#Responsive drawer menu

[coquettefrancaise]

rock 'n' roll star

by Oasis

pair: Azriel x reader ~ 1.9k

warnings: excessive drinking, nothing else really

summary: tall, dark, and, handsome, Azriel was a wet dream incarnate… which is only intensified when you notice his newest accessory

author's note: why, yes, Drew Starkey was on my mind the entire time I wrote this. also, I'm considering whipping up a small continuation that's a little less fluffy 😋

"You're drunk, baby."

"No I'm not Azzy. You are."

Azriel reeled as your breath hit him. "You smell flammable.”

Normally, your girls nights consisted of going out to dinner and gossiping. Only on occasion would you and the other females from the inner circle decide to hit Rita’s and club. And tonight was one of those occasions… with a whole bunch of alcohol.

“What in the Mother do they put in those drinks?” Azriel snorted as he carried you into your shared bedroom.

“First rule of the secret menu: don’t ask questions.” You giggled, body heavy in Azriel’s arms as exhaustion pulled at your limbs.

He had been enjoying a glass of wine with his brothers when Feyre had reached out to Rhys that backup was needed. At least the high lady had the decency to drink under her weight.

You weren't the type who knocked back drinks on a whim- you weren't even a casual drinker! So it came as a surprise when Azriel felt your inhibitions dull through the bond.

When the three Illyrian’s arrived, it had been like trying to wrangle sugar-induced toddlers. You and Nesta attempted to return to the bar for ‘one more drink’ and then Mor was grinding against the nearest fae as they practically dragged her out.

Azriel set you down on the bed, running a hand through his hair as you snuggled into yourself and closed your eyes. “Don’t you want to get ready for bed?”

You grunted.

"Come along, my little drunkard, I just cleaned your favorite night-shirt this morning."

That had your eyes blinking open, fingers inching across the duvet, near where he was standing. After years of dating, he understood what you were asking. So he picked you up once more and began undressing you.

With every layer taken off, you swayed, his shadows supporting your torso to help keep you upright. They had been taken with you from the get-go, racing to greet you first, or be the one to make sure you got inside your apartment safely.

"Azzy," you mumbled as he fitted the raggedy, old t-shirt he'd had crumpled in the bottom of his drawer, over your head. You had found it after your first night spent together and hadn't let go since. Even though he'd attempted to throw it away time and again.

"Hmm?"

You looked up at him, adorably bleary-eyed. "D'you know what would be sooooo sexy?"

He chuckled softly as he leaned you back against the pillows. "What, baby?"

"An earring!"

That made him pause in wetting a rag. An earring? What kind of nonsense was Mor whispering in your ear all night? He sat beside you and began wiping the makeup off your face. "Why do you say that?"

You shrugged.

He patted your cheek softly to wake you up. How much did you have to drink tonight exactly?

An annoyed sound rumbled deep in your chest. "You can't just tell me to pierce my ears and then drift off into sleep."

"Dunno. Thought it'd be-"

"Sexy," he huffed amusedly.

You eyed him suspiciously. "What are you laughing at? You're like the sexiest man in all of Prythian."

He pulled you into his chest, smoothing a hand over your hair, committing the silkiness of it to memory. "Oh no. I would never dare make fun of your sexy mate. Not when I know what those claws of yours are capable of. I was only laughing because I was remembering something that happened earlier."

No response came from you, only a soft snore and Azriel knew you hadn't even heard him. And when you woke up in the morning, annoyed that he let you go to bed without having completed your skincare, he would only hug you tighter to him and smother you with kisses until you couldn't think over your giggles.

He didn't mind having to take care of you. In fact, it solidified the notion that someone needed him. That he was someone's first choice. And what better way to show you how much he loved you than to give into your dreamy desires. After all, words spoken under the influence were words of truth, weren't they?

So he pulled the comforter over you both and turned off the faelights, thinking more about your suggestion.

There had been too many behaviors today. First the kid who threw a tantrum when his friend claimed the only blue crayon first, and then the little girl who threw a box of blocks when told to put them away. It seemed that those two incidents set the rest of the day up for disaster.

Not to mention that you spaced the dinner with the inner circle you had tonight.

When you had walked into your apartment, a shadow awaited you, pulling you along to the calendar on the wall. And then you had to walk yourself because Azriel had closed the bond well over a couple hours before for whatever reason. You hadn't been able to concern over it when you had been hit in the back by a toy.

So you sped over to the restaurant, the dark wisp trailing behind you as your companion. A small comfort in itself.

As soon as the hostess showed you to the reserved table, you were pulled into hug after hug, before being able to sit and decompress, the tightness of your shoulders still present.

Cassian slung and arm over the back of your chair, sighing as if he'd been the one who'd dealt with a dozen four-year-old's. "Where's your bodyguard?"

"I was under the impression he was with you or Rhys. He hasn't answered any of my calls down the bond."

"The bastard is probably brooding somewhere," he clicked his tongue. "And you know something? You don't have to put up with that guy. You're young, hot, brilliant; you deserve someone far better. I can always ask Nes if she'd be willing to share our bed."

You snorted out a laugh, Nesta peering around her mate. "I wouldn't wish Cassian upon anyone."

His face pulled down in a hurt frown. "What's that mean?"

Before Nesta could answer, a chair scraped along the tiled ground, and Mor sat down across from you. And behind her-

Your own chair clattered to the ground before your face was smashed into Azriel's firm chest, inhaling the deep, intoxicating scent of night you believed was the closest thing to heaven.

Long fingers slip to the nape of your neck, thumbs urging your chin up so your gaze could connect with hazel ones. "Long day?"

You let your forehead fall onto his pec in answer.

You could feel the low vibrations of his quiet chuckle and then he was moving you backwards, sitting in the chair you left behind- now upright thanks to a disgruntled Cassian -and set you on his lap as his hands ran soothingly over your arms and back.

"I didn't realize my offer would upset her that bad," Cassian defended.

The both of you ignored him, the rest of the room blurring into insignificance as you had the only thing that mattered holding, and waiting patiently for you to give him the spiel.

"Later," you promised. "For now: why'd you close the bond? Is everything alright? Are you alright?"

He only ever closed the bond whenever he was sent away on some secret spy errands or after a particularly rough tumble in the training ring that ended with him in the infirmary.

Guilt creased his brow, his thumb pressing into your chin. "It's nothing concerning. I was just..." his eyes flickered behind you, "Nothing bad."

You peered over your shoulder to find Mor, who was smirking feline-like into the rim of her drink. You'd never seen the resemblance between her and Rhys so clearly until then.

You turned back to Azriel, confused.

His face softened, reassurance flowing down the string that bound your souls together. "I'm serious, baby. I only feel bad because it probably worried you to not be able to reach me and you've obviously had a shit day already. If anything, the reason for why I went MIA will, hopefully, excite you. Promise."

Long ago, when you were in the unfortunate habit of dating douche bags and lowlifes, you believed that you would never find a man worthy of you. Now, after having met Azriel, you hardly believed you deserved him.

You leaned in to kiss him when you saw a silver glint at his ear. Curious, you brushed back his midnight hair and your eyes widened.

The corner of Azriel's lip quirked and you could hear a snicker from Mor.

Pierced through his earlobe sat a thin silver hoop. You cupped his jaw, turning his face from side to side, taking in every angle with hungry eyes.

"When? How? Where?"

His eyes glinted with proud male satisfaction. "After training this morning and by Mor at the House of Wind. Do you like it?"

Did you like it? Does Cassian admire himself in the mirror? "Y-yes!" you stammered, fighting off the abrupt desire to nip at it, when realization dawned. "You didn't want me to feel the pain of the piercing."

He shook his head, knocking his hair back over his newest improvement. You were quick to push it back.

"I take it you like it?"

"Like it? I love it. It's so-"

"Sexy?" he supplied.

That word sparked a vague memory; one with drinking, being carried home...

"How did you-"

"That night you got drunk off your ass at Rita's-" your cheeks burned as you recalled- somewhat -of what had happened a little over a week ago. "-you told me in your drunken haze that I would look 'sexy' with an earring."

Embarrassment colored your cheeks but he was quick to say, "It was adorable."

You rolled your eyes. "Calling a female who is over two centuries old 'adorable' isn't comforting when she, tipsily!, spilled a lifelong secret!"

"And yet, it resulted in me learning about your lifelong secret and making it come true. Which will then be beneficial for us both." His eyes darkened with the implication and you had to stop yourself from begging him to take you home right then and there.

