going straight back to playing.

He didn't mind, no, not at all.

Instead, he set himself down at your side.

He could wait.

It was you after all.

As the arrangement ended, notes left ringing out to leave his head and body with a nice break. No thoughts flooding and bashing at the insides of his skull, no need to strain himself or his powers.

The light round of applause was also not as jarring as loud cheers or things of the sort.

It was one of the reasons he'd come to this club, enough for the President to ask him if he'd like to join due to their frequency.

"Came about as early as I did this time."

Stashing the guitar in a case and stretching aching fingers, you smiled again at him. Shimmering gaze and soft features accented by filled windows, his heart fluttered gently from it's place. Thudding against his sternum like a drum.

Fitting.

But the music was only one of the reasons he visited so often.

"What, excited to see me, Saiki - kun?" You jested, his breath hitching just slightly at that.

He contemplates the question. The stares on him burn a little, with a short glance at the door, he can see the pair that took the risk in following him. There was no way to stop them anyhow...

Yumehara was a horrible gossip monger - and Teruhashi?

... He knew of her crush on him.

There is something in his chest that moves along with the speeding of his pulse.

Vindication?

Satisfaction?

How petty of him...

As he shifted his rose tinted gaze back to you, he can't really find it in himself to care.

"What a pain." He thought, quite derisively.

Removing the ring, he gorged himself on the sweetened sight of your sleepy eyes and smile - full of cheek.

It's pleasant.

Seeing you was just what he needed - his racing heart petering to a mellowing flicker. A warmth washing through his veins, breathing and thriving in your scent and calming presence.

This is a nice feeling.

Having a crush like this.

Being surrounded and swaddled in the fuzzy feelings of pining hit him a couple months back, when he'd first grew privy to the melody playing in your head. Naked truth and honesty, utter genuinity from every pore - matching actions to words.

Hearing and sitting and watching you play... It made him grow endeared to you over the time you'd spent with each other, even if it wasn't long.

"You don't have to answer, I was just joking."

"... But I was excited."

You blink.

He only lifted his hand, pressing the back of it to his mouth in slight abashment. He really isn't good at this.

But he's trying.

With the color tinging the tips of your ears, it seemed to fell through. Making a look, though shy, appear 'pon your face. Now less drowsy.

"I'm glad you came," You admitted, turning away to try and hide the timidness you suddenly felt "always am."

Saiki's stomach did flip flops, hand falling from his now smiling lips.

"Perhaps I would do it a lot more often, that is, if you were interested in filling a position." He is somewhat aware how funny it is for him to be making music jokes, "It's first seat - just for a guitarist."

Fiddling with the collar of your uniform, quietly, you mumbled, "It sounds like... You're trying to ask me out -"

"I am." Kusuo ignored the squeaks he most definitely heard on the other side of the door. "Only if you're interested."

"I am." You parrot, honeyed confession interlacing in softened tone in difference from his. Paired with a expression of such tenderness any ice lingering on him melts away.

"So..." He trailed off.

You laugh a little bit, still somewhat sheepish as a warm color washes your soft cheeks. "My answer is yes, I will happily take that position."

He can't help it.

Your hand is warm as he took it in his own, heating in contact, darkening flush sweeping down your neck in response to the showcase of affection.

“Cute."

Playfully scowling at that, you only huffed.

"Shush you."

He felt the hodge-podge of emotions flooding from behind the door; hurt, anger, disbelief. Guilt pulled at his strained heart strings, knowing full well that just beyond the door was someone vying for his affections.

"She never respected how you felt."

The intrusive thought of his making was snuffed faster than a candle, fingers shifting and locking through the spaces in his.

"Saiki?" You spoke, brows knitting. "You okay?"

His troubles were showing on his face, huh?

It was hard to remain dishonest around you.

"Kusuo... Call me Kusuo."

Surprise filters over the shyness, but you positively titter at your new boyfriend's insistence.

"This means you gotta stop calling me your senpai." The comment leaves butterfly wings fluttering in his belly.

He tested your appellation on his own lips.

Though he was unsatisfied, now rather irritated with your voyeurs despite his previous guilt. Especially at the insulting thoughts he now hears in your name - subject to Kokomi.

It came to him as he moved closer, soaking in the music playing again you both watched someone seat themselves at the piano.

Petty?

Yes.

But they were the ones that decided to follow him in the first place.

So he might was well hit two birds with one stone.

He indulged in the sticky, gooey feelings you'd plagued him with. Pressing his lips to your cheekbone in a display of his devotion, relishing in the gasp of shock he tore from you.

Kusuo squeezed your hand, charoite eyes promising a little mischief.

"Does that mean I can call you my baby doll?"

[isabellitah]

Hi! Could I request a fic of the reader (number eight/Eightie) focused on her relationship with Diego?? She is so cute and I bet she would be the only one to ever see his soft side

🤍 DIEGO x SIBLING

Title : personal psychopath

Pairing : none but this focuses on Diego’s relationship with Eightie

Warning : uhh anxiety attack and cuss words and this is long i got kinda carried away oop

Request : Hi! Could I request a fic of the reader (number eight/Eightie) focused on her relationship with Diego?? She is so cute and I bet she would be the only one to ever see his soft side

Note : Hiiii 🤍 this took a different turn from where I was going but- I hope it’s to your liking 🤍

you, Eightie, are known as the positive ray of sunshine in the Umbrella Academy

that is a fact known all across the world

some news outlets have even dubbed you the ‘Princess of the Umbrella Academy’ whenever you were mentioned

some considered you the ‘Sweetheart of Her Generation’

the bubbly ray of sunshine that giggled her way into everyone’s hearts

anyway-

you always greeted everyone with a smile and your giggles always uplifted the spirits of those who felt down

and according to Klaus, sometimes some of the meaner souls leave him alone when you’re around because your happiness is just so infectious that they’re entranced by it

so imagine how Diego- your protective older brother number two- felt when he saw you break down

For the first time in all your lives, Diego was frozen in shock and uncertainty around you. He didn’t think it was possible for someone so happy to actually feel fear. And to think- you bottled everything up just because you felt guilty anytime someone tried to help you. They should’ve- fuck they should’ve known!

It was late at night and you were both just relaxing in his room- something you both do whenever Diego can’t sleep. On his bed, with your back facing the wall, your head on his chest with an arm wrapped around him, both legs relaxed beside his and your other arm just comfortably between your bodies when you felt it.

A slight twitch on your hand.

You felt your face start to heat up.

Every single insecurity and fear you buried started resurfacing.

You knew what this meant.

You had to get to a secluded safe place - away from Diego - so you excused yourself to go the toilet, hopped over him and ran off- not even closing the door behind you. Diego shrugged it off thinking you just really needed to use the restroom.

Five minutes had passed and Diego felt himself start to worry. He didn’t hear anyone breaking into the house, nor did he hear you scream or anything but he had this gut feeling to check in on you. And so he did. Nearing the bathroom you usually used, he pressed his ear against the door and heard rapid, shallow breaths mixed with sniffled cries.

Diego twisted the door knob only to find it locked, “Eightie...?” Diego started panicking when your breaths became faster and kicked the door down. What he saw shocked him.

You were sitting on the floor cross-legged with your eyes hurriedly trying to wipe the tears from your face- to the point where it looked like it hurt from the amount of pressure you were using.

He was frozen- he didn’t know what to do next. He can’t leave you here to find someone to help- you looked like you needed someone now and yet at the same time you looked like you wanted to be left alone. But Diego didn’t. He didn’t leave you alone. He didn’t feel like it’d be right. You’re always there for him so it’s his turn to be here for you.

By the time he chose his course of action, both of your hands were now on your lap while your usually bright eyes were now dull and staring blankly at the tiled floors in front of you. Diego carefully sat down on the floor beside you so as to not shock you and hovered his hand over your shaking one.

Your hand twitched before you slowly turned it palm side up. Taking this as his cue, Diego intertwined your hands together and that seemed to help as your tears started to slow themselves down. But it wasn’t enough- your breathing still wasn’t stabilized.

“I- w-what can I d-do to he-help?” Diego’s words started stumbling out of his mouth and he hated how weak he sounded but, fuck, this was Eightie. He didn’t need to hide his insecurities from you. He felt your hand tighten around his slightly. Of course you were trying to comfort him when you were the one who needed it more. You knew his stutter only appeared whenever he felt overwhelmed with emotion. You took a sharp breath in and he immediately started listening in closely, “t-talk to m-me.” Diego hated how weak you sounded- how it sounded like you had to force those words from your mouth.

He took a deep breath in and started to talk with the first thing that popped into his head, “okay... Okay, right uhh there’s nothing- wow I can’t th- I’m not being help- wait! I got it! I uh- I got some new knives! Yeah, that’s exciting, right? I mean for me it is and you always mentioned that they interested you with how shiny they can be and- yeah- you like my knives- well actually you don’t like them because they can hurt people but- but you’re interested in them, right? And th-they are interesting. They’re different sizes and sometimes different colours...” while racking his brain on how to continue the one-sided conversation, he continuously said anything that appears in his thoughts first, “I uh- I got different sets in black, and they’re umm they’re different. And new. And uhh I don’t- uhh- I don’t think this is helping.” Diego genuinely looked confused and slightly frazzled as he tried to talk to you as requested. Unknowingly for him, during his speech, your breathing started stabilizing and you stopped crying and you smiled at his efforts. You knew your brother wasn’t a talker- he preferred showing his love through his actions, hence his protectiveness. And now his love for you shows in how he decided to stay by your side and try to comfort you even when he’s, quite obviously, out of his comfort zone.

To slightly ease his worries, you smiled up at him and softly thanked him. Having felt you move a bit, Diego stopped rambling and looked at you and his panicked features softened at the sight of your smile. But there was tinge of sadness in his eyes, and in yours - he noticed.

“You don’t need to be happy all the time, Eightie... you can be you here,” he placed an arm over your shoulder to hug you, “we accept you however you are... Like you always say, we’re your family and we love you, okay?”

You nodded tearily and returned his hug, “thank you...” you sniffled, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“Any of us are here for you in case you ever need someone, okay? Just tell us and we’d drop whatever we’re doing.”

You frowned at what he said, “but I don’t want you guys to drop anything for me.”

Diego looked at the ajar door ahead of him while stroking your hair with the hand around your shoulder, “Family first, Eightie. You matter- you’re mental health matters more than my knives, okay? You’re that important.”

You wanted to smile at his knives comment but couldn’t bring yourself to so instead you just nodded.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Eightie... what happe-”

“Ooh what’s happening here?”

“Klaus... really?”

“Whaaaat? I saw light peeking from here so I decided, hey, if they wanted privacy, they would’ve shut the door. And then I recalled that this is technically Eightie’s bathroom! Why wo-”

“Klaus.”

“Sorry sorry- hey, are you crying?” When his sister turned to look at him, Klaus saw the tell tale signs of crying and immediately crouched in front of you and held out his arms for you.

Not wanting to let go of Diego, you stretched your free arm towards him as an invitation to join the hug and he took it- much to Diego’s utter disappointment. Nonetheless, he wrapped his free arm around Klaus who, after the hug, made himself comfortable between you two.

“So... what happened?”

“I uh- had a panic attack,”

“Again?”

“Again?!” Diego was shocked to say the least.

Klaus saw this along with the confusion on his face, looked at you for reassurance, and when you nodded, he looked back at Diego and told him, “I found her staring at nothing at the space in front of her in the living room one day. She was fidgeting with her hands- and she didn’t even notice a thing. She didn’t hear me even when I was basically screaming her name. We were the only ones home aside from mom and Pogo- but they were on the other side of the house. Anyway, she didn’t move an inch- she was lost in her thoughts ‘til I waved a hand in front of her. Big mistake- she jumped and looked at me scared before nearly choking on her own breath. I helped her regain her breath of course then we started talking and yeah.” It was odd seinf Klaus so sober and serious but wait... “Wait- just staring- no crying or hy-”

Klaus cut him off with an obviously over dramaticized groan, “anxiety comes in different forms for everyone, Diego.” for extra Klaus effect, he rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner accompanied by a dramatic sigh.

Smiling at your third older brother’s antics, you looked ahead of you and added, “Yeah... that and I can usually manage my attacks in public.”

You felt Klaus’ stare on you and knew what he was about to ask, “I thought I told you to come to me when the signs start showing up, Eithtie,”

“I thought you were asleep,”

Klaus sighed knowing that you had a point, “no matter. So long as you’re not alone- and that you know that. Right?”

You nodded, slowly feeling your eyes get heavy, “Yeah... Right...”

Klaus chuckled and nudged Diego who got out of his trance and stood up with Diego following suit. Diego picked you up bridal style and brought you to your room. After tucking you in, you mumbled a good night and an I love you for them both before drifting off to sleep.

Klaus smiled softly before kissing your forehead and mumbling a good night before stepping out of your room. Diego did the same and once outside, Klaus told him he can only ask one question and that’s it.

Thinking hard on it, Diego asked, “Why didn’t you tell me or the others- does Ben know? Does Fi-“

“Okay stop right there, Muchacho. That’s nearly three. I said one. And to answer your first question, it’s not my story to tell- and as far as i know, no, they don’t. Though I suspect that Five either knows or has his suspicions because of the random treats he leaves on her lap.”

With that said, Klaus turned on his heel and left to go sleep in his room, bidding Diego a good night.

After bidding Klaus a good night, Diego set off to go to his room. Once entering his room, he immediately laid down on his bed and started searching on his phone, He started researching anything and everyhing he can read that night about anxiety for hours on end in order to better understand what you’re going through better. Surprisingly, he found some similarities on regarding his stuttering. He wanted to know everything- to be prepared for it next time. He wanted to be able to help you in any way he can. Soon, he falls asleep without even knowing it.

When Diego next opens his eyes, it’s morning and the birds are chirping. And he can smell Five’s bitter beverage from all the way here.

Arriving at the kitchens, he notices your absence and comes to the conclusion that you’re still asleep. No one questions it as you do have your moments- but this time only he and Klaus, and maybe Five, know the real reason why.

Diego takes a deep breath and called for everyonek attention. The moment eveyone turned to look at him, he told them of what happened laat night, much to klaus’ dismay.

