#I just think it's incredibly amusing for him to be a neighbourhood Good Boy

[ministarfruit]

simon blackquill peaking at age 17 is so funny because it's only downhill from here, buddy. enjoy it while it lasts

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Six]

Summary: In which Poe and the reader recover, and feelings intensify. A mission brings them closer, and memories give us insight into their pasts.

Warnings: Language, violence, smut, fluff, emotions, angst. Everything you came for.

Poe was wandering aimlessly, his feet scuffing along the dirt road as he kept his eyes focused downward, his cheeks stained with tracks of dried tears. His unruly curls were falling into his face, somewhat shielding his eyes from the lowering sun as he ventured around his neighbourhood. When another sniffle threatened, he cleared his throat aggressively and choked it back.

His father told Poe that it was more than okay to cry, as much as he wanted and for as long as he needed. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of crying and showing his emotions, nor was it why he hadn’t yet gone back home. It was just...he was tired; of crying, of feeling so enormously miserable. And now that the funeral and life celebration was over, it felt suddenly very final. Like the second he walked through the door tonight, it would hit him that she was never coming back.

That she was lost to the stars, forever.

It still didn’t feel real, not fully, and so when they were making their way home a short while ago, Poe froze up when they turned the corner onto their lonely stretch of road. He couldn’t bring himself to continue walking, and after a few moments, his father had glanced around to find Poe standing several feet back. A look of sorrow and understanding had crossed his face before he pulled him in for a tight hug and suggested that he take a walk. Told Poe to take his time and come home when he felt ready, that he’d be waiting up no matter the time. Dad was good like that, never pushed but always seemed to understand, to tell Poe he was seen.

He was on a street not too far from home now, the sun low and golden and the temperature easing just enough, though Poe was still sweating a little. He was considering removing his sweater when a voice to his left cut through the air very suddenly.

“Duck!”

He did, not needing to be told twice even though he wasn’t sure what he was avoiding. Glancing up, Poe saw a large red ball fly over his head and instinctively reached up and caught it before it could get too far. When he looked around, standing back up, a boy that looked to be his age was running toward him, his eyes crinkled in a friendly way as he pulled a face that conveyed his apologies.

“Wow, sorry!” The boy said, coming to a halt in front of Poe and panting. He pointed at the ball, “I was aiming for my sister’s head, but I’m not the best kicker.” He admitted, and Poe smiled at the boy’s candour.

“That’s okay, you missed me too,” He held the ball out for the boy, but before he could hand it over a girl, who looked to be a couple of years younger, came barreling over. Her face scrunched in anger that Poe wanted to think was adorable, but it was also kind of scary.

That was the first time Poe saw you.

“Charlie mommy said not to do that anymore!” You shouted, ripping the ball from Poe’s hands and then aggressively tossing it toward your house. It bounced until it hit the duracrete side, rolling to a stop. “You’re a massive-“

“Hey, don’t swear in front of-oh,” The boy paused and looked back over at Poe, who was standing somewhat awkwardly as he watched the siblings exchange. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

You were both looking at him now, your faces friendly and open. “I’m...Poe. Dameron. Poe Dameron.” He mumbled nervously, suddenly feeling too tired and hot. His face flushed a little from the heat and embarrassment, and he just knew you were both going to think he was a real loser.

“Poe Dameron, nice to meet you, buddy! I’m Charlie and this pipsqueak-“ The boy-Charlie- broke off to ruffle your hair as you rolled your eyes, “Is my sister (y/n). We’ve seen you around before, you must live close.”

Poe nodded, “Yeah, just over by-“

“Why are you dressed like that?” You asked suddenly, a hand shooting out to pluck at his black sweater.

Poe hesitated, unsure of how to explain without immediately scaring both of you off. You were surprisingly serious for a little kid, your big eyes sweeping over his face and taking in his red eyes, before again taking in his outfit.

But when you looked back up at met Poe’s nervous gaze, your lips tugged up ever so slightly in a way that...well, it made him trust you. He didn’t know why, but he looked between you and the equally friendly face of your brother and didn’t sense a shred of hostility or insincerity.

“My mom just died, today was,” He took in a shuddering breath, the words heavier to admit than he ever could have imagined, and yet just saying it out loud was surprisingly freeing, “The funeral. I was just...I wasn’t ready to go home yet, I guess.”

Poe had stared at your bare feet as he spoke, focusing on the wiggling toes because he didn’t want to see the pity on your faces after spending the last few days receiving nothing but pitying looks from everyone he’d ever known. He was entirely caught off guard when he heard you give a little gasp, then launched yourself into him, your arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him into an unexpected, firm hug.

“Poe that’s awful,” You whimpered, peering up at him with tears eyes.

Poe felt it then, the shift inside of him that he wouldn’t realize for a very long time was his universe colliding with yours, the staggering sensation of his soul meeting your soul for the very first time. He was too young to know this, of course, but the intensity of his feelings was felt nonetheless. The first thing he did recognize was that he really, really wanted to prevent you from looking so sad.

Charlie’s hand clapped down on his shoulder as Poe gazed down at you in surprise, only seconds had passed, “We’re really sorry about your mom, Poe,” He smiled sadly as he spoke, shaking his head a little. After a moment his gaze shifted to you, “Kid, he’s already warm! Give him some space!”

You almost seemed surprised at your reaction to Poe’s news, though upon hearing Charlie’s admonishment, you quite suddenly jumped away from him, as though you had been electrocuted, all while furiously apologizing to Poe.

You were so adorable and sincere that Poe laughed. For the first time since his father had come into his room and kneeled next to the bed with the most heartbreaking expression to tell him his mother had died, he laughed. Full bellied, the muscles in his face stretching upward into a wide grin, Poe Dameron laughed. There was only a slight pause before you and Charlie joined in, your pealing giggles filling his ears as Charlie held his shoulder and stars, did it ever feel good.

Poe was still just a kid, even though his mom had died and he’d had to suffer through heartbreak that no child ever should, he was at heart still only ten years old. Yet as he stood on the front lawn laughing with the Horn children he was overwhelmed by the feeling of home he found in you both. He knew this was the start of something incredible.

Charlie gestured toward the ball once the laughter began to fade, “Do you have to go home yet, or do you want to play with us for a bit, Poe?” Charlie asked, gesturing toward the ball.

You were nodding eagerly next to him, and with a glance at the sun to confirm it wasn’t yet too late to stay, Poe smiled at his new friends, his eyes meet yours as he answered. “I’d love to.”

————-

Your hips swayed lazily to the music as you eased your way through the evening crowd gathered at Maz Kanata’s cantina. Poe kept close behind you, his face relaxed but his eyes flicking carefully around the room, watching for signs of trouble, his senses on high alert. He kept his face neutral, holding back the frown he found himself tempted to make as strangers' eyes fell down your body when you passed them, drinking in your curves.

You found an empty booth and sat, propping your legs on the seat across from you, the picture of ease and comfort when you smiled up at Poe. He tried to mimic your relaxation, but you’d always been much better at acting a part than him when it came to the cause you both fought for. He had trouble pretending to not be on edge, and so he kept close to you. Not just for safety, but also to be considered a protective partner, rather than an undercover Rebel.

With a small wink, you patted the seat next to you to give Poe permission, that you knew he needed, to sit close to you. He flung an arm behind you, resting against the booth seat, and spread his legs wide in hopes of appearing at ease. Your hand patted his knee briefly and he had to actively work at not tensing under the heat of your touch.

You sat in silence together for a few minutes before Jess Pava cut through the crowd to join you, her hands holding four drinks carefully that you jumped up to help her with. Your body leaned over Poe’s as you plucked two drinks from the fellow pilot’s hands, and he had to take a small breath to steady himself due to your proximity. Stars.

‘Your system is entirely flushed of the pollen, Commander. We ran the extra tests you requested and they came up the same as the previous.’

‘But I feel so...you know what, never mind. If you say it’s gone, then I believe you.’

You handed him his drink and he raised it in thanks, then pretended to take a sip. None of you would be drinking this evening, because you were working but it would have looked suspicious if you’d all sat down in the cantina without them.

“Thanks, Jess,” You sat back down, your thigh only inches from Poe’s. He watched Jess toss you a flirtatious wink and rolled his eyes in amusement as you flushed in response. She had always loved to flirt with you.

“Well, I’m not sure when exactly our friend will arrive but he can usually be counted on to be on time when there are free drinks.” Jess rapped her knuckles on the table, her eyes drifting around the room casually. She’d been based at an outpost nearby Takodana and was the lead on the current intel handoff that required Poe and you.

You scoffed, “I don’t care if he’s late. But if his intel isn’t as good as he claims, I’m shooting him before I ask questions.” Out of the corner of his eye, Poe saw your fingers twitch on your shooting arm; as though you were tempted to pull the hidden blaster from your backpack.

Poe nodded in agreement, “Not that it isn’t lovely to see you, Jess.”

She laughed as Poe grinned, sitting back into her seat to get more comfortable while waiting for the contact to show up. Each of you was dressed to look like casual, tired travellers. In various shades of khaki, Poe wore a light linen shirt tucked into his pants, his blaster hidden in the waistband at his lower back, his regular boots exchanged for a worn pair of travelling boots that were anything but comfortable. You were wearing the same light linen, though the tunic you wore was tighter fitting, tucking into loose-fitting shorts that hit mid-thigh, the look revealing a lot more skin than he was used to seeing.

It was distracting, you were distracting to him, especially as you sat so close to him that he could feel your body heat, smell your shampoo.

Poe and you had been released from the med bay two days before this mission on Takodana. He’d returned twice to demand further testing, unbeknownst to you because he wanted to be certain he would never hurt you again. He’d woken up feeling pretty spectacular, that first day after receiving what Tahla told him had been special transfusions to clear out the pollen. His friend had said it would feel intense, the new clarity in his mind, because he’d spent nearly a month unknowingly gripped by a fog that only increased each time Poe and you touched.

And stars, it was true how free and open his mind felt now. It was like losing a large amount of weight all at once, and with his newfound clarity, he thought there would be a substantial decrease in his attraction to you-enough, that is, to stop his thoughts from wondering and his heart rate to increase every time he so much as looked at you, but that hadn’t happened. Instead, it was like the exact opposite had occurred; free of the effects of the pollen, Poe was no longer confused or overwhelmed by his feelings, rather they had all seemed to be glaringly obvious.

Now, instead of looking at you and remembering what had happened after the pollen exposure, Poe simply became distracted because you were beautiful. Equal parts protectiveness, adoration and attraction surged within him anytime he glanced your way now, and it didn’t feel wrong or confusing any longer. There had been a few times now where you’d looked at him similarly, and he wondered, or rather, hoped, that maybe you were feeling the same.

With a low sigh, you shifted next to Poe, recrossing your legs as your feet rested on the seat opposite, and Poe’s eyes automatically swept over your form. He sensed your apprehension and impatience and let his hand fall forward slightly, sweeping some of your loose hair away from your neck. His belly warmed when he saw you shiver a little.

Pulling his gaze away from you, he glanced around the room once again. Maz Kanata’s was a neutral territory, which meant that coming in disguise was as important as it was to keep your blaster nearby. The place was filled with a mixed bag of smugglers, spies, travellers and more. There was no telling who could be in the room and with you at his side, Poe was hyper-aware of the risks that being members of the Resistance held and he was as eager to leave, with the intel, as he knew you were.

“Oh, here’s our green friend now,” Jess’s voice pulled Poe from his thoughts and he glanced around, spotting the Twi’lek man approaching their table with an easy-going smile.

“Fucking finally,” You murmured to Poe, your warm breath brushing against his neck and raising goosebumps along his skin.

He was starting to wonder if you were doing these things on purpose, now.

-

Medical Bay Two Days Prior

You awoke somewhat rapidly with a gasp, almost sitting up as you came to, only a hand on your shoulder that seemed to be expecting the reaction cautioned you to remain laying down. You allowed your body to relax, your eyes still shut.

A distant and possibly familiar voice was speaking to you quietly, though you couldn’t make out the words yet.

To wake yourself up properly, you pulled in a deep breath and focused on yourself for a moment, noticing how good you felt, your body light and pain-free. And your head...it felt so clear.

The memories came back, then, of walking down the hallway toward the hangar with Poe, his hands touching you more and more like he couldn’t help himself. How good those hands felt until each of you was falling to the ground in twisted versions of ecstasy. It had been painful, terrifying, and you remembered clinging to him both in panic and for safety as you screamed, Temmin appearing and then it all slips away, the last thing you could recall was the stinging sensation in your arm. It must have been a quick dose of bacta, enough to keep you from dying even though you still passed out from the overstimulation of everything.

As you thought of Poe, panic began to rise within you and you heard the resulting increase in your nearby heart rate monitor. Had they been able to save him, too? Or had he...oh, what if he-

“Major, relax, you need to calm yourself. You are alright. Commander Dameron is safe as well-yes, that’s right, breath for me, Poe is safe, good, good.” The voice next to you was soothing, the firm hand on your arm rubbing up and down gently as your heart rate decreased.

Poe was safe. Your Poe.

And then the clarity hit, no longer blurred by your panic over Poe’s condition, and the monitor picked up the brief spike as your mind caught you up. It was like...the pollen had mangled and warped your feelings, pushing back everything that mattered most to focus on what your body wanted, what it wanted your bodies to do. It left you both in need, even after you worked through the initial exposure, and you hadn’t even realized it. It was like a filter on your brain, not blocking out the real stuff, but keeping you more and more focused on Poe in a sexual way the more you touched, until it all became too much.

But now you could feel everything real and it was almost too much to suddenly bear. You knew you’d forgiven him, that you’d each begun repairs on your broken friendship, falling back into a comfortable pattern...but stars, it was so much fucking more, wasn’t it? You were completely-

With another gasp, you opened your eyes before the realization could send you into a panic, and the Healer next to you prevented you from sitting up again, coming into focus now as you adjusted to the sunny medical room. You saw a privacy curtain around your bed, then looked at the person standing over you.

You blinked in surprise as you gazed at the Healer because you knew him.

“Tahla!” You cried out in delight, and he let you move finally so that you could pull him down to you for a bone-crushing hug. He laughed, a rich baritone he definitely hadn’t had when you last saw him on Yavin-4 years ago.

“Hey kid,” He said, pulling back to gaze down at you with a wide smile, “Welcome back. How do you feel?” He searched your face in a way that told he was there in a professional capacity as much as a friendly one.

“I...well, shit,” You stammered, struggling to sit up. He helped you, adjusting your pillow behind your shoulders and then pulling your blanket up a little. “My head feels so clear, I can’t believe it.” He nodded knowingly as you gazed up at him, looking at his Healer uniform, then to the medical droid next to him waiting for instructions.

Noticing your shift in focus, Tahla pointed in question to the edge of your bed and you nodded, scooting your legs out of the way so that he could sit. He settled, then took one of your hands into his own. “It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?” He asked you softly, “I’m sorry about that. And for not being able to make it to Charlie’s funeral, either.”

“You don’t owe me any apologies, Tahla Martell, you should know that,” You replied quietly, squeezing his hand, “Not after everything you’ve done for me.”

He sighed, nodding his understanding as you both remember your last few months on Yavin-4. He then glanced back at you and despite the faint laugh lines around his eyes, the more dense peppering of facial stubble, you thought he looked much the same as he had all those years ago. Based on how his eyes were roving over your face, you believe he was thinking the same thing.

“I suppose it goes without saying, but I am a Healer now, a specialist actually. In foreign contaminants. My team was responding to the General’s request for assistance, but when I saw your name and Poe’s name on the patient files, I decided to come myself,” He explained, tossing you a little smile that told you he just knew you’d get yourself into trouble someday. You grinned back at him. “The Healer’s here put you both into temporary medical comas, and once I arrived yesterday I was able to complete the transfusions required to clear your system of any and all lingering toxins.”

Frowning now at the memories of the last month, you shook your head, “Tahla, I really fucked up on this-”

“No,” He interrupted softly, and you felt yourself flush a little from the sincerity of the look he was giving you. “You didn’t. That pollen is one of the more lethal ones known to us in the field. The fact that you were both able to survive this long...and once you were exposed, you were both technically compromised. The pollen didn’t want you to report the exposure, that wasn’t a lapse on your part,” He paused, thinking over his next words carefully as you waited patiently with your guilt-ridden heart sitting in your throat. “One could argue that had there not been a delay in your return to base, meaning the three-day travel, it could have been more likely you’d have reported what happened. But because you and Poe were exposed together, worked out the initial effects together, and subsequently remained within close proximity during the travels home, there was absolutely no chance of either of you making that correct call.”

You let that linger for a moment, closing your eyes as the build-up of emotion swelled. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t fuck up. Though, you couldn’t help but wonder how far-reaching the pollen’s hold on you was. When you opened your eyes, Tahla was watching you closely with an expectant expression, as though he sensed the direction of your thoughts.

“Did-did it affect everything I did and said? That P-Poe-?”

“No, just the more, shall we say, primal parts,” He said thoughtfully, “I read the report you did submit, and I found it interesting. You stated the trip home was fairly uneventful. Was that true, to your recollection?”

“Oh,” You thought back to those three days after you’d made up with Poe. “It really was.”

Tahla bobbed his head in thought, “It’s unique, I think, that exposure happened to two people who had a pre-existing friendship beyond being mere teammates. At least in our reports over the years. Do you recall wanting to touch Poe, but not allowing yourself to do so?”

You stared at Tahla in surprise, “Yes, right after we rolled through the bush that they were growing from. Why?”

He ran a hand over his jaw, brows furrowed in thought. “I think the pollen had its work cut out for it, getting you both to ignore your instincts to protect one another. If you were fighting it that early, well, that’s the first time I’ve heard of such a thing,” He tapped over his lips now and you could practically hear his scientific brain whirring away. “Even the timeline here is beyond anything I’ve ever come across. You were both able to resist initially, then worked the first dose out of your system. But when you came back to base, you were still fighting against the urges and that is...something else. The more you touched, the harder it was not to touch, am I right?”

You wanted to feel more embarrassed at the questions, but you were too caught up in what he might be getting at to give a damn. So instead, you nodded, “Harder not too, but felt more dangerous to continue.”

“I think the preexisting friendship played a major role here, it allowed you both to walk around nearly for a month when you should have been succumbing within a day after the initial-hold on, what symptoms have you had since you’ve been back, other than what we’ve discussed?”

He gave you an intense look then, and now you flushed a lot because you were hoping not to have to talk about the dreams. “I was uh, having dreams. Nightly, or like really early in the mornings. They woke me up.” You bit nervously at your cheek.

Tahla, ever the Healer at heart, got straight to the point. “You were having sexual dreams that woke you up because you orgasmed?”

You pulled your hand from him, covering your face, “Yeah, but it was like only a second or two of relief. And then I’d be worked up all day...tried, you know, before bed to see if it helped, but nothing did.”

“Huh,” Tahla grunted, going quiet for a few minutes as he thought. You suddenly felt very grateful you were having this conversation with him and not any other Healer’s. Stars. “Remarkable.”

You peeked out from behind your hands, “Tahla, are you saying that because Poe and I care for each other so much, we were able to fight against the pollen to a degree? That what happened the other day was the result of too much touching after so much time resisting?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, or theorizing at this point,” He replied, and you huffed out a breath. This was too much to think about. He seemed to sense your exhaustion and reached out to grip your shoulder. “Back to the initial question, though, you were both still yourselves underneath the underlying desire to, well, you know.”

He laughed a little shyly then and you smirked, quirking a brow in surprise. “Oh now he gets shy,” You giggled, “Stars, Tahla.”

“I know,” He agreed, laughing along with you, “I suppose it doesn’t make sense for us, considering our history. It was my poor attempt at being delicate after asking such personal questions.” He blushed a little and you couldn’t help but grin at him.

You shrugged, “Honestly, I’m glad you’re asking. I want to understand it all, and I’m sure Poe will want to as well. Have you spoken to him at all? Is he awake?” You wanted to see him, tell him everything was okay now.

Tahla opened his mouth to reply, only another voice cut in from the other side of the curtain. “I’m awake, sweetheart.” Your friend stood then and walked around to the other side of your bed, pulling the curtain along as he did. You watched Poe come into view, sitting on his bed with his legs over the side, and you knew straight away he’d heard everything. Meeting his gaze, you felt your stomach flutter in a sudden wave of nerves, because there he was.

Your Poe.

Tahla was saying something to him, but you couldn’t focus on what because you were lost in his eyes, drinking in his features, the soft expression on his face as he gazed at you, and you realized that whatever Tahla had done to cure you of the pollen, it had worked. Because you were looking at Poe now without any barriers-no pollen, no grief, no anger-and you felt like you were back on Gold team, the night before Charlie died, walking across the cantina as Poe watched you and you started to realize how you felt...

He pulled his gaze away, meeting Tahla’s outstretched hand and you looked to your hands where they sat in your lap. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry, though the hovering medical droid passed you a cup of water moments later and provided a nice distraction from your thoughts.

“Well, you’ll both remain here for a few more hours just for observation, but I’m releasing you at dinner time. You’re cleared for duty, so I’m sure you’ll be in the field as of tomorrow.”

“And we...you’re sure, one hundred percent sure, that nothing else can happen? That I-we-“ Poe broke off awkwardly, and you kept your eyes on the drink in your hand.

“I’m completely, entirely sure, Commander.” Tahla assured you both, “Listen, I’ll be off by dinner time so I’d love to catch up if you’re both up to it?”

You glanced up, meeting Tahla’s warm eyes, “That sounds great, Tahla.”

You saw Poe nod out of the corner of your eye, “Yeah man, see you then.”

He left you then, not before reminding you both to relax, and throwing a wink your way that you knew Poe hadn’t seen. When the door shut behind him, you were both silent for a long minute, though you could sense Poe looking at you. And you felt...nervous, under his gaze now, though you wanted to look at him as well, you were afraid of what he might read from your expression. He’d always been able to read you well, and you him.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” He finally broke the silence, his voice low.

You clasped your hands in your lap, then looked up and met Poe’s eyes. The heart rate monitor gave you away, gave you both away. Each of you gazed at one another, hearts racing, and you thought it felt really good to be looking at Poe, no pollen making it about sex. Instead, you looked over at your best friend and realized how much you cared for him. How much you missed him. How scared you had been to lose him again.

Before you could overthink it, you were out of your bed. It was only a few steps to his, just enough time for Poe to sit up straight, eyes bright, before catching you in his arms. You flung yours around his shoulders and pulled him close, stepping between his legs as you did. “Poe,” You murmured, and his arms tightened around you in response.

You slid one hand into the curls at the nape of his neck, smiling to yourself when you heard him give a low sigh in response. He pressed his face into your neck, making you feel safer than you’d ever felt in your life, wrapped there in his arms. You think you were both putting a lot of things left unsaid into the hug, neither of you quite ready to talk it all out, but silently agreeing all was forgiven.

And as clear as you realized your feelings were for Poe Dameron, you also knew that you weren’t ready to voice them aloud, no longer because you denied them, but rather because you feared they wouldn’t be reciprocated.

-

Poe didn’t trust the contact, despite the Twi’lek’s easy smile and friendly banter. His opinion was possibly coloured by the fact that Dario had first greeted Jess, whom he’d met several times, before promptly and very obviously dropping his gaze to check you out and then making a show of shaking your hand as Poe glowered at him. He would have remained angrier had he not noticed you shift a little closer to him once Dario looked away to take his seat.

“Listen, I think considering the shit I’ve gone through to give you this information, the least you can all do is enjoy another drink with me,” Dario stated, tapping his glass with a long green finger. “At least make me feel like we’re friendly, Jess.”

Jess rolled her eyes, her jaw tight, “Don’t pretend to suffer more than you do, Dario, it’s unbecoming.” The Twi’lek barked laughter in response. Jess sighed, “We can stay a little longer, and then we’re giving you your credits and you are giving us our intel and we’re leaving, got it?”

“Fine, fine,” He relented, glancing around at the three of you, “Well, who's buying this round?”

Poe wasn’t about to let the man out of his sight, something that you understood just from the set of his shoulders because you sat forward instantly, “I’ll go,” You shot Poe a look that said you were just as annoyed as him before standing up and stepped past him carefully.

Dario noticed the way Poe’s eyes determinedly stared at the table when you stepped over his lap. And he didn’t let it go unmentioned, either, “So are you two a thing or do you just enjoy the heavy sexual tension you carry for one another?”

Jess tried to hide her laughter in her drink, giving Poe an apologetic sort of look when he glared at her. “You said friendly, not friends. I’m not going to let you braid my hair and ask about feelings and shit.” He huffed, to which Dario simply chuckled, raising his glass at Poe.

“Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to be prepared if you suddenly started going at it on the table.”

“You know what man,” Poe growled through clenched teeth, leaning forward, “You suck at making friends.”

Dario raised his green hands in mock surrender, “Then you won’t mind that a smuggler just pinched her ass?” He jerked his chin toward the bar and Poe whipped his head around, seeking you out in the crowd.

Sure enough, you were leaning against the bar and a large, unruly-looking man was standing way too fucking close. Poe was out of his seat in an instant, catching your eye as he approached. The thing about places like Maz’s was that if a little traveller woman like you suddenly pulled out highly skilled hand-to-hand combat moves, it would draw a lot of attention, which your group was rather eager to avoid. Poe, on the other hand, could easily get away with what he decided to do the moment he saw you flinch, the smuggler having pinched you again.

Wordlessly, he pulled you close with one hand and grabbed the back of the smuggler's neck at the same time. Before he could react to Poe’s sudden appearance, his face was smacking off of the bar. He folded somewhat comically, unconscious on the floor. Poe looked at the bartender now placing the drinks on the counter.

“Here’s a few extra credits for the trouble, man.” He passed them over, and the gruff-looking man merely grumbled his thanks, pocketing the credits and then directing a nearby droid to drag the man outside.

“That was satisfying,” You quipped at his side, drawing Poe’s gaze. You pitched your voice lower to prevent anyone from overhearing you, “I think you broke his nose, flyboy.”

Poe laughed, releasing his hold on you but moving his hand to rest on your lower back, just in case anyone else thought they could come near you. “You good? I can go outside and finish him off, you know.” He was only half-joking, and you arched a brow at him before reaching out to pick up the drinks, passing two to him to carry.

“If I can resist the urge to kill him, then you can too,” You replied, leading the way back to the table. “But thank you all the same.”

Before he could reply, Poe met the amused expression on Dario’s face and frowned at him over your shoulder. Jess was determinedly looking anywhere but Poe, which told him enough about where her loyalties were. And while you’d been all smiles for him moments ago, evidently your patience had been torn to shreds from your interaction with the smuggler.

“Alright, here’s your fucking drink,” You growled, slamming the glass on the table in front of Dario, “Now hand over the intel or I’m kicking your ass.” Poe had to bite back a proud smile.

Dario exhaled as he gave you a weary look, “Wow, you’re kind of scary when you get all worked up,” He admitted, shooting back his drink in one go, “Since I don’t think you really want to be my friend now, I’ll give up on the attempt here at civility.”

You gave a cold laugh as Jess leaned toward Dario, “Look, you promised me good intel, good enough that I called in these two to get it straight from you rather than risk it hopping between squadrons. Hand it over and you get your credits and a continued pass from our people to remain on Takodana peacefully.”

With a roll of his icy blue eyes, the Twi-lek man reached into an inner front pocket of his jacket and pulled out a data stick, passing it to you. You grabbed for it but Dario didn’t let go straight away, instead leaning forward to meet your eyes levelly as you both held the intel. “Probably should mention one thing,” He began, and Poe felt himself go rigid, eyes on Dario.

“Oh yeah?” You replied coldly, giving another tug on the intel.

Dario let go of it, “The man I stole that from has a lot of people working for him and I may have been made a few minutes ago. More than likely there are First Order officers on their way, which is why you’ll be happy to hear I no longer want your money. Just sneak me out the back with you and I’ll be on my merry way, deal?”

Poe’s eyes flicked around the room, seeing no immediate threats but fully aware that sneaking out was going to be an issue with so little warning. You had stiffened, then quickly pushed the data stick down the front of your shirt into your chest band before reaching across the table and grabbing Dario’s shirt roughly, tugging him close. “You motherfuck-“

Jess was already typing into her comm as you let loose on Dario, unleashing the fury of your words in place of kicking the shit out of him and Poe continued to survey the room. “Poe,” Jess said, and he glanced toward her, “I’ve got back up coming in for a distraction in two. You’ll have to go out the doorway to the south, take a long way around to your ship.”

“Well, it was great seeing you again, Jess,” He replied lightly, “We’ll have to do this again sometime. Everything, the bad drinks, the toxic masculinity, our idiot Twi’lek the Major is currently teaching a new language. Really, it’s been wonderful.” With a final laugh, Jess reached over and patted your head in farewell, winked at Poe, and then sprinted away from the table to meet her backup outside. The distant sounds of shouting and a sudden loud bang was all the warning Poe needed a minute later.

Grabbing you by the arm, Poe quickly stood and began toward the exit, hearing rather than seeing that Dario was still there because he was cursing as he stumbled along in your angry grip. Pushing through the doorway, he heard Dario cry out in pain and glanced around to see him reaching for his shin. You had kicked him. “Sweetheart, need you to-“

You were on your wrist comm before he finished, “On it,” You said, running a scan of the immediate area, which thankfully came up clean, “It’s your lucky day, Dario, you get to live to see another. I’d say farewell, but I wouldn’t mean it!”

Poe laughed, then pointed into the tree line, “Go that way as long as you can before circling back to your ride, they’ll be gone pretty soon.” He told the Twi’lek, who grunted his thanks and tore off in the direction Poe had indicated. “Which way?” He asked you, knowing you had the entire area memorized in preparation for this mission.

You nodded to his right, adjusting the bag on your shoulders, “That way, there’s some water we can lose them in. Unless you’ll let me go and kill Dario-“

“I’ll let you kill him if we ever bump into him again, I promise,” Poe grabbed your hand and started running, neither of you unaware of the danger you were in with First Order troops nearby. Once safely in the cover of the trees, he continued between breaths, “Though I think it’s safe to say he’s going to be in hiding for a while.”

“He won’t be able to hide from me if this intel is anything but as good as he claimed,” You grumbled, your grip on Poe’s hand tightening as you jumped over thick roots, “You think Jess is alright?”

“Of course,” And he wasn’t lying, he knew she would be long gone by now, seeing as this was more her territory than anything. “You should really be more worried about us, sweetheart.”

You giggled, “I am! Listen, I know we said we’d go straight around to our ship but with Dario out there knowing that it’s probably best we hide for a while.” You left it unspoken, but it meant that you’d be camping in the dense wilderness as you hid from the First Order with highly sought-after intel that they didn’t want in the hands of the Resistance.

“All in a day’s work, eh?”

You sighed heavily in response. Jumping into the ankle-deep stream, you began walking in the opposite direction of the ship, further into the forest. Poe felt the water soak through his socks in seconds and couldn’t help but agree with your angry reaction back in the Cantina. Careless or intentional, Dario had all but ensured Poe and you would be on the run until you could get off of this planet and escape in hyperspace. And he had wet socks to top it all off.

“It’s open!” You called out, glancing up from the dining table where you were sealing the last few boxes of your mothers' things, to see Tahla Martell standing in your doorway. “Hey, Tahla.” You said warmly, moving to greet him in the hallway.