But he did have a valid point. For some strange reason, you had always been attracted to males with piercings. And even though Azriel was a practical sex god without one, it only intensified his appeal.

You gingerly thumbed over the hoop, knowing how sensitive it must be. "Do you like it?"

"I would do anything to make your dreams come true." He captured your wrist, smoothing a kiss over your fluttering pulse. Somehow, he knew how to make you feel like a young, naive fae in love.

“I have to admit, it makes my bad day a whole lot better.”

“Oh?”

“I previously thought that just being smashed by your muscles would be enough to get me over my stress but this has proved to work tenfold.”

A teasing nip at the heel of your palm. “I’m at your service, always.”

"Azzy?" you peered up at him beneath your lashes.

He didn't need you to say the words out loud as he stood abruptly, you in his arms, and said to the family, "We'll see you all next week." And began out of the restaurant.

You heard Mor explain amongst all the confused chatter, "Let's just say Azriel's become even hotter." Which was followed with Cassian's and Rhys' groans.

divider credit: cafekitsune

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi I love rereading all your fics and prompts! Like, multiple times throughout the day. I have a schedule. Your works are my literal bed time stories (wow that sounded weird).

Anyways (before I ramble any worse). Any updates for Child support? I just love it so much and wondering if there's more

John throws himself to the side, barely avoiding a grab from a fifth-dimension demon throwing a fit after he rejects its request to marry his son. He rolls across the ground, powering up a spell, as he mentally curses his age.

Maybe Batman was right. He should work on his physical form a little more.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry! Can we talk about this-" Whatever the demon was going to say is lost after John's spell slams into its chest, throwing it back out of his dimension and sealing him from his Earth for fifty years. The spell is helpful, but fifty years doesn't mean much to demons, and it will wait decades to come back and bother them.

Thankfully, John will likely be long-dead before then. It's always been his solution for most of his problems. Pushing a problem to a later date where it can become someone else's problem.

But what about his son?

Danny, who was half of Time itself, would likely be around in fifty years. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was to leave Danny with all his messes. He'll have to learn a new banishing spell and find some instructors who could teach him an entirely new magic dueling technique.

It was the responsible thing to do. Ugh, fatherhood was making him an accountable bore.

John heaves himself off the floor, sweat pouring from his forehead, and grimaces. On the stove, the eggs he was cooking for Danny's breakfast are smoking, burnt into a dark black smudge. The House of Mystery's old wood groans, displeased with all the smoke, and a second later, the stove and counter vanish as the house creates a hole to drop them out of.

"Now that's just plain rude," John tells the house, dusting his knees. "It's not like I asked to be attacked first thing in the morning. What am I going to feed Danny now?"

The house's floor tiles shift in what John has come to learn was meant to be a shrug. The blasted thing has started copying Danny's teenage behavior, including that of his son's friends, and now seemed to enjoy rebelling against John whenever possible.

Thankfully, the house also seemed to really like Danny because one of the drawers opens, and a local Gotham breakfast dinner menu is flung at him. John catches the sheet with a sigh. He won't have to go too far when dropping Danny off at school.

"Morning, Dad," Danny greets, walking into the room wearing his Gotham Academy uniform. The dark night blue blazer, black tie, and dress trousers make his son look like the heir of the second most powerful being. It only took one glance to see that Danny came from nobility.

John knows he's a handsome bloke, but he had nothing on Clockwork's human form. That man was a temptation itself, and it looks like Danny has inherited his beauty.

John will never know how the brats in Danny's other schools could not see that. His son was perfect. John fights the urge to summon a camera. He always thought the fools always showing off the children's pictures were idiotic. Now that he's a father, he understands.

He smiles, "Morning, love. How about we go out to eat for breakfast?"

__________________________________________________________

They arrived at the dinner just as it was opening. John told Danny to order some black tea and went to the bathroom. He was only gone for a few minutes, but when he returned, he found his boy surrounded by a group of teenagers wearing the same uniform.

There was a splash of angry red on Danny's face as a girl gestured to him, obviously mocking him, and the rest of the teenagers laughed. Danny's hands were clenched in his lap, shoulders hunched, and head lowered as another teenager reached out and flickered his ear.

This one was wearing those ridiculous American leather jackets for some sport. He was also the biggest teenager there, a boy who thought himself too important for his own good.

John's jaw clenched.

Bullies.

Danny had bullies at Gotham Academy. Why can't his son just be left alone?!

John was just about to march across the room, ready and willing to fight a group of children, when Danny suddenly raised his head to yell in the face of the leather jacket git.

Alarmingly, the teenagers don't have the reaction that John expects. The large boy blushes, and the teenagers all seem to grow flustered.

No, John realizes with horror. No, they fancy him. The little rats bothering Danny are into him. Were all the other bullies just dumb kids who were terrible at flirting, too?

He is so stunned by the realization that he misses the way Danny attempts to push past the boy and somehow ends up tripping over his own two feet. He tries to catch himself on the table but the thing tilts over and their drinks fly.

Danny ends up half on the ground covered in drinks and looking bloody misaberle as the rest of the children snicker. John draws to his full height, deciding that it didn't matter what these kids felt for Danny.

His son thought they were bullying him because they made him feel terrible. So they were all going to feel the wrath of the one human who bullshits his way to being one of the mightiest spell casters in history.

"What the bloody hell are you urchins think you're doing!?" He yells. The kids all take one look at him before they scatter, rushing towards their posh cars outside.

"You alright, love?" He helps the boy to his feet, wiping some liquid with a napkin.

Danny looks small as he wipes away at his eyes. There weren't any tears; he was just taking the tea that had run down his face off. "I'm okay. Thanks, Dad."

"Do they bother you a lot?" He asks, anger growing in his chest. "We can go to your headmaster."

"No! Telling the principle will only make things worse!" Danny shouts, looking up in alarm. "Besides, they don't really bother me that much. Damian can usually scare them off. They should go for me, I can handle it; most other kids don't."

Fuck, where has he heard that phrase before?

It's alright if he hits me. I can handle it better than Mum.

John takes a breath through his nose, willing it to calm him down. This is another change that has come to be ever since he learned about Danny. Before, John would have gone off the handle, started a fight, yelled till he was red, drank, or slept through his issues, and damn the consequences.

He's got to think with a clearer head now. He owes Danny because of what his other father will do and because John wants to be the kind of father he never had.

The waitress rushes over, helping them get things set to right, and Danny apologizes for repeatedly knocking on the table. She waves away his worry, stating she saw the group and that, as someone who's worked near Gotham Acadamy for years, she knows what kind of students go there.

She also mentioned seeing what happened to the scholarship students over the years after nodding her head to Danny's pin. John hated that it was a requirement for Danny's uniform as a "show" of his accomplishments when all it did was single him out as a target.

While his son is distracted, John sends a quick text message to Bruce, informing him of the bullying Danny is going through.

Bruce responds with a single message: "It shall be handled." for once, he doesn't roll his eyes at the theatrics. A small thump on the window makes him glance up from his phone screen.

Pressed up against the glass is a blond teenage boy with wide eyes, breathing heavily and looking like a child staring at a feast of their favorite foods. John makes a face as the teenager's palms' and nose lean more into the glass, disorientating his image, but nothing could top the manic grin on his face.

John follows the boy's eyesight to where they practically devour his son, who is busy looking at the pasty bar. The waitress told him to pick anything he liked in the house to try and cheer him up from his bully.

Danny takes his sweets very seriously and studies his options with hyper-focused determination. He bends at his waist to look at the far-back brownies, and the teenager in the window lets out a cat-like growl of approval.

Alarmed, John steps in front of Danny, blocking him and his bum from view. The teenager, wearing the same uniform as Danny, and John was pretty sure he's seen this kid at Gotham High School when they had been touring the place before deciding to take Burce's offer, locks eyes with him.

John doesn't have to see into the stranger's scowl to confirm what he already knows.

That was not a human in control of the body. A demon likely took the unfortunate human for a joy ride. John raises his hand, spell crackling at his fingertips, and the scowl turns darker as the demon wearing the stolen face seers.

Just as he is about to fire off a spell, Danny's voice cuts through the tension, stepping around John with a happy "Bernard!"

His son walks up to the window before freezing and then looks back at John with the same bone-chilling expression of anger that he has only ever seen on one other being. That one being who could make the very fabrics of the universe fall apart despite not shouting or rampaging.