While everyone was processing the information, you bounded into the kitchens with your usual bright and happy smile. Hugging Klaus then Diego as a thank you for last night or earlier that morning- you felt your smile slipping from your face into a frown as you froze upon looking at everyone else’s facial expression. You just knew that they knew. And you also knoww how... Klaus would never... But maybe it was for the best that Diego told the others. You calmed yourself down by taking a deep breath in, pausing, then breathing out. You repeated this cycle about three times before relaxing completely.

Diego turned and swiftly but carefully pulled you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head against his chest while he wrapped his arms your waist- occasionally rubbing your back comfortingly.

To ease the remaining tension, Klaus spoke, “so... he’s like Eightie’s own personal psychopath huh?”

It worked. Everyone’s head turned to face him so fast, he’s surprised y’all didn’t get whiplash.

“Klaus, what the fuck?”

“What? He swoops in and isn’t afraid to kill people but he’s all nice and soft to her- like those romantic, well not romantic in their case, psychopath book type of things the Handler sent Fivey over there. Speaking of- who knew the Handler had a crush on Fivey- eugh.”

“Shut up.” Five and Allison’s response clashed, “he saves people, Klaus.”

Turning to Five he smiled at him, “hey, I’m just saying,” then turning to face to Allison, “yeah but like- he kills them too. Not psyco shaming you or anything Diego. Don’t worry- we accept you into this family- psychopathic tendencies and all.”

“Tha-no Kla-“

Rolling his eyes, Diego chose to stay quiet in favor of hugging you closer to him then kissing the top of your head as you quietly smiled at Ben across the table as he made faces to cheer you up.

Five responded, “he’s high Allison- there’s no point. Just stop.”

“Thank you, Fivey.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Thats no-thats not why he can-“

“Shoosh shoo-” Klaus was cut off by your adorable giggle.

You didn’t even notice that everyone was now smiling towards you; you were too focused on Ben who continued making funny faces at you. Diego kissed the top of your head which resulted in you smiling up at him with a gummy smile before leaning onto him and turning back to Ben who then told you to start eating your breakfast. You pouted and whined for a bit before complying and eating your pancakes with orange juice. Everyone continued with their breakfast with thoughts of how to help you cope with your anxiety- or on how to ease your fears. You were their little Eightie after all- they wanted you safe, yes- but most importantly, they wanted you to be happy. Truly happy.

[tsukishima44]

Ai Rabu Yuu

Yamada Hizashi, Japan's Number 1 DJ, has a crush. Unfortunately, his crush is as dense as a brick. How does he confess his undying love of 15 years? Easy-peasy. Cats.

P.S : a bonus story is added in my ko-fi account

Yamada Hizashi was making a compilation of playlist for his next radio show. As Halloween approaching, the blonde DJ thought about scary creepy songs which could make his fans, dubbed as listeners, experienced halloween for the whole month. The playlist he had played yesterday was a blast. Regional fans and international fans were going crazy with a Japanese man celebrating such a western tradition. His radio team was very happy even when their website had gone haywire from plentiful comments. The amount of early month gifts Hizashi received from fans had doubled its number. For three days he opened each present carefully, day and night, accompanied by one bodyguard namely Aizawa Shouta.

Aizawa Shouta or Shocchan for short was one of his best friends from high school. Both of them attend U.A with different major. They met on U.A's annual sport tournament in which Hizashi, business major, had faced up with Aizawa Shouta, a general student, in the final. U.A's teachers, students, and the media were shocked upon learning the truth. There was no history of non-hero class student never make it to the final. Hizashi and Shouta completely turned the book around. In the aftermath, both Hizashi and Shouta received special invitation to change their major. Hizashi didn't bother. He always knew what his future would be splayed as. It wasn't as a pro-hero. On the other hand, Shouta took the invitation like it was his only chance to change his destiny. After being told of his previous rival acceptance, Hizashi grew curiosity. He could still remember black strands flowing when Shouta's quirk activated. He completely looked like a medusa, a beautiful medusa, with raven tendrils instead of poisonous snakes. That was his last thought before the beautiful medusa completely swept him off his feet. Two days after their fateful match, Hizashi sought after Aizawa Shouta, gaining information easily through his friend connection. Hizashi persistently tailed after Shouta for a week until on the eight day Shouta had enough and stride up to an electric pole, Hizashi's current hiding place. Both of them started their friendship ever since the accident.

15 years later both of them have stable job. Hizashi as a famous DJ who host his own radio program and won award each year. Shouta had become an underground pro-hero under an agency near Hizashi's radio station. Hizashi had adjusted his radio schedule to match Shouta's patrol time to they could go together and end the day together. Ever since Hizashi had his first stalker, Shouta always accompanied him coming back home even in the middle of the night. Likewise when Shouta had to gather intel Hizashi always helped either through his radio program or friends connection since he got plenty. They worked in a symbiosis mechanism and it would never change. Or Hizashi hoped so.

On Hizashi's 22nd birthday, he got a bit of enlightenment.

Shouta had stood there, on his new apartment that he rent cheaply, with a half burnt birthday cake wishing him a 'happy birthday' and not to give up on his dream of being a dj when others mocked him. The sunset light that was painted on Shouta's medium length hair was amazing. Shouta's fond smile, however, was the highlight.

The next day, Hizashi realized that he want nobody but Aizawa Shouta in his life.

Present Mic was cheerful, boisterous, and easy-going. It could throw a cheesy romantic line easily from a storage of thousands. It could make any fans, woman or man, melted with its charming words. It has court and be courted each day. It make hundreds-million money from being smiling to anyone it met. Too bad, its only purpose was as a marionette playing in front line to hide its maker, Yamada Hizashi. Hizashi was a subdued version of Present Mic. He could still rant about his daily lives into a 10 page paper. But in his home, his sanctuary, he spoke less and much calmer than when putting on Present Mic mask. Present Mic's name was on billboards, but Yamada Hizashi never care because it was not his name. Each fan letter he gained always begin with 'dear Present Mic', but Yamada Hizashi was content on not receiving any. In his whole life, Yamada Hizashi never jealous of anything Present Mic has.

Until his days were full of courting a dense Aizawa Shouta.

He had tried using hook-up lines, baking cat cookies, chatting with more emojis, asking him out on a 'date' and nothing was born any fruit. He even used a very very obvious method through one of his radio program to signal Shouta on his feeling. The pro-hero always tune in to his channel each time he was on air and Hizashi knew it although he denied. What he gained was not a new lover but a mess of media trying to interview him on this special S-san he talked so fond of the other night. Hizashi almost gone mad from love and his being from not able to put words into his mouth. On his 28th birthday, the day of his first winning an award, Hizashi finally gathered his nerve to confess. It went well into the night where after the award show Aizawa was about to pick him up and be his courier. If it wasn't for shaking the hand of a four-year-old child with mute quirk, he would probably have an armful of Shouta or a tearful nights await him. Shouta had arrived to erase the child's quirk, but Hizashi's courage had vanished.

This time, Hizashi had a plan. A very simple plan that had occurred to his mind when his emerald orbs saw a cardboard with a grey kitten inside. Hizashi was about to place his umbrella and shield it from the rain. But his idea prevent him from doing so. Then with a wide smile, he took the gray kitten and slipped it into the space between his jacket and shirt. The small head poking from it looked hopeful to him and Hizashi too give his hopeful smile.

True to his idea, Shouta appeared the next day on his door.

"I've heard you adopt a kitten" Shouta said as a greet.

"Yup! Ai is sleeping on my sofa" Hizashi replied but his crush had barged inside and knelt beside his leather couch.

Shouta's light footstep had probably awakened the kitten because Hizashi heard a mewl form his living room. Hizashi watched as his new pet immediately warmed up to Shouta. In a mere minute Shouta had Ai in his hands, cupped gently, while the kitten licked Shouta's thumb.

"Ai?" he asked.

Hizashi had finished placing both his and Shouta's cup of coffee in the glass table.

"Yeah"

Shouta didn’t say anything until he was about to head to his agency.

“You know that Ai is a male kitten right?”

Shouta’s glabella had frown on it.

Hizashi had smiled from the sight.

“I know!!”

14th October, approximately a week after, Hizashi welcomed Shouta into his residence once again. This time, Hizashi was not the only one to greet Shouta. On his right ankle was Ai-chan, the first kitten he adopted. Beside Ai was a black kitten with white fur on its paws. Hizashi watched as Shouta’s eyes went wide at the new member of Hizashi’s family.

Shouta cupped the new kitten into his caloused hand. The new kitten, like Ai, licked his thumb happily. Shouta wiggled his thumb when the kitten didn’t bother with his thumb anymore.

“What’s this one name?”

Hizashi had reappeared from the kitchen with a tray of their casual coffee and a small packet of cat’s food. He placed each things carefully on the table then scooped Ai into his lap.

“Her name is Rabu”

“Rabu?”

“Yeah, rabu!”

Shouta didn’t bother to ask the meaning of the weird name Hizashi gave it.

Hizashi watched Shouta still playing happily with Rabu.

Two weeks later, Hizashi opened his door with a grin. Shouta stood with blown wide eyes. His black hero suit still was full of sweat and what might be speck of blood. Hizashi cringed.

“Did yo-“

“Yes” Hizashi cut sharply “But you are not going anywhere near Yuu with those clothes on”

Shouta was ushered into Hizashi’s toilet without a single word. Hizashi slipped in his softest hoodie and sweat pants to the ajar space of his toilet door.

The kittens swarm to his feet immediately when Shouta came out of the toilet.

His eyes trailed to Ai who was clawing Hizashi’s expensive sofa. Rabu was coming to him happily since Shouta always come to Hizashi’s house everyday, much more often than before. Beside Rabu, a cat probably 5 months old walked leisurely to Shouta. A cat with lush milky white fur.

“A persian type cat. His name is Yuu”

Hizashi giggled when he heard Shouta muttered ‘finally a proper name’. Yet despite the weird name Hizashi gave, Shouta still called each name with the one Hizashi gave.

When Shouta came to Hizashi’s apartment at 31st October he expected the whole apartment to be full of costume guest dancing to loud music and drunk as hell. He didn’t expect an anxious Hizashi and no cat. Hizashi wore a full Count Dracula costume. He was gorgeous with red ribbon tying a bit of Hizashi’s blonde hair on the end. He really glad he wore a mummy costume. Hizashi’s living room at least was screamed Halloween into his eyes. A handful of bat dolls hanging around from the orange-black accentuated ceiling. Hizashi’s huge window also covered by black clothe which was still transparent enough to let moonshine shone the living room. There were several spider webs in each corner and sofa. In the middle of the room were carved pumpkins looking like All Might, and several other pro-heroes. He tried to quench his blush when he saw Eraserhead on one of the pumpkin. What surprised him the most was the appearance of a table in the center beside the pumpkins. The wooden table had an orange tableclothe. Candles in a variety of size acted as a border between one end of the table. Clean white plate were placed on each end and clearly it was for two people by the number.

“Hiza—“

“Shouta, do you remember my cats?”

Shouta looked down to the hands grabbing his. His eyes turned back to the host.

“Yeah...”

Hizashi gave him a small uncertain smile.

“Can you tell me each of their name?”

“Well... Ai, Rabu, and Yuu”

“That’s how I felt about you”

Shouta’s lips thinned while trying to understand Hizashi’s hidden message. It took a century by Hizashi’s dictionary, before Shouta finally understand.

“Did you just...make me say..”

“I am sorry, Sho..” Hizashi let go of his hands “I know you probably don’t feel the same as I do. I just...it’s been too long since I feel this way and I finally get the courage to confess. I know I’m a jerk for adopting those kittens just for my selfish way, but-“

“Zashi” Shouta took Hizashi’s hands in his “Are you going to throw those cats now?”

Hizashi spluttered

“W-Of course not! I still love them even if you don’t l-“

Shouta took Hizashi’s lips into his own. He gave a light nip, gained a moan, before roaming once again. As they parted, both lips were glistening with saliva and Shouta took the chance to peck Hizashi once more.

"S-Shouta?"

"I love you too, Zashi"

Is he dreaming?

"R-really? You sure?"

"I'm dead serious, Hizashi"

When Hizashi's face was in a grimace Shouta couldn't help but laugh at his lover. He slipped his arms into Hizashi's waist and brought the leaner man into him. Hizashi taller figure made his shoulder the right place to put his head on. His ears could feel Hizashi's heart thudding excitedly inside.

"I really do love you Zashi..."

His ears heard a sniffle from above him.

"I really really love you Shouta"

[nelvana]

In which the team hangs out

First: In which the human is transformed Next: In which they try to rescue another team Previous: In which another bug is rescued

     Before going to bed the day before, Keahi made sure to get in contact with all the other Team Galaxy members that Rayden had recruited, and luckily they all agreed to meet up at the base in the afternoon to simply hang out. Now it was morning, and time to prepare for the guests that would be arriving later in the day.

    “Okay, so now that we’ve had breakfast, I think it’s time we start getting ready for this afternoon,” Keahi announced.

    “What do we need to do?” Nelvana asked.

    “Well, we should make some food to snack on throughout the day. I’m thinking of making some vegetable stew. I think everyone will like that. What do you think?” Keahi replied.

    “Maybe not Rayden,” Nelvana chuckled.

    “They can’t even eat, you silly!” Keahi giggled, “but yeah, aside from Rayden, some stew should be good for everyone. That will mean we’ll need some more dishes; we only have one set and there will be, uh, six of us, at least if I counted right. We also will need some chairs…”

    “Will we? I feel like Pearl and Bobo will like stools better, Rayden floats, and there should be room on the bean bag couch for Hiram,” Nelvana pointed out, already starting to bring out the fold-up table.

    “You’re right! That makes things a bit easier. So, two stools, another set of dishes, ingredients for the stew… what else?”

    Nelvana shrugged, “I can’t think of anything else aside from our general morning business.”

    “Me too,” Keahi agreed, “so, since it looks like you’ve already got the table out and you will be the better of us to set it up anyway, I will head out to town now and you can follow when you’re done. Sounds good?”

    “Yeah.” Nelvana nodded and picked up the team bag from its spot on the floor. “Here, catch!” she called and pretended to throw the bag at the torchic.