“Hi kid,” He replied, pulling you in for a hug, “I know you’re leaving first thing and you already said your goodbyes to us all, but I didn’t want you to be alone on your last night on Yavin-4.” He held up a covered dish that you caught the scent of, his mother's lasagna.

Warmth spread through you at his kind gesture, “Tahla, that’s so sweet of you,” You had to clear your throat, blinking back tears.

It had been a rough few months since your mother had passed, the house you’d lived in with her for over a year without Charlie and Poe seeming far too big now with just you wondering the lonely hallways. Packing things into storage was at least somewhat therapeutic, and you were keeping the house, but you knew you wouldn’t be visiting anytime soon. It just felt wrong to sell it until you saw Charlie in person and discussed the options.

And you felt a little guilty too, with how excited you were to be headed to the Resistance base the next morning. You’d be seeing your brother and Poe again after two years apart and you couldn’t wait. The fact that your friend understood your mixed emotions and shown up with dinner was...beyond appreciated. Tahla had always been good to you, even when you were younger and Poe had caught you kissing and punched him for it. He hadn’t done anything other than saying he’d prefer to be friends and a friend he’d remained all of this time.

“Are you hungry now?” He asked, and you nodded before moving to the kitchen and realizing you packed up all the plates. Tahla followed you, placing the food onto the table.

“Uh, you okay with eating straight from the dish? I think I have some forks...” You glanced around and spotted the box with cutlery, popping it open and pulling out utensils. Tahla laughed and sat at the kitchen table, taking the cover off of the food. You joined him, moving your chair close and passing him a fork before you both dug in.

You ate in comfortable silence, eating your fill and then sitting back in your seat and pushing the rest toward Tahla while you held your full stomach in content. You looked around the bare kitchen, another wave of nostalgia and emotion bubbling up.

“It feels sadder because it’s not how you pictured it,” Tahla said, breaking into your thoughts. You looked up at him, confused, and he clarified. “You were supposed to be leaving while your mom fussed over you and promised you she’d spend all of her free time with my mom, that she wouldn’t be lonely. She was supposed to take you to the flight dock and wave at you when you boarded, tell you to give Charlie and Poe hugs from her. It’s okay to be sad about how it is instead.”

Emotion swelled again and you nodded because he was right. Your mother was supposed to be here, you were the one that was leaving her, it shouldn’t have been this twisted version, where she left you by way of a sudden and fatal heart attack as you shopped the market together one morning several months before. Tahla and his mother had been at the market as well, a few booths away haggling when they’d heard you screaming, and Tahla had had to pull you away from your mother’s still, peaceful-looking body as his mother checked her pulse and called for Healers. He’d held you for hours, eventually bringing you home, only leaving when you insisted he could come back first thing in the morning.

You ducked your head down as tears spilled onto your cheeks, ashamed to be crying in front of Tahla. He put down his fork and shuffled closer, pulling you in for a gentle hug, patting your back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you, I could just tell-”

“No, you’re right,” You interrupted, pulling back only slightly and wiping a hand across your face, “Y-you understand, and I’m grateful. You’ve always been an amazing friend. I’m going to miss you, you know.” You tried for a small smile, and he returned it with his warm one. You sighed, “I just wish I was leaving this place...my home, with better memories. Alone for the last few months, packing things up, sorting out mom’s will, it’s not how I pictured it.”

Tahla nodded in understanding, “I’d tell you to focus on the fact you’re seeing Charlie and Poe, but I know it doesn’t help with this part.”

“I appreciate it all the same, Tahla,” And you leaned back in to hug him again, knowing he’d probably be leaving in a few minutes and wanting to enjoy the last moments of peace before you were alone in this whole house again. “This is a good memory, though, so thank you.”

He chuckled, the vibrations moving you as you leaned into his chest, “I know the lasagna makes it seem like mom sent me over, but I was planning on stopping by either way,” He admitted, his eyes finding yours again when you leaned back. “Didn’t seem right to let (y/n) Horn fly away from home without a proper goodbye, and by that I mean I selfishly wanted to be the last person you saw.”

You quirked a brow at his joke, Tahla was always ready to flirt with you, “Oh yeah? Well, I’m glad you did.” And while your words were light, the tone of voice you used surprised even you, coming out a little more sultry than either of you expected.

You saw Tahla swallow in surprise, his wide eyes flicking from yours, then down to your lips as you wet them. Boldly deciding to go for it because he was your friend and it was your last night at home and he was handsome and kind and sweet-

Tahla closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours and you moaned in response, gripping his shirt. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, you smiled because you both tasted like lasagna. Beneath that, though, you could taste the warm, masculine undertones of Tahla Martell, and based on the low rumble in his chest and the way his hands tightened on your waist, he could taste you as well.

It was kind of like one of your books, how you ended up in your bedroom down the hall, clothing stripped as you moved together until you were hitting the bed and he was pulling away from your mouth to move his lips down your bare body. The sun was low now, casting your room in a gentle golden glow and for the first time in some time, you were feeling something other than grief and loneliness in your bed.

The fact that it was with your friend Tahla...while you’d admit you had always imagined your first time with someone different, you had accepted a long time ago that it wouldn’t happen that way. He was older and more experienced and had spent two years worlds away and free to do whatever he wanted. And Tahla had always been your close and trusted friend, he’d been there for you before your mother died and since, and now he was moving his lips and tongue across your most sensitive areas like he couldn’t imagine a better way to be spending his time.

The empty house was filled with your cries and moans as Tahla, who admitted it wasn’t his first time, brought you to the edge and over several times with just his mouth and fingers before he climbed up your body and kissed you again. You moaned, tasting yourself on him, surprised at how turned on that made you, and then almost cried when he moved back and told you that you could stop here if you wanted, that it didn’t need to go any further but he would still stay the night, wouldn’t leave you alone.

You had intended to go all the way the moment he’d literally lifted you from your chair in the kitchen, but now you pulled him to you with a renewed sense of longing, telling him you trusted him, that you needed him. He didn’t to be told twice, his eyes searching yours one moment, then dropping down between your bodies as he glided his cock through your wet folds. He sighed your name when he pushed in, filling you slowly but entirely before stopping and allowing you to adjust to his considerable size. It hadn’t hurt as much as you’d feared, but the sharp sting was still enough to have your eyes pricking, and he leaned forward and peppered you with soft kisses and kind words, encouraging you to voice what you needed and tell him if anything was too much.

It had surprised you both when the pain had ebbed away and you were suddenly rolling your hips eagerly. Tahla recovered and braced his elbows on the bed and began a hard pace that had you practically begging for more, unrelenting even as you came around him. He grunted as he neared his orgasm, his pace slowing to draw the pleasure out as long as you both could stand. He let you roll him onto his back and ride him at an almost lazy pace, his eyes never shutting, even when you found just the right angle to draw the deepest groans from him, intent on watching your face. He’d seemed almost in awe of you like he couldn’t believe what was happening even though it had been...well, the sun had set so going on just over an hour, you had realized.

When you came again as you rode him and his name tore from your lips, Tahla went over the edge with you. He had grabbed your hips and held you down when he came, your name mixing with curses as he filled you.

And then you’d let yourself fall forward and shift, felt him slide out of you before cuddling in and realizing that he meant what he said, that he wasn't going anywhere. He even kissed you again between whispering his promises to remain, his praise over how good it felt to be with you.

You think you loved him a little then, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but think of how he’d done a good job replacing the man you’d pictured having your first time with and you knew that it was a good thing this had happened on the eve of your departure. You could love Tahla Martell but never fall in love with him.

Tahla woke with you in the morning, helped you gather your things, promised to check in on the place occasionally. And then he drove you to the flight dock, where he waved you off with a promise to see you again someday. His smile a little sadder but genuine and filled with enough affection to have you run back for one last hug goodbye, one last kiss on the cheek and a final thank you for being everything you had needed without even knowing.

-

“This is cozy, really very cozy,” Poe grumbled from where he sat on the cold ground of a small-make that, minuscule, cave that you’d found after several hours of hiking through the forest stream. “Just enough room to stretch out and feel the ache in every part of my body.”

You hummed in reply, rifling through the backpack you’d had strapped on during the journey. “I can only feel the blisters on my feet, everything else is nothing compared to those.”

Poe grunted in agreement, glancing down at his now bare feet. They were reddened and bloody from sloshing through the water for so long in cheap boots. “Think I’ll be fighting you on who gets to take out Dario now, sweetheart.” You laughed tiredly in response.

You were settled on the ground in front of him, pulling out items from the pack now; food rations, water, and a medical kit. He’d put a small light on, the glow barely casting, just enough to see each other. Poe watched you kick off your shoes and then peel off your socks, setting them aside with Poe’s to dry, before tearing open your ration and taking a bite. Plucking his ration from your extended hand, Poe copied you and together you ate in silence, the meal brief but filling. His eyes were already starting to droop, the busy day catching up to him.

You pulled out some small bacta patches from the medical kit and pointed to his feet, “I’ll do yours if you do mine,” You smiled, and he chuckled lowly, nodding.

You held out your hand for his feet and he carefully adjusted his legs to plop them into your lap, reclining back on his hands. He watched you work, tugging the light closer to see his blisters better and place patches over each one, which instantly eased the discomfort. When you finished, you squeezed his leg before pulling out a cleaning wipe and working it over your hands. You glanced up very suddenly, catching Poe as he watched you.

He held your gaze, wishing he could read your mind. He could tell you were equally as annoyed with the way the mission had turned out as he was, that you were relaxed over the current predicament because you’d both escaped the close reach of the First Order plenty of times before. You were tired, too, but there was something else about the way you looked at him that sent heat up his back, and he felt grateful again for the freedom from the pollen-now he knew his reactions to you were genuine, and he felt the depths for which they went, the intensity, the rightness of it all.

“I feel like we’re thinking the same thing right now,” You surprised him by saying, passing him a package of patches, then switching places to rest your feet in his lap instead. Poe caught your feet in his hands deftly.

“What’s that?”

You tilted your head, a small smile tugging your lips upward, “That it’s nice to be around each other without any other bullshit affecting us-pollen or anger, I mean.” Poe wasn’t sure if it was your intent or not, but something about the tone of your voice had him flushing, and he returned your smile quickly before dropping his gaze to your feet.

He set to work, wanting to laugh at how small your feet were, before replying, “I was thinking that, yes,” He admitted, carefully placing the patches on your blisters. “It’s nice...nice to know what I’m feeling is real, now.”

“Yeah, it sure does,” You agreed softly, sighing a little when he placed the final patch over a particularly nasty-looking wound. You tossed him a wipe and he cleaned off his hands as he moved his eyes from your feet to your face. “Thank you.” You added, wiggling your toes happily.

Pulling your feet from his lap, you returned to rummaging in your backpack, first finding a couple of pairs of clean, dry socks for you each to put on. You then pulled out two thin, rolled-up blankets. Poe sighed, “I’m guessing you don’t have a couple of comfortable fold-out cots in there, Major?” He teased, and you giggled while shaking your head.

“Just some lovely, extra scratchy cameo blankets, Commander,” You passed him one of the pitiful little blankets. They were made of a material mixture that worked to confuse heat signature detection more than they provided any warmth or comfort, but they were better than nothing. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

It took no time at all to prepare to sleep, though as Poe shifted around on the hard ground he wondered exactly how he would achieve it. Usually, he was content to pop a jacket under his head, but the planet was warm enough this time of year that you’d only packed a couple of very thin raincoats as a precaution. You clicked off the light and laid next to him, a few inches separating your bodies as you tucked yourselves into your blankets and tried to get comfortable.

It was maybe three minutes later, staring into the pitch black, the Poe gathered the courage to throw out a suggestion. “Proposal...” He spoke softly into the darkness and heard your head turn toward him.

“Go on then,” You replied, though he could sense you had probably guessed what he was going to say, seeing as you were no doubt as uncomfortable laying flat on the rocky ground.

“How about we roll your blanket into a makeshift pillow, you come here and share mine, and we actually get some rest?”

Instead of replying he heard you sit up and felt a brush of air across his face from you lifting your blanket to straighten it and roll. Now that he’d offered up the idea, however, Poe tensed slightly at the realization that he was moments away from holding you in his arms. He felt his face grow warm and felt grateful for the impenetrable darkness the cramped cave provided.

“Lift,” You said at the same moment your hand found his head, tapping. He raised his head and you slid the rolled blanket underneath, providing immediate relief. Poe slowly reached out for you, hesitating when he found your back, then curling it around you when you shuffled into his side and laid against him. After a moment, your head dropped down onto his chest, though your body was almost rigid against his. Another instance where the ability to read your mind would come in handy.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He murmured, turning his head and pressing his lips to your hair. He adjusted the blanket, ensuring it covered you both, then rested his hand on your hip. He thought you might not listen, you still seemed frozen against him, but Poe was smiling a moment later when he felt your entire body melt into the side of his before your hand came to rest over his heart. The position was so familiar, a lifetime of nights together growing up just like this, that he almost couldn’t bear it. “That’s it, sweet girl, get some sleep.”

He couldn’t have said what happened after that, because you both very promptly fell asleep, warm and safe in one another’s arms. Despite being on the cool, hard ground in a cave in the forests of Takodana, hiding from the First Order, Poe had one hell of a good sleep that night.

—

You were staring through a gap in the trees towards the shipyard outside of Maz Kanata’s castle, sitting entirely still in the morning light that filtered through the trees as you surveilled for any sign of First Order troops. You’d bee on watch for twenty minutes while Poe ran around the perimeter, and you were on edge. You didn’t like having to separate, afraid if one of you was captured you’d be less likely to get away without backup, but there was nothing to be done for it.

You might also be a little worked up from spending the night wrapped in Poe’s arms, but you weren’t focusing on the right now. You definitely weren’t fixating on the way he’d spoken to you to encourage you to relax, nor of how he’d called you ‘sweet girl’ and seemed unaware of the effect that had on you. And you certainly were not remembering how, upon waking up at dawn and enough light came into the cave, you had realized how wrapped around one another you were. At some point in the night, you’d both shifted, legs tangled and Poe’s head nuzzled into your neck, an arm wrapped over your body in a way that made you feel safe at the same time revealing how small you felt compared to his broad, muscular frame.

But most of all, you were absolutely not thinking about how Poe had woken up moments after you, lifted his head to peer down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, and then just held your gaze with an unreadable expression on his face that had left you breathless. It was like he’d pinned you to the floor with that fucking look, and you weren’t sure if it was a minute or an hour before your comm alarm went off, indicating an incoming message, and you tore your eyes away to read the message from Jess, who’d managed to send through that it was safe to return to your ship.

In fact, you were so focused on your mission, so completely not obsessing over the last twenty hours, that you were not at all surprised when Poe suddenly appeared at your side, panting slightly from his run.

He saw you jump in surprise. “Did I scare you?” He joked, and you grumbled in response, though this was worse than denying it outright and he started to laugh, before pointing ahead to the pathway “We can take that, head straight for the ship, everything is clear ahead.”

Click.

All it took was the sound of a blaster’s safety clicking off for Poe to grab you and whirl, shielding you completely from the enemy who had snuck up on your six. It took a second for you to steady yourself, then you had to peer carefully around his shoulder to see who it was. The familiar green form stood a few feet away with a grimace, pointing a fairly old-looking blaster directly at you and Poe.

“Dario, you fucking-“ You snarled, attempting to move around Poe but his arm shot back and held you behind him with surprising strength, and you stilled.

“I know, I know,” Dario drawled, unmoving, “Honestly, I had no plans to do this but the First Order put a pretty decent reward out for whoever manages to capture you two. Figured I could get back into their good graces, clear my ledger, you know how it is honey.”

Poe had left his hand resting at your hip, and at Dario’s words, his grip tightened. You were pressed against his back and could feel the tension, the coil in his muscles ready to snap. “Buddy, you do not want to try this. Handing us over to the First Order only puts a massive target on your head-and the Resistance doesn’t play games when it comes to betrayal.” His words were laced with venom, his voice low.

You’d seen Poe like this only a few times in your life because usually when it came to being cornered by enemies he was cocky, mouthing off to distract until he could come up with a plan. Today, however, Poe was almost frightening to you, his focused rage as intense as it was. You pressed a hand into his back, just to do something to calm him-this was one Twi’lek, surely you could take him before he called for back up, when your hand brushed over something hard.

His blaster.

Yours was at your hip, and you knew it was too risky to go for it with Dario pointing his own at Poe’s heart. You wouldn’t even attempt it, however, the blaster tucked into the back of his pants, hidden beneath his shirt, was more than ideal. You just had to time it right.

“Look, I’m more sorry than anyone that it’s come to this. But you two are valuable, did you know that? I certainly didn’t,” Dario took a half step closer, his eyes moving from yours, where you were still peeking from around Poe, and then up to Poe’s, “I will do you one favour though. I won’t tell them how close you are; hopefully, that’ll keep them from torturing you in front of one another-“

Your temper flared again, “They wouldn’t get anything out of us regardless, Dario, that’s why this is fruitless. You hand us over and you’re only letting us die!” As you spoke, you dropped your hand to pull Poe’s shirt from his pants, sliding your hand underneath to grip the blaster.

“Don’t,” Poe said firmly, his eyes still on Dario. You knew it was a command for you, and you hesitated.

Dario sighed, “I have to, and I’m sorry about this but I’ll have to shoot you, big guy because I can’t risk things getting physical,” He lowered the blaster to aim for Poe’s leg, “I hear the First Order have excellent medical staff, so-“

You felt Poe’s grip on your arm adjust, and realized he was going to try and throw you out of harm’s way and take the shot. Now, you didn’t hesitate, pulling the blaster out, clicking the safety off and aiming it at Dario’s head before he realized what was happening. With no other choice, Poe let you go as you stepped from behind him.

“That’s good, you’re going to need them.” You seethed, watching in amusement as Dario tightened his hold on his blaster, gritting his teeth to outgun you. He didn’t stand a chance. You shot his arm first, forcing him to drop his weapon, and then fired two more shots; one to the opposite shoulder, and one to the leg. He cried out in agony and you marched forward, flipping the blaster in your hand to grip the heated shaft, and drove the blunt end into the side of his head.

Dario sagged to the ground, unconscious.

“Well, I’ll hand that one to you,” Poe spoke from behind you, and you glanced around to find him watching you, hands on his hips, smirking in a way that didn’t meet his eyes. “Even if you did ignore my order.”

With a sigh, you held out his blaster for him, watching his jaw clench as he took it from you. “You put that in the report. And I’ll put in the part where you shoved me behind you,” You quipped, quirking a brow at him. He knew it wasn’t protocol for him to have protected you like that, and as much as you were touched and your heart was racing over how instantaneously he had reacted to ensure you were safe, you weren’t going to let him chew you out for doing the same. “Now can we leave this fucking forest, flyboy, or do you want to punish me first?”

You hadn’t meant the words to come out so...charged. You were worked up, still reeling a little over the fact that Poe was almost shot, and you wanted to leave before anything else happened. He had been watching you like he expected your initial remarks calling him out for the break in protocol, seemingly amused. You weren’t sure what he was going to shoot back at you, and you didn’t find out because the moment you tacked on the last line, his expression went blank and he simply stared at you for a very long moment.

You couldn’t look away from him, despite the heat crawling up your neck from embarrassment. You weren’t even sure where the words had come from, because they were enormously similar to how you and Poe used to speak to one another, teasingly, but you’d said it with so much more attitude. Like you were flirting without caution, and it caught him entirely off guard. You wished you could read his mind, as his eyes, now brighter than you’d seen them in a while, searchd your face.

“Let’s...let’s go,” He finally looked away, his eyes flicking around the forest, then to the still unconscious Dario, and then to his blaster. You weren’t sure, but you thought his voice came out a little more husky than usual, and heat pooled in your core as you briefly wondered what being punished by Poe Dameron would feel like.

-

Poe stood under the hot water, eyes closed, replaying the last few days in his head. His fresher was one of the few places he could be completely alone and he was taking advantage of a quiet afternoon to himself.

After returning from Takodana that morning, he had taken the intel from you to give to BB8 to begin decryption, and you had gone off to begin working on your mission report. Usually, you did this right in the hangar, but today you’d given him a shy smile, and then marched off. He hadn’t seen you since, though he was sure he would find you in the dining hall for dinner.

He was worked up from the mission, that much he knew for sure. It hadn’t gone as planned-when did they ever?-but he was, well, fucking impressed with you. You’d always been something else when it came to being pinned in a corner, though thankfully he’d only seen it a couple of times. But today you had been like a warrior goddess, shooting Dario without even a tremble in your finger and then knocking him unconscious like it was an afterthought. You made it all look easy.

He tried to admonish you just a little for ignoring him, but you had been right that he wasn’t one to talk about breaking protocol. And then you hit him with that flirtatious little line, wetting your fucking lips as you said it, appearing a little shocked at your boldness. He’d had to force himself to go blank, fearing your ability to read him like a book, while he watched you squirm under his gaze.

That pollen had nothing, nothing, on you. An innocent remark from you and he was bulldozed, ready to drop to his knees and tell you he’d give you whatever you wanted, needed, even if he had to fly across the galaxy for it. And you had no idea, he could see that you just didn’t know how much of a hold you had on him, on his heart. Poe had gone back to the med bay the other day, before the mission, and confirmed twice over with Tahla and his team that he was clear of all toxins because his feelings were so intense.

And he’d realized that what he was feeling was so much more real and right compared to the foggy desire that the pollen had caused. And he knew now, after watching you in action in the cantina, and then as you found a safe spot to hide for the night, and certainly in the morning when he’d woken up wrapped around you and gazed into your sleepy eyes, that he loved you.

That he was in love with you.

There was no one else.

And there never would be, because you were his soulmate.

Stepping out of the shower, Poe dried off and began dressing. His mind was flipping through old memories, some from when you were kids, others from after you’d joined the Resistance, each of them evidence to support his realization. He was fastening his trousers when a knock sounded at his door, and he wandered over and hit the release button without thinking, so lost in thought as he was.

“Hey, Poe, sorry I...uh...” You faltered, wide eyes falling comically down his bare torso before snapping up to look somewhere above his eyebrows. Your voice came out almost in a squeak, “Just seeing if you wanted to get dinner.”

Seeing you get flustered looking at him made Poe sweat. He stepped away from you and went to his dresser, pulling out a black tee. “Sounds good,” He replied slowly, then glanced back over at you and grinned. “You want me to throw some cold water on you, sweetheart?”

His joking had the desired effect, instantly clearing the tension from the room. You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’ll be fine, flyboy.”

“I don’t know, I recall a day at the river a long time ago, pulling off my shirt and then you falling out of a tree...”

You scoffed, then stuttered, stepping into Poe’s room, “I-that’s not, I was talking to someone. It wasn’t because of-Uhg!” You flipped him the bird then, unable to form a clear sentence in Basic. Poe was laughing, enjoying the teasing banter as he walked over to his desk and picked up his wrist comm, glancing at the time.

When he looked back up, expecting to see you still laughing shyly, he was surprised to find you frozen, eyes glued onto something over his shoulder. His brows came together in concern, “What’s up?” He looked around, following your sightline.

At first, he was momentarily confused because you were looking at his corkboard. But when his eyes fell to the picture of you, Charlie and him he realized you didn’t know he had it. He’d seen it in your room a while ago and had almost started sobbing on the spot. But you hadn’t come to Poe’s room before this.

Poe turned around to find you with a watery smile, your gaze fixed on him in an intensely affectionate way. “You kept that all these years?” You sounded winded, eyes locked on his. Poe swallowed, nodding, and felt himself blush.

He couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to, though. He was pretty certain he could remain on this spot in his room as he burned under your gaze for the rest of his life. A million questions formed in his mind and he didn’t know where to start, what to say first.

The silence was broken by the sounds of footsteps in the hall. Pulling both of you out of the moment to look around at Poe’s still open door. Tahla appeared then, breaking into a grin when he saw you both. “Hi! Glad I caught you both, I was hoping to join you for dinner?” He stopped in the doorway politely.

As disappointment washed through him, Poe relaxed his stance and tossed Tahla a grin, “And here (y/n) was asking me to dinner too, I’m more popular than I thought!” You giggled, shaking your head in amusement, but Poe could see you bite your lip when you glanced back at him.

He thought maybe Tahla was giving you both a knowing look, but it slid off his face when you turned to walk out of Poe’s room. Grateful for his lack of comment, Poe clapped Tahla’s shoulder once in step with him in the hallway, and his old friend winked at him in response.

—

34 ABY

Poe knocked on the door of General Organa’s private quarters, repeating the motion desperately until it finally slid open and he burst through, eyes searching until they landed on Leia. She gave him a knowing look like she’d been expecting him. Of course, she was, she knew what was at stake now.

“General,” He glanced around, confirming they were alone. “You know what I know. Please help me.” He didn’t care how desperate he sounded.

Leia sighed, nodding kindly, “Of course I will...but Commander, Poe, it’s not going to be easy. There’s always going to be danger-“

Poe rubbed a hand over his face, “I know, I know but I have to do something. Tell me the safest planet, and then I’ll go to Jakku, I’ll find Lor San Tekka. I’ll complete my mission.”

The General stood, her expression soft, “You won’t be able to-“

Poe shook his head, “I know.” His voice broke.

“Then I know just the place.”

Did you enjoy this chapter? Consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 2

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking and swearing. Billy could possibly be borderline DUI* on way home.

*Please Don’t Drink & 🚙 ...you don’t want to end up needing 🚑 🚓 🚒 for you or other people.

(My GIF)

You raised an eyebrow, unsmiling, “What’s the price?”

“Come for a drink with me.... but not here. Let’s go somewhere else.”

Laughing quietly, you climbed into the Rolls Royce Wraith, Billy closing the door for you before walking round to the driver’s side. He smiled back, looking across at you as he clipped on his seatbelt, “Somethin’ amusing you?”

“Well here we are, two CEO’s if you will, and this is your ride. Wanna know what mine is?” He nodded, “Yeah, tell me.” “The subway, or these two pretty feet.” He laughed, “Usedta be mine too.”

The car’s engine purred into life and he swung it quickly out of the parking space, heading towards the exit of the underground car park.

“So,” you glanced across at his profile, “where are we heading?” “Not far,” he said, “a neighbourhood bar I hang out at. It’s relaxed, not too busy.”

Shortly after that, he parked the sleek car on the street and the two of you headed into a small bar with low lighting, background music and not too many people in it. The bartender mock-saluted Billy as he stepped inside, and there was a whisky on the bar by the time you two got there.

Billy looked sidelong at you as you perched yourself onto a barstool, “What would you like to drink, sweetheart?” You gave him a ‘Look’, saying, “Sweetheart?”

He smirked, shrugging, “Hey! you are my fake girlfriend, after all.” “Ha ha, okay - you get a pass this time, big boy.” This time he drawled out your name, continuing, “You’ve been lookin’!” leaning back slightly and gesturing at his zip area. You lightly punched his arm, “Referring to your height, smartass!”

Internally, you were cringing a bit. The sensible side of your brain asked you what you thought you were doing, leaving the cocktail party with a complete stranger, and flirting all over him. The devilish part of your brain answered, ‘Living a little! Flirting with a handsome guy! Stop being such a mood killer!’

“I’ll have a mojito for a change, if you don’t mind,” you said. “Coming right up,” said the bartender, who, you realised, had been listening in to your exchange with Billy.

Once your drink was served, Billy gestured to a table and as you walked over to it, you felt a hand placing itself lightly on your lower back. Confident big devil, you thought, sitting down and watching him fold his tall frame onto the fairly small chair, then sliding his long legs under the table.

Spending the next couple of hours with Billy had actually been enjoyable, you thought, as you listened to him telling you some more about his friends Frank and Curtis. He’d told you about serving in the Marines and setting up Anvil once he’d left. You got the feeling that he’d only scratched the surface about it, though.

You’d only just met of course, however you found yourself wanting to know more about the tall ex-Marine.

And you hadn’t told him everything about yourself either. He now knew you were in the catering industry, but you’d skirted round telling him the details about your two cafes, you weren’t sure why. Maybe you wanted to retain a bit of mystery, you thought, mildly annoyed at yourself for feeling the need to do so.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

He had asked you why you’d owed your cousin a favour. So you found yourself telling him all about it, and he’d barked out a huge laugh when you’d mentioned ‘possibly’ assaulting your ex and the girl he’d been with. And another one, when you confessed you’d been taken into police custody.

“I’m drinkin’ with a criminal?!” he’d grinned, “Oh, I think I should be leaving right now.” You’d slapped him on the arm, “Shut up, you. It was in self-defence.” He raised his eyebrows nearly up into his hairline, “And how do you make that out?” “My eyes were attacked by what they saw!” you protested, and both of you started laughing at that.

“So he’s an ‘ex’ now, is he?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer, which he’d switched to after one whisky. “You bet your life he is! No man treats me like that,” you shook your head, sinking some of your own beer, which you’d joined him in drinking. His dark eyes found yours, “What would you’ve done if you’d found him actually fucking her?”

Your eyes went wide, “Oh, that’s an easy question, Mr Russo. I’d’ve chopped off some of his lower extremities, of course!”

His screwed his eyes up in mock pain, “Woahhh!!! Brutal.” You shrugged, “Well, you asked.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Back to the car soon after that, then heading to your apartment after Billy offered to drop you off.

That was after he’d asked if you’d wanted to continue the evening at his place. You’d politely replied ‘thanks but no thanks’ or words to that effect. He’d accepted your answer gracefully, so here you were. Truthfully you’d thought about saying yes - he was really hot, and the two of you had been flirting all evening - but you decided you didn’t want to go down the one-night-stand road with him.

You got the feeling that Billy probably indulged in a lot of those. You’d felt some female eyes boring into the back of your head while you were in the bar, and had turned round to find at least three women staring at you as if they wanted you to spontaneously combust.

And you were better than that, you thought, deserved more than one night of sex (never mind how good you were sure it would be) and a walk of shame in the morning.

The car drew up outside your apartment block, and Billy switched off the engine before releasing his seat belt. You looked over at him, smiling, “Why’d you unbuckle, Billy? You’re not coming in,” smiling even wider at him. He smirked, “You sure about that...?” running his long fingers along your arm. You nodded, “Absolutely sure.” He sighed, “Well, I’ve been tryin’ all evening and got nowhere.. so I’ll need to make do with this...” and his mouth was on yours in an instant.

His hand slid up to the nape of your neck and into your hair, pulling you closer to him at the same time. Your hands landed on his chest, subtly stroking his toned muscles. Wanting to deepen the kiss, he sneakily nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue making its way into your mouth as soon as you opened it slightly in surprise. But you weren’t complaining.

Eventually you both had to come up for air, and eyes still closed, you felt his fingers gently running over your cheek, then heard him say your name, voice low and husky. “I wanna see you again.”

You took a breath, before nodding. “Okay, Billy. Call me.” You’d decided to put the ball in Casanova’s court.

He smiled, “You haven’t given me your number. Tryin’ to ditch me?” You dug out one of your business cards from your wallet, and handed it over. It just had your numbers and registered company name on it. “There you go. Let’s just see if you call,” you smirked, “I bet you’re one of these ’treat em mean’ types, aren’t ya Billy?” He started laughing, shaking his head, “Nah, not me,” leaning in and kissing you briefly again.

“I will call you, that’s a promise,” he said as you opened the car door and got out. You smiled back at him, “I believe you, thousands wouldn’t. Night, Billy.”