Danny inherited Clockwork's anger, it seemed.

"That thing is overshadowing my friend Bernard Dowd." Danny's voice is low and echoing. Somewhere behind him, John can hear the waitress gasp for air as the room's pressure increases, to Danny's displeasure. "I'm going to kill it."

John's knees shake as he fights to stay upright. "Alright. Make sure you finish murdering it before your second class. You have a chemistry test today."

Danny nods, walks outside, and grabs Bernard's arm to drag him into a dark alley. The dumb thing looked pleased, spraying something into its mouth. I thought Danny was going to snog it.

Fool.

As soon as Danny left, the pressure disappeared from the dinner, every human inside sighing relief once they could breathe better.

"What in the world was that!?" The waitress demands, her voice strained with fear.

John turns to her with a shrug. "Puberty."

Outside, a loud honk is heard as a certain teenager in a leather jacket slams his head against his steering wheel with a wail. His friends are quick to comfort him to the best of their abilities. They likely saw Danny drag the possessed human into the alleyway.

Good.

"Do you have any alcoholic drinks?" He asks the horror-stricken woman. "I need something strong."

"It's seven in the morning."

"Ah, a coffee then. Black. Strong. Anything to help me raise my boy and get through the day."

There is a long pause before she responds. "Of course, and it's on the house. Not easy being a single parent to....whatever that was."

At least she has a heart.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎTwo Spoons౨ৎ꣑ৎ

fem reader x clark kent thank you my darling @phantomamour for proofing <3

“You’re sure you don’t want anything?” Clark squeezed your hand, gaze flicking from the menu mounted on the wall. The two of you had made their way through a long line and were now one person away from the glass cases and tubs of colorful ice cream. You’d waited in line to humor Clark and he’d waited to humor you, likely hoping you’d change your mind. Though ice cream sounded good, you’d been trying to cut back on the amount of unhealthy foods you consumed lately.

Reaching your hand over to cover his, you shook your head. “I’ll be okay. What are you going to get?”

He grinned, nodding at the menu. “Look at the flavor of the month.” You lifted your eyes to the top, where it was written in bold blue and red letters: The Superman!

With a giggle, you reached up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “That sounds good.” You’d tease him some more about it when you got home but for now a cheeky little smile was all you could offer.

“I’ll get two spoons,” he promised before greeting the boy behind the counter, still clinging to your hand. You shook your head but it was with a smile. He always had to go and do something like this that made your heart beat a little extra.

You’d known Clark was thoughtful, kind, sweet, but of course you’d never exactly known just how much until you began spending so much time together. He gave himself so wholly to you that you worried there wasn’t anything left for himself. That was him though. He gave and gave and gave, not splitting it between his two identities but instead doubling the work. The man of steel was merely armor for the softest, biggest heart you’d ever known. And it was all yours.

You remembered moving in with him, tripping up the stairs carrying your boxes and sitting cross-legged on the floor unpacking your clothes and jamming them into the drawers he’d cleared out for you. The thrill of seeing your dresses on bony hangers next to his crisp white shirts. Letting him toss you onto the counter while he cooked that night and stealing a kiss or two between stirs. You were so utterly happy that it didn’t feel real. 

His love only swelled the longer you stayed with him and it showed in every possible way, melting from inside of him into his face. You’d sink into the couch after a long day and he’d crawl over to you, bury his face in your stomach for a moment before looking up at you with eyes sweeter than candy drops. 

Domesticity was the greatest gift you could give him- he’d made that clear. Whenever you fell into the depths of insecurity about being who you were compared to what he was he reminded you. You knew his guilt was heavy due to the responsibility he had as Superman and so you tried to ease it the best you could. 

Sometimes he’d leave in the middle of the night if he heard a call. You’d wake up in a blur and he’d tell you to go back to sleep with a kiss to your forehead. Dinners and dates had been interrupted before because someone needed him, and it only added onto his hurt over you. He’d return with apologies and grovel before he even knew if you were upset. You could never bring yourself to be.

It was partly because of this that he was so loving. Clark spoiled you beyond what was reasonable, delivering flowers and sweet little gifts to your bedside. In other actions he spoiled you in love. You were the recipient of warm kisses, cuddling, softened words that gave you butterflies. Inside you knew he’d treat you this way if he’d been born human even if his powers were his excuse.

“Sweetheart?” Clark regained your attention as he pulled you gently down the line to pay for his ice cream. 

You got a good look at what he’d ordered, smiling at the tri-primary colored concoction. “Is it good?” you asked.

“Dunno. Haven’t tried it yet,” he replied casually. 

Without thinking, you reached for the extra spoon he’d stuck in the ice cream, scooping up a bit and putting it in your mouth. It was a smaller portion than you would have expected him to get. Eyes widening, you beamed up at him. “Mm!”

“That good, huh?” Clark laughed as he swiped his card. He thanked the cashier and handed the cup of ice cream to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“I think it tastes like you would if you were an ice cream,” you said, and another laugh popped out of him much to your delight.

Clark smacked a kiss to the top of your head. “Well isn’t that funny?” He reached for his spoon and took a bite, eyebrows lifting. “Oh that is good.”

“Uh huh!” You took another bite. 

With a little half smile, he asked, “Do you want me to get you your own?”

“No, I won’t finish it,” you said, shaking your head. “I just want a few bites.”

“Alright.” He put his spoon back in the cup and started to walk again, keeping a careful hold on you as you both navigated the sidewalk. You had another bite, then another, the tangy flavor of the ice cream satisfying something deep inside you. 

The sun was setting, skyscrapers casting shadows across the pavement. Looking to the sky, your eyes grew hazy as you observed the fluffy clouds turning pink. It was a dreamy sort of evening, the low chatter of the streets a gentle lullaby. You were that happy sort of tired that came after a long day full of wonderful things. Work had been good. You’d gotten off early and wandered over to see Clark at the Daily Planet. He’d been so happy to see you that you thought he’d start levitating. Right away he asked you if you’d wanted to go to dinner this evening to which you’d enthusiastically agreed. 

Your spoon scraped the bottom of the cup and your eyes widened in horror. “Oh… I’m so sorry, you only had a few bites and I…and I…” Your lower lip started to tremble. A whole week you’d gone without eating anything sweet in a full portion and here you’d devoured your boyfriend’s ice cream like it was the last food on earth.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, ducking his head to kiss your forehead and thumb your cheek. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I was doing so good.” You stared at the empty cup in your hand in disbelief. Lifting your eyes to Clark, your voice hitched. “I was-”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He pulled you off to the side, rubbing your back. “Hey, nothing’s gonna happen if you have a little ice cream. It’s okay.” Removing the empty ice cream cup from your hand, he tossed it into a nearby trash can so he could wrap his arms around you. He cupped the back of your head, uncaring about what anybody thought.

You allowed yourself to be pulled into his arms, the distress that had curdled in your chest melting away. His heart was beating at its usual irregular pace and it comforted you just a little. It was all too often you had these sorts of breakdowns and he knew just how to make it all better. “Honest, I’ve been getting worried. Thought you’d gotten so sweet on the inside that you couldn’t stand eating sweet things on the outside.” That coaxed a giggle out of you and he kissed the top of your head. “You’re okay, huh? You’re okay.”

“I’m being silly,” you mumbled, and he cupped the back of your head so you’d look up at him. 

“You’re trying to keep yourself healthy is all,” he said quietly. “But it’s okay. You’re doing just fine.”

A real smile turned your lips up and you reached up to adjust the collar of his shirt. “You know, you didn’t get very much ice cream…”

He chuckled, catching your drift and repositioning his hand on your waist. Clark waited for a break in the crowd before stepping to the side and walking with you right back in the direction of the ice cream shop. “We’ll get another Superman. Two spoons.”

“I’ve already got one,” you whispered and he patted your side, a secret sort of smile on his face.

[vbecker10]

Hi Neighbor (Part 2)

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 (in progress)

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You try to help Bucky find his runaway cat then spend the afternoon getting closer then you thought you would. Bucky starts to open up to you about not being able to sleep in a bed and all the things he's never done for himself before.

A/N: This is going to be a multi-part series with a bit of a slow burn between you and your hot new neighbor. I'm not sure how many parts yet but I already have the ending all figured out 💚 I hope you all like it!

"Cute cat," you both look down and smile as his pet comes slowly towards you.