    “Woah!” Keahi flinched, thinking that the cubone was actually going to throw it. “Hey, don’t do that!” zie hissed, but smiled regardless. “Okay that was actually funny. But seriously though, don’t throw it.” Zie continued, walking over to collect the bag from zir partner.

    “Of course! I wouldn’t throw it, there’s important things in here after all,” Nelvana chuckled, handing over the bag.

    “Okay then! I’ll see you later then!” Keahi chirped and headed out of the house, leaving Nelvana to deal with the fold-up table.

    Keahi found out quickly that carrying a shoulder bag was challenging when one lacked good shoulders. Zie managed to balance it on zir back with the assistance of zir wings to keep it from sliding off. Zie hurried over to the Kecleon Shop as quickly as zie could to avoid having to carry the bag for too long. After falling off zir back a couple times, zir made it to the stand.

    “Hello there Keahi!” the green kecleon brother, the one on the left of Keahi, said. “What brings you here alone?” he asked curiously.

    “Hi there!” Keahi greeted, setting down the bag. “We’re having some guests later on today, so Nel is staying back to set up the table. I wouldn’t be much help there, since I don’t have thumbs. Or fingers, for that matter.”

    Green-Kecleon, as some young pokemon in the past have dubbed him, laughed warmly, “of course! That means you’re here for more than the usual quick buy and sell, hm?”

    “Yup!” Keahi hummed, looking through the bag. “Actually, I don’t think we have anything to sell anyway. Looks like just buying for today!”

    “Does any of that buying have to do with my end of the counter?” Purple-Kecleon asked, leaning over eagerly.

    “Nope, sorry. We still don’t have enough for any tms, and you know we don’t use orbs. Sorry!” Keahi replied.

    “Darn it…” Purple-Kecleon sighed, snapping his fingers in dismay.

    “Sorry bro, you just happened to pick the more expensive and thin line of business,” Green-Kecleon said, patting his brother’s shoulders comfortingly.

    “I know,” Purple-Kecleon hummed, stretching. “I obviously didn’t walk into here blind about running a business.”

    “Of course not,” Green-Kecleon replied, turning his attention back to the customer. “Now then, what will you be needing to buy for this get-together? I’m sure we have it here somewhere”

    “A couple stools, a set of dishes, a-“ Keahi started to name off the items from the list when zie noticed that zir partner had arrived. “Oh, hey Nel! That was fast!” zie commented.

    “Yeah,” Nelvana replied, shrugging, “it was pretty easy once I figured it out.”

    “Great! Now you can carry the bag again!” Keahi chuckled, letting zir partner pick up the bag and sling it over her shoulders like usual.

    Team Galaxy went through their shopping without any delays. The kecleons luckily already had some stools up with them for sale, so they didn’t have to wait and order some. The pair had to take a couple trips to get all the ingredients back to the house, but they made it within the hour. Nelvana set up the stools and the dishes while Keahi began cooking the stew. The day crawled on, the sun rose to its peak in the sky and head just started its decent when the first knock on the door was heard. There were the two most recent recruits, Bobo the paras and Hiram the scyther.

    “Hello!” Bobo exclaimed cheerfully, “I hope we’re not too early!”

    “Not at all!” Keahi called out from zir spot checking up on the stew. “There wasn’t really a set time so you two are good to go! C’mon in!”

    “You two have a nice house,” Hiram commented as the two of them walked inside.

    “Thanks! Feel free to sit down, make yourselves at home. I was just finishing up supper. Well it’s still the afternoon… lupper?” Keahi replied, “speaking of which, Nel, do you mind carrying the pot over to the table? I’m not the best at carrying things.”

    Nelvana gave a hum of agreement and got up from her spot reading on the bean bag couch. She went over and brought the pot of stew over to the table, while Bobo climbed up onto one of the stools and Hiram stood around, observing his surroundings.

    “You can sit down y’know,” Keahi mentioned, sitting down on the bean bag couch.

    “I know, thanks. I just prefer standing,” Hiram responded, shifting his weight in place idly.

    “Oooh! What kind of soup is that?” Bobo asked eagerly, leaning over to peer at the pot is steaming food.

    “Just some vegetable stew,” Keahi answered, smiling with pride at zir work.

    “Smells good,” Hiram complimented.

    Another knock sounded at the door and like last time, Nelvana answered. This time it was Rayden and Pearl who were waiting there.

    “BZZT! I HOPE WE’RE NOT LATE!” Rayden greeted.

    “No, you guys are fine. The others just arrived a couple minutes ago, actually,” Nelvana responded.

    “Yeah, awfully convenient we didn’t have to wait for hours for everyone to arrive actually,” Keahi added.

    “Well that’s good. We’re all here at around the same time,” Pearl agreed, a thoughtful smile resting on her face.

    Rayden and Pearl headed inside, and the geodude took her place on the other stool. The group sat around awkwardly for a few moments, none of them sure where to start a conversation. Finally, Keahi burst into nervous laughter.

    “Well this is a great start!” Keahi sighed, “we really don’t know much about each other, do we? Seems like a bit of a team flaw.”

    “Should we go around doing icebreakers?” Bobo suggested.

    “I guess something like that could work,” Keahi agreed, “oh! I have an idea. Since all of you decided to work out with Rayden, which must mean you’ll staying at your own homes over here. Are all of you out there with your families?”

    “I would be out here with you guys if I could. I love the town, filled with such lovely people. However, I need to live in a specific climate to stay healthy,” Pearl explained, “I quite like working with Rayden and the others anyway, so it all worked out,” she continued, smiling happily.

    “Oh! I stay out for my family, like Rayden does! Mama Shroom would be heartbroken if we left them behind. Also, I like staying out in the forest!” Bobo chirped.

    “BZZ BZZ. YOUR MOM IS NAMED MAMA SHROOM? I THOUGHT SHE WAS JUST PARASECT. AM I MISTAKEN?” Rayden asked.

    “Yeah, she’s just Parasect. I was talking about the mushroom!” Bobo hummed, “Parasect lets Mama Shroom take over most of the time. Most people think the mushrooms always possess us when we evolve, but it’s actually cooperation! My mushroom, Bobby, likes to keep quiet and wants to let me keep assuming control after I evolve,” he explained.

    “That’s pretty cool!” Keahi said.

    “I just don’t like too many people in one place. The town doesn’t suit me,” Hiram said.

    “Understandable. I like people, but crowds can be bothersome,” Nelvana replied, putting a bookmark in her book.

    “Oh, you’re a reader I see,” Pearl observed, trying to get in a comfortable position on the stool. “A history book too. It isn’t often I see someone your age reading that in your spare time.”

    “Yeah, Keahi recommended it to me actually,” Nelvana replied, glancing over at her partner. “I figured it would be nice to learn about the world and whatnot. So that I’m not clueless with amnesia.”

    “You’re not clueless! You’re actually really smart!” Keahi blurted, giving the cubone a friendly nudge. “Although, it will be nice for you to actually know some of the past about this world without having me explain it to you,” zie admitted.

    “AH YES. BOOKS. I WOULD LOVE TO READ THEM. EXCEPT I CAN’T TURN THE PAGES. SO I HAVE TO JUST GET THE INFORMATION DOWNLOADED. WHICH IS LESS INTERESTING. BZZ. BZZ…” Rayden sighed.

    “You don’t get to read! That’s terrible!” Keahi gasped, and the others nodded in agreement.

    “We could turn the pages for you!” Bobo suggested, and then his eyes suddenly lit up with an idea. “We should make a book club! We could read books and help those who can’t read much and yeah!”

    “BZZT! I LIKE THAT IDEA! IT SOUNDS LIKE FUN,” Rayden buzzed

    “I do too, but where will we find the time for that?” Hiram pointed out, “we are a rescue team after all. And apparently the only good one around here. I heard about the Team Shiftry incident.”

    “The Team Shiftry incident?” Bobo asked, tilting his head sideways curiously.

    “Yes, apparently a rescue team almost turned down a very important mission because it didn’t pay well enough,” Pearl sighed, “were you two there to see it?”

    “Yeah, the only reason they went in the end is because Team A.C.T. showed up,” Keahi replied.

    “Team A.C.T.? The Team A.C.T.? They’re here? In Pokemon Square? That’s amazing!” Bobo exclaimed.

    “Yeah, we haven’t seen them since the, I guess, Team Shiftry incident though,” Nelvana added, “oh we should tell you guys about Team Meanies.”

    “We should. It was a disaster,” Keahi agreed, nodding slowly.

    “WAS THAT THE DAY THAT YOU GOT PEARL AND ME TO GUARD THE HOUSE FOR YOU TWO?” Rayden asked.

    “It was, but more has happened since then. Plus Bobo and Hiram haven’t heard about it yet,” Keahi told them.

    Keahi then launched into the story of them meeting Team Meanies. How rude they were, and how they almost robbed and possibly vandalised the place, then continuing on to explain what had happened with rescuing Metapod. Zie did zir best not to miss any details, but on the odd couple of times that zie did, Nelvana would chime in to assist. Nelvana found that her partner was a very skilled storyteller. The torchic put in lots of expression and energy into reciting the events. She figured that zie had had some experience telling stories before, likely to zir younger family members.

    One story prompted another, and soon everyone was having a chance to share their own experiences and interests. Even Nelvana, who had amnesia, and Hiram, who didn’t like talking much, were able to chime in and share their own opinions into the conversation. Their chatting continued throughout the day, only slowing down slightly while they ate the stew or they momentarily ran out of things to talk about. The sun moved across the sky, and before they knew it, the bright orb in the sky had begun to fade away into the hillside and it was time for everyone to be at their own homes.

    “BZZ BZZ! I AM SORRY. I HAD A LOT OF FUN HERE TODAY BUT NOW I MUST RETURN TO THE POWER PLANT,” Rayden announced.

    “Oh that’s alright! I’m glad you enjoyed this!” Keahi chirped, standing up from the bean bag couch and shaking zir tired limbs.

    Nelvana stretched and stood up as well, while Bobo and Pearl got the memo and hopped off their stools.

    “I hope we can hang out like this again soon! Maybe get that book club started up!” Bobo exclaimed, hopping around with pent-up energy.

    “That would be nice,” Nelvana agreed.

    The four guests dispersed in each directions to their own separate homes, leaving Nelvana and Keahi alone to stare out at the sunset.

    “That was really nice!” Keahi hummed, “there was a bit of an awkward start, but that was expected. It turned out really well in the end!”

    “Yeah. We should do it again sometime. Maybe it can be a once a week, once every other week or once a month thing,” Nelvana commented.

    “I’m leaning more towards the first couple ideas,” Keahi giggled, turning zir attention to the sunset.

    “Can we stay out here to watch the sun set and the stars come out?” Nelvana asked hopefully, glancing back at Keahi.

    “Sure! Here, I bet we can get a better view on the roof,” Keahi replied, scurrying out of the house properly and looking up to the roof.

    After some struggles, the two managed to climb onto the dome roof of their house. It gave them a great view of not only the sky, but also the land surrounding the area.

    “This is a nice way to end a nice day,” Keahi murmured, and Nelvana agreed.

[harrypotterdrabbles]

"Proper Fancied"

Request: Can i request a remus x reader where its after a full moon and she’s helping him to his dorm with the marauders but her dorm is first so shes about to go in but they all hear the other girls making fun of her (kind of like look at me I’m sandra dee) and they let it slip that she has a crush on remus? Thanks I love your log btw ❤️

Pairing: Young Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Crude language, sort of angst? Manly loving, lots of worrying, not much fluff ngl and a bit of a sadistic reader (you’ll see)

Word Count: 2399

I tried to make it cute but I did do this on separate days so it sort of turned? I honestly had no idea what happened since I tried to make it very light-hearted and Marauder-y! But please do enjoy this whirlpool of a shitstorm~ Don’t be afraid to give me your opinions either xx.

It’s the worst one you’d seen yet.

James had rushed into your dormitory not long back – they always seemed to somehow get past the magical slide - and had promptly dragged you out of the room without any explanation despite your frantic complaints of his sudden actions.

You were just about to clamber into your bed, the rest of the gals were Merlin knows where (they never really invited you with them that much, but you didn’t particularly care, you had four brilliant friends that meant the world to you), meaning you were still in some oversized shirt that probably belonged to Peter or one of the boys and some ridiculous looking pumpkin patterned shorts. Not the greatest of looks you had to admit.

“-James! What-what’s going on?” you hastily questioned as you nearly tripped over a step, his long legs striding further than yours could ever reach. His hair was in an horrendously disheveled state that you’d never seen since he had attempted to comb his curls back in your 3rd year. “Moony, he-” James choked out and your heart leaped as you realized that-

Oh my Merlin, he’s crying? What’s happen to Remus?

With the resolve of the determined Gryffindor you were, you halted, grasping a moving James by his broad-woahwhendidhegetthisbroad- shoulders and gently shook him. “James, calm down love. Breathe, tell me what’s happened before you drag me to my death?” You gave him a comforting smile, still keeping the wit in your voice, the last thing you want is an even more panicked James. He never worked well when he was crying; it always ended up with blurred vision, tripping, walking into walls and intensive hiccupping that resembled the squeak of polishing trophies that Filch made us do every week.

James shoved his glasses up on his head and wiped his face dry, “Its Moony- he,” sniffle “-it’s the worst its ever been, he’s proper banged up, we’ve messed up,” he looked up, his guilty eyes puffy and red, “Y/N, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

You completely forgot, it was the full moon that night. The boys never let you join in their animagi antics and to be frank you didn’t want to see someone you admired so much in unbearable pain. You knew Remus didn’t like you seeing him when his furry problem came about, he didn’t want you to worry nor see him in such a weakened state. Your feelings towards the sandy haired boy didn’t even waver when he first admitted it you, it even grew; you just felt so flattered and grateful that Remus trusted you enough to tell you.

If only I could do the same for him, feelings are ridiculous, I have decided.

You both hastily arrived at the hospital wing in record time and you had promptly burst into a sobbing puddle as you saw your Remus-abravestrongwonderfulboy- just laid there limp and so fragilebrokenscarred. Remus’s head rested on the pillow, a horrendous jagged scar slashed over his nose, barely skimming across his skin, the mark an enflamed red.