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” you heard, then in a lower tone, “I’ll be lyin’ awake thinking of what I’m missing out on.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next morning arrived too soon. You’d dragged yourself up to jump into the shower, which did its job of fully waking you up, so you managed to arrive at your office with at least a bit of a spring in your step.

Your office was above your first café in Chelsea, near the Market. It wasn’t huge, but it was well-equipped and decorated exactly as you liked it. It had a large picture window which let in lots of natural light, and had a view towards 14th Street Park and the Hudson. Entry was via the café, so you made your way through, calling out a ‘buon giorno’ to your three co-workers.

None of you were actually Italian, but it had become a tradition and one of those silly in-jokes between co-workers. Which of course no-one else would find amusing in the slightest but it made sense to you guys, as your café/patisseries were named after Italian cities, and because Italians don’t generally call cafés, cafés ...you had Bar Venezia and Bar Firenze. Clichéd? Oh yes. Did you care? Not in the slightest.

You were incredibly proud of your business and your team. The hard scrabble to get the financing together had been really stressful, but it had all come together in the end with the bank and the investors and now, here you were, captain of your own ship, so to speak.

The two cafés had similar decor, simple but elegant, based on cafés you’d visited in various countries across the world. The second café was not too far away in Greenwich Village. They gave out a nice relaxed vibe just as you’d aimed for and you felt blessed - business was good. You had a good mix of regulars and passing trade, and you’d nodded and smiled at a couple of those regular customers as you’d made your way through.

The morning phone call for a catch-up with your other site made, you were now currently reviewing a whole stack of statistics, and they were beginning to swim in front of your eyes. So you weren’t upset when the internal phone rang, and Jake, your right-hand man, told you that you had a visitor who wouldn’t give his name. “What?” you said, “is he selling something?”

“I don’t think so,” said Jake in a very low voice, so you guessed that Mystery Man was standing somewhere near him. You sighed, “Oh, I’ll be right down.” Anything to get away from the stats for a while, and you quite looked forward to ripping him a new one if he was trying to sell you something.

The first person you spotted as you came through the internal door to the café was Billy Russo. You should’ve guessed, really. He was resplendent in yet another expensive suit, hair perfect, jawline with its beard as sharp as you remembered it. His eyes were locked on you, gleaming with mischief as he anticipated your reaction to his unannounced appearance in your domain.

You came to a halt in front of him, then glanced at Jake as he stood watching you a little nervously. “Thanks Jake, it’s fine, I know him. Could you be an absolute gem and get me a double macchiato, an Americano and a small selection of the pastries, please?” Jake nodded, “Sí, subito.”

You indicated for Billy to follow you to a table at the far end of the bar, tucked away beside the exposed brick wall and near the window, out of earshot of the staff and patrons. You both sat, Billy saying, “Good morning, sweetheart,” as he did. “And good morning to you, Stalker Boy.” Billy grinned, leaning towards you and almost whispering, “That’s so cute, givin’ me a nickname already and I haven’t even got you in my bed yet.” You rolled your eyes heavenwards, sighing out, “Billy! This is my workplace.”

He smiled, “And very impressive it is too, I love it. You have exquisite taste.” “Yes, I know,” you smiled back, “thanks for confirming that.” Now he laughed, and you tried not to stare too much, thinking how good he looked when he did. Jake came over with your coffees and pastries, and you smiled fondly at him as he put them down on the table. “Grazie mille, caro,” you thanked him.

Billy frowned slightly, “Very friendly, huh... you & him, then?” You smirked, “Jealous, Mr Russo?” He scoffed as he picked up a couple of sugar packs and shook them, before pouring them into his coffee. “Just nosy, that’s all.” “Jake is the first person I hired, and he’s just the best. But me and him? No... he likes men. Want me to set you up?” He put his head back and laughed. “No... but thanks for offering. I’m busy over here tryin’ to set myself up with you, in case you hadn’t noticed.” You shook your head, laughing while looking down at the table. This guy is relentless, you thought with a little shiver of undeniable excitement.

He picked up one of the little freshly-baked pastries and bit into it, an appreciative expression on his face as he chewed it. “How’d you manage to guess how I like my coffee?” he carried on. “It’s my business to know my customers,” you shrugged, “and looking at you, Billy Russo, you just scream black watered-down espresso to me, especially having been in the Marines and all,” you grinned. He smirked back at you, “Yeah, well, you nailed it - much as I hate to admit it. And going back to the nicknames thing, you should really call me Sniper Boy.”

“Wow, really?” you replied, eyes wide. Yeah, you’d felt a dangerous vibe coming off Billy and now you knew why. Nodding, he took another bite of his pastry and said round it, “Haven’t you googled me yet, then? I googled you.” “Hey, you’re going to be Stalker Sniper Boy now. And no, I didn’t have time.”

“You’re not doing anything for my ego, you know.”

“That’s not my job,” you shrugged again.

“You’re givin’ me such a hard time, here,” his dark eyes staring into yours, and you felt yourself almost drowning in them. “I’d just like to take you to dinner, that’s all. Friday night, 8pm? I’ll pick you up at your place.”

And while your head screamed ‘Say no!’ at you, your treacherous mouth opened up and said, “Yes, fine. 8 pm and don’t be late.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d walked him to the door when he said he’d better get going. As you reached it, long fingers quickly made their way to the back of your neck, pulling your head towards his and simultaneously, his lips met yours in a long kiss. You tried to pull away from him but he had you in a vice-like grip, and took his own sweet time before breaking away. He placed a second chaste kiss on your cheek and started towards the door, “See you Friday,” in a low voice, paired with a smouldering look at you as he left.

Jake, your two other co-workers Gabrielle and Steve, and your regulars were unsurprisingly all staring at you with blatant and avid interest. Your ex had very rarely visited you at work and when he had, you’d never indulged in PDA’s. You could feel the hot blush on your face as you tried to look nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Nothing to see here,” you muttered and scooted across the café as quickly as you could, heading for the sanctuary of your office.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[buckyskorpion]

11 hours - part two

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: thank you guys so much for the incredible response i got to part one!! it made me so happy so thank you. let me know wha yall think of this bit, we’ve got some plot going on which i always enjoy. i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

part one

You don’t hear from Bucky for a while after the party. It’s disappointing - you’re self-aware enough to admit that. But you also aren’t stupid enough to expect anything else. Bucky asked you to that party as a favour, you got a one-night-only special being in his life and you’re not expecting anything else.

You had hoped it wouldn’t have impacted your nightly rendezvous, but those had stopped too. You suppose Bucky decided not to trust you after all.

Almost three weeks later and you’re at work, thoughts of Bucky barely a buzz in the back of your head compared to the job at hand. You’ve always been able to let your work consume you, and it pays off in your line of business. Being a private investigator requires attention to detail, lateral thinking, and a questionable moral compass. Your patented paranoia doesn’t hurt either. Your dad tells you every time you visit that he wishes you’d get into something more stable, something less dirty, but you’re not really good at anything else. Considering the majority of your clients are partners trying to figure out if their significant other is cheating, it also pays well for quite minimal effort.

Quick rule of thumb for aspiring PI’s: they’re almost always cheating.

Today is one of those clients. You’ve tailed the guy in question to a tattoo shop in Red Hook, which is already a red flag. He’s an investment banker and buys Louis Vuitton cufflinks for his ugly work suits. He stands out like a sore thumb in this grungy neighbourhood. You snap a few photos of him outside the store, very obviously checking left and right for a tail before entering the place. People suck at being subtle, you’ve come to realise over the years. And at being observant, because all you’ve bothered to do to hide is sit at the cafe across the road and pretend to be taking photos of the latte art on your coffee.

Entering the tattoo parlour is a no-go, even if your grunge aesthetic would fit in with the clientele more than your straight-laced prey. There are other ways, though. You leave some bills on the table and cross the street into the alley beside the tattoo shop, wrinkling your nose at the dumpster smell. There’s a fire escape which you can reach if you stand on the lid of the offensive dumpster in question, leading to a window you hope will get you some insight into what Mike Shorditch of suspected-cheating fame is up to. Maybe he has a tattooed, lip-ringed young girlfriend he meets here? Or a heavy-set biker boyfriend? Or he just wants a tattoo and his wife is as paranoid as you are.

Squeezed uncomfortably between the bars of the fire-escape, you manage to aim your camera lens at the window and zoom in - jackpot. It’s a small window near the ceiling of the high-roofed shop, letting in minimal light to ruin the dark aesthetic of the place, allowing you a somewhat clear view of the shop inside. It’s really nice, you notice, and they have good taste in music. Slowly Slowly bleeds minimally through the glass and you try focus your lens on the faces inside, catching Mike among them like a unicorn in a goth reunion. He’s talking to someone, waving his hands around dramatically while the guy he talks to towers over him, arms folded over a ginormous chest.

You know that face, you realise as you aim your lens a little higher. The shock burns, almost makes you drop your camera and fall off the fire escape you’re precariously lying on. It’s Steve, blonde head unmistakeable as he glares at your target and dismisses whatever Mike says to him with an eyeroll. Without questioning it, you snap a few photos of Steve’s imposing figure - so at odds with the friendly, downright cuddly man you met at the party a few weeks ago. Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of thoughts about that night, they show up at your work. How is this possible?

None of this sits right with you. This strange coincidence, the weird behaviour at the party towards Bucky and his friends, Bucky’s general evasiveness and the feeling you get of being watched just being around him. Nothing is adding up and you’ve never been the kind of person to leave well enough alone. You snap photos of the shop, as much as you can - Steve’s tattoo sleeve that had been hidden under a jumper at the party, the stencils lining the walls, the locks on the front door, the counter where a scrawny kid in glasses bends over what looks like genuine high-school homework and ignores the adults in the shop. There are too many variables - you have to start making sense of one of them.

The easiest thread to pull is Mike, and he’s the one you’re being paid to solve, so it makes sense to start there. Clearly it isn’t cheating his wife should be worried about, but the meeting he’s having with Steve and the others doesn’t look like a friendly catch up with friends either. His personal cybersecurity is poor enough you figure you’ll be able to solve that particular mystery easy enough.

Bucky and his friends, however? That’s going to take a bit more digging.

***

According to Mike Shoreditch’s bank records, he owes somebody a lot of money. You get this from an account his wife doesn’t even know he has, believing all their money goes into a shared account with a completely different bank. Mike has a lot of secrets but cheating isn’t one of them - the print outs of his secret bank account statements and the pictures of him at Steve’s tattoo parlour would be enough for you to close the case and get your money. But you don’t. Not just yet. You have your own itch to scratch, now.

You’ve taken to watching the tattoo shop’s comings and goings, snapping pictures here and there. Steve comes in at ten in the morning, ready to open the shop up by lunchtime for customers and doesn’t close it until midnight. His customers are the usual sort you’d imagine at a rough tattoo shop in Red Hook - heavy set guys with full sleeves and chest pieces, grungy couples who probably live upstate but are rebelling against their trust-fund parents, random walk-ins who’s nerves you can sense from across the street at what’s become your usual table. There are a few, though, who stand out. Leather jackets and motorbikes they park in the alley beside the shop, using the back entrance you snap a shot of one night once they all went home.

You’re not jumping to conclusions just yet, you’ve learnt the hard way from doing that, but you’re also not stupid. Whatever Steve is into, whatever Bucky is by association a part of, there are some shady looking people involved as well.

It’s one of those days where you’re watching the shop from the cafe, camera left on the table in favour of devouring an almond croissant and cataloguing the people you’ve now dubbed regulars at Steve’s as they enter the shop. You should probably be doing your actual job but you can’t bring yourself to, too caught up in the shady business across the street from you. Absorbed, in fact, so you practically jump out of your skin as your phone rings and you send it flying to the pavement with an errant elbow.

You pick up without checking the ID, and boy was that a mistake. Heart pounding painfully in your chest, you answer, “Hi, hello, hi, this is (Y/n) speaking,” all in a rush.

A familiar, honey-warm laugh rumbles down the phone to you and your previously racing heart all but stops beating. Bucky says, “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Does he know? Had Steve caught you spying and called Bucky asking why the random girl he brought to a party that one time was stalking him? You glance around the street, half expecting Bucky to be standing behind you and catching you red-handed. He’s not, of course he’s not, you’re just losing your mind a little bit.

“No, no, sorry,” you say, running a shaky hand through your hair. “I’m at work. What’s up?”

“I won’t keep you long,” Bucky says, sounding amused, and you hate how the rough catch of his voice through the phone all but erases the suspicions you have for him, warning you to stay away. You had missed him, is all. He says, as if plucking the thought from your brain, “I was missing you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, glad he can’t see the grin you send to the table. “That why you disappeared after the party?”

“Let me explain over drinks?” Bucky asks, dodging your jab with ease. No, no, no, don’t be stupid, he’s bad news and you’ve got the proof, don’t-

“You’re paying,” you say instead, silencing the smart side of your brain.

“Always do,” he says, which is blatantly not true but whatever, “Nine at Joey’s?”

“See you there,” you say, and hang up before you can do anything else stupid.

You bury your hands in your hair, leaning your elbows on the table and letting out a frustrated sound probably inappropriate for a public place. How are you going to go meet Bucky and pretend you aren’t, essentially, investigating his best friend? Maybe you don’t. Maybe you use this to get more answers, full-stop some of the question marks that have been playing havoc with your head all week.

And sex. You’re not going to pretend you won’t be ending up in Bucky’s bed again, shady secrets be damned.

***

Joey’s is a divey, underground bar you absolutely adore, and you’ve met Bucky here multiple times. He introduced you to the place, actually, a week or so into meeting up him. He’d laughed at how excited you were over the movie posters they used as decor behind the booths, the bartender who squeezed fresh apple juice into your shot of Jameson, the dirty bass-heavy music you eventually convinced him to dance with you to. Bucky is clearly trying to win you over by meeting you here, and you can’t say it’s not working. Just a little bit. You’ll still make him work for it.

Bucky’s got a booth at the back when you arrive, two whiskey apple’s already waiting on the table as he stands up to greet you. He pulls you into a hug, not letting you set the tone at all, but you can’t find it in you to mind as you’re crushed into his chest and he rests his stubbly chin atop your head. He smells nice, reminding you of spiced rum or something else warm and comforting, and his hands feel real nice as they dip under your top to press against your bare skin. Had you really missed him this much? You squeeze him tightly, ignoring the thump of your heart as he starts rubbing circles into your back, and you stand there in his arms for far too long to be appropriate.

Pulling away, though, feels like you’ve lost something.

Across the booth from you, now, Bucky slides a drink towards you with his usual cheeky grin. You roll your eyes at him, popping the straw in your mouth and looking out at the bar so you can pretend not to pay attention to him. He bumps your foot under the table but you ignore him, hiding your smirk in the rim of your glass.

“Doll,” he says, exasperated, and reaches across the booth to place his giant hand on the arm you have resting on the table. You look at him then, scrunching your nose up at the pet name which makes him smile. His eyes crinkle up at the sides, all soft and blurry blue, and you feel yourself forgetting why you’re supposed to be mad at him in the first place.

“What,” you say, mimicking his tone just to watch his jaw clench. His frustration is hot, what of it? You love winding him up like this.

“Brat,” he retorts, and oh, that makes you feel something you probably shouldn’t, all low and coiled hot in your belly. “Did you think I was avoiding you?”

“You were avoiding me,” you correct, raising your eyebrows at him. He hasn’t let go of your arm, now taking to rubbing his thumb back and forth across the leather of your jacket. You refuse to let it melt you.

“I was away,” he says, eyes sparkling. He’s practically laughing at you, which is- rude. You huff, barely believing him, and he says, “I was! Did you want me to tell you I was going or something?”

“No,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. You sigh - he’s right, what did you expect? Nothing, and yet you were put out anyway, but that’s a problem you’ve got to deal with on your own. Bucky doesn’t owe you anything and he knows it. You relax, finally, putting your drink down to cover Bucky’s hand with your own. You smile, say, “I’m just messing with you, Bucky.”

“Sure you are,” he says easily, but you know he doesn’t believe you. It’s dropped, then, forgotten as you sit there staring at each other in the dim light of the bar. You really had missed him, even if you still barely knew him. His stubbly jaw, the close-cropped sides of the new haircut he’d gotten since you’d last seen him, the glint of his dog togs against tanned skin disappearing under his t-shirt. The swirl of his chest piece peeking out from the neckline, and you can fill in the blanks because you’ve seen what’s under that t-shirt. You’ve traced your tongue over it, as well as every other inch of him you’re trying to memorise in case another month passed before you saw him again. If you ever saw him at all.

“What?” you ask when you realise he’s starting to smile at you, holding back a laugh. He shakes his head, looking down to pick up his drink and take a sip. You lean back, retracting yourself from his grip and folding your arms across your chest - he’s making fun of you, you know it, but you don’t know why. He does laugh then, also leaning back in his seat and regarding you with that head tilt that infuriates you.

“Nothing,” he laughs, eyes saying the opposite. “It’s just- it’s nice to see you.”

“You going soft on me, tough guy?” you tease, but he sobers at your words, the smile dying on his pillow-plump lips. He stares you down, that deep thing that reminds you how easy it is to get lost in him (if you aren’t already).

“Maybe I am,” he says, and that surprises you. You had been joking, but the heady way he’s looking at you turns it serious. “Would that bother you?”

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to say the right thing. You don’t even know if that’s a good response or not, but you’ve done it now and Bucky nods, downs his drink, all without ever breaking eye contact with you. You get the distinct feeling you’ve just agreed to something you don’t entirely understand, entangling yourself further into Bucky without even trying to. Given what you’d been uncovering about his friends the past week, you should know better. You should leave.

But you don’t. You lean across the booth, coming to him this time, and peel his hand off his glass to entwine your fingers with his. The cool metal of his signet rings offsets the warmth of his palm against yours, and the way he grips your fingers tightly signs the deal. Bucky is too enticing to stay away from, and you are too tired of trying to.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” you ask, but it’s not really a question. You watch his eyes dart across your face, tongue flicking out over his lips, stalling for time. You wonder what he’ll say. My friends run dodgy business deals out of a tattoo parlour? I’m involved in that, too? I’m dangerous, I’m a liar, you should stay away?

“I’m a mechanic,” he says. You try not to show your disappointment, but still, this is information you didn’t have before and you’re greedy for anything. “I have my own shop in Queens. Natasha helps me out, helps me run it. I’ve been obsessed with cars and bikes and shit since I was five.”

You smile at that, imaging little Bucky running around a car yard trying to convince his dad, or whoever, to teach him how to drive even if he couldn’t reach the pedals yet. You imagine him now, the hand you’re holding all greased up and elbow deep in a car’s guts, maybe with his shirt off and sweat dripping down his back. You’ve got to see that one day before you die, you decide right then. That’s too hot to just stay in your brain.

“Your turn,” he says, shit-eating smirk in place like he can read your mind. You blush, despite yourself, and scramble for something to say that’s not I’ve been investigating your friends all week and it’s not looking too good for them.

“My dad,” you blurt out, and Bucky give you a funny look like he thinks that’s your fact - you have a dad, isn’t that something. You curse yourself for starting this, you could’ve gone with anything and you said ‘my dad’? But you’re here now, so, “He raised me on his own, like, I don’t know my mum at all, but he always said he wanted me to have something of her so he taught me Russian. She taught him, apparently, and he taught her English. Now it’s like our secret language.”

“Russian, hey?” Bucky asks, and he seems far too surprised for the anecdote you’ve just given but you suppose it is the first actually personal thing you’ve told him. He doesn’t seem off-put by it, though, like you have expected him to be because you don’t do personal. In fact he just leans closer, almost unconsciously, baiting you to tell him more.

“Yeah,” you say, compelled to keep going. “We’d leave each other notes around the house in ‘code’, y’know, but it was just in Cyrillic. Thought it was so cool.”

“It is cool,” Bucky says, smirking at you again, “You’re cool.”

“Fuck you,” you laugh, kicking his ankle under the table but immeasurably grateful for the tone change. You don’t know why you’ve just told him that. You don’t know if you’ve ever told anyone that - Russian isn’t exactly a handy language to know. You feel drunker than you should be after a tiny bit of whiskey, high on the rush of unleashing a secret. Drunk enough that Bucky unlatching his fingers from yours to grip your wrist tight, a bit bruising, tugging you close, makes you flush from your scalp to your toes.

Bucky looks at you, dark and heavy, and asks, “Want to?”

You nod, throat suddenly very dry, and Bucky tugs you out of the booth without another word. Usually you wait a bit longer before getting on Bucky’s bike, have a few more drinks, maybe dance a bit if you can coax Bucky into it. Not tonight. You’re both on the same page - it’s been too long and you need his mouth on you about five days ago.

He pushes you into the apartment by the shoulders, rough enough you stumble but you’re quickly righted as he strides through the door after you and grabs you by the hips. Bucky crushes his mouth to yours, swallowing your needy whine with soft lips and velvet tongue as you fist his t-shirt and drag you both backwards, going and going until your back hits a wall. His palm slams into the drywall by your head but you don’t flinch, only groan as he smudges his spit-slick mouth across your jaw and down your neck. Bucky bites down, sharp teeth on soft skin, and you rake your nails down his stomach as payback for the mark you’ll have later.

“Off,” Bucky grumbles as he shoves at your jacket, getting it stuck at your elbows and trapping your arms by your sides. He seems to like like this, eyes flashing something dangerous in the dark of his hallway. You hold his eyes, heart thrumming something wild in your throat at being caught, pinned, vulnerable. With Bucky, though, you like that.

You want to reach for him but you can’t, so you wait for him to come to you. Kissing you breathless, hand fisted in your hair, other undoing the front of your jeans. God, you wanna touch him so bad but Bucky has you in his grip, yanking your head back to kiss that same bruised spot.  He sucks another under your chin as you cry out, pinpricks of pain-turned-pleasure bursting at the base of your scalp.

He gets his hand in your jeans, in your panties, runs two fingers down your cunt so easy with how wet you are already before rubbing bruising, slow circles on your clit. Your whole body jerks against Bucky’s hold on you, his thighs bracketing your body into the wall and his hand still fisted in your hair. Your mouth drops open in a soundless moan and you feel, rather than hear Bucky laugh against your throat. All executive function has diverted to the radiating ache of pure pleasure from Bucky’s fingers on you.

Bucky lets go of you hair only to press his hand on your throat, cold rings digging into your burnt-up skin and pressing you back into the wall. Long fingers tilt your jaw to look at him, increased pressure warning you against looking away, but you don’t want to anyway. Bucky’s eyes are dark like a sea storm, molten blue, and he squeezes his grip just once before saying, “Still think I’ve gone soft?”

Jesus christ, but you can’t answer him like this - not with your pulse thundering against his palm and the way he picks up the pace on your clit, making your thighs shake with the effort of holding yourself up. Bucky grins, boyish and crinkly, and it’s so at odds with the way he slides his two fingers down and pushes into you, twisting to the knuckle, that you think you might be losing your mind. Unravelling, Bucky pulling at the threads, and the only thing holding you together is his hand on your throat.

“Bucky,” you say, his name a broken breath as you start to lose focus. Everything’s hazy, glassy, your toes are going numb and tingly so you know it’s coming, building tight in your stomach as he rubs his fingers back and forth inside of you. At his name Bucky makes a sound almost like a growl, pressing his body against yours and somehow further into the wall. You need that contact,  the press of his muscles holding you up as it gets harder and harder to breath with the heat coiling up inside of you. He presses his forehead against yours so all you can see is blue edged out by black, claiming your every breath and moan, drawing you in deeper and deeper because you’re his, now. There’s no way back from this.

He presses his thumb to your clit, thrusts his fingers deeper into you, mouth parting with yours as you moan as if he means to swallow the sound. You’re there, you’re right there, and then he kisses you so soft you might’ve imagined it and you’re coming, your whole body clenching up and whiting out while he finger fucks you through it.

Trembling muscles come to leant against the wall, barely holding yourself up as Bucky extricates himself and allows you room to breath. He gently tugs your jacket all the way off, freeing your arms to come up sluggish and heavy around his neck, holding on. He laughs, just quietly, letting you nuzzle your way into the side of his neck and breath in that warm honey Bucky smell as you try and regain mental functions. It’s hard. You think Bucky’s just blended up your brain with a swizzle stuck and sucked it out through a straw.

“C’mon,” he says, gravel rough, and nudges his nose against the side of your head. “Not done with you yet.”

“Hmph,” you say, but let yourself be picked up under the ass and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bedroom. You press a kiss to the skin of his neck you can reach with every second your body comes back online, digging your teeth in a little when he squeezes your ass as he walks. You’re both still fully clothes, basically, but you don’t plan to be for long. You’ve got tattoos to kiss and a dick you want anyway Bucky’ll let you. You’ve got all night, after all.

***

It’s late, you should be going, but you steal a few more minutes lying on Bucky’s chest. He’s sat up against the headboard, trying to braid little pieces of your hair with the cutest look of concentration on his face. The way he goes from dirty to dork always makes your heart do complicated things in your chest. You’re drumming your fingers on his chest, right next to his dog tags, and before you can overthink it too much you pause your drum solo to pick them up.

Bucky doesn’t pause in his hair-braiding but you can feel him watching you as you turn the worn metal over in your fingers. They’re well loved, a bit bent in places and the letters starting to rub flat  but you can still read it. His birthday, March 10th, and his name. You’d never thought to read these before - they always seemed part of Bucky’s past, something you weren’t allowed into yet. But tonight has made you bold, and you run your thumb over the letters of his name so you can memorise the feel of them.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you mumble, words half said into his skin. Bucky hums but doesn’t respond, so you say, “I always knew no mother could look at their newborn child and call it Bucky.”

“Watch it,” Bucky warns, but without any real heat. You don’t ask what the tags mean, which war he fought in, when he got back. You lay them back on his skin carefully, straightening out the chain, before turning in Bucky’s arms to prop your chin on his chest piece and look at him.

“I should go,” you say, as you continue to lie there with legs tangled and Bucky’s hand now resting idle, cupping the back of your head. He bites his lip, strokes his big hand down the back of your hair and making you close your eyes for a second. You’re enjoying his touch too much, you’re getting too close for a man you don’t know. A man who you know has secrets you probably don’t want to uncover, but you can’t stop yourself.

“You could stay.” Bucky’s words hang there, suspended in the space between you. He’s never said that before. You never thought he would say that, ever. Bucky looks at you, face unreadable, and you don’t know why you feel sick to your stomach all of a sudden but you do. There are lines being crossed that you can’t backtrack from. You’re not ready to make that step yet.

“Not tonight,” you say, and it’s not a no but it’s not what Bucky wants to hear. He withdraws his hand from you, letting it drop uselessly to the bed beside him. You take that as your cue to go, rolling off the bed and dressing silently with Bucky’s eyes burning a hole in your skin.

You’re pulling away, trying desperately to regain some distance and control from his man who already has you swallowed whole, he just doesn’t know it yet. Even still, you can’t stop yourself crawling back on the bed and straddling his lap, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him. You want him to remember this - not you saying no, but the way your body will always say yes to him as he holds your hips and keeps you there, kissing you back as desperate as you feel.

But now you know you have reason to climb through the laundry room window that night and sneak away from Bucky’s apartment building, that you’re not just being paranoid because you’ve got photos to prove it. It’s that thought alone that makes it bearable to leave him, even if your heart is begging you to stay.

Part 3

[vaguely-concerned]

Any tips for a TF POV fic? I want to write one because I too went through a time in my life when I let feelings bounce off cuz that was easier, but I feel like that's not quite on point for him 🤔

God I have SO MANY THOUGHTS about this and they’re all so wordless and frustratingly evasive to me yet (I am in the process of writing a looooooong T.F. POV fic and it gives me much more trouble than Graves POV, probably because as a person I’m quite a lot more like the T.F. Type in real life lol). But yes, here we go, let me try to express some of what I personally try to have as my hm ‘anchor points’ for his perspective. (Heavy disclaimer that these are just my personal & disorganized little musings and by no means the only or ‘correct’ way to read the character!)

- First of all I agree, the image of ‘bouncing off’ doesn’t feel quiteright -- it’s in the right neighbourhood but the wrong address sort of thing, but it’s really hard to come up with a way to explain how I feel the nuance here.

*insert three hours later spongebob meme here* Okay, so the metaphor I came up with is: T.F.’s relationship to emotions is a direct parallel to his relationship to water/the ocean: it’s scary down there, it’s dark, it’s dangerous, and if he should ever be dumb enough to try to go in too deep it’ll kill him dead because boy oh boy on so many levels this man just did not learn how to swim. As far as he’s concerned any sensible person would simply bob along on the surface in a sturdily built boat and try not to think too much about the weird shit that lives down there in the depths. (In this metaphor the layer of artifice and performance so habitual it’s basically integrated into the fabric of his soul is the boat. Y’know, the part that’s Twisted Fate and not just plain ol’ Tobias. I’ll hasten to add that I think both parts of his identity are equally ‘real’ and equally him, but the Twisted Fate part is like… protecting the Tobias part. Keeping him from drowning, as it were. I’m not sure he’d think of it like that himself for the longest time, though, I suspect he has more of a ‘that man is dead’ attitude towards the Tobias part after Graves is gone)

I think what I’m trying to get at is the idea that to him, raw emotion is as hostile and unknowable and unnavigable an ‘environment’ as the deep ocean. (And the only time we see him willingly go there, physically and otherwise, is for Graves, so you know let’s jot that down first of all lol.)

- He seems to genuinely quite like and be interested in people – how they think, what moves and motivates them, their secrets and foibles. So I tend to try to keep the uh ‘detail work’ in his POV focused in that direction. Priority going like 1) people 2) people’s valuables 3) the relative availability of people’s valuables at this moment if you have clever hands and a very charming smile haha

- One of my favourite things about T.F. is that he seems, I don’t know… quite genuinely good-natured beneath it all? If you back him into a corner some sharp and dangerous things peek out (he has survived in his line of heh ‘business’ for like thirty years, and a lot of it on his own), but for the most part and when unthreatened he has a sort of mildly amused and intrigued live-and-let-live attitude to the world even as he’s conning it that I find deeply charming. Which to me ties in with:

- T.F.’s first instinctive reaction to danger (perceived or real) the majority of the time seems to be ‘Flight’. Confrontation and violence are basically his ‘when literally everything else has failed’ options. (As seen prominently in Burning Tides, where he just keeps running and running and the only time he actually starts throwing punches is when he has to because Graves is in immediate danger and they’re backed into a corner. Which feels like it means something huh lol, I often think about what could actually make T.F. angry enough that he would openly express it and that seems to be the most likely angle for it in my eyes.)

- My take on one of the fundamental differences between Graves and T.F. is that Graves has A LOT of feelings but doesn’t quite know it (or more like can’t quite conceptualize it I should say) – he has a hard time identifying or finding vocabulary for feelings that aren’t some shade of anger. Meanwhile T.F. KNOWS he has feelings, he just doesn’t like it, ardently wishes he didn’t, and will do pretty much anything to run away and not have to engage with them haha.