"Alpine, go back inside," he orders gently but the cat ignores him, rubbing against your ankle until you bend down to scratch behind his ears.

"Alpine?" you ask. "That's an interesting name."

"Thats what they called him at the shelter," he answers. The moment Bucky takes his eyes off his cat to look at you, Alpine takes off down the steps towards the sidewalk.

"Alpine!" Bucky calls as he runs barefoot down the sidewalk after him.

"Oh shit," you swear, following Bucky to see if you can help.

That's a really fast cat, you think as you jog down the sidewalk then cross the street behind Bucky. The super soldier clearly isn't putting in any effort as he gets further ahead of you and closer to his runaway pet. Alpine crosses another street and Bucky looks both ways briefly then follows him.

Breathing heavily, you start to slow down dramatically after the fifth or sixth street, I think I need to start doing more cardio. And that cat needs a leash, holy crap.

You watch Bucky, almost two blocks ahead of you finally slow down as Alpine turns off the sidewalk and hides under a bush. You give up on running completely, leaning over to rest your hands on your knees while you catch your breath. Wiping a bit of sweat off your forehead, you barely hear Bucky over your pounding heartbeat. When you look up, he's standing in front of you looking just as calm as he had before the chase.

Smiling in victory, he holds Alpine close to his chest with his metal arm. The feisty little feline hasn't given up yet though, he's still struggling to get free.

"Did you say something?" you stand up straighter, hoping he won't notice that your very obviously dying.

"I asked if you were okay?" he says and you can tell he's trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, forcing a wide smile. "Totally fine," you give him a thumbs up. "I love running."

He can't help but chuckle as he starts to walk back towards your apartments, "Yeah, that doesn't sound like a lie at all. Don't worry, I'll walk slow so you can keep you."

"Oh, that was mean," you laugh and he smirks.

You shake your head in response to the show you're watching as you finish folding the laundry. Just as you place the last piece of clothing in a drawer your doorbell rings. With an annoyed sigh, you grab your phone and check the video from your camera app. I'm not talking to one more person trying to sell me something, you think as it loads.

"Holy crap," you say outloud then walk quickly to the door. "Hi," you open it and smile at Bucky. "Your little fur ball escape again already?"

He shakes his head and chuckles, "Not yet. He isn't going anywhere for the moment and I think he's pretty angry with me about it. He needed a bath and then I had to put him in his crate cause he decided to test out his claws on my arm."

"Oooh, the metal one I hope," you cringe.

"Yeah, thankfully," he smiles then gets a bit more serious. "I've only had him for a month so we're still getting used to each other. He hasn't been this upset since I first brought him home from the shelter. I don't think he likes new places."

"Probably not," you agree. "But he'll get used to it here, he just needs a little time to adjust and you seem really good with him."

"I'm trying," he sighs and looks down for a moment to folded menu in his hand. "Anyways," Bucky changes the subject abruptly and smiles again. "I was going to order some Thai food and I was wondering if you wanted any, you know as a thank you for helping me find him."

"I'm not sure I really helped very much," you tell him, cringing internally when you think about how you nearly died trying to keep up with Bucky. "And I think he escaped cause of me in the first place."

"At least you tried," he smiles and you know he remembers you dying as well. He adds, "Just between us, he's a really smart cat and I think he was planning that escape since last night."

"You sure?" you ask. You're hopeful he won't change his mind but you are afraid to seem too eager to accept his offer.

"Absolutely," he nods which makes you smile and relax.

"I'm still unpacking so don't judge me too much," he says from a few steps ahead of you as you follow him up to his apartment.

You smirk, "Oh, I'm definitely going to judge you."

He smiles at your response and explains, "I'm waiting on some furniture to come in but the living room is mostly set up."

"Yeah, I noticed you didn't get a bed delivered," you say when you reach the top of the stairs and he turns to look at you. "Okay that sounded stalker-ish," you giggle nervously. "I have a camera on my door and it sends me a video anytime there's motion so if someone walks by or you open your front door I get a notification."

"Ahh," he nods in understanding. "Slightly less stalker-ish then."

You blush awkwardly, "Yeah, slightly."

"You're right though, no bed yet," he says as he walks towards the kitchen.

"So you're sleeping on the couch?" you continue to follow him through the apartment.

"I've slept in worse places," he shrugs and you bite your lip because you have no idea what to say to that. The two of you become silent, both of you ignoring his comment.

Bucky opens the fridge, "I didn't get to go grocery shopping yet so I've got water and beer."

You laugh and peak around him, "Is that really all that's in there?"

"Yep," he nods proudly. "Actually the beer isn't even mine, Sam brought it over last night when he was helping setup my TV and forgot it."

"Water is good," you tell him. "I'm going grocery shopping tonight, want to come?" The words leave your mouth before your brain can even process them. Seriously, shut up. He's a grown man, he doesn't need you to take him shopping and- your thoughts are cut off by his quick answer.

"Sure," he agrees. "Sam told me I was an idiot for getting a bike and not a car, mostly cause I'm not sure how to carry groceries and stuff on it yet."

"I think the bike was a good idea, you look pretty good on it," the words bypass your brain and you fight the urge to literally cover your mouth with your hand.

He smirks when he makes eye contact with you, "Thanks." You look away quickly, staring at your feet as you blush and clear your throat.

He pulls out the pitcher of water and opens the cabinet near the sink. A giggle escapes you when you see six identical black mugs arranged neatly on the middle shelf. Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, "What's so funny?"

"All of your mugs say Stark Industries on them," you point out. He chuckles and nods as he takes two glasses down and places them on the counter. "Wait, did you steal them from work?" you ask unable to stop giggling.

"No, of course not," he says defensively. "Steve did," he adds with a shrug.

"Shut up! Captain America stole them?" you gasp in surprise.

"Steve's literally the reason we were always in trouble as kids. He's done way worse then pocket a few mugs," he chuckles and hands you a glass of water. He pausesadd if he's thinking and adds, "He's still getting me in trouble actually."

"Wait, really?" you ask, not quite believing him.

He walks to the couch and you follow him while he talks, "Really. He even taught me how to steal cars."

"No!" you laugh, "That wasn't in the museum."

"I'm sure it wasn't," Bucky doesn't seem surprised. "It's all part of the image of Captain America, they needed him to be perfect. Always following orders, not breaking any rules," he smiles, "Pretty much the opposite of Steve."

"That's a shame, he's a lot more interesting now," you take a sip of water.

"I'll tell him you think so," he chuckles then his attention shifts to the sound of the doorbell.

You look around the still unfinished living room, smiling when you see a faded picture of him and Steve in their Army uniforms from the 40s sitting on the windowsill. He looks damn good in that uniform, you think. Not quite as good as he did when he opened the door with almost nothing on this morning of course. Oh my god, stop, he's sitting right here, you yell at yourself for your rouge thoughts.

You shift on his couch while he unpacks the food, your thoughts shifting. This is a pretty small couch for such a big guy to be sleeping on it. How does he even fit? He's gotta be a foot taller than it is long. It's at that moment that you notice a blanket folded in the corner of the room and look up at him while he unpacks the food.

"Bucky, are you sleeping on the floor?" you can't stop yourself from asking. His jaw clenches and he doesn't answer, pulling the last container out of the paper bag. "There's no way you fit on this couch," you add even though you know you should drop it. "You're too tall."

"It's not a big deal," he shrugs and picks up the remote in his metal hand, hoping to end the conversation quickly.

You put your hand on his forearm and the vibranium plates shift under your fingers causing you pull your hand back. "Sorry," you apologize knowing you've completely overstepped. You shift away from him further to give him space.

He's quiet for a moment, the sound of a random show playing in the background. "Beds are too soft," he says, his eyes drifting towards the blanket.

"Did you even buy one?" you ask but you're pretty sure you know the answer.

He shakes his head, "No. I will, probably just so the room doesn't look weird but I don't think I'll use it."

Maybe not for sleeping, your brain tries to make a joke but thankfully you don't let it slip out. This definitely isn't the time for that.

You sit quietly and wait, thankful when he starts talking again. "Once in a while, I'll fall asleep on the couch when I'm watching TV but I can't seem to last the night. I don't know... I'm just not used to being comfortable I guess. It feels weird, almost like it's wrong. I'm not sure how to explain it but I can't even use a pillow most of the time."

"Have you talked to anyone about this?" you ask him, feeling more worried about him as the conversation continues.