You collapsed onto the stools next to Peter, holding onto the shaking boy for dear life, his arms pulling you into the comforting embrace you certainly needed. Bless this boy, he definitely knew how to make you feel better.

And that’s where you stayed the whole night, hunched over a stool, one hand holding Sirius’s and the other tenderly grasping Remus’s. You all had to leave early morning however to escape the wrath of Madame Pomfrey if she ever found out we snuck in to see her most fragile patient. The four of you, minus Remus who still hadn’t woken up, dragged yourselves up to the Gryffindor Common room still half asleep with James mumbling something about hippogriffs taking McGonagall hostage and a giggling comment at your pumpkin shorts.  You had successfully snuck back into your dorm, the boys making sure to walk you there like they always did, then proceeded to shuffle to their own shared room. Slipping into your bed was no problem, your roommates were deep asleep and hopefully too smashed from last night to notice you weren’t in your bed.

You all did the exact same that night too, tiptoeing down to the hospital wing in the middle of the cold September air just to huddle by Remus’s side. You never pressed the boys to what had happened, you were curious but you didn’t want to know what danger they accidently placed themselves in.

Staring down at Remus’s face, the wound no longer looked sore or reddened but it looked much more calmed yet tender. This was definitely going to leave a particularly nasty scar. You were slumped on Remus’s right side, your head nestled in the crook of your arm, the hand mindlessly stroking Remus’s hair whilst the other drawing circles on the sheet. You couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard you tried, instead your absent mind whirled with thought preoccupied with the boy laid unconscious before you. The Madame said he had awoken earlier but his body needed the sleep so he kept drifting off asleep every so often.

The boys were all deep within their dreams, their slight snoring somehow calming you slightly. Your eyes heavily shut, stained from them being open for so long when clearing of a throat snapped you awake. Glancing down, your eyes met the tired, but familiar hazel azure that was Remus’s.

“Hi.” You softly greeted, trying hard not to choke up and cry in front of the boy. Remus gave you a tired smile despite how painful it must be to move his face, Hi Y/N.” His voice held a sore rasp to it but it sounded wonderful saying your name.

“How you feeling Moony?” You whispered, your voice shaking and you were well aware that the hand that was stroking his hair was now trembling ever so slightly. “Just a bit peachy.” Remus let out a little chuckle and you couldn’t help but snort amusement, “You look like you dueled Grindelwald and you’re ‘just peachy’, you absolute numpty.” you shook your head lightly in mock exasperation as Remus shook his light-heartedly.

“Well I you must know, I definitely feel better with you here.” Your hand faltered their strokes in his sandy locks and Remus suddenly cleared his throat, “-you all here, I mean. I appreciate it.” He quickly clarified as he glanced at the other boys slumped around him, his eyes filled with fondness and love that nothing in the world could ever compare.

You didn’t know what words to say to him after that so you left it, leaving the room in a comfortable silence with only the soft breaths and snores of the boys to fill the room. Ever so gently, they lulled your mind to peace and your eyelids shut with you fast asleep.

The next morning consisted of waking up to Peter crying over Remus, Sirius launching into an apologetic speech and James prodding your cheek rather uncomfortably, simply finding childish enjoyment of watching them squish together as drool unattractively dripped out of your mouth. You weren’t very happy to say the least.

When the lads all had their little sob sesh with a very overwhelmed Remus, it was our job to help support him up to the dorm room before the students filtered down for breakfast. All the way in Gryffindor Tower. The opposite side of the castle.

What followed was a lot of cursing; “merlin’sleftballsac-”

A lot of fake reassurance; “I got this! I got this, yep I defi-igotthis-!”

A lot of complaints; “Why do you weigh so much! You’ve been snacking on the pork pies again haven’t you Remus.”

“Y/N why are you just standing there and not helping?”

“…I’m the visual motivation that keeps you going..?”

Slowly, but surely, you managed to support him through the portrait hole and up the dormitory stairs. However the boys were determined to see you to your dorm first as James calls it “A tradition for our lovely Y/N to show that we Marauders can too, be gentlemen!”

You all heaved yourselves up the girl’s stairs and made a few confusing twists and turns to your specific dorm room, Peter unlinking his arm from yours and dramatically bowing down to you as you let out a snort of delight. You thanked the boys generously and hastily, and you opened your door but paused when your name was called. Turning around you were met with the boys looking almost insulted. You raised a confused eyebrow, “What?”.

 “Didn’t think you’d actually go without a marauder hug!” James wiggled his eyebrows and a wide smile split open on your face, their hugs always were the cure to your low moods. You dived into his open arms as he rocked from side to side, his curled hair stuffing itself into your face. Peter was already hugging you dearly by the time James let go and you couldn’t help but laugh when Sirius lifted you away from him in his loving arms.

“Merlin Y/N! You’ve been snacking on them pork pies as well haven’t you!” Sirius joked as he put you down and you grumpily hit his arm, ignoring his string of apologies. He knew you loved him really. You turned to the last hug.

Remus stood by himself, no longer supported by the Quidditch fanatics, his arms wide and a knowing smile on his face. His hands motioned you to come close and you gently slid into his hug, careful not to hurt any of his wounds. The hug was warm and secure and you knew that your feeling for Remus were no longer a silly crush that you had dubbed in your mind. You’d never think of Sirius or Peter or James in the same way you viewed Remus, you felt selfish and guilty though, hiding your feeling in the form of being “just best mates”.

Suddenly, you heard a very mocking laugh which broke you and Remus from your hug. You turned to the sound to realize it was only your roommates and it came from the slightly ajar door you left open. You gave the boys an apologetic look, but before you could actually apologies, another voice you recognized as Denise echoed throughout the hallway.

“Y/N’s probably fucking one of them now and I’ll bet you two galleons that it’s Black.” Her claim was followed by a fit of giggling and followed by stunned silence from us. None of us made a sound, too shocked by what just had occurred.

“Nonononono! I saw her rushing out with Potter the other night and she hasn’t even slept here for the past couple days. My money’s on Potter.” The high scratchy pitch that had replied was Tracey, the sound of rustling and rummaging could be heard followed by a triumphant “Aha!”. The girls let out “oooohs” and snickers as you heard Mellissa mockingly clear her throat.

“Ladiiesss and gentlemen! May I present the atrocious wardrobe that is Y/N L/N.” She sang and your throat closed up, you knew you never had the best of clothing choices and you couldn’t believe they were rummaging through your stuff!

“Look at me~ I galivant like I’m a marauder, and I act as if I’m the next best thing since water~” She crooned, giggling as she presumably ridiculed me across the room. Denise let out a loud laugh, wheezing so bad she resembled a dying whale, she interrupted Mellissa’s singing with a wave of her hands.

“That’s Remus’s shirt and all! She’s definitely screwing Lupin, only someone like him would pity her.” She cackled and you felt fury blaze in your blood but before you could storm in there to show her a piece of your mind, Tracey’s words impacted you the most.

“Well she did say she proper fancied Remus.”

Embarrassment, humiliation and most of all, shame shot through your body as tears brimmed your eyes. You could see Peter look uncertainly between the door, Remus and you but you didn’t want to see the sandy haired boy’s reaction. You didn’t want to see his disgusted expression. You strutted forwards, your thoughts whirling with numerous plans of revenge.

“Excuse me gentlemen, I have three cunts to dispose of.” Rage ignited within you and you ignored Sirius’s warning before you stormed into the room, magically locking the door behind you. A string of furious hexes left your mouth and chaos ensued the room a few seconds later.

It was rather satisfying, letting your feelings out.

You sat on your bed rather giddily, surrounded by some of your favorite treats from the numerous times you snuck out to Hogsmeade, a couple fashion magazines and a nice warm mug of Butterbeer you got one of the house elves to fetch you.

You were in the middle of reading why Jobberknoll feathers wouldn’t complement your skin tone when you heard an owl pecking at your window. You gave the bird an exasperated look from across the room but shifted all your stuff to the side before making your way to the window located on the opposite side of the room.

You passed Denise who was intensely looking at you in fear, her usually golden hair half singed off, now a horrid neon yellow and a feather magically tickling her feet, however she was helpless; Frozen by the full body-bind curse you had sent her way, leaving her needing to squirm and laugh, yet unable to do so.

You let out a delighted hum as you stepped over a ‘‘Petrificus Totalus’’ed Tracey who was sporting a rather unattractive green hue with purple boils, and made your way over to the window. Unlatching it you saw that the owl had a note attached to its leg, you gave the cute thing a little treat and you had noticed its eye was looking confusingly behind you. You turned around and snorted, understanding its immense confusion.

“Don’t worry love, you’re not seeing things, she’s human.” You reassured the brown beauty, referring to Mellissa who strung up- upside down and was covered in feathers from head to toe and had antlers sprouting out of her forehead- she too placed in a full body-binding spell. You shut the window and trotted back to your bed, sliding under the warm covers and unfolded the dainty note.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I ‘proper fancied’ you too. xx”

[kayomielatoro]

Saiyuki Livewatch: Episode 1: To the Distant West

First time posting on this tumblr but welcome to my blog! I figured, since Saiyuki Reload Blast, part of a series that I’ve loved since my teenage years, is coming out WITH a dub this year I’d go ahead and just watch what came before to prepare for that. And I mean EVERYTHING. I might not cover Requiem until at least after Reload and Reload Gunlock but we’ll see. And I’ll be going by the dubs because 1 it’s what I grew up listening to and 2 I just perfer dubs. That means I will be commenting on the change in cast when we get to Reload and how I feel about them. My overall plan is to talk about at least one episode per day until I’m all caught up. But with all that out of the way, let’s get started!

First things first: I LOVE the first op. I used to have the thing memorized and it is now my current ringtone. It’s catchy, it’s upbeat, and just gets you ready for the show that’s coming up.

I love the line that explains how the relationship between demons and humans changed. "Humans became Abel to demons' Cain" Aaaand cut from doom and gloom to Goku munching on holy peaches in the temple courtyard. XD And gives 0 shits about the monks's whining. Hello, Greg Ayres! 

For those not in the know, I actually was not aware of this particular actor until this role. And frankly I adore Greg and I LOVE this role.  David Matragna takes a few episodes to fully settle into the role of Sanzo but once he does, he's a great pick for the prickly priest.  And I just really like Illich Guardiola as Sha Gojyo. He balances the pervy side of Gojyo and his more heroic aspects. What there is of him. ( ....I have no idea why Gojyo's hair is fucking pink though. We SEE red in this series. I don't know why they thought to make his hair pink) And a hello to a rarely seen VA Braden Hunt as Cho Hakkai. He's easily my favorite, balancing the darkness in his soul with the facade of a polite, cheery young man. 

*squee* And there's the ever adorable Jeep/Hakuryu. Depending on which you saw first, the manga or the anime, he's the transportation that the guys are gonna use to head west. The names differ because, well, licensing.   

XD Took almost ten minutes but we get our first whining from Goku about how hungry he is. This is a constant gag that still gets a giggle out of me. 

Hello floating heads. I was wondering when you'd show up. I'm...not a hundred percent sure if they're gods or something in between god and human or what. However they give Sanzo his quest to save Shangri-La, which I'm still not 100% sure is just the name of the world or the country.  

Regardless, long story short: Sanzo is off to prevent the revival of an ancient demon named Gyumaoh that took the War Prince of the gods to finally put down. What's causing the demons to go mad is the combination of science and dark magics that is being used to revive Gyumaoh.

The reason why Sanzo brought the others? It was an order, otherwise he more than likely would have done it alone and also more than likely gotten his holy ass killed. Because Sanzo is a loner and really doesn't like being around the others save maybe Hakkai. Mostly because Goku and Gojyo argue a lot and they generally just aren't quiet. Hakkai is and knows to give him his space. Goku and Gojyo? Not so much.

And the introduction of Sanzo's gun. It's easily one of the most powerful weapons in the show because of how it works. It's a banishing gun and, at least for the first season, completely atomizes demons. It’s actually a plot point for a future episode if my memory serves correctly.

Aaaaaand that line from Hakkai about being the only demons to still have their sense of self turns out to not be entirely true. Other demons are out there who have some semblance of sanity. They just generally either choose to work for the enemy, who will be revealed in due time, or they lose it shortly after meeting the Sanzo party. 

And why these four are sane? They all have a tragic past that connects them not only to each other but to their humanity. Plus, well, Gojyo is only half-demon which could be the main reason why he’s sane. Although you can make an argument for if that’s gonna stay that way.

....No I totally haven't overthought this shit at all since I saw it as a teenager. What are you saying? ....Yeah I've seen it. Repeatedly. At least the first two season. I can’t say the same about Reload and Gunlock.

It's easily one of my favorite anime. It's not the best written or necessarily the best acted or best animated. But I adore the characters yes, even Gojyo who is my least favorite, but we'll explore that as we learn more about our heroes throughout the series. 

So until next episode, remember to be attached to nothing and to hold no side but your own! ....Yes these are main themes of the series.

[qqueenofhades]

i know you [i walked with you once upon a dream]: three

Post-1x16 canon divergence. When Lucy Preston, a history professor at Stanford University, is visited by a strange man who tells her that her entire world is a lie, she is drawn into a mystery more dangerous than she could have dreamed, and a hunt for a past she can't remember. But who, or what, is she going to find -- or lose -- along the way?

chapter two/AO3

Rufus Carlin turns off the music well in advance, straightens his collar, and makes sure that both his hands are visible on the steering wheel as he pulls into the slow-moving car queue spilling out the front gates of Mason Industries. Black guys can hardly expect anything wonderful when the police are involved to start with, and over the last week, security has gone from “tight” to “G20 summit as hosted by a paranoid dictator.” Everyone is subjected to thorough inspections both entering and leaving work, and God help you if you have a McDonald’s receipt you can’t account for. Rufus spent twenty minutes yesterday explaining to the latest rent-a-thug that yes, he usually gets breakfast on the way, and yes, he used his personal credit card to pay for it. He’s surprised they didn’t demand his SSN and PIN on the spot to double-check at the bank. But after everything that’s going on, the unexpected detonation of the Mothership and the loss of the last fifteen years of Connor Mason’s life’s work, perhaps that is, alas, to be expected. They still have the Lifeboat, but it’s only a prototype, doesn’t run yet. Although he’s obviously not about to say so at any office water coolers, Rufus wonders if perhaps this wasn’t the worst outcome in the world. At least nobody’s ever going to get the chance to, you know. Use the damn thing.