Another important difference: when brought out of equilibrium Graves gets angry, and T.F. gets scared. I have the feeling that beneath it all he’s scared a lot, and it’s why his persona is so oriented towards gaining control in ways where people don’t realize it enough to even think try to take that control away from him until he’s already long gone. Misdirection as a way of life babEY

- This might be too deep in the ‘my WIP/process specific’ territory to really count as general analysis, but I think it’s there in canon too – there’s almost a feeling that he implicitly feels like he has to make up for some fundamental flaw or lack he has at the core? (Not a weird thing for him to end up feeling, considering what happened to him as a kid.) All the rest of him, all the cleverness and style and charm, is there to ‘make up’ for how at the end of the day he’s… wrong somehow. As Graves, who knows him better than anyone, focuses right in on, a coward. And that is CERTAINLY not the whole truth and even Graves in a full rage relents when he sees the effect the accusation has on him and once he gets the actual facts of what happened. But I think that sense of deep unworthiness is what’s stuck with him emotionally. His people left him because there’s something fundamentally lacking and immoral about him. He lost Graves because he’s not good enough, because he’s a coward who leaves people behind. He deserves to be alone. Mix in a ton of survivor’s guilt to taste, and I think you have the like… core emotional wound he’s constructed around.

There’s also something here about fear of profound powerlessness specifically in situations where words, generally his strongest card that’s not a literal card (har har har oh we do have fun here), simply don’t work right at the moment when he needs them to the most – he tried to beg for his people not to leave him behind, he tried to convince Graves to get the hell out with the rest of the crew… and it didn’t work. (In Burning Tides you see he’s given up even trying to explain himself, he just wants Out in whatever way leaves both him and Graves tolerably in one piece, even if he won’t be understood or heard or less alone afterwards. It takes him until like half way through the entire chase to even THINK about just telling Graves the truth. In all fairness to T.F. it probably wouldn’t have worked at that moment, but it does vaguely crack me up that he didn’t even consider it until all of Bilgewater harbor was already burning merrily behind them fhsajkfa)

- He has a little bit of a (perfectly justified considering his background honestly) chip on his shoulder, especially when it comes to powerful or arrogant people. There seems to be a special satisfaction in outsmarting and robbing specifically rich assholes (which would also be the people who have the most to steal, so y’know good times all round). From his short stories and few places in his bio you almost get the feeling that he has a funny sort of Robin Hood-esque sense of lopsided justice about it. (Robin Hood-esque only so far as to define ‘the poor’ as the eternally hard-strapped ‘T.F. & Graves Waistcoats and Cigars Fund’, of course lol)

I think T.F. both has a mind that tends more towards analyzing the big picture and also has more direct experience with like… structural/systemic powerlessness and oppression. So the cons they pull are probably partly how he channels the emotions that arise out of that (and the rest he just represses, like the relatable guy he is haha)

- Graves being back would cause some IMMENSE internal conflict in him, I feel – of course all the feelings of relief and attachment and love, but also… so much of who he is now came about specifically to find a way to deal with Graves being gone, with seemingly just shutting down the entirety of his need for real human companionship or closeness for like a decade, things that are suddenly starting to be brought online again and must be tremendously stressful to deal with when you’ve had it completely suppressed and deadened for so long. He’s put so much into trying to be fundamentally unattached to anything, anywhere, anyone (and there are some things here about perpetually being an outsider his whole life that I can’t quite put into words, but that’s a dimension too.) That sort of psychological self defense mechanism doesn’t just contentedly nod its head and go away just because something good happened one time haha. Probably a work in progress there huh (at least he’s not alone in it now <3)

PLUS some bonus Graves POV observations because man. I love writing him, he’s just a marvel of a man

- I know I call him a dumbass all the time, but in a street smart way I think he’s actually quite clever haha, he just has a bad tendency to get hung up on an idea and get tunnel sight. (I’ve based this a lot on the short stories but see also more recently his Sentinel skin voice lines for good examples: he’s incredibly straightforward in that ‘well obviously if it doesn’t affect me personally I ain’t gonna give it that much thought’ way, but you also have glimpses of surprising insight/shrewdness and… I don’t quite know how to put it, but something like an ability to get to the bottom line of something without getting caught up in the details. (I suspect T.F. does find himself lost in the details quite frequently, he’s much more attached to the decorative curlicues of the world.) Graves clearly & frequently has no idea what’s going on, but he strips things down to the essentials very quick: Lucian’s story as a direct thematic mirror to Viego’s, Is There A Sun Lady – Oh, I See, all of this is weird and creepy and needs shooting, and maybe most crucial of all: Isolde doesn’t want to be with her husband anymore so what he’s doing is just like. Extra shitty. He gets what he needs to get and then just barges ahead heedlessly with that. Icon.)

- He’s actually pretty darn eloquent in a gruff sort of way and uses some quite sophisticated vocabulary! And the way this is contrasted with the tendency to slip into blunter coarser language just as readily -- like when he takes the time to describe the monster that takes down the Prince’s ship in such poetic terms as ‘gargantuan’ and ‘the behemoth’s immense, distended jaw’ and it having ‘pallid dead eyes the size of the moon’, and meanwhile during his swim at the beginning of the story we get bastard cold and bastard dark and full of bastard jellyfish and crabs – brings me such immense and unending delight

- He’s more eloquent in his internal voice than he is when speaking (especially noticeable in Destiny and Fate; he does have a tendency to fumble his words when talking lol), and he gets quite easily lost in his own meandering reflective musings in a way I find incredibly endearing. I’d almost call it whimsical at times, honestly, hilarious as that is? Like when he’s literally so absorbed in a line of thought he forgets which way they’re rowing and T.F. has to remind him. (I think T.F. generally has more of a grip of what’s going on around them than Graves does lol)

- There’s an important distinction to be made that Graves actually does, by and large, read T.F: very closely and seemingly also pretty damn accurately. He’s good at (and clearly very interested in) reading his moods, spotting what tactics he’s using interpersonally, when he’s being genuine and when he’s being dissembling.

What Graves is actually bad at is understanding his own emotions, and to not bleed those emotions into other people’s motivations and behavior, especially when he’s upset or in heightened states of feeling, like he is all the way through Burning Tides. He can only name his own feelings in a vocabulary of anger, when it’s pretty clear from the subtext that there’s a whole bunch of other stuff going on there, and he has incredible trouble divorcing those feelings from what other people’s got going on with them right then. He feels hurt, betrayed, and undone by everything that’s happened to him, so the intention to hurt, betray and undo must live in the other person who he feels caused it. In less drastic cases you see him do this a bit when he feels like T.F. is being evasive with him – taking it as a form of rejection rather than realizing T.F. is just lost in his own thoughts, sort of thing. There’s a real improvement in this one between Burning Tides and Destiny and Fate, though, so maybe he’ll have an easier time of it with some time and practice.

Sorry it took so long to get back to you on this and that it’s a bit of a rambling mess, words have been real hard recently. Or rather I have too many words, all the time, left and right, I just can’t put them into the right orders to make any sense hahaha, I hope there’s some useful point in this somewhere for you at least!

[xiubaek-13]

Whiskey

Prompt: Baekhyun + “What? Does that feel good?” + “It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.”

Setting/AU: Bartender

Warnings: some swearing, alcohol.

Word Count: 2,077 

“Do you plan on moping at my bar all evening?” He teased as he poured you another whiskey.

You cocked your eyebrow. “And if I am?”

He chuckled, sliding your glass towards you. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m always happy to see you but you’re mood is keeping the customers away. You can stay but… maybe for the future success of my business could you move down that end?”

You looked to where he’d inclined his head, your eyes widening. “To the dark end of the bar? Real nice Baek. I’m not drunk enough to not be offended that you’re sequestering me to the area you usually reserve for curmudgeons.”

Baekhyun shrugged. “Can I convince you with free whiskey for the rest of the night?”

“And you wonder why you aren’t making big enough profits, giving away free top shelf booze…” You slid off your stool in the center of the bar and moved closer towards the dark end of the bar but you refused to place yourself at the very end, lest you admit to yourself that tonight you were in a sour mood and that you could give two shits about the other patrons. You just wanted to come and unload your troubles on your friendly neighbourhood bartender.

“I might not be a business mastermind but I’m not half bad with math and from where I’m standing the group of eight women who have been staring at my cocktail menu for the last 20 minutes while side-eyeing you are probably going to spend more money than if I charge you for the next five or six whiskeys you’ve got left in you before you need to be carried to a taxi.”

***

You enjoyed watching Baekhyun work. No matter how bad your mood was, and today it was particularly bad, he calmed you. He had a light hearted nature and the ability to talk to anyone as well as really listen to them, which is what made him an excellent bartender. He knew the bar like the back of his hand so watching him fluidly move around to pour drinks and make cocktails with flair was enthralling.

He hadn’t been wrong. The group of girls were three things – loud, annoying and in need of an endless supply of cocktails. The latter was great for Baekhyun but it was really infringing on your night because their endless cocktail orders were keeping him so busy that he barely had time to chat to you. He’d come down your end of the bar to refill your drink and check up on you but he had to keep excusing himself from any attempt at conversation every time a loud screechy voice called out Baekkieeeee! or bartenderrrrrr! and you were getting pretty close to snapping at them. You’d had a shitty week and you’d come to this particular bar to see the one person capable of lifting your spirits only for this pack of drunk wretches to steal him from you.

To top things off somehow, even at the dark end of the bar, sleazy guys still somehow found you and insisted on hitting on you. You weren’t exactly sure which part of woman sitting alone at the dark end of the bar drinking whiskey and scowling read Hi, I’d really love to engage in small talk and fake compliments, maybe a drink or two, then definitely I’ll have sex with you but no matter how many you sent off muttering about how much of a bitch you were more kept appearing.

“Ok now I need to know what you’re saying to all of the men who keep trudging up to the bar to order a failure beer.” Baekhyun’s amused voice sounded in front of you.

You looked up from your glass confused. “Failure beer?”

He grinned as be stood up straight and put of his salesperson voice. “A failure beer is something a person orders after they have tried to pick up and haven’t been successful. They present at the bar with a defeated look on their face while muttering bitterly about whoever just told them ‘thanks but no thanks’ in varying degrees of politeness. Now normally this results in more drinking and then either more failure beers or, in some cases, a success beer.”

“Well apparently the dark end of the bar is no longer curmudgeon central, it’s evidently the new place to try and pick up chicks. Even when they show zero interest in you.” You waved a hand disinterestedly in the direction of the small dance floor. “I simply told them no.”

Baekhyun rested his elbows on the bar as he watched you, a knowing smile on his face. “It had to be more than just no with the way they’ve been muttering.”

You smirked. “Each one gets a new version of no and when they try to ignore the first no it doesn’t end well for them.”  

“What? Does that feel good?” He chuckled. Right as you went to answer one of eight screeching harpies called out and he sighed. “Making money off them is nice but holy fuck are they annoying. I’ll be back as soon as I can be, you still have two free whiskeys before you’re at your usual limit.” He smiled and made his way back down the bar towards the increasingly drunk and flirty harpies.

You continued to watch as he brushed off their advances with ease, somehow not pissing them off and sure as hell not deterring them. Sure, you’d had a handful of guys try and hit on you over the course of the night but after you got rid of them they never came back whereas Baekhyun was entering into the third hour of resisting these women.

You couldn’t blame them for trying. He was incredibly attractive. He fell somewhere between boy next door handsome and bad boy you know you shouldn’t get involved with and that was alluring. The silver hair and eyeliner didn’t hurt either. There was no harm in ogling the bartender. You had no plans to make any advances on him and you were sure he had no interest in you like that.

***

“Since when do you have a second bartender?” you asked.

“He only started recently but he’s been doing really well on the slower nights so I figured I’d give him a Friday night to really test him out.” Baekhyun was leaning against the bar watching Jongin work. “He’ll be able to fend off the women and somehow still make a massive tip at the end of the night.”

You chuckled, words slurring slightly. “And how about you mister? Going home with one of those persistent women from earlier?”

“Fuck no. I was going to finally hear the end of your story but it seems, little miss drunky, that I’ll be putting you into a taxi instead.” He furrowed his brow. “I could have sworn I only gave you six drinks.”

“Oh you did. You’re forgetting the guys that hit on me. They arrive with drinks.” You grinned lopsidedly as you started to feel the alcohol really hit you. Mixing drinks was a stupid idea and you knew it but at the time you really hadn’t cared.

He ran his hands through his hair. “Of course. You idiot, mixing drinks. What was it? Vodka and whiskey?”

You nodded. “Yup!”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Alright you, let’s get you a taxi so I can send you home safely.”

You pouted. “But you haven’t heard the end of the story yet.”

A loud male voice projected over the noise of the bar. “There’s a massive storm about to hit, if you haven’t called a taxi yet you aren’t getting one until it passes.”  

You looked up at Baekhyun as he cursed under his breath. He disappeared to talk to Jongin and a security guard before coming back to you. “What was that about?” You asked.

“I had to organise for Jongin to keep the bar open with not let anyone in. Security will have discretion for if they let anyone in once the storm hits. You aren’t going to get a taxi in time so you have two choices.” You cocked your head to the side as he spoke. “Option one, you stay here and drink water for the rest of the night until the storm passes and you can get a taxi or, option two, you come upstairs – I live above the bar by the way – and hang out with me. You can still drink water but you’ll also be able to finish your story and you won’t have to scare any more of my patrons.”

For your drunk brain it was an incredibly simple choice, you wanted to finish telling the cute bartender about your shitty week. It didn’t even register with you that he was inviting you up to his place until you were being led up to his door. You ungracefully turned and, would have fallen if not for Baekhyun catching you in his arms, looked up at him and slurred. “No funny business ok?”

He laughed and turned you back around so that he could keep walking you to his door so he could unlock it. “Don’t worry about it. You are too drunk for me to be interested.”

So while the insane thunderstorm and flash flooding hit the city you sat comfortably on Baekhyun’s sofa semi-coherently telling him about your week. Lucky for you he was pretty fluent in drunk person speak so he managed to follow most of the conversation. He’d made sure to keep refilling your glass of water and gave you pain killers when you started to sober up.

At some point his gracious hospitality dawned on you and you had to break the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you. “Thank you by the way. You could have just left me down in the bar but for some reason you took the surly drunk upstairs to listen to her problems. Clearly there’s something wrong with you but nevertheless, thank you.”

He smiled gently as you spoke. “You’re more than welcome. I’d like to think my ability to read people is still intact, the only reason I invited you up here was because you’re a semi-regular and I’m pretty sure you aren’t a serial killer or anything terrifying like that. You’re interesting. Most people who sit at the bar to drink their problems away have either relationship issues or money issues but you’re a different breed. It’s refreshing.” He tried to stifle a yawn as he spoke but it managed to escape. “Shit, sorry. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stay up and it doesn’t sound like the storm is heading anywhere anytime soon.”

Taking the hint you stood up slowly and started to collect your things. “Don’t stay up on my behalf. I’ll just head back down to the bar and wait out the storm. Thanks again for talki-”

  He grabbed your arm, silencing you, then let it go. “Don’t read into this but, you are welcome to stay if you want. I only have one bed but I promise to keep my hands to myself if you do.”

“I can sleep on the sofa, it’s no trouble really.” Truth be told you weren’t sure if you could trust your mostly sober self to keep your hands to yourself if you were sharing a bed with him. If you found him attractive when he was working you sure as hell hadn’t been prepared for how much more appealing he was up close sprawled on his sofa.

“It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.” He shrugged. “Plus, rainy nights are perfect for snuggling.” He grinned as he saw your resolve crumble. How could you resist when he kept making the idea of sharing a bed so enticing?

“Fine, but if I get frisky you only have yourself to blame, plying me with free alcohol.” You giggled.

He smirked at you. “You said no funny business, don’t go tempting a man if you aren’t prepared to follow through."

You started to walk towards the hallway that would inevitably lead to his bedroom and looked over your shoulder. “Who says I can’t do both?”

[geeky-introvert]

Bad Boy II FINAL. Ivar X OC

Summary:  After months from that night with Ivar, Isabella is unsure how she feels about him but he has shown a high interest by nonstop text messages and bumps in’s from school. When the holidays start he asks for a weird request but he makes it very tempting and hard for her to refuse....

Word count: 4252

Warning: Smut.

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If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

She could still taste him on her lips, the feel of his body over her own lingered for so long, and she had felt very aroused more often then she should, especially when she saw him at school. Ivar would notice her wherever she was, and smiling knowingly at her, remembering what happened between them those months ago. He would always try to talk with her, ask when she was going to text him again, but she always put it off, wanting to forget about it. But her feeling’s for him only grew the longer she tried to ignore him, and she didn’t understand why she felt like this towards him.

He had used her for his own pleasure, took her virtue, and kept pestering her about a second around. She didn’t hate him but she was bothered by him. His feeling’s weren’t the same the way she felt for him, at least that’s what she kept telling herself. No one knew what happened, including her friends and she wanted to keep it like that.

It had been at least two months since then and the summer holidays were just starting. Everyone was planning something, all but Isabella. She wasn’t very social and would rather relax at home, head buried in a book. However, she never expected for her plans to change so fast.

Isabella was just finishing the last bit of her book in her room when she heard a quiet tap at her window. Looking over she was shocked to see Ivar grinning at her as he hanged on at her window and trying not to fall off. She rushed over and opened it, before Ivar welcomed himself into her room with no troubles.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She harshly whispered at him. “You shouldn’t be here. My parents are home and sleeping down the hall.”

“Relax Bell, you worry too.” Bad boy Ivar was so reckless and had no idea just how her parents might react if they find a boy in her room.

“Well, my dad’s a cop, and he has his gun here just so you know.” She knew it wouldn’t scare him but it was a warning if the worst was to happen. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just in the neighbourhood, thought I would spot by.” That ridicules handsome grin of his was so bothering and alluring all at once. “Do you have plans for the holidays?”

“No I don’t, not really, why?” She shrugged waiting for him to get to his point.

“Well, my older half-brother has a massive cabin out in the forest, about a three hour drive from here. Every summer my brothers and I go there for the holidays. It’s incredible, there’s everything you need there and it’s right next to the crystal clear lake.”

“Alright, and?” She didn’t really understand why he was telling this.

“I want you to come with me.”

Isabella stared at him for a moment before letting out an upturn smile and light laugh thinking he was kidding, but when she realised he wasn’t he wasn’t her smile disappeared.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Come on, Bell. Just think about it. Two months in the woods, surround by nature, a break from all this city life, and away from your books. You don’t even need to pay for anything it’s all covered. I just want you to come as my girlfriend.” Now it was getting weird.

“Girlfriend? I-Ivar…I mean…You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” He sighed softly.

“Every year it’s the same. All my brothers are either married or in a relationship, and I don’t want to be the odd one out. I trust you, and I know they’ll love you. I know it’s a big ask but you’re the only one I would ask to do this. I don’t leave for another week, can you at least think about it?”

Many thoughts were rushing through her mind. Here as Ivar, asking her to pretend to be his girlfriend for two months with his family in a cabin in the woods, and he was expecting her to say yes?

“Ivar I-“ He cut her off by kissing her deeply and held her face in both his hands. She should’ve pushed him away, but she didn’t, she allowed it to happen and even leaned into it.

She moaned gently against the warm kiss as he continued to devour her like he did before, and couldn’t get enough of it. It was over too soon and she found herself falling against his chest, dazed, and looked up at his smirking face.

“I’ll think about it, I need to talk to my parents about it first. I don’t know what to say to them.”

“Just say you’re going with a friend, that’s not really lying.” He had a point, but it was still a big ask.

“A-alight, I’ll ask them and let you know.” She couldn’t believe that she was actually considering it and felt bashful about it. “Umm…Why me?”

Ivar brushed some of her hair away and continued smirking. “Because I like you, and I know you’ll love spending time away, especially with me.” She couldn’t help but giggle and hit his shoulder gently in a playful way which he seemed to find amusing as well. “I’ll hear from you this week, sweetheart.”

He then climbed back out the window and jumped towards the tree before climbing back down. She watched him leave from her window, unable to hold back the smile as he climbed over the front fence and left. She needed to sleep on it. It was crazy enough out of all the people in school he would come to her. The whole thing was weird, but she couldn’t help but feel special about it.

Isabella found herself wanting to go the more she thought about it. She was also very surprised when she had brought it up with her parents that they were very open with the idea about her getting out and spending time away from home. Maybe it would be good for her to be away and breathe in the nature. All she told them was it was with some friends and that was it.

Maybe they trusted her too much.

Finally, she texted Ivar and told him she would go and he texted back that he would pick her up on Sunday morning. It was happening, she was going to spend the summer with Ivar and pretend to be his girlfriend. This wasn’t like her. It was everything out of her comfort zone, but the more she thought about spending so long with Ivar the more she was looking forward to it.

The day came and she packed a full suit case before Ivar picked her up. She thought it was going to be an awkward drive, but Ivar must’ve planned this trip ahead, because he already had snakes and a music track playing for them to enjoy for the next three hours.

Strangle, she enjoyed the long drive with him, he made it fun and not even for a moment was there silence. She had never been this far from home before without her parents and it gave her a new vibe, one she wasn’t sure that suited her, and yet there was with Ivar, going to his brother’s cabin for the holidays. It was going to be interesting.

They had finally arrived and Isabella stared out the window in awe at the size of the beautiful cabin built right beside the lake. “This is the cabin? It’s more like a mansion!” She couldn’t hold back the broad smile as they pulled up.

“I told you it was nice.” They got out and unpacked the car together.

She met his brothers who were a rowdy bunch but were super nice. There was defiantly a resemblance between them with their insanely blue eyes, which she didn’t miss. Next were the women and met Bjorn’s wife, Torvi, Ubbe’s wife, Margrethe, Hvitserk’s girlfriend, Aud, and Sigurd’s girlfriend, Blaeja. It was going to be a very interesting holiday with all these people who she never met.

By this time she thought she saw everything, which was until she saw the room she was to stay in. It was ridiculously big, like a master bedroom with its own ensuite and incredible view over the lake. She then looked at the queen sized bed and realised that she was going to be sharing the room and bed with Ivar for the holidays. Of course she was, she was here acting as his girlfriend so his brother’s would get off his back.

She found herself looking out the window, admiring the beautiful view they had. Ivar came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin against her shoulder with a smirk.

“So, what do you think?” He breathed gently against her skin, and she found herself unable to move from her position as he gently nuzzled into her neck. She shivered from the contact before twisting herself around to face him.

“It’s….beautiful.”

He was so close that their noses brushed and before she could say anything else, he kissed her. It wasn’t like the last one, this was tender, and he savoured it. She kissed back falling in motion and gasped gently when his hands gripped her rear over the shorts she wore.

The two were lost in the moment before they were interrupted.

“Oi, love birds, when you’re done lunch is ready downstairs.” Hvitserk snickered at the scene before leaving.

Adele tried to get her breathing even before she forced herself to move away from Ivar. “I-I am hungry…” Ivar only smirked at her.

“We’ll continue this later.” It was a promise, and she couldn’t help but feel a little excited about it.

Bjorn had cooked up some nice burgers for them to feast. Dinner was amazing. After they ate they stayed up a little longer, talking about each other’s lives and things. Soon the questions were aimed at Ivar and Isabella.

“How did you two meet?” Ubbe asked eyes filled with curiosity. She looked at Ivar and back at everyone nervously.

“We go to the same school, have been for a couple of years now.” She honestly didn’t know what else to say. Then Ivar jumped in, eager to finish the story.

“We met at a party and we really hit it off. Want to details, brothers? Because it gets kinda-“ She right away covered his mouth with her hand to prevent him from saying anything else. He grinned against her and pulled her into his lap before kissing her passionately. It put her off guard but she quickly fell in motion before he pulled away, all his brothers and their women didn’t seem bothered but proud for Ivar.

For hours they talked about different things and Isabella really liked everyone. Ivar’s brother’s seemed very cheeky like himself and their partners were all very sweet. The night dwelled, then people started going to bed. She told Ivar she wanted a shower and let her off his lap, but not before pinching her rear and snickering to himself. A red heat washed over her as she quickly made her way up the stairs and to their shared room.

She felt better after the shower, letting the hot water wash down her body for a good amount of time before she exited the shower, dried herself, blow dried her hair and wrapped the towel around herself. As she came out she was greeted by a shirtless Ivar. It looked like he was waiting for her.

Ivar bit his lips and grinned as he got closer to her. She didn’t move, like she was welcoming him, and that only made his cock twitch more in his sweat pants. He reached forward took the towel away from her, and she allowed it.

She gasped lightly before he consumed her lips, groaning against her as he rutted his hidden cock against her stomach. Without warning he turned her around and pushed her against the bed, lifting her ass up and spreading her cheeks, then he leaned in and took one long lick against her folds.

A surprised moan came from her before she covered her mouth, fearing his brothers would hear, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by that. In fact, he wanted them to hear her scream his name.

“Ivar…” She panted against her fist before pressing her face against the bed.

He tongue fucked her, only a little and suckled her clit, teasing which made her whimper and knees tremble before he slapped her ass gently, chuckling at her surprised yelp before he tugged his sweatpants off him and pushed her forward along the bed, following close behind her as he rolled a condom on his throbbing cock.

He kept her on her knees and gripped her waist and rubbed his cock along her folds before he thrust into her.

The sudden fullness made her cry out against her fist stuck in her mouth before he forced her hand against the bed to support herself.

“I want them to hear you, make all the noises you want; I want them to know you’re mine.” He groaned into her ear and sat up on his knees once more before setting a rough pace.

Each thrust forced a small moan from her as she shook back and forth with Ivar fucking her from behind. He showed no mercy.

He wanted to fuck her into another realm and lose himself completely, which he might end up doing if he continued what he was doing. Ivar’s movements grew intense, to the point that he rutted against her arse, breeding her like a crazed animal. His grunts followed by pleasured moans added to the pleasure she was feeling, rushing threw her as she allowed herself to be fucked liked crazy.

“Fuck, Bell, fuck!” He repeated her name as he threw his head back, fingers digging into her waist feeling his cock throb wrapped around her clenching walls.

“I-Ivar, Ivar!” Her fingers gripped at the quilt under them as she felt her orgasm erupt through her core and whimpered loudly as he continued to thrust against her until he shouted and gave one final firm thrust, erupting himself in the condom and sagging against back, making her crazy forward with him on her.

She panted heavily, trying to catch her breath as Ivar did the same against her neck. After moment he finally moved and pulled himself out. Last time he just left, however, this time he pulled her up against him, rolling over so her back was pressed up against his chest.

Ivar kissed her cheek before settling more comfortably in the bed with her and falling asleep. She soon followed, feeling very satisfied and drained.

It was indeed going to be an interesting holiday.

The day’s turned into weeks and as time flowed Isabella felt herself growing more closer to Ivar as he did for her. They got along and even though they weren’t really dating they behaved like they did, even when it was just the two of them.

One day she wanted to go on a hike with Ivar and he was more than happy to go much to her surprise. This was when she discovered he was a talented photographer and he even showed her his photos. He had a real talent, a passion she never saw in him.

That day they left the cabin and into the woods, staying on the trail together as they saw the nature and beauty of the wilderness. It was a whole new experience for her and she enjoyed every moment of it, especially with Ivar, who stopped every few minutes to get a photo of something. She didn’t mind, and found it rather sweet.

All through high school she always saw Ivar as the trouble maker and bad boy, and yet here she was with him on a hike and taking photos. She liked this Ivar.

They came across a shallow river and he told her to get down and be quiet. She looked ahead and gasped softly when she saw a large herd of deer running across the water as Ivar snapped multiple photos. It was an amazing experience.

When the deer were gone she beamed brightly before turning to him. He leaned forward and kissed her, softly, something he hadn’t done before. She kissed back he carefully guided her back against the grass and deepened the kiss, savouring her lips before moving away a little to look down at her. He stared at her and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he was simply confusing. It looked like he wanted to say something, anything, but couldn’t. So, she followed her heart and leaned up to kiss him again softly, and he seemed to really like that.

It was just them, nothing else mattered.

The holidays were moving fast and before they knew it a month had gone by. She let her parents know every few days that she was fine and they seemed to be happy with just that. The time away from home felt good, better then she expected.

When all this was over though she didn’t know what to expect, if things would go back to normal or if Ivar wanted something more, but she was too scared to talk about it because what they had right that moment was good.

She decided to not bring it up and just enjoy what they had.

One morning they both woke up tangled in each other’s arms. Ivar nuzzled into her neck, nibbling at her skin gently making her giggle softly until the contact. He loved to spoon, this she discovered, because every night and morning was the same. The sex was incredible; he sure knew how to bring her to multiple orgasms and enjoyed teasing her to her breaking point. She craved for it, and didn’t know how she was to survive when the holidays were over.

“How about we go for a swim in the lake?” He softly asked with a grin.

“I like that idea.” She bit my lips out of habit.

“Just let me piss, change and we’ll head down there.” He finally broke off from her and headed into the bathroom.

Isabella was about to change into her bikini when she heard my phone vibrate. She just assumed it was her parents asking about how her time was going. However, as she looked at her phone she noticed that she had multiple text messages from her friends and way too many Instagram notifications.

She looked at them, confused about why her friends would suddenly text her more than once, it wasn’t like them, or the insane about of notifications. Her heart stopped when she read the first text message.

‘Bella! When were you going to tell me you and Ivar were dating? That’s insane!’

She read the next one from another friend.

‘You and Ivar are dating? When did this happen? I need the details. Call me.’

The rest of the messages were the same, asking more questions and stuff. It only got worse when she looked on Instagram. Apparently, Ivar’s brothers had posted on their accounts of their little get away and had tagged her in multiple photo’s, one of them were of Ivar and her kissing passionately. She then read the comments.

‘Ivar and Isabella? That’s so fucking random!’

‘It can’t be serious, Ivar fucks everyone.’

‘Ivar better dump her before she becomes too clingy.’

They all continued on and on. The more she read the more she felt her heart pain. Fresh tears rolled down her face from the cruel words said by the people from her school. Everyone knew about them.

She stared at her phone for a while until Ivar came out and saw she hadn’t moved.

“Come on, why do women take so long?” He joked lightly before he saw how upset she was. “What’s wrong?”

Isabella showed him her phone, the photo and the comments. “Everyone knows.”

Ivar didn’t know what to say. He simple scrolled through the comments and sighed heavily. He didn’t think about his brothers posting on social media and tagging her in photos. Looking back at her he just saw her clearly upset over the comments. “Bell, they’re just words, they mean nothing and it’s none of their fucking business what goes on between us.” Ivar sat down next to her and put her mobile aside, hoping she’ll get over it soon, but he clearly didn’t know how to comfort someone and she felt no better.

“That’s easy for you to say.” She went into the bathroom and washed my face to clear it. She needed some air and to be away from Ivar. “I need to be alone.” She left and hurried outside the cabin, heading down to the lake to be alone with her thoughts.

Ivar growled in frustration and looked at his own phone to see the same thing. Messages from some mates of his and exploding notifications. He read his text messages first.

‘Dude! Are you really dating Isabella? When the fuck did this happen?’

‘Ivar! What the fuck are you doing? Dump her before she becomes too clingy on you.’

‘I don’t understand you and Isabella together but hey whatever floats your boat.’

He then went to his Instagram.

‘Ivar is fucking insane if he thinks Isabella is worth it. She’s a waste.’

‘He can’t be sick of me already! #ifuckedivar’

‘I’m sure when the holidays are over we’ll have the old Ivar back.’

That hit him. ‘When the holidays were over.’ He hadn’t thought that far ahead but one thing for certain was that he liked her. She was nothing like the other girls; she was special, someone he needed in his life. He wasn’t good when it came to expressing feelings and it was that hard to do it in front of Isabella. The comments though, what they said about her, that pissed him off.

Things had changed and he knew that. He didn’t care what his friends or the school said about them, he wanted something with her, for too long he’s wanted that. He threw a shirt on and grabbed his camera before heading outside.