"Steve knows," Bucky answers with a light nod. "I don't think he gets it though."

"Oh, I meant like a therapist..." you stop yourself, "I'm sorry this is none of my business."

"No it's okay," he says but you can tell he's uncomfortable. He flexes his hand, the metal whirling as it recalibrates and the plates shift. "I've been avoiding the one SHIELD set up for me to talk to."

"Why?" you ask, not meaning to push but you're too concerned about him to just drop the subject.

"I'm not ready to uh..." he pauses and you can see he's really trying to think of the right word. "Trauma dump, that's what the kids call it now right?"

You can't help but laugh lightly at how sincere his question is, "Yeah, that's what the youngsters call it."

"Don't make fun," he smiles for the first time since you brought up his sleeping habits.

"I'm not," you promise. "Who's teaching you slang anyways?"

He chuckles, "Peter." You shrug having no idea who that is. "Peter Parker," he says as if that should help but you still look at him blankly. "He's umm..." he stops himself, "He's a high schooler who's interning for Stark. Smart kid from Queens, way too much energy though."

You giggle, "So you went straight to the source huh?"

"Just trying to catch up," he opens the container of food closest to him.

"How's that going for you?" you help him open the other one.

"Most of what he says makes very little sense," he laughs. "I think he's messing with me a lot."

You smirk and agree, "He might be. I know I would."

"I have no doubt you would," he says as he divides one of the containers between your plates.

You watch him smile as he focuses on the food but your eyes drift back to the blanket tucked away in the corner. "Bucky," you clear your throat a little and he looks up at you. "Try not to put off the therapist for too long okay?" He nods and you add, "And if you ever wanna talk I'm around. I'm pretty good at just listening."

"Thanks Y/N, I really appreciate that," Bucky hands you your plate. "You know," he smiles, "If you keep offering to help me with things, I'm going to start thinking you like being around me or something."

You shake your head, not willing to admit you've got a serious crush on him that inky seems to be getting worse. "I actually just want to hang out with you to get closer to Alpine."

"Ahh, I knew it," he laughs as he sits back on the couch with a smirk.

You follow Bucky to the kitchen, throwing out the garbage while he places the dishes in the sink. "Not gonna use the dishwasher?" you ask him.

"Oh," he looks over at the appliance then you. "Um... I haven't figured that one out yet."

"Add that to the list of stuff I need to teach you," you joke.

He chuckles and grabs a pad off the fridge, placing it on the counter next to you with a pen. "Go ahead," Bucky says.

"You're ridiculous," you roll your eyes but take the cap off the pen. "So we've got a lot of horrible adult things. Using a dishwasher, going grocery shopping, doing laundry-"

"I actually don't mind laundry," he interrupts you.

"Seriously?" you look at him surprised.

"Yeah, it's so easy now. You put the clothes in one machine, push a few buttons and come back when it's clean. Then you've got a whole separate machine to dry them," he explains. You laugh at how cute he is when he's excited and he continues talking. "You have no idea how annoying laundry was back then," he says seriously. "I had to boil the water, use a washboard which is an absolute nightmare and you had to do it on a nice day so you could spread it all out on the clothesline."

"You're so old," you cover your mouth, laughing at the thought of Bucky bent over a washboard.

"Ow," he pretends to pout but he chuckles when he makes a friendly threat. "He nice to me or I'll tell Alpine you prefer dogs."

You gasp, "You wouldn't!"

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[itsvelyria]

"non-sexual acts of intimacy with the f1 boys"

Charles Leclerc

being there for each other. after a bad race, you'll be right there in the garage waiting with open arms or his phone will be lit up with a bunch of messages from you. a bad day at work? he's running a bath with your favourite sandalwood bath salts and your fluffiest towel is hanging on the heated rack. he is one constant presence you can always count on to be there, to smile at you and tell you it's going to get better, and vice versa.

Carlos Sainz

he finds comfort in physical contact, that means his hands are either on your lower back guiding you through crowds, or on your thigh during midnight cuddles on the couch, or simply just interlaced with yours. his family and friends are used to him drifting away from them, weaving through people to drape his arms over your shoulders from behind in greeting. he likes the reminder that you are right there with him, grounding him.

Danny Ricciardo

he loves your mornings together. being an f1 driver doesn't get him a lot of days at home so when he does, he enjoys waking to daylight slipping through the cracks of the curtains and slipping out of bed to make coffee for two. the aroma wakes you up and when you pad into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes, he thinks he might be the luckiest man in the world to be able to witness it. oftentimes you two sit there in silence, just relishing in each other's presence and sharing a quiet moment.

George Russell

its the little things he brings back from every trip or every outing, the excuse of "it reminded me of you" rolling off his tongue. the chrysanthemums outside the flower shop he passed by, the strange pink shell he saw at the beach. he shows them to you with such pride, the tiny burst of happiness in his chest when you laugh and admire the present, turning it over in your hands. every present he gifts another reiteration of your significance in his life and just how often he thinks of you throughout the day. what could be more of an indication of love than that?

Lando Norris

children at heart, you two love teasing each other — his messy curls that are sticking up in all directions when he wakes or the light foam moustache on your upper lip from the cappuccino you just drank. but you never take it too far and he finds it easy to just be himself around you, to be able to laugh everything off. its the intimate level of comfort and understanding that shines through all your playful banter and jokes that makes him never want to leave your side.

Lewis Hamilton

he really loves hearing you talk, it's like music to his ears whenever you're telling him about the bus you missed or raving over your new favourite song. the man hangs onto your every word, letting them sink in as he gazes at you with lovestruck eyes. and he's always there with the perfect response — how to deal with a difficult client at work or just filing your words away in his album of you in his brain.

Max Verstappen

remembering the littlest most insignificant things about you. he got you a first print copy of your favourite book after 3 months together and since then, he's surprised you every so often at just how much he knows you. sometimes orders for you at cafes and restaurants because he knows exactly how you pick items on the menu. you once told him about how you hate cracked phone screens so he has a bunch of them in his drawer and changes them for you. the sight of him squinting while trying to line up your phone screen makes your heart swell with adoration.

[enhanextdoor]

𓂃۶ৎ 𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝐈 𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐒? ━━━ 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾.

박종성 (p.js). ─────⠀ㅤ 1,895 (in total) ―୨୧⋆ ˚ 𝗳!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗑 𝗻𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗱𝗼𝗹!𝗷𝗮𝘆 𓈒 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. ⠀

부인 성명 (disclaimer) : read at your own risk. mentions of illness (your mother is sick). there is going to be fluff and angst themes. NOT PROOFREAD

taglist: @choisanswife. @leehsngs.

to be honest you didn’t want to get married, on top of that you had to marry park jongseong. it was ideal obviously since neither of you were in love with each other, but your mother was dying and wanted to see her daughter getting married. he had his reasons for the wedding except he wouldn’t tell you what they were. you didn’t even care enough to know. you just had to be married to him for two years then you could file for that divorce like he had promised. you were two months into this sham of a marriage and your family was coming to visit in one week. since the wedding you two had barely spent any time in the same room. you hardly acted married, but when your mom called jay made sure he was always chiming in and he kept up with your life so his responses seemed fitting. 

tonight you decided you would make dinner for the both of you since you needed to go through what talking points you would be having with your parents. you were in the kitchen when jay stepped through the doorway. he had been hanging out with the guys again which was typical especially since it was the weekend. “how are they?” you questioned as you tried to focus on the cook book in front of you. “uh.. good. jake says hi and ni-ki says you haven’t played him back in darts?” he arched an eyebrow slightly as he walked further into the kitchen. “what are you doing?” it almost sounded like he was trying not to laugh and that pissed you off. “cooking, what does it look like?” you retorted and pulled your hair out of the way. “okay, yeah. i’ll get the take out menus.” he said as he walked towards the assigned junk drawer where you kept menus to your favorite local places. “excuse me? no. this is going to be the best damn meal you’ve had all year park jongseong.” you point to the door of the kitchen. “now get out of my kitchen.” he laughed on his way out of the kitchen with his hands partially up. “okay, okay, but if i get food poisoning.” 

despite the comments from jay you made the meal from the cookbook and it tasted so damn good. you had to get a little taste of course before serving it in case it was bad. you were proud of this meal, really proud actually. you walked the two plates to the table in the dining room, setting the plates down in your respective spots. “okay y/n, let’s show him.” you muttered to yourself before walking up the stairs to find jay plucking away at his guitar. you stopped to admire him for a moment since he hadn’t noticed you just yet. he really was talented even if you didn’t want to fully admit it. “hey.. dinner is ready.” you stated after clearing your throat to get his attention. he looked over with an amused smile, “are we sure it’s edible?” he joked a little and you narrowed your gaze. “swear to god i’m going to feed you dog food next time.” you grumbled before walking right back down the stairs. jay put his guitar up and followed behind you. 

you both sat in silence as he went to take the first bite and you watched in anticipation, wondering what he was going to say. he was chewing and he even closed his eyes while doing so. you had no clue if that meant he liked it or was trying to hide the grimace, you thought it tasted good. “this is…” he kept you hanging for a moment. “out with it park!” you said and he held his finger up to indicate he wasn’t ready to give his answer. “...really good.” he opened his eyes to look at you which only caused your own eyes to roll. “you are are such a dick.” he couldn’t help but laugh at your comment and you both kept on eating in silence just enjoying the cooking. 