He sits and waits, more or less patiently, as he’s finally inspected and given the green light to proceed inside the compound and park. Rufus does, gets out, and swipes his ID card three times to get inside, along with his new ID card twice. Everyone has been pulled into the office for “quarterly review” – which, given that this is February and a time machine was destroyed two days ago, is clearly thinly veiled code for “are we going to fire and/or arrest you because you had something to do with it?” Rufus already had his go-round with the Spanish Inquisition, and managed to more or less convince them that he is the last person in the world who would want to steal, blow up, borrow, or otherwise have anything to do with the practical operation of a time machine. He is not cut out to be a hero. He’s just a number-cruncher, happier with computers and gizmos and gadgets and the safety of a controlled environment. It has occurred to him that it might be a great way to impress Jiya, but surely there has to be something to win over a girl that is easier to pull off than “intrepid time traveling Rambo.” He’ll say hi to her today. He will.

Rufus makes it to his desk and opens up the file which has been left on it, flipping through the papers. That newspaper article from the Chronicle is a bit of a joke now, given that what they are actually launching, one of their new high-speed transportation concepts, has been completely overshadowed by the loss of the Mothership. Connor has said that they are very, very angry, and while Rufus has no idea who “they” are, the kind of people who would fund the research and development of a frigging time machine are not going to hear of its loss, say, “Oh, well, that’s unfortunate,” and wander off to see what’s on Netflix. Obviously, this isn’t public knowledge, but one thing about the whole case is bothering Rufus (hah, he thinks, just one). They managed to retrieve a cache of the Mothership’s CPU – not the whole thing, and badly damaged, but enough data to get a decent look at its state of operations right before it blew up. And while Rufus would need to do the calculations again to be sure, from what he can tell, the Mothership was used. Close to twenty times. Almost forty if you count the return trips.

Except, of course, for the fact that it never has been, and was destroyed before it ever could be.

Rufus has run this through a few times, and he’s fairly sure that he’s the only one who’s come up with the conclusion. It’s so out there (and possibly dangerous) that he doesn’t exactly want to be the one to point it out, stroll into Connor’s office with a stack of printouts and ask hey, did we somehow miss the Mothership randomly vanishing into the past for extended periods? Maybe during that long lunch? Hah, funny story, us building a time machine and losing it, zany, right? Perhaps he could tell Anthony, as this seems like the kind of thing he should know, but something is still holding him back. If he had a second set of eyes, someone as smart as him or smarter, but not his boss, who might ask him yet more difficult and fiddly questions. . . Rufus has nothing to hide, so it baffles him and unnerves him that it somehow feels like he does. But who can he –

And then, it strikes him. Oh God.

Apparently he’s going to say hi to Jiya today after all.

“So.” Rufus, having rehearsed his opening line in his head for about the past ten minutes, panics, blanks, forgets it, and has to scramble not to fall over as the rolling chair he’s casually leaning on scoots out from underneath him. Somewhere, Don Juan just had an aneurysm. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, hey.” Jiya glances up at him with a grin, which Rufus has obsessed about: is it a grin, the kind you give coworkers, or a grin grin, the kind you give coworkers you might like? “What’s up?”

“I was going over the data from the CPU dump again, and. . .” Rufus does his best to sound as cool and interesting as he can. “I picked up something a little weird. And, well, you’re the smartest tech here, so if you have a moment, I thought we could go over it?”

Jiya giggles a bit, which makes his heart turn over. God, he likes this girl so much. Going into a recital of all the reasons why would officially push him into creeptastic stalker territory, which he swears he’s not. But from the moment she started at Mason Industries eighteen months ago, yeah, he’s been completely gone. He went to MIT, she went to Caltech, so they have periodic ribbing over which of their schools is currently atop the number-one ranking. She wears video-game shirts and cosplays at Comic-Con. He loves the scent of her shampoo and the way she bites her nail polish and knows the answer to anything. She’s so much braver than he is. So much more everything. He knows that he is punching above his weight class here, but still.

“Sure,” Jiya says after a moment, pushing back her chair and standing up. “Hit me up.”

Rufus is horribly tempted to remark that yes, he very much wants to do exactly that, but he is not the kind of guy who can pull off that kind of comment, and it’s rude anyway. He gulps, scoops up his papers, and follows her into one of the glass-walled conference rooms overlooking the main warehouse. Once they’ve shut the door, Jiya hits a button to lower the security shade and turns to him. “Okay. What you got?”

Rufus spreads the printouts on the table and explains his hunch. He knows it sounds ludicrous, and the Mothership was probably just malfunctioning (since it was, you know, about to be blown up by agent or agent(s) unknown). But if that was the case, the rest of the systems should show errors or abnormalities or general electronic interference as well, and they don’t. It’s everything that you would expect to see if the Mothership had indeed been used successfully, and repeatedly. Running perfectly, in fact. Except that it hasn’t.

A frown links Jiya’s thick dark brows as she listens. When he finishes, she grabs the pencil from behind her ear and leans over the papers herself, checking the calculations. “That is. . .” she says at last, slowly. “That is weird.”

Rufus is somewhat relieved that it’s not only him spotting the abnormalities, but he was also sort of hoping she’d tell him that they were explainable. Basically, the science goes like this. The Mothership is what they’ve dubbed a Feynman machine, named after a highly influential theory in particle physics by one Richard Feynman. The classical model of system trajectory postulates a fixed, single path for a particle traveling from point A to point B, which is hence assumed to obey normal laws of motion – that is, it taking the path of least resistance, a linear forward motion. Feynman, however, argued that this took no account of the essentially irrational actions of subatomic particles, and that an infinity of possible paths had to be imagined instead, all with equal weight of magnitude. The particle could have traveled in a straight line, yes, but it could just as probably have circled around, gone in a figure eight, shot to a parallel universe, down a wormhole, and back. Therefore, an agent propelled to high enough resonances to interact with the quantum level in this way can theoretically go anywhere – or anywhen – in space and time.

Ordinarily, the strong interference of normative probability – that the agent would just go from A to B, that an apple would fall when dropped, that there was only one discrete and physically actionable universe – cancels out the absurd trajectories and produces the expected result. But Feynman showed that allowing for every one of these extraordinary voyages was fully compatible with the conventional model of motion and Schrödinger’s equation, and what has drawn Rufus’s attention is the lingering evidence of these exact extraordinary journeys in the quantum fabric, these twists and ripples and folds. The description that comes to mind is “Swiss cheese.” As if numerous small, localized irregularities have been ripped into it, then healed – almost, but not quite. As if the timeline was absolutely land-mined with interference and change, and then jerked back to the original blueprint – almost, but not quite.

As if, perhaps, the Mothership’s evidence is no mistake. As if it was used, and then set up somehow to cause a paradox where it wasn’t. The basic problem: if your future self arrived to tell you to do something, would you do it because they told you to, but in that case, where did they get the idea, if you had to tell it to yourself? There’s no logical entry into the cause and effect; it’s a twisted Möbius strip, like a hamster going around and around on a wheel. Build up too many of these, and the universe starts to get unhappy. Has a tendency to violently correct them, snap the strip, explode the bubble of trapped probability back to the linear progression. The results, when they have happened in controlled laboratory settings, have been. . . well. . .

The description that comes to mind for that is “bug on a windshield.”

Rufus and Jiya glance at each other slowly, as discovering that the universe has been chronologically destabilized and is at potentially at risk for sudden and violent spontaneous combustion is not the most comforting team-building exercise in the world. Obviously, they have to tell someone about this, but who? Connor? Anthony? There is already enough of a fire under Connor’s feet as it is, with the mysterious bad-guys-from-The-Matrix types who have been stalking around and taking reams of notes and photos, and Anthony. . . he’s the project lead, this has been his baby from the start, surely he’s the genius who will whip this back into shape. But how? It sounds insane enough as it is, and how are they going to fix it? The Mothership is gone. The Lifeboat doesn’t work. There’s no proof that this even happened. And if it has, the best way to put this is that the timeline is now so angry with all these shenanigans and contortions, its response has been to suggest, “What if I just explode, motherfucker? Huh? Serve you right. Asshole.” Then cartwheel out of the room, flipping the bird with both fingers.

You know, Rufus thinks. This is exactly why I hate time travel.

(If the world might accidentally end on the spot if anyone does anything else irrational, the next speech from President Evil Cheeto might just finish them off – though that was a good bet in the first place. And the whole “gotta bang before we die” suggestion is there to be made, so – )

Oh God. Seriously. Rufus shakes his head, wanting to smack himself. Then he gathers up the papers, endeavoring to sound matter-of-fact. “So, should we drop by and see if Anthony’s in?”

“Maybe?” Jiya frowns. “He’s been. . . weird recently, though. I don’t know if you noticed, but I swear, you’d think the Mafia was coming for him, the way he’s been walking on eggshells. I mean – ” she tilts her head at all the suits down on the floor – “they kind of are, but more. Maybe the loss of the whole thing cracked him. It was supposed to be his magnum opus, you know. Getting that blown up has to suck. More, I mean.”

“We have to tell him,” Rufus says stoutly. Anthony has to know,  because Anthony will think of something to fix it. He scoops up the file, they leave the conference room, and head down the catwalk to Anthony’s office. Knocks and opens the door a crack. “Hey?”

Anthony jumps a foot and spills his coffee on himself.

“Oh, jeez. Sorry.” Rufus scurries in and looks around for a roll of paper towels or something else to sponge up with. “Sorry, Anthony. Any idea when Agent Smith and his pals are clearing out?”

“Don’t – don’t say that.” Anthony’s hands are trembling slightly as he does his best to clean the spill. “I don’t know. Things are very – things are very delicate right now. Just keep your head down and do your job, Rufus. It would be – it wouldn’t be smart to draw their attention.”

Rufus frowns. “Look, I know accidentally losing a time machine isn’t really something to boast about in the end-of-year newsletter, but these dicks are starting to give me serious – ”

“SHHH!” Anthony looks as if he’s about to have a heart attack, and Rufus snaps his mouth shut, baffled and thrown. “Rufus, just. . . go back to your desk, all right?”

Rufus and Jiya exchange a glance, as if wondering if their grand plan is going down the tubes before their very eyes. Rufus holds the file a little tighter. “Anthony,” he says at last. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Fine. I’m fine. It’s just. . .” Anthony looks around for a clean shirt. “You know, I’m not sure I’m supposed to be. . . no, never mind. I’m sure this will all blow over, as long as we cooperate and give them what they want.”

“You know,” Rufus says. “That’s the second time I’ve heard someone talking about ‘they’ as if it’s a bigger problem than anyone’s letting on. Who exactly were we supposed to be building the Mothership for? Some kind of contract or commission? Because – ”

Anthony draws a finger over his throat. Rufus shuts his mouth with a snap. Whatever else he was going to say, he can feel himself, much like Fagin, deciding that he thinks he’ll think it out again. He backs up, file still in hand. “Got it,” he says. “Have a good day.”

Back at his desk on the operations floor, Rufus is less able to focus than ever, exhilaration of a semi-successful interaction with Jiya aside. Technically, he could go up to the suits-and-sunglasses and hand over his findings, if that’s going to get them out of Mason Industries’ hair, but something, he doesn’t even know what, stops him. He works steadily but inattentively on his programming prompts for most of the morning, until someone raps him on the shoulder. “Mr. Carlin?”

Rufus pulls out his headphones. “Yeah?”

The suit flashes a badge at him. “Agent Jake Neville, Homeland Security. Can you come with us, please?”

“Uh, what?” Rufus is confused. “I already had my clearance interview, I’ve got my new ID card, I’m legit.” He dangles it as proof. “So if you think you need to – ”

“We do need to ask you a few questions, yes. This way, please.”

With a feeling in his stomach as if he’s missed a step going downstairs, Rufus gets up from his chair – catches Jiya looking at him with a frown, maybe she’ll cry if he’s summarily shot in the back of the head and dumped in an unmarked grave – and follows Agent Neville to the room across the way, where Connor, Anthony, the rest of the brass, and a few more of the suits are sitting around a polished-chrome conference table. Rufus’s hands are starting to sweat. He really does not like pressure. “Hey, guys,” he says stupidly, like he just walked late into a pizza party and are wondering if they saved him a slice. “This whole thing, huh? Wild.”

Nobody laughs, or gives him so much as a sympathetic grin. Neville shuts the door, takes out a clicker, and lowers a screen. Points at it, and a picture flashes up. White dude, blue eyes, looks like a soldier, even in plainclothes. “Mr. Carlin, do you recognize this man?”

Rufus shoots a wild glance at Anthony, wondering if this is a trick question. “No?”

“Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan, Delta Force, U.S. Army Special Operations. Never heard of him?”

“No?” Rufus wonders if you’re allowed to blow somebody’s cover – the point of special ops, after all, is that you don’t know who they are. Then again, Homeland Security probably does have some kind of prerogative on that. “Look, I’ve never met him in my life, okay?”

The suits exchange glances down the table. Agent Neville hits the clicker button again. Pretty brunette in a slim-fit blazer, stack of books in her arms; the picture looks as if it was taken from some kind of surveillance camera. “Lucy Preston. History professor, Stanford University.”

“No, I don’t know her either.” Rufus has no idea what they’re trying to trick him into, but this is ridiculous. “Look, if I’m going to answer any more questions, I want a lawyer.”

“Is that an admission of guilt, Mr. Carlin?”

“No! Because I have no clue what I’m even supposed to be on trial for!” Rufus wheels angrily on the whole foreboding lot of them. “Whoever did anything to that time machine, I already told you. Over and over. I don’t know!”

A pause. Some kind of silent rustle passes around the room. Agent Neville clicks.

“Do you know this man, Mr. Carlin?”

Rufus scowls heavily at the screen. Captain Jerkwad up there absolutely looks like some kind of Soviet sleeper agent: tall, dark parted hair, suit and tie, sharply chiseled features, definitely packing some kind of serious heat. “What?” Rufus says. “Flynn? I don’t – ”

And at that, he screeches to a halt. Aware, far too late, that – having no idea how – he has just made a terrible mistake.