Ivar found her sitting on the docks, legs hanging over the edge and stared over the lake lost in her own thoughts. He came over and sat next to her, opened up his camera and leaned closer to her side to show her the photos he took.

Isabella looked over to see what he was showing her and was left a little surprised when she saw a photo taken of herself when she was looking or aware he was taking photos of her. He gave her the camera and let her scroll through the pictures taken.

They were all of her, happy, smiling, and laughing, when she didn’t know he was taking pictures. She never thought herself so beautiful before, or if it was just a talent of his that made her look like that. Picture after picture, and the more she looked at them the more she felt better.

“I’m not good when it comes to expressing. I’m shit to be honestly, but this is my way of saying that….” He didn’t understand why it was so hard for him to tell her. “Through high school, I’ve watched you and I’ve seen you watch me. I always wanted to get to know you but I always scared you way, and that just me like you more.”

Isabella finally met eyes with him, lost in awe from his words.

“I know were different people but maybe that’s good? Asking you to be here wasn’t just for a favour, it was so I could get to know you and have you for myself. You’re….amazing.”

She didn’t want to think anymore and leaned over to kiss him. It was short and it took his off guard, but as she went to move away he pulled her back against him, deepening the kiss and pulling her onto his lap. For minutes it was like this, their tongues joined while soft moans left them.

The kiss was then broken and he pressed his forehead against her own.” Bell, will you….will you be my girl?” It sounded like the hardest thing he ever had to say and she beamed at him.

“Yes.”

Out of joy, he stood up with her in his arms and tossed her into the water before jumping in after her. Both felt too happy to even care what others were saying, nothing could ruin the moment.

The holidays were coming to an end, a week before school started and they drove back home to get themselves ready. Isabella promised Ivar to help him out with projects, which he was happy about if it meant he could spend more time with her.

Before he drove her home he drove onto a large viewing area of the city on a cliff. Both were joined in hands as they walked to the ledge. Ivar never felt happier before to be with the girl he secretly loved, and she felt the same.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, smiling as he returned the same jester before she leaned into his side with her arms wrapped around his. This felt good, it felt right.

They were meant to be.

[baekkieberry]

𝕦𝕟𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕪 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧!𝐚𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐞𝐤𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧

Genre: demon!AU, Fluff. (angst + smut in future chapters), Supernatural

Characters: Baekhyun, EXO (mostly beagle line + Kyungsoo)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Summary: Baekhyun had been a demon and living in hell his whole life, hanging with his friends and having way to much fun, until one day he gets kicked out for going too far. He's forced to live in earth until he redeems himself, until he met you, and maybe he doesn’t want to go back anymore. 

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 3005

A/N: hii this is my first fic :) i got inspired by the headcanon made by @youxidol

hope i did a good job ;)

-----

masterlist:  intro   chap1

Byun Baekhyun was the most fun guy you´ll ever meet. He was playful and basically could change his attitude from being a 5 year old to a sexy a teasing boy. He loved the attention and making everyone laugh, playing jokes on everyone since he was small and his older brother told him to put vaseline on the door knob in the bathroom. His mom was really upset but somehow he got away with it. 

Since that moment he loved practical jokes, and that's how he met his bestfriends Chanyeol, Sehun, Jongdae and Kyungsoo. Chanyeol was his first friend when he entered middle school, they were both so playful that they became inseparable quickly: staying at each other houses and when they both had 8 they got they’re demon powers together. Demon powers were something amazing that, as everyone in hell learnt, was giving at a certain time between the years of 0-10, and if you didn’t develop them you were bashed from hell and returned to earth as a new soul without the knowledge of hell. So Baekhyun and Chanyeol were really happy, and they took advantage of this as much as they could.

Practical jokes were always easy with powers, moving the chair of someone or purposely spilling someone’s drink on themselves was really fun, but they took it to another level. Maybe moving the backpack of the history teacher to the ceiling or the rooftop, putting bugs on the directors coffee, baby powder instead of sugar…. yeah it’s they’re fault that there’s a penalty for using powers at school. That’s also the reason why Chanyeol and Baekhyun knew every police station and police officer in hell. They did so many pranks and illegal stuff that they visited the station 5 times a week, but left saying that it was hell and that demons were meant to torment so that’s what they did. It was a weird system

They soon met Sehun when the school bully was stealing his money. Sehun was a shy boy but when you got to know him he was as playful as ChanBaek although he was a whiny baby. But he had nothing to compare to Chen, they met him through Sehun as he was his neighbor. They couldn't stand him at the beginning but he was so lovable and fun that the four of them were now a little clique. 

Through the years their clique growed and became really popular at college, now being 9 friends that hanged out everyday and were now called EXO. Girls always wanted to be with the most fun but scary demons around, they had girlfriends from time to time but they didn’t find them too amusing so they breakup with them in just a few months.

But as fun as Baekhyun life was, he did get in a lot of trouble for the amount of jokes that he did. Sure Chanyeol and Sehun eventually went with him but didn’t get in such trouble like he did. He was known as the Bart Simpson of hell but with powers. It all started with his neighbours and then it went further and further until it got to prank the government and that’s when the downfall started. 

He had messed with the actual true fallen angel Satan a few times before, and let’s be honest the guy didn’t loved it, he was always bitter and just busy with a ton of things so Baekhyun playing around wasn’t something he enjoyed but he could easily get rid of him by blocking his powers for a few days. But oh boy this only made Baekhyun more eager to mess with him. Until he got to far. He’s prank was childish but he did it anyways, he decided to get inside Satan’s house and hide in the bathroom until the angel went in and started peeing. Baekhyun decided to take a photo but forgot to silenced his phone so he was caught. And as a punishment he was sent to earth and got just a few of his powers so that he could survive. “You can come back when you do something to change our mind” “And you can come in my bed whenever you want” he said while winking at the secretary taking notes. 

And within seconds, he was living in Canada, Vancouver and he was living in hell. People were so nice and oh did Satan outdid himself with this one. He lived in the most friendly neighbourhood and his neighbors were nerds or old lady’s that always asked him to help them with the laundry. Yep, he saw a lot of old lady underwear mostly everyday, and was forced to chit chat with the nerds while waiting for the elevator. 

But probably the worst part about all of this was his neighbour Sabrina. She was an old lady that literally saw him everyday and obligated him into eating her food and doing her laundry twice a week. Baekhyun really hated her and especially when she called him ‘sweetcheeks’. 

Even though he hated her and mostly everyone in earth he tried to keep a low profile and fit in with the rest of the canadians. He would wear normal clothes at day, but in the night he mostly went to frat parties at different universities and flirt with girls, hook up with them and when they were fast asleep, he made them disappear from his house. Sabrina quickly noticed the noise that they made while hooking up so one time he called Baekhyun into his house “Sweetcheeks, I am a very very old woman and I well it’s not nice to disturb me at night, could you tone it down?” she said. “Well they like screaming I’m sorry Sabrina” he said while smirking. “Don’t be dirty Sweetcheeks that’s not okay, you could make it up to me by doing my laundry right now, the basket is there” Baekhyun rolled his eyes but did it anyway. 

One thing he liked was how his friends somehow started visiting him. Yeol was the first one to do it. He came one day at night and scared him “holy shit Yeol you scared the shit out of me” he said at the sight of his best friend infront of him. “Ah Baekhyun you don’t know the amount of places I’ve visited looking for you, I’ve seen some pretty weird shit dude” Chanyeol said while hugging him. Turns out demons can see demons that visit earth but humans can’t. Chanyeol was the one who found Baekhyun and then his friends started visiting him everyday to hang out with him and play jokes to the nerds upstairs. 

He really hated Vancouver. But he loved the coffee at a Kafka’s so he couldn't complain. Especially the day he saw you. You were wearing a “University of Columbia” sweatshirt and some leggings, but you looked so beautiful he couldn’t help but choke with his coffee. He observed as you sat down near the window and left your backpack fall hard in the floor, you had made a lot of noise so everyone looked at you “Sorry hee hee” you said shyly. He giggled but continue watching as you seemed to be falling asleep.

You got interrupted by a barista that said that your cookies were ready to be taken so you took the and left. He followed you to a little park that was basically the “Dude Chilling Park” and you sat and begin to eat you cookies while you looked at your phone. Baekhyun was observing you from afar and was so amazed by your nonchalant way of doing everything: eating, laughing at maybe a meme you saw, looking at your cookies like they were magical and how your hair fell perfectly so that it didn’t hide your face. 

He saw you leaving and he decided it was time to go home, since probably his demon friends were at his home playing a joke at Sabrina. And he was right, when he came he saw Sehun and Chen putting oil in the floor outside Sabrina’s house “Hey Baek, Soo is making dinner and Yeol is playing with your xbox.” Baekhyun nodded and went to his apartment, he went directly to the kitchen “Hyung what are you making?” he asked and Kyungsoo didn’t answered, so Baekhyun stole something that he was doing and earned himself a scream. It was a little tradition that the guys went at night to his house and chilled for a while and left at around 12pm. 

He started going to Columbia University parties trying to find you, but he never saw you, so he went to the cafe everyday at the same time, but you didn’t appear. He went to the Park to find you laying on grass but this time you were wearing a pink sweatshirt and a white skirt and he thought you couldn’t have looked more beautiful. You were yet again eating pastries but a different ones. You were talking on the phone so he got closer so he could hear you. “Yeah Irene I know he is cute but you know he is incredibly boring” you said while stuffing your mouth with a muffin. This was the first time he heard you voice clearly and it literally made his ears melt. He was pretending to read a book in the grass near you. “Yeah look he’s just not my type, he doesn’t even like oreo like what am  supposed to do with someone like that?” He giggled, he couldn’t believe you loved oreo cookies that that was an important request for being your boyfriend. “Look either he starts liking them or where done okay? find me someone cool and funny okay? yEAH I KNOW I SAY OKAY TOO MUCH OKAY?” you were talking with your mouth full and screaming, and he absolutely loved it. You were funny and cute and his stomach was experiencing weird things.

Baekhyun now was really starting to get concerned for what he was feeling, he has never felt this way before. You made his heart flutter with your addiction to pastries and oreos. Your voice was music for his ears and he was always thinking of you. He went everyday to the park and everynight he promised himself he’ll talk to you the next day, but never actually did it. His friends now we're starting to notice something was up. 

“Baekhyun you’re acting weird” Sehun said one night. He had been smiling without noticing, thinking about how today you tried to feed a squirrel and got scared that you screamed everytime it came closer. “Huh? Hyung what do you mean?” He asked, and Yeol turned off the TV and turned to look at him. “Baek you had been spacing out and suddenly giggling or smiling without a reason” Chanyeol said looking actually concerned. “You guys is nothing” Baekhyun said trying to hide that he was actually thinking about your hair. “Are you sick?” Sehun asked “What? no dude wtf I’m okay really” And then Chanyeol started looking at Baekhyun suspiciously “Wait a second I know this behavior” Baekhyun started panicking cause his best friend knew him better than no one “Yeol really leave it” Baekhyun stand up and try to leave to his room but Sehun picked him up and sat him in the couch. “YOU’RE IN LOVE” Chanyeol screamed and Sehun fall from the couch. “I’m not in love okay? she doesn’t even KNOW I exist!” Baekhyun said exposing himself. “wAIT she’s human? like actual mortal? like actual girl that dies in a few years?” Sehun said from the floor. “Yah don’t say stuff like that but yeah” Both Chanyeol and Sehun stared at Baekhyun “Wow I mean I never thought this day would come” Chanyeol said “Dude it’s probably temporary its no big deal” Baekhyun said trying to convince himself “Nah ah Hyung that a lie, you’ve been like this for a week already” Sehun said. 

Baekhyun sighed and decided to spill everything out “Fine okay? I like this girl really much and I haven’t even talked to her, but I go everyday at the same hour to the same park and watch her eat pastries. She makes me feel warm inside and even wanting to be a human so that I could talk to her normally. There I said it”. Chanyeol looked at his best friend with amazement. He couldn’t believe that this day finally came. “Well why don’t you talk to her?” Sehun questioned “I really have tried but I don’t have the courage, although I try to do nice things for her” Chanyeol laughed at this and said “Look you already know a lot about her since you stalked her” Baekhyun felt himself relax and started laughing. The other two joined him and suddenly they were on the floor dying of laughter. “Look if she likes to eat a lot why don’t you ask Soo to do something for her? and right now we can concentrate on doing a prank on that nerd downstairs.” Chanyeol said and so they did. 

The next day Kyungsoo went in the morning and prepared all kinds of pastries that Baekhyun wanted “SOO IT MUST HAVE OREO’S OKAY?” Baekhyun yelled nervously “Oh my god you already told me that ten times could you please shut up?” Baekhyun looked at him and said “No and put more oreos” Baekhyun was really nervous that he made a little zootopia lunch box appear and started putting every pastry there. When they both finished, Baekhyun headed to the park and so you already eating thin oreos.

He could feel his skin burning and sweating all over his shirt, he took a big breath and started walking your direction. ‘God did you really had to look more beautiful today?’ he thought. You were wearing blue jeans and a simple white t-shirt with white vans. Baekhyun stand in front of you and you looked up. “Hi uh I’ve made to many of this and I was wondering if you want some of them?” He asked. ‘Holy fuck he is gorgeous’ you thought. You stood up and saw that he had a little zootopia lunch box “So you happen to have pastries on your zootopia lunch box?” you questioned. Baekhyun was getting nervous “Yeah?” You looked at him for a second and he swear his heart stopped for a second “Yeah okay whatever can I see which ones you have?” You asked while sitting and gesturing him to do the same beside you. He sat down and opened his lunch box with trembling hands “Hey don’t be nervous you’re the one with questiWOW ARE THOSE OREO?” you screamed while taking the little oreo cake that Kyungsoo made. Baekhyun laughed and said “Hey they are not questionable and they are delicious” You looked at him and said “Do you promise me that they don’t have drugs or something in them?” You hold your pinky up to him and he hold it with his “Promise you they only have flour and a few drops of poison” You laughed and ate the lil cake. “Holy mother of God this is the most delicious thing ever where did you get this from?” You were really questioning if they were from heaven. Baekhyun just watched you and touched his pinky “I made them yesterday, I really have a lot of free time” he was just so amazed that he was talking to you that he felt like flying “They’re better than the ones I usually get…” You said looking at him “Maybe I should bring you more one of this days” He smiled at you “Oh my god you can come here whenever you want to” Baekhyun wanted to say ‘that’s what she said’ but he didn’t want to ruin it until you laughed and said “Oh my god THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID HAHAHAHAHA” Baekhyun thought he was dreaming. You were literally his dream girl “You won’t believe me if I told you that’s exactly what I was thinking?” He laughed and watch you eat your cake happily and enjoyed it like it was everything “What’s your name?” He said “Y/N” You said smiling. “Well Y/N if you liked my pastries so much I come here tomorrow and bring you more” You thought he was joking and you said “Maybe you should mister…?” “Baekhyun” Wow did his name was beautiful. “Well nice to meet you mister Baekhyun” You said smiling. 

You finished maybe all of his pastries and he insisted he didn’t care and that tomorrow he’d bring you more amazing one’s. You actually liked him. He was funny and you both shared a sense of humor so similar that soon enough became comfortable around him. He wasn’t like the other guys you’ve met. He was actually charming by nature but not too much. He told you funny things like him having to clean his neighbour Sabrina’s underwear and he promised you he would introduce you two, since you told him she was your role model after that. You had to leave for class but didn’t want to leave him so you made him promised he’d come tomorrow. You did asked him to make a lot of pinky promises and he loved it. Even if only touching your pinky was the closest he could get for now, he was absolutely okay with it. 

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Hii tell me if you liked it I will make chapter 1 later hee hee

[cloudninetonine]

A Favour for a Favour (Part 2)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: After the events of the Clash of the Avengers at the airport, Peter finds himself bored with his every day friendly neighbourhood Spider-man life. Then someone shows up who might be able to give him a little more than he wished for

A/N: Someone suggested I continue this because it would make a good series and well, who am I to refuse?

Tumblr also took the fucking chapter separation bar so it’s just lines between different points in time

Warnings: The usual bad language, still some sexual tension, slight mentions/hints of abuse (Not really but this is just in case)

“So, want to come over and work on that Lego Death Star?” 

It was the end of the day at Midtown School of Science and Technology. Peter and Ned were just exiting the school perimeter, chatting to one another peacefully after an exhausting few hours of classes and enjoying each others company as per usual.

It had been about 3 months after the airport incident, fortunately for Peter, Mr Stark had let the kid keep the new suit permanently, releasing the boy back to his every day with some confusing advice and...that was it. He hadn’t heard from the man since, or from Happy either, no matter how many times Peter texted them, called them- they left him with nothing.

He was bored with everyday crime fighting, he wanted more, he needed a rush, he needed something.

Every time those kinds of thoughts rushed into his head, he thought back to (Name). He didn’t know why exactly, but one thing he did know for sure was that (Name)’s attitude screamed adventure, vigour, excitement. He told himself that was the reason why that he wanted something more and (Name) was most likely the one who would give him more, it was no other reason.

Yet, his mind also wandered to other thoughts about her. Where was she now? He was still being sent those...packages, so there was no way she was captured, right? So what was she doing?... Did she miss him? Did she, maybe...miss his scent? He missed hers, though he would never admit it, that sweet, sweet scent. God, he wished that he could smell it now-

“Peter? Are you even listening?”

Peter jumped, blinking his eyes hard and sending a smile- well more of a grimace- towards Ned. “Uh, sorry I was...thinking about the Stark Internship”

Ned’s face dropped “Does this mean you can’t come over and help me build the Lego Death Star?”

“What?- No! No, no, no, I can come over today” I need a break from Spider-man anyway “What time? Do you want me to come now-”

Freshly baked pastries: danishes, croissants, cupcakes, cake, doughnuts. The scent was so incredibly sweet, it hit him hard and when he said hard, he meant hard, like he had been punched right in the face by it, the boy had even stopped dead in his tracks.

He knew that smell but, she couldn’t be...the Accords made her a fugitive of the country and if she was here she would be arrested, she wouldn’t risk her freedom to come here, right-

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mr Parker himself”

Peter went rigid; Ned glanced over his shoulder.

“And his friend, by the looks of it”

Peter turned slowly, watching as a casual dressed (Name) strolled past him while offering her hand towards Ned. “The name’s (Name), Ned, right?”

Ned smiled kindly towards the girl in return before taking her hand and giving it a firm shake “Yeah, that’s me, nice to meet you, although-”

Peter tried to ignore the look that his best friend sent him “Peter hasn’t told me about you”

(Name) let out a simple laugh as she threw her arm over Peter’s shoulders, tugging him closer to her own frame and patting his chest with her free hand. “Ah, well, Parker, he likes to keep little secrets here and there, you know?”

Ned nodded in agreement; Peter sent her a warning glare.

“Anyhow- I saw you two walking and I was like ‘Parker!? Is that really him!?’ and I just had to see! Say ‘hi’ if you will! And, well, now I think lunch would be appropriate for this sudden meeting, the three of us, I’ll pay, how does that sound, Parker?” (Name) shook the boy playfully, mischief dancing in her eyes as the two shared eye contact for a moment.

Peter’s lip curled “Great”

“Awesome!” Removing her arm from Peter, (Name) strolled up to Ned and they walked ahead, Peter sulking behind them with his eyes trained hard onto (Name).

“So how’d you meet Peter?”

“Oh, a great story, It was during the Stark Internship retreat in Germany, the company I interned for was invited for a conference-”

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“Ah shit” Ned whined, glancing at his phone with a grimace “My mom’s calling, I’ve gotta go”

“Oh! Do you want me to come with you? We can work on the Lego Death Star!” Peter offered, beginning to stand from his seat, only for Ned to wave him off with a smile.

“It’s cool, you hang with (Name) and we can do it later”

(Name) smiled towards Ned “It was really nice to officially meet you, Ned”

“It was nice to meet you too, (Name), I’ll see you guys later!”

Sharing mutual farewells, Ned stood from his seat and exited the cafe, waving at them when he passed the window their booth had been seated next to before disappearing from sight in the concrete jungle. Peter’s smile dropped once his friend had disappeared while (Name)’s own smile morphed into a mischievous smirk, head coming to rest on her intertwined hands as Peter leaned forward.

“What are you doing here?!” He whispered desperately, eyes wandering all over the cafe and to the street outside “Is Captain America here too? That guy with the metal arm-”

“Pause it, Parker, I’ve only got one mouth” (Name) laughed, sending him a wink “And no, Steve and Bucky aren’t with me, they’re at a classified location”

Peter let out a hard breath and collapsed back into his seat, eyeing the girl warily “Why are you here, (Name)?”

“Ooohhh, he’s using the hero voice”

“(Name)-”

“Okay, okay” With a laugh, she sat back up and her hand dived into her jacket pocket “I’m setting up a base here, well, nearby and I was scoping out the area”

She pulled out a thick envelope and tossed it over, watching in amusement as the boy quickly snatched it before shoving it into his backpack “I also came to drop that off personally, seeing as I was here already”

“Why do you keep giving me this money?” He asked, glancing over to his bag nervously.

“Why do you think?” She sent back, giving him a look. “You saved my life, Parker, least I could do”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to” (Name) gestured for a waitress to come over, “End of discussion”

Peter sat silently for the next few moments as (Name) ordered another drink, exchanging polite chat with the waitress before turning back to Peter with a sheepish expression.

“What? What is it?”

“Well,” She started with a laugh “You see, my new base is gonna take a while to set up and, you see, I need a place to stay while that happens, so, I was wondering…”

Peter’s eyes widened “Wait, what!? No! You can’t stay at my place!”

“Awh, come on Parker!” (Name) pouted, “It’ll only be for a short while, three months tops!”

“Three months-” The waitress appeared with (Name)’s drink, the both of them immediately silencing themselves and watching her walk away awkwardly before turning back to one another “(Name), I can’t let you stay at my home!”

“Why? Is it because of the rent? ‘Cause I can pay, you know I can-” 

Peter groaned, hands flying up to hold his face. “No it’s not that- it’s just- what would I say to my aunt? ‘Hey Aunt May, this is (Name), she’s a national fugitive who I saved a few months back- Oh, hey, can she stay with us!?’”

“I can come up with something” (Name) reassured, grabbing his hands and pulling them away to look him in the eye “Come on, Parker- Parker look at me- you can trust me, as soon as it’s over, I’ll be out of your hair, I promise, you’ll never have to see me again”

“...never…?” The boy asked, his expression dropping.

“Okay, maybe not never, I’ll probably be living a few blocks away or something- just-...please?” (Name) sent him a genuine pleading look “This is probably the only place that my old-...employer, won’t look, I just need a few months”

Peter’s expression softened and he bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t do this, he shouldn’t do this, (Name) was a national criminal, hell, she was basically a worldwide criminal. If he did this, he would get in so much trouble, he could drag May into this mess if he wasn’t careful and it would all end in disaster.

This was a bad idea.

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

Fuck, this was such a bad idea.

“Hey, May?” Peter called into the apartment, pushing open the front door and allowing (Name) to trail behind him into the front room. “Are you here?”

“Yeah!” The sound of footsteps approached them and May turned the corner with her usual warm smile plastered on her face. “How was- Oh! Hello!”

(Name) recuperated the woman’s smile, though it resembled more of a wince than anything, part of the plan. The story was that (Name) had been kicked out from her abusive home a few weeks ago and was looking for a place to stay, Peter, being the sweetheart he was, had offered that they could stay with them for a while until she eventually saved enough money to get a place of her own.

It was a good idea but it had put a bad taste in his mouth. May was a bleeding heart, if she saw that someone was in trouble she would always try to help that someone out and at the moment, the two were using that to their advantage. Peter didn’t like lying to her, hell, not telling her that he was Spiderman was hard enough, but not telling her that he wanted to harbour a fugitive in their home? That was way worse than hiding any secret identity.

“Um- Hi- Hi!” (Name) stuttered, rubbing her arm awkwardly “You mu-..must be Miss-..Miss Parker! It’s- well I- um…”

Was...was she shaking?

Damn, she was good.

“Hey, it’s okay, (Name)” Peter squeezed the girl affectionately, feeling her melt under his touch and place her head on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck softly. “Sorry, May, she’s just really shy”

May smiled in understanding and nodded her head. God, why was he doing this again? “That’s okay, sweetie, why don’t you sit down, I’ll get you something to drink”

“Th- um, Thank you” (Name) whispered, plopping down on the sofa as May walked off to the kitchen, Peter following behind with a heavy weight of guilt slowly beginning to form on his shoulders. 

Well, here goes nothing.

“So, who is she?” His aunt purred playfully, looking through their assortment of drinks within the refrigerator “She smells like an omega, is she your mate?”

She wiggled her eyebrows towards him and a bright blush painted itself onto his face.

“What? No! No, no no, she’s just a friend from around, her family moved here a few months ago” May let out a hum that displayed her disbelief, turning back to the fridge “May, I’m being serious!”

“I’m sure you are, Petey”

“Seriously! I- Ugh! Nevermind, I needed to ask you something important”

“Go ahead, sweetie”

“Well, you see, I was wondering-” Peter glanced back into the living room, seeing (Name) look around the place before leaning closer to his aunt to whisper “Would it be okay if (Name) stayed here for a while?”

“What?” His aunt stared at him oddly “Why?”

Peter swallowed the saliva that was bundling in his throat. May didn’t seem mad or annoyed, more confused with his request than anything and he begged the Gods that it would stay that way.

“Well, uh…” The boy gestured for his aunt to move a little further away from their guest, continuing to speak in hushed voices as they addressed one another “(Name) hasn't been around for a while and I, well, I found out today that her father kicked her out”

A look of utter horror flashed over his aunt’s face and his chest squeezed painfully.

“He did what?” May took a glance towards the girl “How could he do that?”

Oh God this was harder than he thought.

“I-I...I convinced her to stand up to him” He replied quietly, his voice close to a whimper “She told me that he was hurting her and I told her that she shouldn’t take that from him and she stood up for herself and I-”

“Peter” The older woman placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her other pushing some stray strands of hair behind his ear “This isn’t your fault”

A little voice in the back of his head told him otherwise.

“But-”

“No buts” May argued, pushing him towards the living room to where (Name) was seated “Go and comfort her, I’ll get her a drink”

“O-Okay”

‘God, I’m so sorry, May’

Peter trudged back over towards the sofa, letting himself collapse next to the girl with an exhausted huff. (Name), once she had seen that the boy’s aunt was distracted, leaned against the boy with a similar huff.

“Come on, sour puss” She whined “Don’t pout, it’s only for a short while”

“It’s not that” (Name) looked at him dubiously, “It just doesn’t feel right lying to her like this”

“Even though you lie to her every day about your whereabouts after school and how you’re Spiderman”

The boy deflated into his seat with a noise of distress and (Name) rolled her eyes.

What was the point of hiding the other you in front of loved ones? The real you? (Name) never really understood. I mean, if you had told the people you loved that you were X, Y, Z, wouldn’t it be better for them to prepare themselves for oncoming threats?

It happened all the damn time in movies. The hero’s family, friends, lover, etc. were kept in the dark and they were kidnapped or held hostage, or some other stupid occurrence that could have been avoided if the hero had been smart and just told the truth.

It really pissed her off.

But she’d keep up with the damn act.

If that was what Peter really wanted.

“Listen” (Name) whispered into his ear, Peter’s form going rigid under her touch “How about I let you in on a little secret, Mr Spidey”

“(Name)-”

The girl hushed him softly and raked her hand through his brown locks. 

God, she loved to tease the poor boy, any little touch, a slight change in tone, a little saucy word or two sent his heartbeat into a frenzy and turned the colour of his skin from that cute tan to a beautiful shade of rosy red. Oh, he was just so adorable!

With a soft giggle, she grinned against the shell of his ear “What you said wasn’t a complete lie”

Then she had pulled away, a nervous smile once again tugging at her lips as May sauntered back into the room “I hope you’re okay with orange juice, it’s all we really had”

“Th-..That’s fine! Thank you Miss Park-..Parker”

“Please, call me, May, (Name)”

“Oh, of-..of course”

“...Peter are you okay, you look a little upset?”

The boy waved off his aunt, sending her an apologetic smile, even when thoughts stormed through his head.

What did (Name) mean by that?

[peterstanslizzie]

Re-watching Lizzie Mcguire: Episode 1.20 (Educating Ethan)

If Ethan is already struggling with fractions, wait till later when he starts learning about algebra or trigonometry. Bless his heart.

- Gordo is standing on a table in the middle of the outdoor school cafeteria and he is busy auctioning off his pudding cup to other students. He’s doing this because he wants to make money to buy a new stereo after his last one broke.

- Why couldn’t his parents just buy him another one? Unless of course, Gordo’s the one who caused his last stereo to break. Gordo hopes to make about $3 per weekday from selling his lunch, which would total up to about $300 in 5 months time. 

- Lizzie comes up with a better idea for him to make a buck by suggesting he becomes a math tutor. That would definitely make better use of his intelligence and he would be able to get the funds quicker. 

Ethan Needs A Lot of Help

- The next day in school, we find out that Gordo has already been posting flyers around school hoping that people would react out to have him tutor them. His flyers are not very attractive and to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t get any responses.

- Luckily, Ethan saw his flyer and asks Gordo if he could tutor him after getting 11% on the last math test. Yikes! That is a horribly low score...

This honestly gives me anxiety

- Lizzie and Miranda tells Ethan that Gordo could tutor him before Gordo could even respond since he’s still horrified by Ethan’s graded test. Gordo has a lot of work to do, that’s for sure. 

- Back at home, Lizzie is on her usual 3-way call with her best friends and Lizzie and Miranda can’t stop gushing about how hot Ethan looked today. Gordo tells them he has to hang up soon because he is going to tutor Ethan. The mere mention of his name sends the two girls into a frenzy.

The power of the teenage girl scream. Oh and Lizzie and Miranda are also going to the Digital Bean to help Gordo out with tutoring. Yeah, right.

- Both of them show up at the cafe and sit around a table close to Ethan and Gordo’s. Throughout the entire time, they are just plain annoying as they try to get Ethan’s attention even though Gordo is trying to teach him math. It causes both the boys to become distracted. 

Now this is ridiculous! They need to butt out.

- Gordo tells Ethan to go get a drink so that he can talk to his friends and probably reprimand them. He tells them to leave him alone but Lizzie tells him they’re there to help him with the tutoring (obviously that’s a lie). However, Gordo takes it a step too far and kinda insults their intelligence by saying that he would only ask for their help if it’s to do with shopping. 

- On top of that, he doesn’t think they’re good enough to tutor because they don’t get As like him. Gordo really knows how to shade people and push people’s buttons huh? His parents are psychiatrists after all.

Visual Learner

- We fast forward to lunchtime at the outdoor school cafeteria again and Gordo is still trying to teach Ethan how to divide fractions. Ethan is just not getting anything Gordo is trying to teach him. Gordo may be smart but he’s not a good tutor at all. Ethan is definitely a visual learner and that’s where Lizzie comes in.

“Oh so that’s what you call those things!”

- She uses hair scrunchies as a visual aid to teach Ethan and he actually gets it right away. Because of that, Ethan now wants Lizzie to tutor him instead. 

- This is funny to me because Hilary Duff just revealed on her Instagram that she’s struggling to teach her son grade school Math since she’s not educated in the traditional sense. But I’m sure she’s at least gotten her GED. How hard could 2nd grade math be? Then I realise that it’s math from a Singaporean curriculum and I believe it’s supposed to be much harder than the standard American one. 