“i guess we should talk about your family coming. how is your mom doing?” he questioned which filled the air with a little bit of an eerie feeling. you didn’t like talking about everything going on with her illness, but jay always made sure to check in. “the doctors say maybe another year, but even they aren’t sure.” a frown crossed your lips and you averted your gaze to the table. “you know if you ever need to talk about that, i’m right here.” his voice seemed to be laced with a empathic tone that made your heart feel so warm. “i know, thank you.” you felt bad enough considering that you convinced him to marry you using your mom’s condition. 

the next week came and your family was staying with the both of you so that whole sleeping in different rooms thing would have to wait until they were gone again. jay took some days off work the same way you did to spend time with your parents. your father and jay were out in the backyard and you were in the living room with your mother. you had brought her some extra pillows to help her get comfortable and sat down across from her. “y/n, i really love seeing you with jay. seeing the way he looks at you. i know you’ll be taken care of when i’m gone.” she bore a little bit of a sad smile and you returned it. if only she knew that this marriage wasn’t what she thought it was. jay didn’t love you and you didn’t love him, did you? no. you didn’t, at least that is what you had to tell yourself. 

after some time jay and your father came back into the house laughing about something and you glanced over, your own face reflecting the smile on his. he was always so sweet with you and your family. “jay, come sit with me for a moment.” your mother called out patting the spot next to her and he sauntered over, sitting beside her and taking her hand when she held it out for him. “i love how happy you make my daughter.” she commented and he gave her hand a little reassuring squeeze. “i love how happy she makes me.” he teased back and your mother looked so overjoyed. “ah well i’m glad to hear that, but you know i’m on a bit of a time crunch what are our thoughts on grandkids?” she looked so sly while saying that. “mom!” you called out and you felt your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. he busted out with a loud laugh and everyone else followed suit. “we haven’t really talked about that yet but i promise we will keep it in mind.” he finally answered after the laughter calmed down. 

that night after dinner your parents went to settle down in the guest room leaving you and jay to clean the kitchen. you were washing the dishes up and he was cleaning off the table when you finally decided to speak up. “jay.. i don’t know how i’ll ever make all of this up to you.” your words lingered followed by a minute of silence. for a second you weren’t sure if he even heard you, but he approached the sink and his eyes felt like they were burning into your skin so you turned to meet his gaze. “y/n, you know i never told you why i got into the marriage. i didn’t have to do it, but i said i had my reasons remember?” he was stood a little closer than you had expected him to be. “yeah i remember, never understood why you couldn’t just tell me.” you scoffed a little and set the sponge you were using down. “i married you because i had feelings for you. i knew you didn’t feel the same, but i figured that if we lived together and spent more time together maybe just maybe you would end up feeling the same way.” he confessed as his one hand rested on the counter top next to you. your eyes widened and you weren’t expecting a love confession. you weren’t even sure how you felt to be completely honest. 

“i um.. well i’m not really sure how to respond to that. you married me because you have feelings for me?” you sounded confused and honestly that is the reason people are suppose to get married, love. he told you what any girl would be dying to hear that he is genuinely in love with you and your heart was racing you knew that much yet you couldn’t say the words back. “i don’t understand.” you said quieter than you spoke before. “it’s okay, i don’t expect you to say it back or even feel the same. if we get to the two year mark and you still want the divorce then we get the divorce but if we get there and you think you love me too then why not try this for real? we are only two months in so that gives you twenty-two months to figure out what you are feeling.” he smiled and placed a small kiss on your cheek. “i’m going to head to bed, you take all the time you need.” he put his hand on your arm for just a second, admiring every feature of you before dropping his hand and walking himself up to the master bedroom. 

you stood there trying to process everything, every moment from the time you both got engaged to now. you were fake engaged for six months before this little marriage came along so it wasn’t like you didn’t know jay. you became closer friends in the time that you were living together and maybe you did catch yourself watching him a little longer, smiling at him, enjoying his presence instead of your alone time. were you in love with park jongseong? was this marriage that started as a lie going to turn into a real marriage? there were so many questions running through your mind. every sweet moment that you shared jay replayed in your mind, the times he held you through your tears after getting results from your moms tests, and even the little teasing arguments the two of you had. you were hopelessly in love with jay. shit, you are in love with him. 

you made your way upstairs and into the room that tonight you would be sharing with jay. he had already gotten himself ready for bed and his attention turned to you when you walked into the room. “jay, i think i love you too.” you were just standing in the doorway and he tilted his head just a little. “you think? i’ll take it.” he broke into a smile and you just walked over to him. “yeah i think, i want to keep trying this and like trying to be in a relationship for real.” he nodded as his hand moved to rest on your hip and you were closer than before. “i like the sound of that.” you two leaned in to kiss, but right as your lips were going to connect you heard your mothers voice. “what do you mean for real?”

c. enhanextdoor ; do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

a/n: i hope you all enjoy this fic and sorry it ended on a lil cliffhanger mwhehehe

[nolita-fairytale]

your past and mine are parallel lines | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

summary: a run-in with an old friend sparks a conversation between you and carmy of the people you loved before each other. or rather, the one in which you meet claire.

warnings: use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, tooth rotting fluff, not-your-normal jealousy fic, soft!carmy, lives in the world of make my heart surrender

wc: 3.9k

a/n: ok so hear me out: i just want to write about healthy relationships right now and that is where i'm at. this is not your normal jealousy fic and i hope you still enjoy! this lives in the world of 'make my heart surrender' because of course it does and takes place a month after my oneshot, j is for j beard and jealousy.

masterlist

It begins with forgotten carrots, tops attached, of course – a necessary ingredient to the dish that you’ve been working on all afternoon together. Usually, you’d go for a rainbow bunch, but for the puree, aesthetically of course, the classic orange carrot is much better suited. You’d hadn’t put them on the grocery list the day before, certain that you had a bunch or two at home sitting in your vegetable drawer, only to find mid-recipe development that you did not, in fact, have carrots at home. It doesn’t take long for Carmy to suggest a quick trip to the store, insisting that you come with him because this is a date, after all. 

It’s something you and Carmy have decided to do, now that neither of you are needed at the restaurant 24/7: a cooking date at home which, despite the fact that this date night was an idea born out of both of your desires to introduce more fun into your lives, will inevitably become a dish that Carmy tries to put on the menu anyways.

Divide and conquer is the strategy: while you hit up the produce aisle, Carmy is sent on a mission to procure a bottle of orange wine for dinner later tonight. 

But what’s supposed to be a simple Saturday afternoon grocery store run takes a turn for the intriguing as you hear a laugh – a woman’s laugh – and the familiar sound of your boyfriend’s voice muttering something about the name of his restaurant.

As you approach, you spot your boyfriend and the woman he’s found himself in a conversation with. Carmy leans against the refrigerator doors, his chest square to the brunette, bathed in neon blues from the refrigerator lights. 

“Because you’re the bear. And I remember you,” you hear her say. You observe carefully, the look of surprise and the blush that runs across Carmy’s cheeks in response to her words are not lost on you. 

There’s a palpable energy between them as they converse, and it feels as if all the blood is rushing to your head as you cut the tension with a single: 

“Hey.” 