The agents exchange glances. They didn’t tell him that name. Rufus came up with it on his own, and even worse, he has no notion at all where it came from: it was just on the tip of his tongue, he has no conscious recollection of it at all. It appears, however, to have been what they were looking for, and Agent Neville takes a step. “Mr. Carlin, if you’ll come with us?”

Rufus tries not to panic, even as Connor Mason stands up. “Come now. Is there. . . really a need for that?”

“He recognized him,” Neville says. “The number-one suspect in the detonation of the Mothership. I think that’s probable cause for further questioning, right there.”

“No! I have no idea who that guy is!” Rufus is frantic, desperate to make them believe him. “Connor, I don’t know who he is!”

“Yet,” Neville says, even more skeptically, “you knew his name?”

“I can’t tell you anything about him! I don’t know who he is!”

Connor takes half a step. Glances at the agents, and something unspoken seems to pass between them, turbulent and unsettling as wet concrete, the knowledge that it could set fast and trap you. “We don’t have any real reason to think he’s lying, do we?”

“We could find that out.”

“Rufus is a valuable member of my team. The most valuable, perhaps. If you want me to continue cooperating with you and allowing you full access to my facilities and technologies – surely you can at least obtain a warrant before hauling him off for questioning?” Mason smiles ingratiatingly. “If you can find something to charge him with, then of course, far be it from me to obstruct the proper operation of the law. But – think about this carefully?”

Neville doesn’t look like he wants to. The tension remains acute. Then at last, once, he jerks his head. “Fine,” he says brusquely. “In the meantime, is there anything else you want to tell us, Mr. Carlin? Something to, say, convince us of your bona fides?”

Rufus thinks of the file. Of his conclusions. Of the apparent possibility that one of these days, the world might just pop like a balloon, and spill them all into the abyss.

“No, sir,” he says, tight as a badly wound string. “Nothing.”

------------------

Lucy Preston is not having a good idea.

In fact, it would be difficult to say when she’s ever had a worse one, strictly speaking. The rest of her week is crammed, she and Noah are supposed to meet with the wedding planner on Saturday, and even if she did have actual time in her schedule, this would still be a monumentally idiotic notion. But more than once this morning, she’s caught herself on Expedia or Orbitz browsing flights from San Francisco to Dubrovnik, mulling the idea of booking one last-minute, jaunting over there, and seeing what it turns up. Maybe try to find Lorena Flynn, warn her that her husband isn’t well, has been accosting strangers with copies of his garbage manifesto, trying to recruit them into some “The Aliens Are Coming” Heaven’s Gate-style thing. She hopes not, at any rate, but maybe Flynn has been approaching other people. Maybe there’s a pattern.

Lucy reminds herself, for the ten dozenth time, that the smart thing to do is call the police and let the law enforcement professionals handle it, rather than attempting some vigilante intervention on her own. But. . . for whatever reason, and especially after her visit from Evil Mulder and Scully last night, she’s not feeling too keen on cops right now. Noah would tell her to do it anyway, but. . . for some bizarre reason Lucy woke up late last night, with the brief and terrifying impression that she was in bed with a stranger. It faded, but it lasted long enough to leave her disoriented, unable to get back to sleep, groggy this morning, and avoiding Noah’s questions when he tried to ask if she was all right. She’s clearly being as conspicuous about this as possible, but whatever’s going on, she’s just about made up her mind to take Amy’s advice. Though Amy warned her as well that live mysteries are an entirely different animal from dead ones. Get involved in this, and she might be lucky if she gets to regret it.

Lucy is finally about to close the browser window and get back to work, when the phone on her desk rings. She hesitates, then picks it up. “Hello?”

“Miss Preston?” Three guesses as to who it sounds like on the other end. “Is this a good time?”

Lucy goes tense all over. “No, actually. It isn’t.”

“Miss Preston, as before, you aren’t in any trouble. But if you keep trying to avoid us when we have to ask just a few questions, we can’t guarantee – ”

“Who is we?” Lucy asks. “The Borg?”

“Miss Preston – ”

“Okay, first of all.” She is just about completely out of patience to humor these pricks. “Don’t call me Miss Preston. I’m a thirty-three-year-old woman with two doctorates from and a professorship at Stanford, not some little girl drinking a Shirley Temple and feeling so grown up. You can call me Dr. Preston, or Professor Preston, or better yet, don’t call me at all. I already told you, I don’t have anything to say. If you’re legit, you can do this the legal way. Until then, don’t contact me again.”

With that, not giving them time to get a word in edgewise, Lucy bangs down the phone, far more vehemently than she meant to. She doesn’t even know what it is about them that’s setting her off like this, practically begging them to come after her with the brute squad, but every time she hears their voices, something cold and repulsed and inexplicable trickles through her entire body, souring her from head to toe, as if she can’t even think about cooperating. That if she does, she’ll die – or worse. It sounds melodramatic, to say the least. She can’t explain it even to herself.

Lucy sits staring at her computer screen for a moment longer. Then all at once, she clicks through to her recently closed tabs, and opens up Skyscanner. Five minutes later, having fished out the credit card that she’s been saving for wedding expenses, she has booked a departure from SFO at 6:10pm tonight on Turkish Airlines, connecting through Istanbul and arriving in Dubrovnik at 10:50am local time on the day after tomorrow. It’s going to be an ass of a long flight, but whatever. It briefly crosses her mind that it might make her look even more suspicious if she tries to leave the country to avoid being questioned by the government, but whatever.

She checks her watch. If she’s going to make it home and then to the airport in time to get through security for an international flight, she has to leave now, and she opens up her email, throws together a quick Out of Office AutoReply, sends a note to the head of the department making it sound like something has come up with her mom (she feels absolutely terrible for doing this, but such it is) and she will be unavailable for the next few days, family emergency, very, very sorry, but she hopes they understand. Then she pulls on her jacket and moves fast.

Lucy drives home like a NASCAR winner, praying that Noah hasn’t changed shifts and thus will be inopportunely off, but thankfully, he’s not there. She packs a quick overnight bag, grabs her passport and makes sure it’s still in date, and then practically sprints back to her car, convinced that the agents will have turned up in the fifteen minutes or so she was at home. They haven’t, but that doesn’t stop her. Feeling that all she needs is her tinfoil hat, convinced that the government is out to get her, Lucy lays rubber to SFO, parks in the economy lot, and heads in.

Once she has checked in and made it through security without being waylaid and dragged off for private questioning, she takes out her phone, opens up her texts with Noah, stares at it wondering what to possibly say, and finally taps out that she had to run a quick errand and she might be kind of late getting home. This is ridiculously inadequate, but she can’t think of anything else. It’s definitely a bad sign if you don’t tell your fiancé something like this, but. But. But.

(Nothing has made sense in Lucy’s life since Garcia Flynn walked into it less than seventy-two hours ago, and turned everything upside down.)

She waits until they call boarding, shuffles aboard with the rest of the travelers, and settles in for the long overnight ride to Istanbul. She’s brought the flash drive, but no way is she looking on it on a crowded plane, and doesn’t sleep either, listening to music and watching the glowing flight tracker edge slowly on its long way across the entire continental United States, then the Atlantic Ocean. She dozes off somewhere in this, wakes up as they’re landing in Istanbul, and is completely disoriented as she shuffles into the terminal to wait for her connection. Turns on her phone, connects to the wifi, and it basically explodes. There are thirty new messages from Noah.

Feeling horrible, Lucy pauses, then calls him on Whatsapp. He picks up on the first ring. “Lucy! Jesus! I’ve been worried out of my mind! Where the hell are you? What’s going on?”

“I’m. . .” Lucy winces. “I’m kind of out of the country.”

“You. . . you what?”

“Yeah. I’m in Istanbul.”

“Istanbul?” She can almost hear his circuits overloading. “Did someone – ” it’s clear from his tone exactly who he thinks this is – “make you go with them? Do you need help? Should I – ”

“Noah, I’m sorry. It was. . . it was an accident.”

“You accidentally flew to Turkey?”

“I. . .” Lucy feels completely helpless to explain, especially when there is no rational or logical basis or explanation for anything she’s doing. “I’ll be – I’ll be back home soon, okay? It’s just something I need to do. I’m sorry, I swear I’ll tell you everything. It’s just. . . do you trust me?”

There’s a marked silence. Then Noah says, “You know I do. You know I want you to do whatever you need to do. But Lucy, you’re asking a lot.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you worry. I’ll be home soon. I swear.”

He pauses again. Finally he says, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Lucy lets out a slow breath. She can hear the lingering frost in his voice, for which she doesn’t blame him; she just spent a fairly significant chunk of their wedding budget on a last-minute international plane ticket, she didn’t tell him she was doing it, and she’s been acting weird ever since some mysterious man gatecrashed their previously happy life. Not idyllic, what with her mom and her workload and everything, but still hers. It must be pretty damn clear to Noah by now that whatever she’s told him about not thinking about or seeing Flynn again, it’s a lie. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he’s started to wonder what else she might be lying about.

“Hey,” Lucy says, trying to bridge the silence. “I love you, okay? See you soon.”

Noah blows out a breath. “Okay,” he says again. “See you soon.”

With that, they hang up, not leaving her feeling considerably better. She is well aware she couldn’t even bring herself to tell him that she’s going onward to Croatia, that Turkey isn’t her final destination, and hates herself for it. If there is a quicker way to torpedo a relationship in six easy steps (or hell, even fewer at the rate she’s going), it’s hard to think of one. And it’s Noah, why would she lose Noah, Noah’s always been great, their whole time, they –

Where did she meet him?

When did they get together?

How long have they been together?

When did he propose?

Did she even say yes?

Lucy almost freezes solid. She knows this, of course she knows this – she’s marrying him, after all. And yet, the more she searches her brain for the details, the more they elude her. It’s a terrifying feeling, even worse than waking up and thinking she didn’t know him last night. As if her entire life is built on smoke and shadows, on –

Your life now is a lie, but not one you’d have any way of easily disproving. And not one that would hurt you, perhaps, to stay in. But if the time comes when you want answers, at least you’ll have them.

Lucy inhales a slow, ragged breath, gripping her knees so she doesn’t have a panic attack in the middle of Ataturk International Airport. She gets up and has to walk it off, which helps only marginally, and on her flight to Dubrovnik, wonders if the risks of reading For Lucy in public is really a sufficient reason not to. But her world is already threatening to unravel at the seams, and she doesn’t want to pull at the thread to make it go any faster. She wants to cling to whatever sanity is left.

She lands at last, crumpled and shaken and shaky, like a used paper napkin. Manages to navigate customs and find her way into the city, which at any other time – and even now – she would be absolutely delighted to lose herself in. Dubrovnik is stunningly beautiful, with a red-roofed medieval old town and massive old walls, distant blue mountains and sparkling Adriatic Sea, resort beaches and palm trees – they film Game of Thrones here, she remembers, and the place absolutely looks like the capital of some fantasy land. Her historian’s curiosity is going haywire, and she perks up a bit as she explores the narrow cobbled streets and quaint buildings. It was shelled and besieged in 1991 during the breakup of the Yugoslavian bloc, and scars remain here and there, but for the most part, it’s recovered nicely. She, however, is not here to be a tourist. She has to focus. Can’t exactly go door-to-door until she finds them.

Lucy opens up Lorena Flynn’s Facebook page, spends a while deciding where it looks like her profile picture was taken, and once she thinks she’s matched it, goes down and into a coffee shop, the kind of local java joint where someone from the neighborhood would spend a lot of time. Finds someone who speaks English, and asks if she happens to know where the Flynns live.

If she gets a funny look at that, she can’t tell. The woman hesitates briefly, asks if she’s a friend of the family. Lucy lies and says yes, hoping she doesn’t pry too closely, as she obviously will not be able to provide many details if asked, but after a moment, the woman tells her. Gives her what is definitely a Look, and sends her on her way.

Once Lucy has climbed the steep street and found the tidy townhouse at the top, she almost chickens out – which is absurd, given how far she’s already come and how many stupid things she’s already done. The barista is definitely going to let Lorena know the next time she sees her that some strange American woman was looking for her, and given the turmoil that the family is evidently already going through, the least Lucy can do is appear and own up to her insanity. She clenches a hand until it doesn’t shake, or at least less, and rings the bell.

It takes long enough to be answered that she briefly and fondly hopes that Lorena isn’t home. But then at last, footsteps. The door cracks. “Can I help you?”

Lucy clears her throat. “L-Lorena? Lorena Flynn?”

Marked silence. “Yes?”

“Can I – can I talk to you? Please?”

There’s another frosty silence. Then the door opens a further crack, revealing Lorena – yes, it’s definitely her, she looks just like her picture. But there are dark circles under her eyes, she isn’t wearing makeup, and her neatly waved hair is loose and unstyled. She pulls a sweater more tightly around herself with thin hands, regarding Lucy warily and without discernible warmth. “Can I help you?” she says again. Her accent isn’t Croatian – Spanish, as far as Lucy can tell. Her tone is polite, but it’s clear she isn’t in the mood for having her time wasted.

“I – actually, it’s about your husband.” Lucy tries to speak as gently as she can, but there’s no good way to phrase this. “He came to see me the other day. In, well, in California, in the States. I’m not sure if you know, but I don’t think he’s – ”

Something in Lorena’s face changes, not promisingly. “Lucy?” she repeats, suddenly and sharply. “Are you Lucy?”

“I – ” This has just taken a U-turn, and not a good one. “Well, yes, I am, but – ”

“How dare you.” Lorena’s tone remains flat, quiet, and ice-cold. Lucy has never felt such withering disdain from anyone, much less a woman she doesn’t even know. “What do you want, turning up at my home like this? To what? Gloat?”

“I – Mrs. Flynn, I don’t – ”

“Mrs. Flynn?” Lorena’s laugh is bitter and humorless. Her eyes flick to the ring on Lucy’s finger. “Are you sure about that?”

“I – ” Too late, too slowly, Lucy realizes what the other woman thinks is going on here, and is absolutely mortified. “I – Mrs. Flynn, I swear, I have never met your husband in my life. I don’t know him. He turned up at my office in America and – I don’t think he’s well, he – ”

“You don’t know him? After he kept trying to explain to me something about how he had to go see you? Because he kept talking about your journal, something about meeting you, going on some kind of mission through time, God bringing you together?” Lorena’s eyes are too bright, lip trembling, but she forces herself to keep her composure. “My husband is gone for three years without a word, finally strolls back in one day as if nothing happened, and he won’t stop talking about a woman named Lucy? It’s not too hard to put together the pieces!”