- We find out later that Lizzie rejected Ethan’s request to tutor him because she doesn’t want to make Gordo upset. Miranda thinks that Gordo has been a jerk to them the entire time but Lizzie feels like she should apologise to him for disturbing his tutoring sessions. 

- Suddenly, Gordo shows up and tells them to apologise to him. This makes Lizzie change her mind because she wants to be the one to initiate the apology and not be demanded to make one. 

Lizzie The Tutor

- Lizzie and her classmates sit for another math test given to them by Mr. Dig, who also gave this whole speech about learning being about the journey and not the destination. Anyways, Ethan flunks the test once again and this surprises Gordo because he has been tutoring him really hard. Mr. Dig feels bad for Ethan and decides to give him another attempt. But not without shading him in the process:

Poor Ethan! But I agree with Mr. Dig, at least he’s handsome :)

- Gordo is annoyed that he has to tutor Ethan again but Ethan really wants Lizzie to do it this time. Lizzie now has to decide between helping Ethan or making Gordo feel bad; She chooses the former and I personally think that’s the right decision. Gordo has gone way over the line lately and he even called Lizzie a “second-grade teacher”. How insulting!

- At the Digital Bean, Ethan is still having a hard time learning fractions even if Lizzie is using jelly beans as an aid. She asks Ethan what would he respond to the most, to which he answers ‘cheerleaders’. Lizzie then calls out for cheerleaders and magically, a bunch of them show up to help.

Lizzie has some magical powers I swear. But I thought the cheerleaders wouldn’t listen to Lizzie since Kate and Claire doesn’t like her?

- Pushing that aside, the cheerleaders are basically posing as fractions in the equation: 1/2 divided by 1/2. Lizzie takes Ethan through the working and he quickly gets the answer. That’s great and all but I think that Lizzie should have used a more complicated fraction to demonstrate, like a 10/7 divided by 3/4? Of course, these cheerleaders would have a hard time contorting their bodies to make these numbers lol.

- The next scene is Lizzie and Miranda waiting to see how Ethan did on his re-sit. Gordo makes peace with them and apologises to them for the way he has been acting. Lizzie and Miranda also apologise to him for using him to get to Ethan. 

- Ethan comes out of the classroom and says he aced his test with a 72%, which is actually a C in the US. In the UK, a 72 is a B. He hugs Lizzie for helping her and she was basically in heaven for like 3 seconds. 

B-Plot: We Meet Oscar, Matt’s Other Friend

- At the Mcguire home, Matt is with his friend Oscar (whom we’ve never seen before) and they are absolutely bored. His parents give them some suggestions like helping around the house or the neighbourhood. This gives Matt the idea to become superheroes who fight crime. Oh jeez, here we go...

- I feel like it’s Halloween again from looking at their costumes; Matt is dressed up as “Matt Man” and Oscar is dressed up as the “Incredible Oscar”. Both Jo and Sam are very much amused by how serious they are with their act.

How about ask granny first before taking her grocery bags? LOL

- As you can see, they are not doing a good job playing superhero. And throughout the entire day, they make things for other people worse than it already was. 

- Matt’s parents are getting a lot of complaints from the neighbours about Matt and Oscar’s antics. So, they decide to confine them to the boundaries of their own home to prevent them from causing more damage. But this doesn’t stop Matt from coming up with another idea to help save the day from evil. 

Haha this is so cringe!

- His idea is to steal all of Lizzie’s shoes and act as if the “Evil Shoe Barren” is the one who did it. Jo threatens to ground Matt if he doesn’t return his sister’s shoes and just like that, he jets off to retrieve them. It looks like their crime-fighting days are over.

Overall Thoughts

- I found this episode to be a little underwhelming for me. In terms of what I liked, I enjoyed watching Ethan getting tutored by Lizzie. There is a sort of innocence that Ethan has when he’s in a vulnerable spot, which for him is not doing well in school and flunking math. And it’s good that he isn’t afraid to seek tutoring help. 

- I didn’t like the conflict between Gordo and both Lizzie and Miranda. Sure, the two girls were being disruptive when Gordo was trying to tutor Ethan but Gordo was way out of line when he suggested that they’re stupid, not once but twice. I thought Gordo was wiser than that. Anyways, I’m glad he apologised first at the end. Miranda was neither here nor there in this episode. Her only relevance to the plot is being harder on Gordo than Lizzie for his behaviour.

- Matt’s plot is pretty much filler in this episode. The only significant aspect about his plot is the introduction of Oscar, who we will continue to see in future episodes. 

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Watford Cove

Chapter 10: everything back and more

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word count: 2580

Chapter: 10/13 [All chapters]

Summary: Simon and Baz have some time before exams start. They decide to go on a date before the storm begins.

Read on AO3

AN: Okay okay omg two amazing people made fan art of this fic and I'm so happy and grateful. There's this fantastic piece of my punk Baz by @neck-mole and this wonderful art of my pastel and punk beauties by @jessethejoyful. I love them so much and I'm still freaking out about it so thank you to those two again. Now onto the chapter. It's more fluff cause my boys need it tbh. Also I posted this to the wrong blog for like 30 seconds because I’m an idiot sorry!

Tagging: @wayward-son-61 @jeansjeansjeansjeans

———————————————-

“You and your boyfriend are gross.”

I plant myself on the picnic table with a thunk, giving Niall a curious look. “And good afternoon to you too, mate.”

“I’m serious,” he says, arms crossed. “You two are disgusting.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Huh, didn’t peg you for a homophobe, Niall.”

Niall rolls his eyes and shoves my leg. “Fuck off, you know that’s not what I mean. You two are snogging everywhere all the time. Didn’t you just get caught in the gym closet yesterday?

That’s unfortunately true. We did get caught, with Simon’s legs around my waist and my hand up his shirt. Coach Mac was certainly not amused. He made us reorganize said closet as punishment. It was totally worth it though.

After our talk last week, I assumed Simon and I wouldn't be around each other as much, no longer afraid that our relationship would end abruptly. But it’s the exact opposite. We sneak off between classes, after school if I’m not with Bunce, at night if we both can’t sleep. He’d be here right now hanging with my friends if he didn’t have a makeup chem lab to do with Bunce. I don’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s something about our promises, the trust we gave each other. Confessing our fears and understanding them.

Or maybe we’re horny teenagers who like to snog and cuddle. That would also make sense.

“He’s my first boyfriend, give me a break.” I snatch Dev’s cigarette carton and take a stick out for myself. “And I might not see him again for a year if exams go badly.”

“We get it, man,” Dev says. “And we’re happy for you. But you’re also snogging 24/7 and it’s gross.”

I take a deep drag and grin. “Yup.”

Niall sighs and leans back, his stupid aviators slipping down his face. (He thinks they’re cool. And I hate that he’s right.) “Whatever, fine. Be gross. But I have some questions for you.” He points his cigarette at me very dramatically.

“Okay...”

“One: if you go to Switzerland, how the hell are we going to contact you?”

“Simon said he’d mail me. You know, snail mail. You two can do that as well.”

“Good. Two: Are you going to come home for the holidays?”

“Probably not. Only if I behave maybe.”

“That sucks. And three: can I have your bike while you’re gone?”

I blow smoke in his face. He coughs, Dev laughs loudly. “No, you git. My beloved motorcycle will be stored in Simon’s garage so my father can’t dispose of it while I’m away.”

Niall groans pathetically. “That’s not fair. I’ve wanted that thing for ages and now I don’t even get it if you’re gone? Rude.”

“You’ll crash it.”

“Will not.”

“Will to. Simon is scared to ride it without me, so I know he’ll just leave it alone. Unlike you.”

Niall pouts, crossing his arms. “You and your stupid responsible boyfriend.” He lowers his sunglasses and gives me a curious look. “Have you two horny idiots even been on a proper date yet? Or are you just defiling everywhere you go?”

I open my mouth to protest, but quickly have to shut it. With all the excitement and exam cramming and sneaking around, we haven’t remembered to do something so simple as a date. That is a grave injustice. And I must correct it.

I pull out my mobile and open Simon’s contact in my phone. He’s still listed as “Pretty Moron”. I’ve refused to change it even since we’ve started dating.

Baz [12:36] Hey wanna going on a date after school? If so, meet me outside the north entrance.

Pretty Moron [12:37] ok sure this is kinda out of the blue luv

Baz [12:38] Do I need an excuse to want to go on a date with my boyfriend?

Pretty Moron [12:38] no it’s just odd and spontaneous

Pretty Moron [12:38] i like it tho

Pretty Moron [12:39] i’ll meet you then <3

Baz [12:40] See you then. Now go back to your chem lab idiot.

Simon doesn't reply, thankfully. He needs to pass his classes as well. This is perfect actually. Exams start tomorrow. Simon and I can have a good time before mentally dying. I lean back, eyes closed and smiling.

“Ugh he looks all lovesick again,” Niall groans. “Gross.”

I kick his shoulder, nearly knocking him off the bench. Dev snorts.

“Careful, Niall,” Dev says, “he’ll tease you just as much when you get a girlfriend.”

"If he gets a girlfriend,” I say flatly.

Niall punches my feet. Dev roars with laughter. Fuck, I’m going to miss these two if I leave. I wish I’d put my pride aside earlier, and given myself a better chance of staying. I only hope it will work out now.

———————————————-

Simon saunters out of the north school entrance with his typical sunshine grin. He’s wearing floral shorts, mismatched floral shirt, a rosebud bracelet, and his checkered Vans because he has no regard for fashion norms whatsoever. It's amazing. Bunce is by his side, holding her heavy textbooks. When Simon spots me, he runs up and wraps his arms around my shoulders, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Hi, darling,” he purrs.

“Hello, love,” I reply hushed.

Bunce promptly ruins the mood by fake retching onto the sidewalk. I roll my eyes. Simon chuckles. “Thanks, Pen.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to help Basilton just so you two could be gross for longer.”

I shrug. “Well, I certainly do appreciate the help. Thank you, Bunce.”

“Aw,” she drawls sarcastically. “You’re going to make me actually sick up.”

Simon sticks his tongue out and holds onto me tighter.  “You think he’s going to ace his exams tomorrow, Pen?”

“If he follows my brilliant teaching? Yes.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say genuinely. Because I will, no doubt. Because I have too much to lose if I don’t. Bunce notices, observant as she is, nodding with a genuinely kind expression.

“So,” Simon says, “are we off to our date now?”

I grin wolfishly, excitement brewing in my gut. “As soon as you get on my bike, yes.”

Bunce sighs, already turning on her heels. “Bye, arseholes. Don’t defile too many places, please.”

Simon shrugs. I flip her off. He swings his legs over the back of my bike and wraps his arms around my middle automatically. Two engine revs, and we’re off.

Originally, I thought about taking him to Mount Olympus. But that’s too predictable. Simon and I need more than one place to call our’s. So we don’t head north towards my neighbourhood, but west, towards the Wavering Wood.

It’s another secluded area in town, surrounded by willow trees and thick brush. Most people avoid it. But I know of somewhere perfect for us. With some brilliant manoeuvring and and careful driving by me, we end up in a small clearing by a pond. The grass is soft and flat. Willow trees give us just enough shade to be comfortable. The water sparkles in the sunlight like something out of a dream.

“Wow,” Simon gasps, “this is gorgeous.”

“Our little town is full of surprises. And,” I pull out a large plastic bag from my knapsack, “so am I.”

I bring out the plastic tablecloth first. It’s white and red checkered, like something out of the fifties. Then I take out the roast beef sandwiches and sour cherry scones. Cousin Pritchard was more than happy to give me some fresh ones for free. Simon’s eyes light up beautifully at those. I spread out my arms with flourish.

“Ta-da,” I announce.

“A picnic by the water?” Simon giggles. “Really?”

“I’m feeling romantic. Sue me.”

He quickly plops himself down cross legged on the crinkly plastic. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Especially if there’s food.” He opens the takeaway container, grinning at the roast beef. “When did you get all this? At lunch?”

I sit down too, stretching out to lounge next to him. “No, free period at the end of the day. I broke many speed limits getting all of it.”

“Baz! You’re supposed to study during free periods!”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Simon, exams start tomorrow and I’ve been studying intensely for three weeks. If I’m not ready, then neither Bunce or I are as smart as we think we are.” Simon still looks concerned. I reach out and grab his hand, running my thumb over the back of it. “I’ll be alright, love. Trust me.”

His expression finally breaks, a corner of his lip pulled up. He stretches out next to me, not letting go of my hand. “Okay.”

Simon digs into his food. I laugh at all the crumbs around his mouth. Part of me wants to kiss or lick them off, but I settle for just brushing them. Simon giggles and blushes, making my heart soar. He goes after the scones almost immediately after finishing his sandwich. Of course he inhales them like a vacuum cleaner.

“Leave some for me, Salisbury,” I grumble.

“Fine,” he groans, handing me a pastry.

“Sorry I’m not letting you eat all of the sugary treats, love. I know it’s a sacrifice.”

He glares, but the weight of it is lessened by his bulging chipmunk cheeks filled with crumbly pastry. I just keep smiling as I bite my singular scone.

Once we’re done, I end up on my back with my eyes closed, Simon half resting on my chest. He uses an index finger to slowly run over my collarbone. I trace circles in the small of his back. His strong chin digs into me slightly, but I’m fine. Really, I’m fantastic. I’ve sitting by a pond, resting in willow tree shade, all with a gorgeous boy pressed against me. This might be heaven. But I wish Simon seemed to feel the same.

“Simon,” I sigh, “stop looking at me like that.”

I can practically hear Simon frown in confusion. He knows I can’t see him, but I’m incredibly perceptive. I can feel it. “Like what?”

“Like I’m going to disappear the second you close your eyes. I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

“O-Oh.” He lowers his head, putting his arms around my middle and his cheek over my heart. “Sorry.”

I sigh, petting his hair. “It’s alright, love, I understand. Everything starts tomorrow. Just...” I wrap both my arms around, trying to get him even closer. “Just don’t start letting me go until I’m actually gone.”

Simon growls slightly, like a defensive animal. He scoots up and buries his face in my shoulder. His grip on my waist tightens. I can feel his every huffy hot breath.

“I’m not letting you go ever,” he whispers harashly. “I promise.”

I chuckle, amused by his affection and determination. “I know, love. Me neither, and I’m going to fight like hell to stay. I promise.”

He starts moving around. I can’t see what he’s doing from my angle. Suddenly, Simon is lifting up my hand and putting something around it.

“Simon, what are you-”

“It’s for good luck,” he blurts. “For tomorrow.”

I lift up my wrist. It’s a rosebud bracelet like the one he's wearing. But strangely, the flowers are black instead of pink. It looks handmade. The roses are meticulously hand coloured, each flower obviously glued on one by one. I strain my neck down to kiss the top of Simon’s soft hair. He squeezes my sides

“Thank you, love,” I whisper.

Simon hums in approval. I fall back and look back out the sky. We go quiet again, and I bask in the moment. This perfect moment just before the storm really starts. With Simon against me, my fingers in his hair, him breathing softly, gripping my shirt, and everything calm around us.

For a long while I thought I wanted to burn the whole world down. But now, I think I could be content just staying here forever.

———————————————-

Watford is looming over me even more than usual. I feel like the whole building is going to lean down and fucking eat me. Students walk in without noticing me. Most look like they’ve been hit by a bus, with messy hair, baggy eyes, and piles of loose notes in hand. I try to look calm, but my hand is fiddling like mad, spinning Simon’s bracelet over and over. The smooth glide of it is comforting. I try to focus on that. Until something crashes into me so hard I nearly fall over.

“Fuck!” I wheeze.

Suddenly, a familiar freckled face pops in front of me. “Hi.”

“Bloody hell, Simon,” I breathe out harshly. “You scared me, arsehole.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, absolutely not sorry at all. He’s wearing his rose flower crown again. He does tend to wear it when he’s excited. “You seemed really deep in thought, love.”

I sigh, running a nervous hand over my hair. “Just, this is it. Whatever I do starting now decides my fate. Ugh, Christ, that’s so over dramatic.”

“It’s fine, I understand. And don’t worry.” He reaches down to squeeze my hand, the one with the bracelet on, his matching one right next to it. “You’re going to do great.”

“You better! Or I’m going to have to deal with a very weepy Simon.”

Penelope Bunce saunters her way up to us, pushing her glasses up her nose. Simon grins and throws his arm around her shoulders. “Well, if you taught him well, then we all should be fine, right?”

“Teaching can only get you so far depending on the person.” She flashes me a smug as all hell look, and if Simon wasn’t in my way, I swear I’d kick her. But that smug smile soon becomes genuine, and to my utter surprise, she walks in front of me, stands on her toes, and ruffles my hair. What the hell?

“Good luck, Baz,” she says. “You might not want it, but I’ll give it anyway.”

Huh, not what I was expecting. But I certainly appreciate the sentiment. I nod. “Thank you.”

She nods in reply, then turns to walk into the school. Simon and I are the only ones left outside. I feel him lean against me, his arm perfectly lined up with mine.

“Good luck,” he whispers. “I don’t think you need it, but I want to say it.”

I kiss the top of his head. “Thank you, love. Good luck to you too.”

In a split second, before I can register what happens, Simon reaches up, turns my head, and kisses me. It’s insistent and passionate. He’s obviously holding nothing back, so I don’t either. I put hands on his hips and pull him against me. Simon’s arms wrap fully around my neck, pressing us together even more. If I could, I'd never let go.

But we do have to pull apart eventually, though our faces stay close. I keep my eyes closed and lean my forehead against his. He breathes heavily. The smell of cherries tickles my nose.

“Good luck,” he whispers.

“You already said that,” I reply. He smacks my head lightly.

“Shut up.”

“Nope. If I do well, you’re going to be stuck with me and my smart mouth.”

He pulls back, letting his arms fall down until we’re holding hands. “Yeah, I know. So go ace those goddamn tests.”

I start walking us towards Watford, fingers laced together, so tight and unwilling to part. “As you wish, love.”

———————————————-

AN: I know this chapter may feel like filler but I wanted it really badly. Baz needed to settle shit with his friends of course. And Simon and Baz need some normalcy through all this craziness. Like, I wanted them to have a calm moment before exams. I also felt like I needed to show them being normal. Just them go on normal dates with no snogging and being happy together. Sorta shows they could continue after this insanity and excitement, hm? Hope that got across. This is probably unnecessary but I always feel the need to explain my writing. Thank you for reading! And thank you again to the amazing fan artists! :D

Chapter title is from "War" by Sum 41

[the-redamancist]

single father!choi seungcheol

genre: fluff

word count: 1.0k

is a proud father to who he deems to be the cutest daughter on the planet

has developed a tendency to dote on her too much ever since his partner decided to pack their bags and walk out the door, leaving him with no time to tend to his broken heart and all the time to tend to their child 

very smiley around her, but constantly feels the pressure of having to fill the roles of two people, and worries a lot about his performance as a single parent

the way that he tries so hard to always make her feel like she’s loved is so precious

takes her on daily trips to the park, and really likes to watch her run around with the other children

is on really good terms with most of the parents in the neighbourhood

tends to be a tad overprotective, and is very much aware of it himself

he simply doesn’t like the thought of her being away from him

almost cried one time when mingyu reminded him that she eventually has to move out and form her own family

always makes sure that his daughter goes to school every day with bomb hair because yes, he is one of those dads that watch children hair tutorials on youtube and yes, he is great at recreating those hairstyles on her

no daughter of his is ready for school even if one hair is out of place

also may or may not carry a small packet of mini hair ties in his pocket everywhere just in case

his hands are kinda big, so when walking side by side, she only grabs onto his pointer finger (only barely getting the digit to fit inside her tiny palm), and he thinks that it’s the cutest thing ever

plans day outs with her weeks beforehand, and gets more excited than her on trips to the beach and dog cafes

claims that he wants her to make as many friends as possible, but highkey gives the side-eye to any boy that even comes within a 2-metre radius of her

loves taking pictures of her, and you bet that they are all over the walls in their apartment

his phone and laptop wallpapers are also no doubt, pictures of her

isn’t the type to randomly shove conversations about her down people’s throats, but can talk about her for hours if someone asked 

the type of father that will spend half an hour winning his daughter that one teddy bear at the claw machine, but will also teach her to help elders carry groceries, and to say ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ when appropriate

so so so gentle when correcting her for any mistakes that she’s made, but is firm enough so that the words stay in her mind

has never once raised his voice at her, because she overheard him scolding chan over the phone one time and cried for an hour straight

has ever since developed a fear of ever hurting her, and will do anything to ensure that she’s healthy physically and mentally

he’s just so determined to be the best parents that he can be, and anyone can tell that he really does put all his heart into taking care of her and making her feel loved

and as a naturally bright and observant child, no one knows how good of a parent he is than her

since becoming a single parent, seungcheol’s life was so full of her, that for a few years, he had no thoughts of finding another partner

his career was stable, and his daughter was incredibly kind-hearted; he had nothing else to ask for

and despite the occasional phone numbers slipped into his shirt pocket, he would throw them all out, thinking that he had no time for a relationship

you first enter the picture as a stranger who happened to be taking the same bus as seungcheol and his daughter, both parties returning from a trip to the local amusement park

and despite normally being a pretty chill child, seungcheol’s daughter was feeling unusually sensitive, and has been crying nonstop ever since her father denied buying her cotton candy before they left, saying that it’ll ruin her teeth

seungcheol, sensing the annoyed looks that other passengers were sending him, was desperately trying to get her calm down

but to no avail, no matter how hard he tried, she continued to let out sobs

just as he was about to give up, her cries abruptly came to a stop, and his head darted up, only to see her staring up in wonder

,,,,,at you

you were as surprised at her response as seuncheol, to be honest

all you had done after catching the teary eyes of the child was to give her a smile

upon the ceasing of her cries, the other passengers averted their glares, and seungcheol was beyond thankful

‘thank you’, he said sincerely, tucking a strand of his daughter’s hair behind her ear, ‘she had been crying for almost an hour already, and i still don’t know why. she usually isn’t like this’

‘she seems like a great kid,’ you responded, giving him a small smile, and seungcheol froze, immediately understanding why his daughter was so in awe earlier

there was something about your features that just drew him in, whether it be the genuine kindness shining in your eyes or the gentle curve of your lips, and for a second, it almost felt like he was falling in love for the first time

however, habits die hard, and he abruptly broke away from his thoughts, reminding himself firmly that he already had enough in his life to take care of, and was about to turn away from you when his daughter spoke up

‘can you please marry daddy?’

your eyes widened at the innocent question, briefly meeting seungcheol’s own flustered gaze before leaning down to face her own determined features, ‘why?’

‘because daddy has never looked at someone that way ever since mommy left’

he was about to apologise for her thoughtless words, but you nodded in understanding, a sudden playfulness filling your orbs as you looked up at seungcheol’s flushed cheeks and downcast eyes

‘well, i don’t about the marry bit just yet, but i definitely won’t say no to a date’ 

[danfanciesphil]

Phan Teacher AU (Part 4)

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

This is all Mr Horowitz’s fault. 

Okay, so it’s also a little bit Dan’s fault for forgetting to bring an umbrella, or even a sensible coat, but in his defence, he had no idea this would happen. 

Normally, Dan’s walk to the bus stop after school is little more than two minutes, and so far he has always made it in time to catch the 3:17 bus. It’s a good thing too, because Dan knows that the next one doesn’t come for another hour. 

He’d been on his way to catch this same bus, in fact, when Mr Horowitz caught his arm, asking whether, before he left, he’d just run upstairs to the labs and clear up the experiment from the last class. Dan, being the school’s servant boy, couldn’t exactly refuse. He’d raced up to the labs at just after 3pm, cleared the desks in lightning speed, run a broom over the floor and sprinted to the bus stop. 

But alas, the sight with which he was greeted was the tail end of it, chugging into the distance as the rain pelted down. 

So now, Dan is stood, shivering like mad, in the downpour. It’s currently 3:30pm, and he still has another 47 minutes before the next bus. 

“Fuck you, Horowitz,” Dan mutters under his breath, which comes out in a silvery puff of steam. 

He wraps his thin jacket around himself a little tighter, rocking on the balls of his feet. Students keep passing him by, some sending sympathetic looks, and some chuckling at his plight. Dan knows he must look an absolute sight; his hair is probably plastered to his head, and his smart shirt and skinny jeans are so drenched that they’d fill a few jugs if they were wrung out, he’s sure. 

“Wanna use my Physics textbook as an umbrella, sir?” A Year 11 student Dan vaguely recognises calls out as they walk past, laughing. 

Dan shakes his head with a grim smile. “No thanks,” He replies, as tactfully as he can bring himself to be. 

It’s at this moment that a car pulls up to the bus stop, pausing right beside where Dan is stood. 

The window rolls down, and Dan’s immediate instinct is to run away - a product of the copious amount of ‘stranger danger’ warnings instilled into him during his teacher training. 

Then, the driver of the vehicle leans across the passenger seat, and Dan nearly wails. It’s Phil. Of course it’s Phil. 

“Hey!” Phil says, a glimmer of amusement in his cobalt eyes. “Need a lift?”

Trying his best not to think about the fact that he looks the worst he ever has, Dan forces a tight smile, leaning towards the open window. 

“Hey, hah- yeah, I didn’t exactly prepare for the weather today.” Dan says, chuckling at himself. “But it’s okay. Thanks for the offer but I live really far away. I’ll just get the next bus.” 

“When’s the next bus?” Phil asks. 

A car behind him slows to a stop, unable to get past. Dan glances up at it worriedly. The driver, an older man in a suit, looks impatient. 

“Um, in forty-five minutes. Ish.” 

Phil’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open. “What?! You’re planning to wait here in the rain for that long?”

Dan tries to give Phil a bright smile, like he’s fine with it, but a raindrop falls from his forehead into his eye, making him wince. 

“Y-yeah, it’s okay, I’m-” Dan cuts himself as a sneeze surges up out of nowhere; he just about manages to turn away, aiming it into the crook of his elbow. 

When he looks back up at Phil, he does not look pleased. “Dan,” he says, his voice dropping to his firm, teacher tone. “Get in the car.” 

Partly because the gentleman behind Phil has begun honking his horn, and partly because his knees have jellified at the sound of Phil speaking to him this way, Dan pulls open Phil’s passenger door and climbs in. 

It’s so warm inside that he could cry. 

“I’m gonna get your seats all wet.” Dan says mournfully, trying to take up as little space as he can. 

“They’ll dry.” Phil tells him, turning the heater up until it’s blasting over Dan’s face and chest. “There are more important things than courtesy, you know Dan.”

Dan turns to him, trying to work out whether Phil’s annoyed. He watches silently as Phil pulls away from the kerb, joining the thick muddle of after-school traffic inching its way towards the main road. 

“My mum raised me to be a polite young man,” Dan jokes, trying to lighten the mood. 

“My mum raised me not to put my health in danger for the sake of asking a friend for a lift once in a while,” Phil replies, looking over at Dan. The windscreen wipers squeak as they battle the awful weather. After a moment, Phil sighs, his expression softening. “Sorry, I don’t mean to have a go at you. But come and find me if you miss your bus again, okay? I’d rather drive a bit out of my way today than have you turn up tomorrow with pneumonia.”

Dan nods guiltily. “Wait till you see how far away I live before you get too generous.”

*

“Wow,” Phil whistles, eyebrows raised as he stares down at Google Maps on his phone. “You weren’t kidding.”

They’ve pulled into a layby, the rain still thundering against the glass. It doesn’t matter though, because Phil’s car is warm and dry. It’s littered with little plastic toys, highlighting Phil’s quirkier side. There are Marvel superhero bobble-heads blu-tacked onto the dashboard, and the cupholders are filled with keyrings that look like they were won out of those two-penny slot machines.

There are also sweet wrappers scattered around - skittles, starburst, pick ‘n’ mix, or anything sugary and colourful. 

None of it seems anything other than incredibly endearing, though. Dan could spend hours rifling through this car, which is so intrinsically Phil, just learning about him through his clutter. 

“Yeah,” Dan says awkwardly. “It’s a forty minute bus ride.” 

“You do that every day?” Phil asks, looking up at him in wonder. “Twice a day?”

Dan shrugs. “It’s not that bad.”

It would be a lot worse if he had nothing to look forward to once he actually got to the school, Dan thinks privately. 

“Um, don’t worry about taking me all the way,” Dan says quickly, “just drop me at another bus stop or something on your way home-”

Phil flaps a hand at him distractedly, turning back to his phone. He pinches the map, searching the screen for a route to take. 

“No, no, I don’t mind taking you,” Phil says, chewing his lip. He looks up, out of the windscreen, appearing to have some sort of internal debate. “It’s just... well, do you mind if we make a stop?”

Dan blinks at him. 

“Uh, a stop?” He asks, uncomprehending. 

“Yeah,” Phil replies. “It’s just that I need to let my dog out. Would you mind if we stopped at mine on the way? I’ll take you straight home after.”

Dan pauses for a moment, the words not sinking in straight away. Phil wants to take him to his house, where he actually lives, and he’s asking if that would be a problem.

“Phil, you’re literally rescuing me from a storm,” Dan says slowly, watching the bashful smile spread over Phil’s gorgeous features. “You could drive me via the Eiffel Tower if you wanted.”

Phil grins at him, putting his phone down and releasing the handbrake. “Maybe we should save the Eiffel Tower for another time.” Phil side-eyes him, questioningly. “Like in two weeks?” 

Dan’s already racing heart picks up a little more speed, the fact that he is currently en route to Phil’s actual house beginning to seep into reality. He laughs, feeling awkward about what Phil is implying. 

“Yeah, I still haven’t decided whether I’m coming on the trip yet,” Dan says, hands clasping together in his damp lap. 

“You know it’s free for teachers, right?”

“I’m not a teacher.” 

Phil smirks. “I’m sure I can persuade John to let you in free of charge.”

“Who?” Dan asks.

“John. Mr Green.” Phil clarifies; Dan just stares blankly. “Vice Principal of the school?”

“Oh,” Dan says, vaguely remembering a ‘VP Green’ showing him round on his first day. “I haven’t seen him since I first started. Sorry.”

“Well, he’s coming on the trip.” Phil tells him. “So, that’s a perfect opportunity to get to know him better.” 

“Right, because having an awkward conversation in Paris with the Vice Principal of a school I’m heavily under-qualified to work at is top of my to-do list.”

Phil laughs heartily, pulling off the main road into a suburban maze of small houses. They can’t be more than ten minutes from the school. Dan gazes out of his rain-speckled window at the idyllic neighbourhood, trying not to be too obvious about how badly he wants to soak it all in. 

“You’re not under-qualified.” Phil says, leaving no room for argument. You’re one of the best TA’s I’ve ever had.” 

Dan stays quiet in the face of this statement, not sure how to handle it. 

“Besides,” Phil continues, to Dan’s relief. “John’s actually a pretty cool guy,” 

As it has rather often since the film screening on Wednesday, Dan’s mind wanders to thoughts of Paris, of being there with Phil and the rest of the Year Nine class. In his current state of awkward, socially inept pining over the class’ teacher, Dan’s not sure he’d be able to handle the experience. 

Yes, it would be an amazing opportunity, and undoubtedly fun at times. But the class already tease Dan, sensing his overly-fond opinion of their favourite teacher despite him trying to keep it under control. It’s hard to imagine an entire weekend of that, in the so-called ‘city of love’, whilst attempting at least a shade of professionalism. 