As the brunette turns to you, you’re only a little taken aback by how beautiful she is. With long, thick, dark hair, she has piercing blue eyes, similar to the ones you’ve found yourself lost in in your years spent loving Carmen Berzatto. You feel almost silly as you stand there, holding a bunch of carrots in your right hand, suddenly grateful that your have your favorite of Carmy’s denim jackets tied around your waist (for “just in case the store’s got the AC blasting,” Carmy had reminded you before you left the house earlier). 

“Hi,” is all she replies, an almost too-friendly smile plastered to her face, as she takes a few steps towards you. “I’m Claire. I’m…” She trails off before stealing a glance over at Carmy before continuing with, “...an old friend. Of Carmy’s.” As the woman called Claire extends a hand out to you, you take it, giving her hand a curt shake as you introduce yourself. 

It dawns on Carmy, who has slipped into a state of what can only be considered as shock, that he probably should’ve introduced the two of you sooner as he mutters an apology under his breath. 

“Shit, yeah, sorry. I probably should’ve-. I uh, um, Claire. Yeah. This is uh, this is my girlfriend,” Carmy manages to get out, his face growing increasingly deeper shades of red as the words tumble out of his mouth. 

“Your-? Wow, oh my god! It’s-it’s so nice to meet you,” Claire replies, trying her best to hide the surprise in her voice as it increases in pitch with every word. 

“So… what’re you two up to-?” she begins to ask, looking from you to Carmy with wide, quizzical eyes. “Carrots. We’re uh…,” is the first thing that comes to mind as the words fly from your lips. “... buying carrots.” 

You realize how stupid it sounds, completely caught off guard, as you scramble to find any word in the English language that doesn’t sound as ridiculous as what you’ve just said. 

You wonder if this is how Carmy felt when you ran into Nate at the James Beard Awards about a month ago. 

At this rate, something’s gotta be in retrograde, right? you think to yourself as you try to push down your feelings of embarrassment. 

“Right,” Carmy mutters, while Claire tries to get the conversation back on track. 

“Well, it’s really good to see you, Bear. Really. I’ll have to stop by the restaurant sometime,” she says, preparing to excuse herself. 

“Yeah,” Carmy nods, still avoiding as much direct eye contact as possible. 

Bear.

It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, and yet, you can’t help the feeling that wells inside of you as she says the name. 

The family name. 

His childhood name. 

It feels more intimate than it should, and maybe it is. 

You swallow, trying to shake the feeling. 

“Yes. Yeah, we’d uh… let us know. When you’re there,” you continue, exchanging a look with Carmy, who only nods along. 

“Oh, you’re a-, you work there too? At the restaurant,” Claire asks, eyeing the carefully drawn fruits and veggies that adorn the length of your arms, permanently inked there forever. 

“Yeah. Uh. Pastry chef,” you reply with a small laugh. 

She nods, almost as if she’s accepted an unspoken agreement – something you’re not sure you’ll ever know. 

“Well it was nice to meet you,” she says once more, shooting a soft smile in your direction, before excusing herself. “And it’s good to see you, Carmy.” 

As you watch Claire walk away, Carmy’s still frozen inside of what he thinks could be the most awkward experience of his month so far. 

“So… that was weird,” you say, as you turn towards your boyfriend. He mutters something in agreement because the only thing he can think of to say is, what the fuck just happened. 

And he’s barely figured that out. 

“Do… you want to talk about it?” you ask skeptically, dragging out the ‘o’ at the beginning of your question. 

“Not really,” he mumbles softly, shaking his head. 

“Great, me either,” you’re quick to reply, even though you both know that you’re going to have to talk about this eventually. 

—-------------------------------------

It seems to be a day of forgetfulness, as Carmy realizes that he’s left his notebook at the restaurant – something he’s been working out of for any and all new ideas, a habit you think he picked up from Syd. It’s not entirely out of the way, so the two of you decide to stop by on the way home. You enter through the back, hoping to skirt the tongue lashing you’ll both get for coming in – even just for a few minutes – on your day off. 

But a hall-pass just isn’t in the cards for either of you, as you’re instantly spotted, arm-in-arm, by Richie who’s just ended the pre-dinner shift all hands meeting. 

“It’s your day off! Get the fuck outta here,” Richie calls out to you with a shake of his head. “You two. I swear.” 

“I just forgot my notebook. We’re in, then we’re out. I swear!” Carmy defends himself, holding up his hands. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie dismisses him before issuing a warning with a wag of his finger. “You better not stay longer than five minutes, you got that?” 

“In and out. Scout’s honor,” you answer, before the abrupt interjection of Fak’s voice stops you from saying anything else. 

“Incomiiiiiiiing!” Fak cries, as he bursts through the doors. “Ahhhh man. Hey Carm! I heard you ran into Claire Bear.” 

Claire Bear?

You shoot Carmy a quizzical look that he’s more than eager to avoid. 

“The fuck are you talkin’ about?” Richie snaps as Carmy simultaneously lets out as: “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. What do you-? How? Already?!” “Fuck it’s been two fuckin’ seconds,” Carmy grits his teeth, trying his best to answer Richie’s question. “But apparently news travels fast.” He shoots you an apologetic look as he explains, “She’s uh… close family friends with the Faks.” 

“Ahhh,” you let out. “She seem good? Bet she was glad to see ya,” Fak inquires, overenthusiastically winking in Carmy’s direction. 

“Yeah she’s uh… she’s gonna be a doctor in a few months huh?” Carmy replies, trying his best to avoid Fak’s continuous winks. 

“Who the fuck is Claire?” Sydney asks, as she enters the conversation. Syd quickly notices the confused look on your face, in contrast to the embarrassed one on Carmy’s, and a more than eager Fak, much to Richie’s dismay. 

It’s as if he can read the situation in one look as Richie cuts in this time with an explanation:

“Will you stop it, fucko? Jesus Christ.” Richie turns his attention to you this time as shakes his head, brushing off Fak’s earlier comment. “She’s just a kid from the neighborhood. That’s all.” 

“Just a kid from the neighborhood?! You, Richie, you are not nice!” Fak exclaims. 

But Richie is faster, quick to dismiss the man as he cuts him off with a few sharp words about fixing his bowtie before dinner service starts. As they bicker back and forth, trading barbs like brothers, Carmy has returned to his ‘I really don’t want to talk about this’ body language, his shoulders slumped and completely avoiding eye contact. 

“Okay. Um…. Raise your hand if you’re off the clock but you’re acting really fuckin’ weird right now,” Sydney says, looking from you to Carmy, and then back to you. 

“I…” you try your best to explain to no avail – mostly because you’re not sure what to explain yet. 

“We should go. Let’s get out of here, yeah?” you propose, directing your attention towards Carmy again. You’re more than happy to be met with a nod as Carmy excuses himself, darting into his office to retrieve the notebook he came here for in the first place. 

You can tell that he’s not ready to talk about it, and after the weirdness today, you’re beginning to wonder more and more about this Claire girl. Carmy had never mentioned an ex-girlfriend. You knew that there were short-lived flings here and there throughout his twenties, but by the time you met him, it was just you and him, trapped inside your little bubble of denial and unspoken feelings until you weren’t. 

Claire doesn’t quite seem like an ex, but you could feel that she wasn’t just a girl from the neighborhood that Carmy grew up with either. 

“You good?” Sydney asks, immediately noticing your discomfort. 

“Yes,” you answer, unconvincingly. “Sooooo….?” Sydney begins to ask. 

So what’s going on? So what was that all about? 

“Girl, I will let you know when I know,” you answer, shooting her a matching look. 

“Godspeed, my friend,” Sydney replies with a salute, eliciting a much needed laugh from you. “I’m gonna get back to work but uh… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you nod, trying your best to shake off this weird feeling. 

As you watch her go, you’re too caught up in the what-the-fuck-ness of it all that you barely notice as Richie approaches. 

“You know you got nothin’ to worry about, right, sweetheart?” Richie asks you, interrupting the thoughts swimming around in your head. 

“No yeah. I-, he’ll tell me when he’s ready,” you reply, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself. 

“You ready?” you hear Carmy ask. 

“Yeah,” you nod, before giving Richie a small smile because his reassurance means a lot. “Thanks, Richie.” 

As you wave goodbye, Carmy takes your hand before leading you out of the restaurant and en route towards home. There’s a thick tension between the two of you, filled with things left unsaid. It’s more of an awkward kind of tension as Richie’s words echo in your head: 

You know you got nothin’ to worry about, right, sweetheart? 