“Mrs. Flynn, I swear, I wasn’t on any mission with your husband. I don’t know why he chose to approach me. I thought you must be worried about him. I haven’t come here to hurt you or gloat or anything like that. I just. . .” Lucy trails off. “I wanted to know what was going on.”

Lorena studies her face for a long, excruciatingly uncomfortable moment, dark eyes cool and guarded. But at last, whatever she sees belatedly convinces her of Lucy’s sincerity. She steps back, and holds the door open.

Lucy nods in thanks, steps inside, and cautiously follows Lorena down the hall to the bright, airy kitchen at the back, with a balcony that overlooks the sea. She gingerly sinks into a chair as Lorena puts on the kettle, and makes them both a cup of tea. She opens a cupboard and takes out a tin of ginger biscuits, sets them on the table, and sits down across from Lucy. “I don’t have any answers for you,” she says. “I don’t know what happened either.”

Lucy tells her as much as she knows, which likewise isn’t a great deal, and Lorena listens with a slight frown linking her elegant brows. “Yes,” she says at last. “That’s about what he was trying to tell me. Something about. . .” She stops. “No. It’s too absurd.”

“About what?” Lucy reaches out, about to put her hand over the other woman’s, then stopping herself. “Mrs. Flynn, please tell me.”

“I. . .” Lorena gathers herself. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

“Fine. His explanation was that we – our daughter Iris and I – were. . . were killed, one night in 2014, because he found out incriminating information about an organization called Rittenhouse. That he then met you – Lucy Preston – and you were an older woman who gave him a journal that talked about a time machine, made by a place called Mason Industries.” Lorena stops again, shaking her head at the sheer nonsense she is repeating. “That he had stolen that time machine after two years of preparing for the mission, and took it through history, trying to erase Rittenhouse and bring us back, and that you – your younger self, and two men called Wyatt and Rufus – followed him, tried to stop him. But at the end you joined forces, were planning to bring down Rittenhouse, and you gave him the information to make one final trip and take out the men who had. . . had killed Iris and myself. That he did this, returned to the present, and destroyed the machine, only to find out that by changing that, that since we were alive, he had actually never stolen the machine, you hadn’t followed him, and all your adventures hadn’t really happened. That he had altered the entire structure of reality, and he was the only one who remembered.”

Lucy was braced for a doozy, as she has personal experience of Garcia Flynn’s insanity, but that is more insane than even she is remotely prepared to countenance. No wonder Lorena thinks her husband cracked up, had a midlife crisis, ran off to have a passionate affair with a pretty American professor, and has invented this cock-and-bull story as a pathetic attempt to cover his tracks. That is far, far easier to believe than, well. That. Lucy doesn’t even know where to begin. “I, ah. You’re not dead, obviously, so. Yeah.”

“Of course we aren’t dead.” Lorena sips her tea. Her shoulders are still tense, crunched, but she seems somewhat more at ease by unburdening herself of that mad fairytale, having at least had someone else to listen to it in full. “It’s been three years with nothing, no word from him, and then he walks back in and expects us to buy that? And all he can talk about is you, how you helped him do it. About how he had to go and tell you. We. . . we fought. I told him to leave, if you were the one he wanted. I. . .” Lorena trails off. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I’m sorry.” This time, Lucy does put her hand over Lorena’s. The older woman tenses, as if thinking about pulling away, but doesn’t. “I swear. I don’t either.”

Lorena searches her face again, still hesitant but hungry for reassurance that Lucy isn’t here to further rip apart her family, to make everything even worse. At last, she cracks a thin smile. “Well,” she says. “I have to say, that is a relief.”

“I was just. . . well, as I said, it was worrisome. I wanted to make sure you knew, if you had some way to get in contact with him.” Lucy sips her own tea, nibbles at a ginger biscuit. “If I can help, if I can sort things out between you, I’m happy to do that. I don’t know why he would choose me for his story, but. . .” She hesitates. Thinks of him asking her if she knew the man in the paper, Rufus Carlin, and the one named Wyatt Logan who gave her a hand with Agent Asshole last night. Two men called Wyatt and Rufus. That’s strange, but then again, this whole thing is well beyond ordinary classifications of weirdness. “Of course it’s not true.”

“Of course not.” Lorena rubs her eyes. “Garcia has always had to deal with – well, he’s done a lot of the kind of work he can’t talk about, but he’s never come up with anything like this. I’m worried about him too, but he owes me a real explanation. Owes Iris a real explanation. If he could just leave her like that, he’s not the man I married, not the father I thought he was. And he doesn’t get to come back until he gives me one.”

“Well,” Lucy says. “Maybe we can find him. Get him straightened out.” She manages a smile. “It may take a lot of straightening, but we’ll see.”

Lorena glances at her again. It’s clear that she’s wondering, even if she has come around, just why Lucy would have any initiative to help a loony stranger who she doesn’t know from Adam, but she also doesn’t want to fight about it, or turn down help in what must be a very lonely struggle. Then, startling them both, the doorbell rings, and she sighs. “Excuse me.”

“Of course.” Lucy sits back, takes another ginger biscuit, and enjoys the warm Mediterranean sunshine slanting through the kitchen windows. Hears distant voices as Lorena talks to whoever is at the door. She’s taking rather a long time about it.

And then, abruptly, the voices stop. There’s a scuffle and a thump.

Lucy frowns. Gets up. “Lorena?”

No answer. She runs down the corridor. The door is wide open.

Lorena Flynn is gone.

[lady-charinette]

The Night before the Promised Day - Edwin

Taken from my one shot collection “One Shots” (Fandom: FMA) on Fanfiction.net (under my other name ScarletRedfox)

The Night before the Promised Day

“Gosh, you’re so annoying Winry!” Ed slammed the door shut behind him, grabbing his shirt on the way. 

He failed to hear Winry’s hurt voice,” Edward…” her blue eyes were sad, feelings of hurt welled up inside her. She clenched her fists and set her jaw tight, she would not cry. She promised him she would cry tears of joy the next she did, now was not the time.

Ed was stressed for the big battle tomorrow, of course he would be on edge but…did he have to be such an insensitive moron?!

Winry let out a frustrated growl, throwing her wench in the corner, hitting a vase by mistake and breaking it into thousands of pieces. 

Oh, oh, Granny would have her head for this. Winry sighed heavily, looking at the door, in the direction where Ed just stormed out of. 

--------

Ed growled lowly deep in his throat, his shirt over his shoulder as he was walking down the stairs. He spotted Greed leaning against the wall at the stairs, his eyes closed as if deep in thought.

But Edward knew better. 

“Oh man, she’s a peach.” Greed opened his eyes, a wide grin stretching over it, teeth and all, “Sounds like she wants everything, my kinda girl.”  

If possible, Ed’s mood only darkened further at Greed’s comment. He didn’t particularly hate the Homunculus, in fact, he was the only one whom he could tolerate and even liked, well alright…like may be too much, but something like that. 

“That kind of want is dangerous, it’s not how reality works.” Ed lifted his automail hand, his frown darkening, “Take a look, this is what I got for wanting something unrealistic.” The painful memory of that fateful night of his first attempt at human transmutation rose like bile in his throat. His human hand clenched his shirt tighter, his jaw set tightly. 

He was caught off guard by Greed though, “I disagree. You wanna bring back someone that you lost, you might want money, maybe you want women, or you might wanna protect the world. These are all common things people want, things that their hearts desire.” He had enough of this. 

He certainly didn’t need a lecture from Greed of all people, Homunculus or not, Ed was prepared to leave before he did something he may regret, well he couldn’t say he would regret if he punched Greed in the face, but he would feel bad for Ling. 

“Greed may not be good but it’s not so bad either.” Greed continued to talk, not bothered that Edward was obviously peeved at his lectures and started to leave, “You humans think greed is just for money and power, but everyone wants something they don’t have.”  

Greed watched Edward carefully, his keen eyes noticed the way Ed stopped for a minute, his words seemingly having impact on the young alchemist. Greed knew better than to expect a verbal reply or any at all for that matter, but the brief hesitation Ed showed him was enough. 

His words got through to him, that was all he wanted. Greed’s grin vanished but his smirk remained. 

“Aw, hell, those kids are giving me a headache. Wonder how ol’ granny’s even putting up with that bunch, I would have kicked them outta the house a long time ago,” Greed commented in his mind, mentally communicating with Ling. 

“Don’t be so harsh Greed, Ed’s having a hard time now, tomorrow there will be a big fight and none of us knows how it will conclude. We don’t know who will live and who…” the prince paused, letting the words linger in his conscious. 

“Tch, if ya ask me, I wasn’t direct enough. I can hear the Rockbell girl crying a mile away and the stupid blonde’s just too dense to do anything about it, guess good ,old Greed needs to shine once again,. Greed sighed and smirked, pushing himself away from the wall and heading upstairs towards Winry’s room. 

“Greed, don’t you dare do something.” Ling warned and Greed almost physically felt the restraints Ling put on him, causing him to falter by the next step, however Greed easily brushed it off. 

“Calm down princy. I ain’t doing nothing, can’t a greedy homunculus even have a nice little chat with a lady once in a while?” Ling scoffed in displeasure and Greed shrugged, not about to apologize for his words. 

After all, he wasn’t done lecturing just yet.

---------- 

“Stupid Greed. Stupid Winry. Ugh, why do they all need to be so damn noisy?! Can’t they just take care of their own business and not butt into mine?!” Ed growled, kicking a rock from the path in anger.

He sighed heavily, looking up at the dark, starry sky, lost in his scrambled thoughts. Ed shook his head when an image of his childhood friend appeared in his mind and he continued walking aimlessly, observing the quiet landscape around him.

 “She is sobbing you know?” the voice of his little brother startled him, Ed whipped around looking up at the suit of armor that hosted his brother’s soul.

Golden eyes widened, “W-what?” his voice was quiet, unsure. Hearing that Winry was sobbing, possibly crying…because of him no less…it tore at his heart.

“She isn’t crying but…” it made no difference to Alphonse, but knowing of his promise to Winry, thought he should add it before his brother completely lost it.

Edward being Edward, ever the stubborn guy since he was a toddler, he turned his head in the other direction, huffing in annoyance, resting one hand on his hip while still holding his white shirt with the other.

“Tch…she thinks it’s all so easy, defeating a guy who claims to rival God, fighting against the Homunculi…we are only humans Al, we may have Greed on our side but that can’t turn the tables in our favor. She has to realize there is a chance for us never coming back.” He paused, “She didn’t fight them Al, she doesn’t know their power, Father’s power, she has no idea what we are up against and yet she has the guts to just tell me to come home safe and sound?!” he crossed his arms in anger.

He could hear Al sigh behind him, “Brother…Winry is just worried about you, you know that.” Ed’s head lowered slightly, enough so his golden bangs covered his eyes.

“Yeah…I know…” he sighed and turned to face his little brother, “ But does she have to be so damn noisy? And bossy?! That annoying woman! Remember that one time I bought her a new wench? Because apparently I broke her old one because I have such a thick skull! Thanks to her throwing random wenches at me!

You remember what the first thing was she did with it right Al? She threw it at me when she saw my arm wrecked and you in a cart, demolished, General Armstrong just kept striking those weird as hell poses… Of course, when somebody buys you a new wench the first thing you do with it is throw it at someone’s head and try to kill them with it!” Ed’s nostrils flared in anger and Al swore he saw steam coming out of them.

Ed sighed heavily after a while of growling in displeasure, he rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair.

With his automail arm.

Edward paused to look at it, to really look at it. He saw the careful detail dedicated to it, the strong, very durable metal used here, reinforced, adjusted so it wasn’t too heavy but also that it could endure a good beating. The shape looked very human-like, aside from the visible bolts and screws of course but otherwise if it was covered by cloth it looked like a normal, human arm.

Ed remembered all those times where he returned to Winry and Pinako, all beat up, either his automail arm or leg gone, or even both after a very hard fight. He remembered all the times where Winry scolded him, threw her precious wenches at his head, attempted to kill him, chased him around the house.

Remembered all those times where he learned that when he bought her jewelry, most notably earrings, she wouldn’t be so quick to anger or physically lash out at him or Al – though it was obvious Ed took the main beating every time. It wasn’t just about saving his ass from her wrath either, he had enjoyed seeing the look of pure affection and joy in her face, similar to when she saw another mechanic’s work which was superior to her own.

“You know…” he scratched the back of his neck, feeling embarrassment creeping up on him, “Maybe I….maybe I had been a bit too…hard on her…” Ed smiled softly then, “I mean, she always stuck with me, even if I was unbearable and kept annoying the screws out of her, she still stuck with me and fixed me up. No matter how bad I wrecked her automail, she always pulled countless of all-nighters to get them fixed and never complained about them once.”

He looked back up at the stars, saw them twinkling brightly, others more so than the rest.

He made a decision.

Ed closed his eyes and smiled, he turned around and wordlessly passed his brother, heading back in the direction of the Rockbell home.

“Where are you going brother?” Alphonse asked, watching as his older brother walked toward the old house.

“What does it look like? I gotta tell some stuff to my mechanic after all.” Ed grinned and turned briefly to look at Al.

Only to see his brother having a chibi smirking face, he could almost see the hearts swarming around his head and that cat-like smile on his face.

“K-knock it off Al!!” Ed shouted out in embarrassment and Al just giggled, watching in amusement how Ed was now firmly walking toward the house, with intent.

Al sighed, the smile still present even though you couldn’t see it.

“I hope he uses the right words…” well, there was no point in standing there any longer, he could only hope that his brother wasn’t forced to share Den’s dog house again after his talk with Winry.

---------

Ed was smiling, he finally knew what to say. As much as he hated to apologize first, he knew it was his fault in the first place.

At times he had to make sacrifices in order to prevent further chaos. 

When Edward closed the door behind him, he saw Pinako sipping what looked to be tea with what Edward dubbed as their squad. Granny spotted him standing at the entrance and sent him a sly grin, raising her mug slightly in his direction.