Not to mention how uncomfortable the whole thing could make Phil. 

“But I don’t wanna pressure you.” Phil says, interrupting Dan’s tumultuous thoughts. “I just think it’d be fun if you came.” 

Before Dan can properly comprehend that statement, let alone reply to it, Phil is pulling the car over and switching off the engine. 

They’re parked in the middle of a quiet, orderly street, right outside a cute little bungalow, complete with a neat front garden and little pathway to the front door. 

“You live here?” Dan asks, awed by how... lovely it is. 

Phil chuckles, unbuckling his seatbelt. “No Dan, I brought you to someone else’s house and we’re going to break in.” 

Dan turns to narrow his eyes at Phil, who just laughs more. 

“Come on, let’s get inside - it’s still belting down.” Phil says, unfastening Dan’s seatbelt before he gets the chance. 

Dan takes a deep breath in a vain attempt to prepare himself for what’s about to happen, and follows Phil as he hops out of the car, and jogs to the front door. 

*

If Phil’s car is telling of his personality, his house is as though he’d cracked open his chest, scooped handfuls of his soul out and splattered it all over the walls. 

Dan has never seen any sort of interior design that represented a person so well before. It’s not just visually appealing, it’s also a spectacle to behold. Dan’s sure that by just opening one random drawer in Phil’s house and glancing at the contents, he’d understand a thousand more things about this man, strange and enigmatic as he is. 

They enter into a small entrance hall, painted a sunny yellow. There’s a semi-circular welcome mat on the floor, made to look like half a pepperoni pizza. On one wall hangs a large mirror, in a bizarre, warped shape, the edges curved as though they’d been drawn by a child. 

There’s a tall cheese plant in one corner, and on a table below the mirror sits a potted scarlet anthurium. It’s a colourful room, and Dan’s very aware that this is only the very entrance of Phil’s house. 

Before Dan can comment on the aesthetics - which he greatly appreciates, having lived in a cheap, falling apart, ‘student house’ for some time now - a small creature tears through the doorway on the left, bounding towards them, barking shrilly. 

Phil crouches down to greet it, gathering the bundle of excitable fur into his arms immediately, laughing. Mouth falling open in an adoring ‘o’, Dan drops to the floor instinctively, an overwhelming urge to pet this animal forcing him to its level. 

“Dan,” Phil chuckles, receiving several licks to his face. “This is Buffy.”

It lets out a ‘ruff!’ upon hearing its name, turning to Dan, tongue hanging out as it surveys him. In a millisecond, the dog is wriggling in Phil’s arms, struggling to be free. It worms its way out of Phil’s grip in a second, leaping across to Dan’s lap, tail wagging excitedly. 

“Oh my God,” Dan says, cuddling the dog close to himself as he strokes and scritches and pets its soft, caramel fur. “This is the cutest dog I’ve ever seen in my life. What breed is it?” 

“She’s a paperanian,” Phil says, moving to sit cross-legged on the floor. He laughs as Buffy begins frantically licking at Dan’s face, front paws on his chest as she attempts to reach him. “A pomeranian-papillon mix.”

Phil strokes along her back, fondly, his hand occasionally brushing across Dan’s. 

Dan is giggling into the shock of Buffy’s fur, relishing the adorable, happy temperament of this dog. His only family dog had been a springer-spaniel when he was young, and it had died before he’d had a chance to bond with it properly. 

“Unff-” Dan says, voice muffled as Buffy licks eagerly at his chin. “How long’ve you had her?” 

“About a year and a half?” Phil replies, smiling warmly. “I used to volunteer at a shelter when I lived in France. I didn’t mean to get attached, but I couldn’t help it. So I adopted her.” 

“She’s adorable,” Dan says, stroking over her soft, pointed ears as she begins to calm down, happily settled in Dan’s lap. “I think I’m in love.” 

Phil glances up at Dan, eyebrow raised. For some reason, Dan finds himself blushing. “I get it.” Phil replies. “I fell in love on sight.” 

Dan holds Phil’s gaze for a moment, any responses getting caught in his throat. Buffy barks, stealing their attention, and Phil giggles at her. He stands, scooping her up from Dan’s lap and into his arms. 

Dan tries not to pout about this. 

“Come on, then,” Phil says, presumably to the dog, “I’ll let you out for a bit.”

Dan stands too, following Phil through his hallway and into the room on the left. 

Again, he is struck by the amazing decor of the room in which he enters, which seems to be a spacious living area, but he barely has time to appreciate it before Phil is heading into the kitchen at the other end, Buffy still tucked in the crook of his arm. 

At the back of the kitchen there’s a glass sliding door, leading to what appears to be a tiny back garden, surrounded by a tall wooden fence. It’s through here that Phil lets Buffy out, barking happily as she scampers across the wet grass, not bothered by the rain in the slightest. 

Phil slides the door shut after her, turning to Dan with a smile. “I’ll just let her run around for a bit. She’s been cooped up all day.” 

“I guess you have to leave her here while you’re at school?” 

“Yeah,” Phil replies guiltily. “It’s not as bad as some jobs, because I can let her out in the morning, and then I finish quite early in the day, but I still feel bad.”

“I’m sure she’s used to it.” Dan says, trying to make a positive comment. 

“Yeah, I suppose.” Phil says. “If I ever have to stay late, I can call my brother to come and check on her. He lives just down the road.” 

“That’s convenient, at least.” 

Phil shrugs, turning to his kitchen counter and retrieving the bright red kettle. 

“It’s not perfect, but it works okay.” Phil says. “Anyway, I’m rarely away from home. It’s not every day I have to rescue damoiseau’s in distress caught in rainstorms because they missed their bus.” Phil winks at him; along with the casual french he dropped into the sentence, it makes Dan feel a little dazed. 

“Do you want a cup of tea while she runs about for a bit?” Phil asks.

Dan feels his heart flutter, and wonders whether any of the other TA’s have ever had the honour of coming here, of meeting Phil’s dog and receiving hot beverages on rainy days. 

“That’d be great, thanks.” Dan answers quietly, still feeling like an inconvenience. 

As Phil fills the kettle and gets the mugs, Dan takes the opportunity to look around his kitchen. It’s beautiful, just like the rest of the house, but with a few youthful, quirky touches that indicate Phil’s sillier side. 

The walls are cream, as are the countertops, but there are splashes of colour everywhere. The microwave is bright yellow, and there are a host of tiny herb plants in red, green, blue and orange pots atop the windowsill. 

Phil’s fridge is a light blue, and around his light wooden table, the chairs are varying sizes and colours, mismatched, but in a way that seems put together. 

“It’s so homely in here,” Dan muses, not really meaning to say it aloud. 

Phil turns to him, evidently surprised. “Thanks! Most people say it’s a bit much.” He pours the boiling water into the mugs, chuckling. “My brother said that it’s as if I gathered a random load of furniture and scattered it about without thinking.” 

“Did you?” 

“Kind of, I suppose.” Phil allows, shrugging one shoulder. “I just pick up bits and pieces that I like the look of, and fit them in as best I can.” He laughs, opening his sky-blue fridge to get the milk. “I don’t pretend to be an expert in interior design. I just like things to be...” 

“Pretty?” Dan supplies.

“I was gonna say colourful,” Phil says, smiling at him. “But yeah, I suppose. Thanks.” 

Dan blushes faintly, casting another look around. He notices for the first time that Phil’s fridge door is covered in those alphabet magnets, some of which spell out the phrase ‘normalness leads to sadness’. There’s also a photo pinned there, of Phil and a man Dan vaguely recognises as his brother. He’s holding Buffy in his arms, smiling a very Phil-like smile.

“Milk? Sugar?” Phil asks, tearing Dan’s attention away. 

“Just milk, thanks.” 

Phil pours the milk, humming to himself, and adds two lumps of sugar to his own cup from a gnome-shaped pot nearby. He places the mugs down on the table, and pulls out a chair. 

“You can sit down, you know,” Phil tells Dan amusedly, slipping into one of the seats. 

Dan obeys, sliding into the chair opposite him and retrieving his mug. “Thanks.” 

He sips, even though it’s far too hot, trying to think past his nerves, for something, anything, to say that isn’t ‘wow you’re pretty and your house is pretty and your dog is the cutest thing in the world and I think I’m crushing on you far, far too much to even be here let alone go to Paris with you in two weeks’. He comes up blank. 

Then, quite unexpectedly, Phil reaches across the table, and pushes a strand of his fringe away from his eye, a slight smile playing on his lips. Dan freezes, a deer in headlights, as Phil’s fingertips brush his forehead, acutely aware of how damp he is still. 

“Your hair,” Phil says softly, wonderingly. “It’s curly.” 

Dan blushes furiously at once, ducking away from Phil’s touch, feeling self-conscious. “Shit, yeah. The rain, y’know...”

Phil draws his hand back to his mug, smiling amusedly. “It’s cute.” 

Dan looks at him in surprise. He’s never, in a million years, considered the idea that anybody might find his natural, untameable curls anything other than ridiculous, but all of a sudden he has a powerful urge to never touch a pair of straighteners again. 

Dan lifts his hand to his head, patting the mess of curls that are drying there. 

“I... never really liked them.” He admits, sheepish.

“You should embrace them,” Phil says encouragingly. He shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, if you want. I think they suit you. But then, it’s not my hair.” 

All of a sudden, Dan shivers, partly because he’s wet and cold, but mostly because Phil is being so sweet that his body actually seems to be rejecting the sentiment, not sure how else to process it. 

Phil frowns, noticing the tremble. “Hey, take that off.” 

He gestures to Dan’s torso, standing from the chair. Dan just looks, bewildered, at Phil’s outstretched hand. 

“Um...”

“Your jacket, Dan.” Phil says, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’ll throw it in the dryer.” 

“Oh, no it’s okay-”

“Dan, you’re actually shivering.” Phil interrupts, voice firm. “I’ll just dry off your wet jacket, it’ll take ten minutes.” 

“It’s warm in here, you really don’t have to.” Dan mumbles, but he’s already shaking the damn thing off his shoulders, because Phil is using his teacher-voice, and it’s drilling right into his chilly bones.

Phil just takes the jacket from him, opening a secret cupboard door under the kitchen counter to reveal a washer-dryer. He places Dan’s jacket inside, presses a few buttons, and smiles in satisfaction as the dryer begins its cycle. 

He turns back to Dan, frowning again as he takes in the sight of him. 

“Hey, drink your tea, it’ll warm you up.” Phil instructs, moving across the room, towards the doorway. “I’ll be right back.”

Dan doesn’t get a chance to object; Phil slips out of the room, leaving Dan sat at the table in just his damp, clinging, white shirt, hands clasped around the mug of tea.

Then, in a moment, he’s back again, a bundle of green material in one hand. He hands it to Dan casually, then moves to sit back in his seat.

“Um, what’s this?” Dan asks, confused. He turns the green item over in his hands carefully. 

“A hoodie,” Phil says, like it’s perfectly normal. “You’re cold.”

Dan swallows, squeezing the material in his fist. It feels thick and warm. “Oh, th-thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Phil says, beaming. “Put it on, you’re not allowed to be cold in my house.”

“I didn’t realise you had such strict house rules,” Dan replies teasingly, but pulls the hoodie over his head, threading his arms through the sleeves. 

It smells - oh, Lord - it smells just like him. It’s cinnamon sweet, with a fresh, plant-like overtone. A cooling, freshly baked apple pie on a windowsill, the breeze sweeping in its delicious aroma, carrying the notes of the newly cut spring grass. 

Dan has to force himself not to bury his nose in the sleeves that hang down over his hands. 

He tries to distract himself by looking down at the text on the front of it, which reads ‘York University’. “I see I’m repping your college.” 

“Hah, yeah, sorry about that.” Phil says bashfully, sipping more tea. “I guess it’s a bit weird to hang onto that, isn’t it?”

Dan shrugs. “Not if you liked it.” 

Phil smiles at him appreciatively. “I liked the uni, yeah. And I like the hoodie. I like it even better on you.” 

Simply because Dan doesn’t trust himself to speak further about this without melting into a gooey puddle, he decides to change the subject. 

“So, is it Buffy as in... the vampire slayer?” 

He nods towards the screen door, through which Phil’s dog is sprinting happily across the grass, pausing every so often to sniff a patch, tail wagging furiously. 

Phil turns to watch her for a moment, laughing. He nods, turning back to wink at Dan. “I mean, it is the greatest show of all time.” 

Dan considers this, nodding. “It’s definitely up there.”

“You’ve seen it?” Phil asks, sounding surprised. “Not many people have, these days.”

“You spend too much time around teenagers.” Dan says with a wry smile. “The kids in your classes probably weren’t even born when Buffy was cool.” 

Phil sighs, nodding in agreement. “You’re probably right.”

“Hey, it’s their loss.” Dan says. “They’ll never know the awesomeness that is Buffy Summers kicking kicking the ass of every monster that dares to cross her.”

“Or the incredible hotness of Spike,” Phil adds, somewhat wistfully. 

“Spike over Angel? Interesting.” 

“To be honest, if I were Buffy, I think I’d have a similarly hard time deciding between them.”

“Same,” Dan agrees, staring down into his tea. 

“Hey, I forgot,” Phil announces suddenly, his voice bright and cheerful. “I made cupcakes! Would you like one?”

Dan watches as Phil stands from his chair, heading to a cupboard to pull out a cake tin. 

“Um,” Dan says; his stomach is rumbling at the mere mention of food, let alone cake, but he wants to be careful about how far he should run with Phil’s generosity. In the end however, his tummy, which hasn’t been fed since lunch, makes the decision for him. “Sure. Thanks.”

Phil finds a small plate and presents Dan with one of the most incredible looking cakes he’s ever seen. Putting bakeries to shame, Phil has piped rainbow frosting atop a small, palm sized cake. He’s also sliced off the top of the cake, cut it in half, and pushed the pieces into the icing in a traditional ‘butterfly cake’ style. 

The whole thing is covered in some kind of edible glitter too, making it sparkle under Phil’s soft, overhead lamps. 

“Christ, you made this?” Dan asks, staring down at it in amazement. “I feel like I shouldn’t eat something this pretty.”

Phil chuckles. “It’s either going to you or Buffy, so eat up.”

Phil takes his seat again, and Dan diligently begins peeling the glittery pink case from the sides of the cupcake. He glances up at Phil, watching him, and pauses.

“You’re not having one?” 

Phil shakes his head. “Trust me, I’ve had about sixty already since I made them. He leans back in his chair, placing a hand on his stomach. “I’m cupcake’d out.”

Dan’s eyes fall to the cake in his hand, feeling awkward about eating it now. 

Phil laughs at him, and Dan looks up. “What?” 

“Afraid I’m trying to poison you?” 

Dan splutters, having not even thought of that. Realistically though, he perhaps should be a bit more concerned. He doesn’t know Phil that well, after all.  

Playing along, Dan eyes the cake suspiciously, bringing it to his nose and sniffing. “Well, it is awfully convenient that you just had to let Buffy out whilst you already had me in your car...”

Phil rolls his eyes, smirking. Without a word, he leans forwards, plucks the cupcake from Dan’s hand, and brings it to his lips. He takes a small bite, frosting and all, licking glitter and crumbs from his lips as he holds Dan’s gaze. 

He hands the cupcake back over, looking triumphant. “There. If it’s poisoned, then we’ll both die.”

“Finally,” Dan jokes, taking a bite out of the cupcake, heart palpitating over what just happened. 

The cupcake is glorious. Dan shuts his eyes, moaning a little in appreciation. It tastes like strawberry laces, and vanilla ice cream, and pure, unfiltered joy. It tastes like how he imagine Phil himself would taste, were he smothered in frosting and had a surprise, raspberry jam centre. 

“Fucking hell,” Dan says eloquently, diving straight back in for another bite. “Phil Lester, you’re a genius.” 

In three bites, Dan has devoured the entire thing, and he licks the remnants off each of his fingers, wishing he could go back in time and experience that slice of heaven all over again. 

When he eventually meets Phil’s gaze, he’s looking a little dazed. There’s a pink tint to his pale skin, resting just above his sharp cheekbones. Seeming to gather himself, Phil clears his throat, and adjusts his glasses, smiling. 

“Glad you liked it,” Phil mumbles, busying himself by taking Dan’s plate to the sink. 

“You should apply for Bake Off,” Dan says sincerely.

Phil laughs, rinsing the plate under the tap, faced away from him. 

“Actually don’t,” Dan says, changing his mind. “Just bake for me, instead.” 

Phil stacks the plate on a drying rack, turning back to him. He doesn’t sit back at the table, though. He just leans against the counter, watching Dan from afar. 

“And what do I get out of that deal, Mr Howell?” Phil asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Literally whatever you want.” Dan replies, meaning every word. 

“Careful,” Phil says, typically flirtatious, making Dan’s stomach flip. “Some people might take advantage of a promise like that.” 

Dan just laughs, staying quiet. In his mind however, he silently comes to the realisation that he can’t think of a single thing that Phil could ask for, that he would refuse to do. 

Oh, dear.

*

By the time they leave Phil’s house, the rain has eased to more of a drizzle, but it pours continuously nonetheless. Dan says goodbye to Buffy about five times, softened by her sad little whimpers and puppy eyes each time he turns to go. 

He doesn’t mind that her fur is soaked and a little muddy, he just cuddles her close, no doubt ruining Phil’s hoodie, though Phil doesn’t object. He doesn’t even tell her off as she tracks damp pawprints through the kitchen, he just uses a spare towel to dry her off, giggling as she wriggles about beneath it. 

“Aw, he’ll be back another time, Buffy,” Phil assures his whining dog, and secretly Dan bursts with happiness. 

They get out of the door eventually, and into Phil’s car. Phil sticks the heating on straight away, blasting them both as they rub their hands together. Dan wishes it would be socially acceptable to lean across and nestle into Phil’s shoulder, but alas, he settles for simply wrapping the hoodie more tightly around himself, pretending it’s Phil’s arms. 

“She loves you,” Phil says, laughing. “She’s not going to let me forget that, either.”

“What a shame,” Dan says, faking a dismayed sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to come and play with her all the time.”

Phil grins at him. “You should. Buffy would really like that.”

“Buffy would?” Dan asks, feeling just brave enough to attempt a flirtation, fuelled by the adrenaline his own body has been pumping through his veins for the past hour or so. 

Phil just smiles at him, eyes holding Dan’s for a moment, seeming to forget about starting the car. “Yeah,” he says after a while. “She really would.”

*

It’s quite painful to watch Phil driving away. 

It’s only been a couple of hours, but in the short time he and Phil spent together this afternoon, Dan had grown rather attached to his presence. 

This whole crush-thing would be so much easier if Phil was a difficult person to hang out with. But it’s so easy. They fall into banter as quickly as breathing, their conversations lasting indefinitely, because they could spring off each other’s witticisms for hours on end. 

Phil is so funny, and so effortlessly charming. He’s intelligent and sharp, which is attractive on its own, but he has such a flirtatious streak, and it only makes things worse. 

The more time Dan spends around him, in fact, the more he feels himself falling into a deep cavern of yearning. 

When Phil pulled up to Dan’s house, right before Dan got out, he handed Dan another one of his cupcakes, which he’d hidden in a little Tupperware box in the glove compartment, unbeknownst to Dan. 

Dan had protested at first, saying he couldn’t possibly steal another of his incredible creations, but Phil insisted on him having it. Eventually, Dan managed to create a condition - that he owed Phil a favour, not only for the cupcake (and the other cupcake) but for the cup of tea, and introducing him to Buffy, and the kindness, and for literally rescuing him in his hour of need and driving him forty minutes across town to his house. 

Phil laughed, but agreed to these terms. Dan had gone to leave his car then, cupcake in hand, but Phil had stopped him, saying he had an idea for how Dan could repay him. 

Of course, he had to say Paris. 

So, because he’s helpless to refuse Phil anyway, and because he owes Phil a lot, Dan agreed. So, in two weeks, he’s off to Paris, to spend an entire weekend with Phil, in the most romantic city in the world. 

Yes, there will be twenty or more teenagers along for the ride, but Dan finds it difficult enough to keep it together in Phil’s presence as it is, even during class. 

Forty-eight hours of uninterrupted time in close proximity to this man is going to render him as useless as a smitten nerd-girl in any teenage rom-com that’s existed since the beginning of time. 

He sighs, watching from his doorway as Phil’s car rounds the corner, out of sight. He opens the Tupperware, and takes a bite of the delicious cake, sighing in defeat.

“Okay, who was that?” Tyler’s voice says from right by his shoulder, making Dan jump. 

“Is that hot, French, teacher-guy?” Teddy interjects from further inside. 

Dan rolls his eyes, turning to push past both of them as he stalks into the house. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do than spy on me?”

“Aw, Dan we just want to see you happy!” Tyler exclaims, following Dan into the kitchen. 

He wraps his arms around Dan’s waist, walking behind him like a drunk mum too into the conga line, until they reach the counter. 

Dan puts his half eaten cupcake back in its box, placing it on the counter. 

“How do you know I’m not?” Dan asks crossly. 

“I mean, you’re fine.” Teddy says, strolling into the kitchen to rest his arm on Dan’s shoulder. “But fine isn’t good enough for our lovely Daniel. We want to see you being adored!”

Teddy pinches Dan’s cheek, smiling at him. Tyler kisses him on the temple, ruffling his hair. 

Dan rolls his eyes, but smiles a little under the affection. “Thanks, but I’m good.” 

He struggles free of them, intending to take an immediate shower in order to wash the rainwater off himself. He heads for the door of the kitchen, mind already on other things. 

Phil things. 

Paris things. 

“Hey, Dan?” Tyler calls out, sounding confused. Dan turns on the spot, somewhat reluctantly. “I thought you went to the University of Manchester?” 

Dan frowns in confusion. “Ty, we all went to the same uni. We literally met at uni.”

Teddy hides a smirk in Tyler’s shoulder. “Right, right.” Tyler says. “So whose hoodie is that?” 

Having completely forgotten he was even wearing the thing, Dan flushes bright red, stammering in place of a response. It’s an absurd reaction, obviously, but it sends the others into fits of laughter, and Dan instinctively knows they won’t let this go for weeks, no matter how much he tries to insist it was a purely platonic gesture on Phil’s part. 

“I hate you both,” Dan groans, practically running out of the room. 

He slams the door of the bathroom, switching on the shower, cheeks still flame-red in the mirror. He pauses, caught by the sight of his reflection, swathed in the emerald green of Phil’s hoodie. 

He strokes the words on the front, feeling how they’re beginning to flake from multiple washes, and from the creases Phil has made as he moves around in this same garment, when it’s wrapped around him instead. 

Dan lifts the sleeve to his nose, breathing in that delicious scent. The vanilla-strawberry cupcake still lingers on his tongue, making it that little bit sweeter. 

He’ll return this hoodie, he tells himself, saving it until last as he strips off for the shower. But maybe he could forget for a few days. Or maybe he could say that he wanted to wait until the next time he’s in class with Phil, which isn’t until Monday now. 

He places the hoodie carefully to one side, not wanting it to get wet, and hops in the shower. He lets his mind drift, skimming across memories of Phil’s touch against his forehead, the sound of the rain pattering against his screen door as the dog played outside, the low, fond tone of Phil’s voice from across the table, the flame of something vivacious dancing in his glacial eyes. 

Paris, he decides, as the light trickles of warm water travel over his body, might not be so bad. 

(Part 5!)

[its-love-u-asshole]

Fic Writers Week Day 7: Rec Time!

Yay! This is the day I was looking forward to the most honestly, I love spreading the love for fics I read! Please also check out a few underrated recs I did for day 2 here! For this post I’m mostly going to be listing all time favorites, as well as the fics I’m currently subscribed to (in no particular order)! I imagine this post will get freakishly long, so as always, it’s going under a read more. 

This week was amazing, it’s so lovely to see all the enthusiasm and support for fic writers <3 I hope this trend can continue way past this week as well ^^ 

Please also refer to my bookmarks! Everything I have bookmarked is quality and surely won’t let you down, but I could not include every single one on this list (it ended up being too long as is lol) but I definitely encourage you to give them all a read! 

Alright, let’s talk about some fics! 

Ride or Die (Iwaoi, E)

For an esteemed racer, intended for the big leagues, owning a garage and racing on the streets should have felt like settling rather than a dream. But Oikawa Tooru is as happy as he can be, as long as he's behind the wheel of a car; until a misstep lands him a heavy fine, and a crumbling future.

Having grown up in one of the roughest neighbourhoods in Tokyo, Iwaizumi Hajime is no stranger to the mob life. But establishing himself as a separate entity has always been his goal. He's a man of action, someone who does what he's asked without any questions. But when the people he's tried so hard to distance himself from come knocking at his front door, he realizes that he finally has to establish a side: his own.

Iwaizumi wants Oikawa's expertise: someone who can both drive well and knows his way around cars. And Oikawa wants absolutely nothing to do with gangs, the kind of people that lit a fire to his life. Everything changes when two people who live very different lives realize they're both fighting for the same thing.

Alright, so I’ve been following this fic since chapter one, and ahh @oiivkawa​ does such an amazing job with it! It’s the fast and furious AU that the fandom needed tbh, each chapter has me on the edge of my seat. The drama, romance, and fun are all evenly balanced and I can’t get enough of iwaoi’s dynamic in it! It also has the hints of an OiKuroo friendship that I love, as well as some kurotsuki thrown in, not to mention Semi even has a role?!! It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, so please go check it out! 

galaxies, within you (Iwaoi, T) 

Hajime and Tooru move in together at the start of university. Too bad they’re stuck with the two gremlins that haunt their apartment.

I read this fic just this week, so all the beautiful emotions and details are still so fresh in my head ; ; The writing in this was so gorgeous, as were the characterizations! If you love pining and happy endings, this is for you! Oh, and also funny af Matsukawa and Hanamaki shenanigans lol. The emotion and the humor compliment each other so well in this fic, one minute my heart was aching, and the next I was dying from laughter. It’s just a lovely iwaoi fic all around, so please give it a read! And make sure to follow @skiecas​ <3

Wicked Games (Kurotsuki, Iwaoi, Bokuaka, E)

After years of being one of the many faceless foot soldiers in the ranks, Bokuto gets a much-deserved promotion. But with the new job comes great responsibility. The job is easy enough. All Bokuto has to do is look after the Boss's mate: The Boss's beautiful, intriguing mate.

Tbh if you like hardcore mafia aus, then this is the fic for you. @caelestisxyz​ is like...a master storyteller, her plots are so well developed and original, idk how she does it! Every chapter is also packed full of romance and nail biting drama, so it’s not for the faint of heart, but if you’re not scared of the angst which comes with this kind of au, then I would seriously recommend it. It’s incredible and features all my fav pairings in such a badass setting! 

A Place to Call Home (Iwaoi, Bokuaka, E) 

Oikawa Tooru doesn't need an alpha. He's doing fine all on his own. And the past four years of being a single mother have proven that this is exactly what he wanted from life.

Of course, life has a way of not always going as planned.

This is another fic I’m currently subscribed to! I will admit I don’t usually read kidfics, but @madamemalfoy21​ has such cute plots and stellar characterizations that I can’t resist her works! Everything about this fic is heartwarming, and every update brings a smile to my face. Oikawa as a single parent trying to figure out how to love again is such a treat to explore, and with the other pairings thrown in, it makes the fic such a pleasure to read <3 

Let it Linger (Kurotsuki, T)

Kei has loved Tetsurou for years.

Tetsurou has loved Keiji for years.

Keiji is marrying Koutarou.

Alright, hold the phone y’all, this fic right here is extraordinary. It’s one of my favorites I’ve ever read, omg, the character growth and reflection is so powerful in this fic AND the slow burn is wonderful. I usually avoid angst like the plague but I can’t really resist @rhealmobsidi​ and her works, I’ve been reading her stuff since I was but a smol lmao and she never disappoints. This fic right here is so heart-aching and heart warming at the same time, I can’t get enough. Please read it if you have not! 

cookies and cream (Bokuaka, E)

Some people might tell Akaashi that he couldn't bake his worries away.

But some people haven't dated Bokuto Koutarou.

Alright, so I’ve been on a bokuaka binge these past few days, so the next few recs will be for them! This fic is so funny lmao, the idea of Akaashi stress baking was just super interesting to me. But not only that, the fic was super touching and romantic jsdnfk I love domestic bokuaka so much, and this delivered! 

Corpora Permutavere (Bokuaka, T) 

“Akaaaaashi, you gotta make a wish after you blow them out!” Bokuto was leaning across the table so far that the candle flames danced in his eyes, turning them to molten metal. And while Akaashi found himself appreciating his teammate’s birthday fervor in a way that was soft, foreign, and somewhat unexpected, Bokuto should still have known that this level of spectacle was neither Akaashi’s preference, nor something he was entirely comfortable with.

Under such pressure, he blew out the candles. Then, as requested, made a wish.

I wish Bokuto-san understood the perspective of someone other than himself.

Bokuto and Akaashi switch bodies. It goes as well as you might expect.

I assume most people have already read this fic and I’m super late lmao?? But in case you haven’t, you need to! It’s just a great story dealing with romance, mental health, and character growth. I tore through this fic, it was so amazing and beautifully written. So many great, though provoking lines/scenes had me thinking about this fic days later, and even writing this I feel like rereading fff. Please go check it out so you can fully understand how A+ this fic is. And please follow @silvercistern​ !!!

bitter (Bokuaka, G) 

He accepted his classmate's chocolates gracefully, then declared his lack of interest with as much dignity as he could muster. She deserved the courtesy. At least she'd acknowledged that Valentine's Day was all about her, and not about him in the slightest.

Because if any of these girls had taken the time to actually get to know him, they’d quickly realize something even more important than his lack of interest in girls.

And that was that Akaashi hated sweets.

This is another one by @silvercistern​ because I am addicted to their bokuaka characterizations lmao. The way Akaashi is written is so amusing and complex, and the bokuaka dynamics are lovable and cute fff. The awkwardness of Akaashi’s love life and his hatred of Valentine’s Day made for a wonderful read, so I can’t help but share this fic as well! 

5 tips to get your guy (Bokuaka, G)

Second-year Bokuto gets fantastic dating advice from his sister’s magazines

This fic was so damn adorable, that’s all I have to really say about it lmao @mooites​ did a great job of making this such a fun read! I loved the inclusion of Bokuto’s sisters and how their trends benefit him lmao it was just really cute to see him use magazines to act on his feelings. I loved this fic, so please check it out if you haven’t! 

Behind Bricks (Bokuaka, E)

Akaashi has always had a good idea of what his future would look like.

Becoming a prostitute hadn't been part of the plan.

Bokuto Koutarou wasn't part of the plan, either. Akaashi meets him by chance, and is drawn in by Bokuto's optimism and authenticity. He's never met anyone like Bokuto, and despite his initial reluctance, Akaashi finds himself getting a little too attached.

Alright, last bokuaka fic lmao but another amazing one no less! @worthlesspride​ writes some of the best and sweetest bokuaka there is, so I recommend all their fics (not just for bokuaka, but all pairs!). I don’t wanna spoil much about this fic, but please read the tags before diving in! You won’t be disappointed, the plot is A++ and the nice mix of angst and romance is to die for <3 

walls (Kurotsuki, G)

Kuroo is the best sparring partner that Tsukishima could ask for, but that doesn’t make him any less annoying of one,

So @ohoholyshit​ wrote a BNHA AU for kurotsuki, and I’m still not over it. Just...please read it, it’s so lovely and funny and just kljsfjdssjkd I live for kurotsuki being awkward boys with their poorly concealed crushes lmao. Also the quirks they’ve been given are so fitting and creative, I was so into this verse fff. 