Ed swore the woman knew too much at times…far too much.

He ignored the knowing look from her and continued up the stairs, he briefly wondered where Greed/Ling had disappeared to, since he hadn’t seen him downstairs with the others and he wasn’t leaning against the wall anymore either.

He shrugged, he didn’t want to dwell on it too much longer.

Edward didn’t bother to knock, though he should have.

He definitely should have.

What he saw….Winry with….with…with

Greed.

And they….they were….oh my god…they were…

 Talking.

A shiver ran up Ed’s spine, his human hand twitched, itching to transform his automail into a blade and make Greed make a run for his money.

What the hell was the Homunculus doing here? Inside Winry’s room? With Winry?

The two noticed him, Greed had already spotted him from the window, going back to the house. Winry however, was more than surprised to see him here back so soon.

She was sure he would be too mad to even look at her and only offer her a dry goodbye the next morning before they left.

“E-Edward? W-what are you doing here?” she blinked, utterly confused.

Greed then decided it was the best time to smirk, with a devilish aura surrounding him.

Ed suddenly wished he had some sort of weapon, similar like Winry with her wench, to throw at Greed’s grinning face. Oh how he wanted to bash in his ugly mug-

“Ed?” Winry interrupted his murderous thoughts, looking at him expectantly.

He was still standing by the door, Ed’s lips drew into a thin line, straightening to his full height, locking gazes with Greed.

The mischievous Homunculus loved to rile up the older Elric brother, his reactions alone were priceless. Though he had enough common sense to notice when it was the time for jokes and now was not the time. He sensed the alarm and wariness coming from him, he had to talk his way smoothly out of this before the other man suspected the worst.

“Well, then, thank ya for telling me how to harden my Ultimate Shield further toots. Now not even Fullmetal can beat me,” he offered a rebellious grin, winking at Winry before casually walking past Ed and outside.

“By the way, don’t be too loud kids, the walls are thin and we Homunculus have good ears ya hear?” Greed chuckled deeply, “’Sides, no need to give ol’ granny a heart attack so early already.”

“Who are you calling old?!” it seemed as if Granny Pinako heard him, because a second later, there was a deep yelp, followed by continues “ow” sounds coming from Greed. At least Pinako was brave enough to discipline the Homunculus.

“So…what was Greed doing here?” Ed asked suspiciously, eyeing Winry up and down. It seemed like she was fine, the greedy bastard hadn’t hurt her or laid a finger on her as far as Edward could see.

“We just talked Edward, he said he had to be at his best tomorrow so he told me what the problem was with his Ultimate Shield. I told him a couple of things and he said he was willing to try them out,” Winry crossed her arms, annoyed at Ed for interrogating her like some criminal.

Ed could see this was quickly going out of control and not into his favor. He cleared his throat, before he could utter his next sentence, he noticed the broke pieces on the floor, behind Winry’s feet. He recognized it as the vase that had been resting on the desk…had been…

He felt his heart constrict slightly, Winry was so angry that she broke a vase? Because of him? She had been known to violence, mostly though towards him, but he hadn’t really taken into consideration just how strongly she felt about all this.

Edward wordlessly approached Winry, he kneeled down and began to gather the larger pieces of the vase, Winry, without saying anything as well, kneeled next to him and helped him pick up the pieces.

By the time they gathered all the broken pieces, not a single word was spoken between them.

“I’m sorry…” surprisingly it had been Winry who apologized first, Ed clenched his fist in anger, anger at himself. He had made her suffer so much…and in the end it was her who had to apologize first?

It certainly went against his firm beliefs of alchemy. She had given him so much…and he had taken more than he deserved, far more. It wasn’t fair, those definitely weren’t the laws of alchemy he had sworn to uphold and go by in his life…

“This isn’t equivalent exchange…” he muttered, standing tall before Winry, who was now slightly shorter than him.

Her blonde head quickly shot up to look at him, blue eyes wide in surprise, before she frowned, “Ed, I’m really not in the mood to hear about alchemy right now,” before Winry could wave him off and leave, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her dead in her tracks.

“Listen Winry…” Ed took a deep breath and turned to look at her, releasing her wrist, “You were always there for me and Al, you and Granny saved me after our failed human transmutation, you fixed me up after I came home and wrecked your automail, you actually went out of your way and endangered yourself, just so that we were one step closer to finding the Philosopher’s Stone.” He could see how surprised she was at the direction where this conversation was taking them.

“I always complained, kept annoying the hell outta you, never thanked ya for repairing my arm and leg, never showed gratitude when you would pull all nighters just to fix my automail, I always left you behind, I was so hell bent on getting our bodies back that I completely neglected all the people supporting us this whole time,” Ed grit his teeth, his gaze directed at the floor. He was still hell bent on getting their bodies back, especially Al’s, but he realized just now, years later, what severe mistakes he had been making by ignoring his family and friends around him.

“Ed…” Winry didn’t cry but her voice shook slightly, her emotions getting the better of her.

“Please, just…just let me finish,” Ed took another deep breath, finally looking into her eyes, “The things you said earlier…about coming back alive after the battle…” he hesitated and this time Winry cut him off firmly

“I know it’s not that easy Ed, I know you may as well all die tomorrow and that I’m left alone with the flashbacks and memories here with grandma and Den. I know that Edward! And that scares me! This is different than when you and Al would go on your journeys, I had faith you would come back, beat up but alive because I know you would kill yourself before you let anything happen to you two. But….but…” she bit her lip hard

“And you think I won’t do the same now?” he watched as her eyes widened a fraction, looking at him astounded, “We may face powerful opponents, possibly the most powerful ones we ever faced. But we have back up Winry, we have friends; Greed, Ling, Lan Fan, Mei, Major Armstrong and his sister, Mustang, Hawkeye and everyone from the military.

There is a chance we…may die, but I’ll damn make sure it’s a small one! After all, I promised you the next time you cry, it would be tears of joy right?” he grinned at her, his expression warm and reassuring.

Emotions overtook Winry’s entire being, she released a half sob, half laugh, rubbing furiously at her eyes to not cry.

“Ed…” Winry sighed, before she could tell him something though, Ed suddenly stepped closer to her and grabbed her hand with his automail arm, bringing it to rest against his chest.

 She could hear the strong beating of his heart beneath her hand, his muscles as they contracted and relaxed, she looked up at him, her face pink.

“I won’t break our promise Winry, I’ll do my best not to.” He nodded, fixing her with a serious expression. She wasn’t sure when was the last time Ed had looked so serious at her but she believed him, believed that he and everyone else would make it out ok.

She nodded ,unable to speak, she was afraid she just may break down into tears. It seemed like he understood, because Ed rested his other hand on top of her head and pulled her against his chest.

They said nothing, just stood there, Winry in Ed’s embrace.

She was starting to become sleepy, she vaguely registered Edward picking her up bridal-style, pulling the cover away and laying her gently into bed, covering her with the blanket again.

She felt his automail hand slipping from her grasp, so she tightened her grip, afraid he would leave and that this was all a big, cruel dream.

“Heh, figures, you’re such a automail freak,” Ed lightly teased her, before she moved to leave room for him so he could lay in next to her. There wasn’t much room, but it seemed like both didn’t mind.

Before succumbing to sleep, Winry managed to tease back, “Alchemy freak…” the last thing she heard was Ed’s deep, warm chuckle and both his hands tightening on her own.

-----------

The next morning came all too quickly, when Winry shot out of bed in a panic, she kept searching everywhere for the familiar figure of one Edward Elric. He must have already left…

She bit her lips hard, intent on not crying. It wasn’t the time for crying, not until Ed and Al came back in their own bodies.

She got dressed and as she finished, she saw the vase, the same vase that was in broken in shards on the desk, was now fully repaired.

Winry smiled, “Ed…” she could hear her grandmother saying something, it sounded like she was outside the house.

Wait…that meant…

Winry quickly stormed outside, just in time to see Ed, Greed and the rest telling their goodbye’s. Ed’s gaze softened upon spotting Winry storming out of the house, Pinako just grinned with the pipe in her mouth.

Greed shot her a smirk and a reassuring nod, Winry smiled at him.

“Ed!” Winry shouted, stopping next to the short, old woman. There were so many things still unsaid between them, mostly on her part, Edward had been doing much of the talking yesterday after all. Words failed her though, she didn’t know what to say.

“Wait for us with a freshly baked apple pie. Deal?” Ed said, looking back at her over his shoulder with a warm, happy smile.

Winry’s expression softened, she blinked back the stubborn tears, “Deal!” those were the last words they exchanged before they departed on their journey, though small and insignificant to everyone else, to Winry they meant the world.

Ed would come back. She was sure.

--------

“Say Greed, what were you really talking about with Wintry last night?” Ed casted a sidelong glance at the Homunculus inside the prince’s body, carefully analyzing his facial expressions.

Greed was well aware of that, so he kept his face neutral, “Whatcha mean kid? I told ya, we talked about how to harden my shield and make it so my old man couldn’t penetrate it as easily. Gotta say, she’s a smart girl your mechanic.” He grinned.

Ed smiled, “Yeah…my mechanic sure is amazing,” 

-------

Conversation between Winry and Greed 

There was a knock on her door and then it opened, Winry, out of sheer anger at Edward, thinking it was him, threw her wench straight at his face.

Only instead of a pained yelp, there was a resonating metallic sound. Wait…she hit metal…?

Winry turned around fully only to not spot Edward but Greed instead, his hand having caught her wench, which was protected by his Ultimate Shield.

“Honey, I’m Greed the Avaricious, the guy with the Ultimate Shield, you gotta do better than that to hurt me,” he smirked, setting the wench on the desk beside the door.

Winry blushed in embarrassment,” I-I’m sorry! I….I thought you were…someone else…” she frowned, huffing in annoyance.

Greed’s easy going grin dropped, he closed the door and sighed approaching the Rockbell woman.

Winry regarded him with curiosity.

“Let me guess – the kid has no idea how to read women and you’re pissed at him that you let the poor man sleep outside huh?” he half joked, expecting a slap, a punch or another wrench. However, nothing came.

He blinked, the woman really looked hurt…

“Tch, he’s just so…insensitive! Such a jerk! All he thinks of is getting their bodies back! I understand that he’s doing this for Al, but how can he even think that Al and everyone else will be happy if he dies by trying to bring their bodies back?! He’s so reckless! Always destroying my automail, making me worry, he’s….he’s…” Winry groaned in frustration, running her fingers through her hair.

Greed observed her quietly and sighed, pesky humans.

“I see. Sounds like you want everything, huh?” he shot her a sidelong glance, the brief, mostly one sided conversation with Edward surfacing in his mind. 

“What?” she looked at him aghast, “N-no I don’t! I don’t want money or fortune or anything at all! I just…I just want them back…safe and sound…” she clenched her teeth

His earlier words fell from his lips, “You humans think greed is just for money and power, but everyone wants something they don’t have.” He smirked when her wide, blue eyes widened only further in recognition.

“Admit it, you’re greedy just like everyone else. Whether it is the desire to have money, to be surrounded by women, to have power like no other…or simply to have your family home with you…that’s all greed. Greed comes in many forms and most of the time, humans don’t even know what it’s true form.”

“You mean like you?” that took Greed entirely off guard…what? 

“Oh, she’s good,” commented Ling inside his – their – mind.

Greed snapped at him mentally:” Shut the hell up princie! I wanna hear this!” 

“Don’t know whatcha talkin’ about toots,” he regarded Winry warily, his arms crossed. Where was she going with this?

“You are the embodiment of greed itself, you have many forms to show too. The bodies you host, the facades you show to people…what is your true personality like Greed? Is it really just a monster lusting after power?” this time she smiled, though her smile was soft and understanding. 

Greed frowned, “Now, now, where did this come from? Guess there is something else inside that pretty head of yours besides screws and bolts eh?” he tried to rile her up, but she stood her ground, fixing him with a glare.

“Don’t try to ignore the question, Greed.” The Homunculus sighed heavily 

“You know…I can tear you apart with only one swipe of this,” he showed her his hand, now coated in the Ultimate Shield, sharp claws upon his fingers, to his surprise it didn’t even faze Winry.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, if you wanted to you would have hurt Granny and everyone else long ago,” Greed’s shield disappeared and he smiled, not a smirk or grin, but just a normal smile. 

“Damn…you’re more perceptive than I thought. Women and their minds, not even the greatest Alchemists or doctors can figure out what you’re thinking,” he flashed her a teasing smile, before turning serious again, “The kid is like that too, he has many layers but doesn’t show em all. He’s as loyal to you as that dog of yours, maybe even more. He was on the verge of death countless of times, from what I’ve gathered, you and the tin can were the main reasons he kept going on,”

Winry’s shocked expression didn’t deter him, “I know he messed up, bit time, but forcing him to promise something none of us are sure could be fulfilled…isn’t that greedy too?” 

“…You still didn’t answer my question, Greed.” His back was turned to her.

He paused, contemplating his answer, Ling was oddly silent this entire time, sans for his little comment earlier before he turned to face her again. 

“Looks like that will have to wait a little longer huh? Let’s just say I’m not a complete greedy son of a bitch alright?” he sent her a wide grin before he heard the doorknob turn.

Winry smiled, Greed may have many layers, but she figured it wasn’t so bad either.

She was happy to see that Ed had entered, she wanted to talk to him anyway. 

“Thanks…Greed,” as if the Homunculus heard her thoughts he sent her one last wink before he left her and Edward alone in her room once again.

“Kids these days…man, my medical bills are gonna be damn high from all those pills I gotta chuck down to get rid of that nasty headache,” he smirked, descending the stairs to join the loud bunch in the kitchen. 

“You did the right thing Greed, I’m actually surprised,” Ling commented, arms crossed with a satisfied.

“Oh really? What, having such low opinions of me eh? I may be Greed the Avaricious but I ain’t like my old man,” Greed paused before he again, talked to Ling in his mind with a devilish smirk, “Ya think I should have tried to grope her rack? Maybe that would have done it too…after all the kid caught a glimpse of em’…” 

Greed winced when Ling’s loud, enraged voice rang in his mind, raging at him to shut up and to quench his perverted demons.

Greed just grinned and laughed.