Angels in the Snow (Promptis, E) 

On a snowy morning, the wolf Prince Noctis discovers an intruder, a fox boy from Niflheim, playing in the snow. Though they quickly become best friends, everyone knows Prompto Argentum does not belong in the Lucis palace, and Noctis can only protect him for so long, especially when Prompto isn't exactly what he seems.

Okay so this is the only non-Haikyuu! fic on this list, but it’s still amazing and if you like FFXV then you need to read it. It has everything from angst, to cute romantic moments, and ofc, omegaverse. I love @emeraldwaves​ and her writing, and she’s really outdone herself with this fic! 

Alright, so those were all the fics I’ve read recently or that I’m currently following, down below are links to some of my all time favorites! All these fics are gorgeously written, with plots that captivate me with every read. These are the fics I have saved, downloaded, and that I reread again and again. Please give them a look! 

I sure hope that guy gets fired (Iwaoi, T) ---all time favorite, like...shit idek

silver tongue (Iwaoi, E)

Mind Reader (Iwaoi, E)

you’re looking like you fell in love tonight (Iwaoi, T)

Sing For Me (Iwaoi, E)

Add New Contact (Daisuga, G) 

Requiem for the Moon (Kurotsuki, M) 

Police Dog (Kyouhaba, E) 

Being Gross (Kurotsuki, E) 

to the beat of my heart (Kurotsuki, E)

In Defense of Reptiles and Other Gross Things (Iwaoi, T)

Provocation Expert (Kurotsuki, M) 

And finally, I want to list a few authors here where yes, I recced a few of their individual fics, but honestly, all their fics are amazing. Like. They all need to be consumed. Read all their fics. They’re all top notch, all quality, you won’t be let down ever, I’m certainly not. The writing is incredible, the humor is there, and idek what else to say. I freak out for these authors and so should you! 

Ivyfics @ivyfics (I’m subscribed to like...way too many of Ivy’s fics, which is why none are mentioned above, but just know that I’ve read everything and constantly am dying for more, mmkay, thanks) 

timkons @90stimkon (A God for Every Season and Principles are some of the best fics ever, you can fight me on this) 

realmSpinner @rhealmobsidi (Everything. Like. Everything. I’m so excited for all the December fics that Kiko is going to post ffff) 

caelestisxyz @caelestisxyz (Again, everything. Amazing plots, heartbreaking angst, awesome endings)

EmeraldWaves @emeraldwaves​ (MY BETA AND MY BFF who has the best ideas and one of the loveliest writing styles) 

[feuillesmortes]

Academic life got in the way of this fic, but here we are! This chapter happens just one day after Henry and Lizzie’s day trip to Richmond. I’m tagging my mates @harritudur and @queenbessofyork, who have been incredibly supportive of this fic. 

As always, you can also read it on Ao3.

Henry, London Borough of Camden, 2:04 p.m.

One could think of few things better than spending a bank holiday in North London. The sun was out, the birds were singing. The sound of the rustling leaves coming from the Heath was carried along by a gentle breeze sweeping down on Hampstead Village. That posh neighbourhood, known as the new frog valley of London, where french pâtisseries and crêperies endowed the air with the richest of flavours, was home to François de Bretagne.

In one of the large Edwardian houses that populated the neighbourhood, Henry Tudor attended his boss’s garden party garbed with his best bottom-up and armed with a politely trained smile on his face. It was a great chance to properly catch up with his co-workers and improve his networking skills. Except Henry would rather be anywhere else. Well, not really anywhere else. Certainly not with anyone. He had a very specific person on his mind. 

For what felt like the hundredth time, he unlocked his mobile screen to look at her text:

Can we meet today at 7? Spoons would be nice x

Just ten simple words. Not unlike with everything else in his life, Henry found himself overanalysing that line of text. She had ended it with a single ‘x’ instead of a double… Not the most affectionate way to end a text, one could say. Their goodbye the previous day had been awkward enough, yes, but she hadn’t shied away from his embrace. Granted, when walking Lizzie to her flat she had hurried inside the building maybe a bit too fast.

But her invite to the local Wetherspoons was a good sign, wasn’t it? A familiar feeling gnawing at his insides, Henry started to think he might have miscalculated his move. Maybe he should have given her more time… He instinctively touched the pocket where he kept the gift he had bought her ages ago: a gold necklace, paired with a rose pendant. He had bought it as a Christmas present, only at the time he hadn’t had the guts to give her.

“Tudor, are you coming or not? We’ll be running out of gravy soon.”

“Yeah, bruv! Just grab your plate and get in the bloody queue!”

Henry looked up to find his co-workers Ed and Tom waiting for him, both mildly annoyed at his delay. “Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

His colleagues were right to worry about the gravy, though; the queue for the buffet table was incredibly long. It looked like everyone who worked for the company had been invited to the party. The majority of the employees were EU nationals, but Henry’s fellow Brits were increasing numbers every day.

“Oh shit, is that Jane from HR?” Tom exclaimed suddenly. “I’ve gotta go talk to her. Hold my place for a sec, will you?”

A cocktail cooling in hand, Henry watched Tom approach the HR girl with the characteristic sleazy smile he put on whenever he tried to chat up a girl. Thomas Grey, simply known around the office as Tom, looked just like a generic Tom was supposed to look. Small round eyes, rosy face, neither tall nor short. Every Brit knew at least one generic Tom.

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something?” Henry turned to ask his other colleague, Edward Woodville. He bore the same last name as Lizzie’s mother, which sometimes made Henry wonder whether they were distantly related or if it was all just coincidence.

“Last time I checked, he had a fiancée.” Henry let out a small oh, taking a sip from his glass. Ed simply shrugged. “You know how Tom is. Always… fooling around.” He turned his gaze to Henry. “What about you? What were you doing back there on your phone? Not bad news, I hope.”

“No, not bad news. Just… me being paranoid, I reckon.”

Ed nodded, turning to scan the rest of the party. “Do you… want to talk about it… maybe?”

“Nah, mate. I’m fine.” Henry looked down at his glass, shaking the ice cubes. The liquid quivered with circular vibrations. Some unspoken rules were just not simply broken.

“Cool.”

“Cool.” Henry repeated, as if those were not his worries they were just trying to discuss. Cool.

A comfortable silence settled over them, lasting no longer than Tom’s return. Looking triumphant, Tom got back just in time before the queue moved too far. “I did it! I got her number! See, I told you I would—”

“Well, well, well! Who do we have here?”

They spun around to find Pierre Laudais, François’ assistant. He sported a mocking smile and an awfully tacky tie as he usually did. He wasn’t particularly popular among the employees, not even the EU nationals working for the firm. As the second in command, Laudais was merely tolerated. Henry let out a deep sigh, bracing himself. Here we go.

“And do my eyes deceive me or it is Henry Tudor, the absolute ledge!” The Frenchman laughed, patting his shoulder. “Isn’t it how you lads say it? Absolute ledge?”

Don’t murder stare. Don’t murder stare. You’ve got this. Don’t murder stare. Don’t murder st—

His colleagues shook their heads, barely concealing their contempt.

“It’s not… It’s not really…”

“It’s not how we say it.”

Laudais was thoroughly amused, though. “Why not? This guy— this guy here, I’m telling you. This guy right here is a legend. The best intern we ever had. Go ask François. N’est-ce pas, Tudor?” Laudais spoke his last name with a strong accent dripping with sarcasm. It all clearly meant: aren’t you a proper boss’s pet?

Henry squinted his eyes at him, fake smiling. “Thank you, Laudais. I only try my very best. But clearly, you already know that for sure.” Just the previous month, Henry had checked a couple of funny reports, counts not matching the system. The error couldn’t be tracked at the time, but Henry had a feeling Laudais hadn’t been much happier since then.

Laudais simply blinked at him for some seconds before turning to his co-workers. “Well, forgive me for trying to blend in with you, heh. You know, after Brexit one does fear about losing his job. No one is safe! Who knows who could be next!” He raised his glass of champagne as a way of goodbye and gave them an ugly smirk, a motion that rendered his face even more punchable. He left them to go straight to the casserole dish stand, jumping the queue and receiving some silent head shakes along the way.

“Connard.” Henry muttered under his breath, gulping down the rest of his cocktail. He could assign a long list of names to that bastard. It was a special pastime of his to get colourful with his french insults: enfoiré, abruti, crevard, quickly turning into trou du cul, face de rat, sac à vin, crétin des Alpes, ironie de la création… It was truly a great pity he could not voice his thoughts with so many French speakers around.

His co-workers beside him, though, were not so subtle.

“Dickhead.”

“Fucking wanker.”

Henry served himself a couple of golden yorkshire puddings, a recent favourite of his. “Don’t mind him. Laudais is just trying to scare me. Honestly, I couldn’t be arsed to care.”

“But maybe you should,” Ed said, stuffing his plate with roasted vegetables. “Aren’t you graduating in a few month’s time?”

“Hopefully yes.”

“It’d be nice to have a job then, don’t you think?”

Henry fell silent at that. It would be nice to have a job. That was something he had to remind himself every time frustration got the better of him, like a mantra. It would be nice to have a job.

The hours dragged, the minutes stretched. Taking rounds around the garden to chitchat with his colleagues was like a personal nightmare come alive. The weather! Where would they all be if not for that particular topic of conversation? Switch to French. Switch to English. Switch to French again. François’ relatives were there too, which meant of course even more fake smiling, fake listening, enthusiastically nodding your head and feigning interest in the most tedious things. The number of times he had to say “how do you do?” that day just couldn’t be measured.

Henry would check his watch every now and then. Shit, only five minutes since last time. It was at that rather depressing moment that Tom pulled out a cigarette pack. “Time for a break. Are you coming, Tudor?”

Ed didn’t smoke, though he would sometimes join them during coffee break. Every time, though, he would complain the smoke followed him around. Henry himself as he was trying to quit gradually stopped joining Tom for a drag.

Henry looked at the pack Tom was shaking in his hand. They were L&B, a popular brand, but too chavvy for Henry’s taste. He forcefully willed himself to look away. “No, thank you. I’ve quit.” He rubbed the nicotine patch beneath his shirt, placed just above his elbow. He knew the day would be stressful enough, so he had to come prepared.

“What, Tudor! Seriously?“

Ed congratulated him by clapping. “That’s the spirit. Good for you, Tudor. ”

“Come on, mate! One fag is not gonna kill you.”

Tom extended a cigarette to Henry, nimbly holding it between his fingers, but Henry turned it down. “I can’t. I promised I wouldn’t.” He had promised other things as well, like getting an appointment with his GP. As if Henry had enough time for that.

By now Tom was lighting up his cigarette. “So what now? You promised your mum you’d stop smoking, is that it? Nancy boy doesn’t want to disappoint his mum?”

“Not my mum, you blinking idiot.” It was impossible not to sound defensive. “I promised a friend.”

“A friend?”

“A girl…friend.”

“Oooh, a girlfriend. Ed, do you believe this fucker? He never tells us anything.”

Edward wriggled his eyebrows. “Is it that girl you fancy, Lizzie? Tom, he won’t say a thing but he’s mentioned her name several times.”

“Lizzie, eh?” Tom took a long drag and let it out in a silvery grey cloud. “Yes, I recall. Have you shagged her yet?”

Henry shot him a deadly, fulminating stare. “That’s none of your bloody business.”

Tom turned to Edward. “I take it as a no.”

Ed suppressed a laugh, but Henry wasn’t amused. "Why don’t you just fuck off, Tom?”

“Calm down, bruv.“ Tom raised his palms in self-defence. "I was just taking the piss. What else are friends for these days?”

Henry wouldn’t exactly call him a friend. Co-worker, associate, colleague, work fellow, ally, a little dot in his social network scheme, but certainly not friend. “I appreciate your interest in my love life. But rest assured, I know how to handle myself.”

Tom didn’t take the hint. "You’re really serious about that girl, eh?”

Henry’s best fake smile flashed through gritted teeth and squinted eyes. “Unlike some, I don’t fool around.”

Tom frowned quizzically, as if trying to decide whether that was a veiled insult or not. Thankfully François came calling before the air turned too foul. “Boys! Ed, Tom, Henri! We’re taking a group picture. Come, all of you!”

Henry had thought the party couldn’t get any worse.

__________________________________________

Lizzie, City of Westminster, 6:53 p.m.

A girl sitting by herself is always a sorry sight no matter the place, that much she had been told. Some lessons took longer to unlearn, so maybe that was why Lizzie was so restless in her seat: one minute fidgeting with the rings on her fingers, the next gripping the menu tight in her hands. It was her own fault, actually, to have chosen the local Wetherspoons to meet him. It was too familiar, too public a place to talk with him. Her anxiousness grew from a knot in her throat and spread to the tips of her toenails like a rope stretched too tight.

From her place at the table, Lizzie watched different groups of friends ordering their rounds. She tried to distract herself by inventing lives for each men. The short one with the funny hat was an architect, she decided. The loudest of them, she kept on musing, was actually the saddest, his hollering and chattering only a mask to hide his— No, it wasn’t working. Her rambling mind kept trailing back to her own doubts and worries. No, it was entirely her fault. She didn’t need to get there so early in advance. Henry was halfway across town and chances were he wouldn’t get to the pub in time.

She took another sip of her pint of cider, an overly sweet Strongbow Dark Fruit. Lizzie had never been one for drinking. She had always been too prim, too proper. A general distaste for beer and a lack of aptitude to handle hard liquor made it all too easy for her to rely solely on sugary booze. But regular cider was something a 16 year-old might pick when illegally drinking with her mates in the park. Lizzie, on the other hand, liked to think a Dark Fruit was a much classier option with its rich royal purple liquid gracing her taste buds.

She kept thinking of what Cecily had said during their last facetime session. Lizzie had volunteered to help her sister improve her grades— she vowed she could help her with anything, anything but maths. But Henry could help her with that, Lizzie reckoned. She knew he would if she asked him nicely enough. Cecily had been all too grateful for the help, but when confronted about her seeing a particular boy while still grounded, Cecily had plunged into a sullen mood.

“Whoever said I can’t see him?”

“Well, for one, mum said that.”

“Lizzie, have you thought that mum is not our boss? Do you let her rule your love life? Do you let her pick your boyfriends for you? No, I don’t think so. I’m sure you can think for yourself. So why should she have a say in who I date and who I don’t?”

That hit uncomfortably close to home. Lizzie looked down at her pint glass. She was on her second pint already. God, what was she thinking? She pushed it away while she still had a clear mind. She certainly wouldn’t like Henry to see her tipsy. It was at that moment that she saw a familiar face walking the place. Lizzie ducked her head, tried to hide her face behind the menu as she realised it was her ex-boyfriend Charles. It was a futile action though, for he had already seen her and was coming her way.

Lizzie let go of the menu, but kept her eyes focused on the ground, refusing to acknowledge him. Yet the feet planted in front of her table weren’t going anywhere, it seemed. Lizzie clutched the edge of the table and slowly raised her eyes.

“Chérie, I haven’t seen you in a long time.” His dark hair slicked to one side, a carefree smile dancing on his lips, and sporting a Paris Saint-German shirt, Charles took the chair opposite hers. “What are you doing here all by yourself?”

“I’m not by myself.” She managed to croak out. “I’m waiting for someone.” Her reply was brief, almost rude, but Lizzie had no intention to be polite with him. He surely hadn’t been considerate of her feelings when they were together.

Something like aggravation flickered in his face before he dismissed it with a scoff. “Waiting for someone? Like what, like a date?”

“Like— Well, I’m…” Was it a date? “It's— It’s Henry! I’m waiting for Henry.”

“Oh!” He chuckled, probably relieved. Lizzie couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to see how pretentious he looked with that smug smile of his. “Henry Tudor, isn’t it? We have some classes together. Your roommate.”

“He’s my former flatmate, as I’ve told you well before.” At the time of Henry’s moving out, Lizzie had repetitively whinged about it to Charles. Lizzie had always suspected he hadn’t listened to any of her grievances; now she had complete proof.

“Yes, yes, ma chérie. I’m sure you did.” Charles made a vague dismissive gesture with his hands, his tone patronising.

I am not your chérie, she thought bitterly. Lizzie wanted to erase that smile from his face, wanted to slap him to see if it went away. If she flung her pint into his face would that be enough? Would it be enough to see it dripping into his expensive football shirt?

“Anyways.” He started again, lounging too comfortably on his chair. “I don’t know why you’re still hanging out with him. Tudor is such a huge nerd.”

“Don’t talk of him like that!” She snapped. “You don’t know him.”

Charles frowned, slightly amused. Maybe she had sounded a bit too defensive. “Wow. PMS is a bitch, hein?”

Lizzie looked straight at him. She didn’t flinch from his gaze— she took all in, saw all of him. His dark eyes, his long nose, his wormy lips. She tried to find what had caught her attention before. Maybe, just maybe, it had been that overbearing sense of confidence he exuded through every pore of his being. Only now she knew it wasn’t confidence, no, it was an absurdly heightened arrogance. Suddenly she felt nothing towards him anymore. Neither love nor hate. Neither affection, nor contempt. Nothing at all.

“It was great chatting with you, Charles.” She stated with an even voice. “But I think you should leave now.”

Charles made no intention to move. “What, leave? Ma chérie, we haven’t even started.”

He moved to grab her wrist, but she pulled her hands into her lap before he could do so. "Just. Leave.”

Charles looked at a point behind her. “Tudor! We were just talking about you.”

Lizzie turned around to see a newly-arrived Henry. If he was in any way displeased by seeing Charles at her table, he didn’t show any of it. On the contrary, he looked every bit dignified. His hair was neatly combed, his button-up shirt complemented his Burberry tailored jacked wonderfully. He was wearing his contacts that day, looking every inch sharp and professional.

“Lizzie.” He greeted her with a warm smile, taking the seat beside hers to wrap an arm around her waist, going in for an open mouth kiss. For a moment Lizzie forgot they weren’t alone.

“Rôôôôh! C'est quoi ce bordel?!” Charles sounded a mixture of gobsmacked and furious.

Pulling back, Henry acted like he did not see him before. “Oh, Charles. Hello there.” Henry said simply, almost like acknowledging his presence was an afterthought.

Charles looked from Henry to Lizzie, eyes bulging. “Tu te fous de moi?”

Lizzie carefully replied, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “Charles, it’s been months since we—”

“You were fucking behind my back, that’s what you were doing!“

She opened her mouth to deny it, but Henry stopped her by landing a hand atop hers, ceasing her fidgeting. "Lizzie, you don’t owe him any explanation whatsoever.”

“I know, but people are looking.”

“All this time!” Charles kept raving, his accent getting thicker by the minute. “And oh my God, you were roommates!”

”Flatmates!“ Their voices corrected him in unison.

"A slut, Lizzie! That’s what you are!” Charles smacked down a hand on the table.

It was at that moment that Henry grabbed him by the shirt, pulling Charles across the table to face him. “That’s enough.” His voice was cold, perfectly controlled. “You will remove yourself from this table and quietly fuck off. Do you understand?” Charles, caught by surprise, could only stare at him. “Do you understand me?” Henry released him with a sneer. “Pauvre con.”

Charles’ face went quickly from white to purple. “Ta gueule!” He stood up, pushing his chair noisily across the floor.

The whole pub watched as Henry slowly stood up from his place. Lizzie tried to grasp his hand to stop him. “Henry, don’t.” She murmured, but Henry had already disentangled from her grip and made his way around the table.

“Ça commence a me gaver là, putain.”

“Ah carrément?” Charles scoffed, giving him a shove.

“Oui, carrément.” Henry pushed him back. Both men grabbed each other’s by the collar.

It was a matter of seconds. Lizzie rushed to get between them, struggled to pull them apart. “Stop it! Stop it! What’s wrong with you?!”

“Take that outside!” Someone shouted at them.

Why are men so bloody stupid? They were acting like she was some sort of property to be fought over. Henry had the grace to look somewhat ashamed, but Charles still looked furious. Thankfully, someone had called the security guard. “Gentlemen, I have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m leaving. He can stay.” Henry carded his fingers through his hair, putting his clothes back in order. “Come, Lizzie.” He took her by the hand, pulling her along. She managed to pick her purse and jacket before she was half-dragged to the exit door.

Charles still had some in him to bite back. “Yes, flee like the coward you are! Dégage!”

It didn’t matter what Charles could say, Henry was still the one who left the place with his arm wrapped around the girl. Henry mockingly waved to him before they crossed the door, but Lizzie could only feel her cheeks burning. She would never be able to step inside that pub again. They had just walked past the corner when she pushed Henry away. “Why did you do that?”

“Excuse me?” He was still jumpy from his altercation with Charles.

“Why did you have to make such a scene?”

“I made a scene?” He scoffed, sarcasm coming out. “Sorry, were you trying to make up with Charles back there? Did I interrupt anything?”

“You know I was not! Don’t even try to play that card. The point is you made it look like we’re a thing. We’re not a thing! We’re not even together!”

At that Henry lowered his head, as if taking a blow. He blinked for a second before replying. “Well, thanks for telling me now. When were you planning to tell me perchance? Today? Next week? Maybe after I brought you a wedding ring?”

“See, that’s not how a relationship works! You don’t get to decide what we do, what we are, before we can talk things through. Just because we kissed that one time—”

“By that one time you mean yesterday.”

“—That doesn’t mean we are together. It doesn’t mean I owe anything.”

“Owe me? What sort of nonsense is this?”

“Look, Henry.” She ran a hand through her long hair, searching for the right words. “I am not ungrateful. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for offering help when my family faced eviction. I truly do! But you don’t get to decide our relationship. I cannot repay you like that.”

“Lizzie, for God’s sake!” He rubbed his eyes. He looked tired, so so very tired. “I’m not trying to buy you!” His voice took a quiet turn then, almost tender. “Don’t you see that everything I do, I do because I care about you?”

She shook her head. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” He looked befuddled, almost hurt.

She looked away. “Don’t come at me like that.” Don’t be soft now, or you’ll make me soft too. “What of what I want? What I think, what I feel? I’d like to have a voice in this too!”

“Of course, Lizzie! But you do!”

“I don’t want it to be like that. Like— Like I’m paying back a favour.”

“But you’re not! I’m not asking for payment!”

“It doesn’t matter, that’s what it looks like to people.”

He caught her wrists then and brought them to his chest, pulling her to him. They were both short of breath, chests heaving. He didn’t kiss her, but she almost wished him to. From that close proximity it was almost unbearable to look at him. He wasn’t wearing his glasses— there was nothing between her and his agitated eyes. They were piercing and blue, and terrible to face. “Lizzie, it’s simple.” He said, very quietly. “Do you want me or not?”

“I…” She faltered. Suddenly it was difficult to breathe.

“Stop with the mixed signals for once. Do you want me…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Or not?”

“I…” She searched for a word, anything. “I don’t know.”

He released her then, splaying his hands like she’d just burned him. He stepped back, his expression unreadable “Henry?”

He pulled something out of his pocket and pressed it into one of her hands. She opened it to find a delicate gold necklace, a pendant in the shape of a rose carefully crafted. “What… what is this?”

“A gift. I have no use for it.”

Lizzie felt her eyes swarming with unshed tears. She looked up to find his back to her. Henry was steadily walking away. He is leaving me, the realisation struck her like a dagger. “Henry! Henry, where are you going?”

He didn’t reply. She wasn’t even sure he had listened to her. Lizzie watched as he descended the stairs to the tube station. He wasn’t going back to his flat, that much was clear. He didn’t need to take the tube for that. “Henry!” She called him one last time.

She wouldn’t run after him. Not her, not while people passing by could see her in such an undignified state. She did the right thing, so why did it feel like the worst decision she had ever made? The coldness of the night suddenly crept into her bones. She wrapped herself tight in her jacket, a shiver ran down her spine. She was left alone on that street, alone with her thoughts and the words she should never have said.

[buckywintersoldierbarnes2017]

Soldier Boy

Request from @deanwinnchesterisbae​: Hey! Couple fic requests for you :D Was listening to Elvis the other day and thought that 2 of his songs would be perfect for some Bucky fics, idk if you've heard them. They're called Teddy Bear and Soldier Boy? Teddy Bear makes me think of Bucky being a huge cuddly mess with the reader and just total fluff, maybe a little steaminess? Soldier Boy kinda relates to Bucky being insecure and having to prove his love to reader, slightly angsty, mostly cute and fluffy, naughty toward the end?

Note: So as you can see from the above request two fics were requested but what I have decided to do, because of the idea that came to me, is post the second fic as a part 2 to this one so I hope this is okay with @deanwinnchesterisbae; also the ‘Soldier Boy’ one isn’t the one that ends with a little naughtiness....mainly because I forgot to add that in lol so the Teddy Bear part will instead (as well as having all the fluff of course ;) Lyrics of the songs are not used but I have put a link to them in the disclaimer if you want to read them.

Words: 1533

1940′s!Bucky x Reader (and a little bit of pre-serum Steve)

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their wonderful creators <3 ‘Soldier Boy’ Elvis Presley - Lyrics

“Buck I don’t know why you are so nervous. You know you got this.”

Steve’s petite frame moved about the small Brooklyn apartment he had been left after his mother had died while his best friend Bucky sat on the sofa with his head in his hands. He was in his Army uniform with his hat on the table before him. It rather amused the small blonde to see his friend in such a panic – he had always been quite the ‘Casanova’ when it came to the ladies and yet since he had met you he’d become some kind of nervous wreck.

“If [y/n] wasn’t interested do you really think she would have braved the scrutiny of your mom the other week?”

That was true. Although his mother was one of the sweetest ladies around she became very protective when it came to her son, you seemed to have passed her test though as she had been more than happy to give her blessing to the two of you.

“My mom did like her, in fact she hasn’t stopped talking about her since….even gone so far as to start on wedding talk!” He laughed disbelievingly, a laugh that Steve mirrored as he sat himself down onto the sofa next to his friend. His hand came to rest on one of the brunette’s broad shoulder where he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t get bored. I am going to be away for a whole year and if she doubts how I feel even the smallest amount there will be nothing to stop her from straying.”

“Then take her dancing.”

“What?”

He removed his head from his hands and looked at Steve with a raised brow.

“Take her dancing. It was how you met and you know how much she enjoys it. Only don’t take her somewhere crowded; make it special….the park down the road is always deserted on a night.” He suggested as a small smirk tugged at his lips.

“Tell me again why it is you’re still single when you have romantic notions like that swirling around that little head of yours punk?”

Bucky may have been incredibly popular with the ladies of Brooklyn, knew how to sweep them off their feet long enough to have an enjoyable night with them, but when it came to the romance side of things it was Steve that had the knowledge.

“Because there’s jerks like you sauntering about the place that’s why.”

His comment earned him a playful punch to the shoulder – a move that despite how little force was put into it still managed to knock his small stature clean off the sofa.

“Well soon ‘jerks like me’ will be leaving this city so you will have no excuse then will you?”

Bucky threw Steve a playful wink but was met with a glare as he picked himself up onto his feet and dusted off his now creased trousers.

“Just go worry about your own love life yeah? I have things I need to be doing.”

“Ah, yes, lying your arse off to try and enlist again huh?” He stood himself up, reaching out for his hat as he did, and adjusted his military jacket before heading towards the door, a more serious expression appearing on his face. “Just be careful punk. I don’t want to have to be bailing your arse out of jail if you get found out.”

Steve waved him off, dismissing the little ‘father’ speech he had just been given and went about getting himself ready as Bucky left the apartment.

                                         * * * * * * * * * *

The dim streetlights in the park were the only source of illumination for the soldier as he stood near a large oak tree waiting for you to arrive – that was if the messenger boy he had come across had actually delivered his message to you…..if not he was going to have some serious words wi-

“Bucky?”

Your voice broke him out of his angry thoughts and had him pushing himself off the trunk of the tree as he immediately made his way over to you.

“Hey doll. Was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”

He tried to sound playful but you noticed the hint of panic in his voice straightaway and it brought a frown to your lips as one of your hands cupped his cheek gently.

“Now why would I do such a foolish thing? You are quite the catch Sergeant Barnes, if I was to let you go even for a few seconds I would find you swamped with a whole hoard of girls.” Your lips moved themselves out of the frown that had initially been on your face and transformed instead into the smile that always ignited a spark inside those sharp blue hues of his. “Are you okay? You don’t seem yourself….for example asking me to meet you in a park on a night….”

“Ah, yes, about that….” His hands snaked around your waist as you looked at him in a questioning manner and he pulled you into his body.”….I brought you here to dance.”

“Dance?” You looked at him now as though he had suddenly grown another head before glancing at your surroundings as though you were searching for something in particular. “You realise there is no music right?”

He nuzzled his face into your neck as a soft laugh escaped him and vibrated against the exposed skin before his lips placed a soft kiss onto it.

“I sense a lack of faith in you [y/n].” He smirked. “Just give it a few more seconds and you will hear the music.”

Was he delirious? Scared, maybe, about being deployed away? There had to be a logical explanation for his strange behaviour. Panic was beginning to set in when, lo and behold, you began to hear music playing in the air around you. As your jaw dropped in shock you could feel him smirking against your skin.

You were about to ask how he had done it when you realised that the City Hall wasn’t too far from here and tonight they were holding a dance for the men who were leaving for war in the morning; the fact that the majority of the neighbourhood were there meant that the streets were deserted enough for the music to be carried over to where the two of you were stood.

“Do you not want to be with your men tonight?”

“No. There’s only one person I want to be with tonight. That’s why I asked you to come here. So we could be alone. I wanted you to know how much I care for you.”

The grip his hands had on your hips tightened a little as his whole body seemed to tense up. It wasn’t like him to react in such a way at all and although it took a good few moments for your mind to cotton on to a couple of things; such as the fact that he had seemed scared at the prospect of you standing him up, he didn’t want to be celebrating his last night before going off to war with his men, it was something you should have noticed right away and you were already mentally cursing yourself for not having done so. Before you said a word to him though you moved his head away from your neck, making him look you dead in the eyes, before your lips connected with his in a passionate kiss.

He was tense at first but as you deepened the kiss his whole body relaxed, even his grip on your hips, and a satisfied groan escaped from him just as you broke from the kiss.

“You have nothing to worry about when it comes to me….I know you would never admit to your fears but I will be waiting here for you when you return. You are the only man I want in my life.”

“You sure about that doll? A year is a long time.”

“Maybe so but as they say….absence only makes the heart grow fonder and my heart belongs only to you.”

Tears lined his eyes as his usual knee-weakening smile appeared on his lips and he pulled you into him in a vice-tight embrace, gently beginning to sway your bodies to the slow tune of the song currently being played inside the City Hall.

“You have no idea how much that means to me. Knowing that you are going to be here when I get back makes me even more determined to kick arse out there so I can come home to my beautiful girlfriend.”

“Just make sure you come back in one piece alright?”

You were all for him helping his country, fighting for the better good, but the thought of him getting injured caused a sickening feeling to hit you.

“Yes ma’am.”

He mocked a salute before dipping you down in his arms and capturing your lips in his. He was the most important person in your life right now and you felt honoured to have him in your life….hopefully the war wouldn’t tear him away from you.

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