It means more to you than he knows – that Richie is in your corner. It’s not like the two of you are best friends, but you have a mutual understanding that you’ve been good for Carmen ever since you reentered his life. 

You’ve become a patient woman, knowing that, most of the time, Carmy has to come to you on his own time. You trust him wholeheartedly, and you trust that he’ll tell you when he’s ready. It just doesn’t help the anticipation that’s been building inside of you all afternoon. 

“You know. We’re gonna have to talk about this eventually,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence between you. 

“Yeah,” Carmy answers quietly, giving your hand a confident squeeze. And if it’s a promise, he adds, “Yeah, I know.”

—-------------------------------------

You’re barely paying attention to George Clooney’s portrayal of a former raider turned newspaper columnist of a fox, entirely distracted by your game of cat and mouse that you play with Carmy and his attention. You can feel his eyes on you as you take another sip from your wine glass, the funky and sour notes hitting your tongue as he watches you closely, your head hazy from getting towards the end of the second glass.  

Carmy sighs, shifting his body position, as if choosing the comfiest position will embolden him to tell you what’s been on his mind.

He lets out yet another sigh, this one much heavier than the last and you know he’s working up the nerve. 

You cradle your wine glass in your hands, giving the last of the orange elixir a swirl as you settle into the couch, your back pressed against the arm of it as you stretch your legs out in front of you. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask him, and he lets out one last sigh of relief, almost as if he’s been waiting for you to ask. 

“Uh… yeah, actually,” Carmy admits, hesitantly.

You’ve been waiting for him to get here, taking in the vulnerable look on his face as he searches for the words he thinks will best convey what he wants to say. “So… there was like… someone… before me, yeah?” Carmy drags out, his face soft as he asks you a question that takes you by surprise. 

You let out what can only be described as a laugh and a sob as you reply with: 

“What do you mean?” you choke out, the laugh that escapes your body providing much needed relief. 

It’s not what you expected. That’s for sure. 

“You know…” he trails off, before taking another deep breath because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s really the only example he’s got. “Like… I know… about Nate.” “Nate?!” you exclaim with an even bigger laugh. “Bear, are you… are you asking me about my exes?” 

“Uh… yeah…” he admits on an exhale, almost embarrassed to be asking. “I guess uh-, I guess I am.” In his bashfulness, you giggle, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze as you begin to understand that he’s ready to talk about what happened in the grocery store. 

Carmy takes a breath, and you watch his posture soften.

“Well, Nate barely counts as an ex. I don’t… That was more of a… one-time mistake kind of thing,” you admit, knowing that it wasn’t all that long ago that Carmy found out about it in the first place. 

“Right,” Carmy nods, his gaze focused on his knees for a moment because even though he brought it up, he’d really like to stop talking about Nate right about now. 

“But!” you begin, trying your best to meet him where he’s asking you to. “The guy I dated… right before I met you, Alec was… definitely someone I consider an ex. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah um… we were together for two years… just before I started working at our old spot,” you begin, willing to give him as much information as he wants. “So why didn’t it work out?” Carmy asks curiously. 

“I don’t know, babe. I racked my brain trying to figure that one out a ton when we first broke up,” you sigh, uncertain of how to answer that question. You take your time choosing to be as honest as possible in your explanation. “I think… I don’t know. He was never as sure about me as I was of him.”

“We were great together, y’know? He was kind, and smart… he made me laugh… And we were really happy together for a long time. I mean, I think we were exactly what each other needed as the people we were in that time of our lives,” you explain, elaborating on what really worked in your relationship with Alec. 

“But eventually, none of that stuff really mattered because all I wanted was to be with someone who felt as crazy about me as I did about them, you know? And… he wasn’t… entirely sure.” 

Carmy lets out a deep breath as he takes your words in. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, as he feels the weight of your words. “I guess… well, I guess I didn’t know about all that.” 

“Well, I didn’t exactly tell you,” you shrug. 

Carmy thinks it over, wondering why he never asked you about your broken heart back then – not that he was ever really good about that kind of stuff  – the talking about feelings kind of stuff, and whatnot. 

But he wants to be good at it now. Or, at least he’d like to try. He wants to try to be good at it for you. 

“Guy’s a fuckin’ loser,” Carmy comments, a bitterness in his voice as he does. “I can’t imagine it.” 

“Hm?” 

“Not being crazy about you,” he answers, his tone confident as his eyes catch yours. 

Your heart flutters with the way he looks at you, and between his words and his certainty about you, you can’t regret the past – not even a little bit. 

“It’s okay, Bear,” you reassure him, and you mean it. “If Alec and I had stayed together… well, you and I never would’ve….” 

“Danced around each other for over two years?” Carmy points out letting out a dry laugh. “Right,” you chuckle in agreement, with a playful eye roll. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” 

“We’re here now. Isn’t that what’s important?” you ask with a shrug and a half smile. 

This time, his tone much more serious, Carmy answers with a, yeah, that feels heavier than the previous ones. 

You and Carmy both take a beat, letting the reality of your life with each other sink in. It’s as if all the ‘no’s of the past lead you here to this moment, and you’d have it no other way. 

“So. Who… is Claire?” you ask, earning a groan from Carmy as he swears under his breath with a shake of his head. You stretch out your leg, just enough to poke him with your big toe as he chuckles, wanting nothing more than to avoid this question. 

“It’s just… well you’ve never really told me about any of your exes!”

“Well she’s not really… my ex,” Carmy blushes, averting his gaze once again. 

“Well, she doesn’t really seem like just a friend,” you point out, and it suddenly feels like you’re showing your entire hand. Carmy agrees with you on an exhale, reminding himself that he wants to try the whole ‘better at talking about feelings’ thing with you. 

“Okay. Uh… well… we’ve known each other for like… forever, I guess,” Carmy begins to explain running a hand through his curls. “Her family is close with the Faks and I-, I-, uh… well, I sort of… had this massive crush on her… like all throughout school.” 

“What?” you ask, genuinely curious about his sudden coyness. 

“It’s embarrassing!” he defends himself, with a dry laugh. 

“Carmy, it’s not!” you insist, sitting up straight this time to reach for his hand. “Was it weird for you? Earlier today?” 

“Uh. Kinda, yeah,” he confesses, stealing a glance your way. 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Like… a lot. Was that… not obvious?” he shoots back, this time with a shake of his head. “I just-. I don’t know. It was weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?” you ask again, patiently. “Just… weird, babe,” Carmy answers honestly with a shrug of his own. 

You nod in understanding, wanting to give him the space to share more if he’d like to. It’s not that you were worried about Claire… but it had been weird, earlier today – and even stranger when no one was giving you a proper explanation. “I-, I-, it’s like. I had such a big crush on her. And I could barely work up the nerve to talk to her like… I was sort of just this-, this total fuckin’ loser,” Carmy continues, his eyes narrowing as he talks about a younger version of himself. “And now here I am… with my super hot girlfriend and I just-. I don’t know. It sorta uh… reminded me of like… a different version of myself.” 

“Yeah, no, I-, I get that. It’s… it’s such a weird feeling,” you empathize, exchanging a look with your boyfriend this time. 

You nod in understanding, only to be met with a laugh and another shake of his head as Carmy lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re being like… waaaaay too cool about this,” he points out, his voice lighter this time. 

“Oh yeah?” you ask with a quirk of an eyebrow. “Uh. Fuck yeah,” Carmy confirms, as you exchange a laugh. He shrugs once again, only a little embarrassed as he adds, “You know… I just… I kinda lost my fuckin’ mind. You know. About Nate.” You shrug, “That’s different. I-.” A beat. “Do you want me to be jealous?” “No,” Carmy answers. A beat. “Maybe?” And another. “I-, I don’t know. This is all so new to me!” 

“Carm,” you sigh, as you lean over, placing your wine glass down on the coffee table before scooting closer to your boyfriend as you continue. “You and I have been through so much together and there were days that I thought we’d never speak again… but somehow we still ended up here.” 

He grabs your hands, pulling you in closer towards him as you meet him pound for pound–all heart on both sides. 

“I trust you,” you reassure him, your fingers sliding perfectly between his. “And I know I have your heart… ‘cos I know you got mine.” 

“Ffffffuck,” Carmy exhales, in complete disbelief that you really are being too cool about this. “Seriously?!” 

You laugh, incredulously this time, as you decide to give your boyfriend just a little of what he may be looking for. “No, but. It did-, it was weird for me… today. With Claire. And then later at the restaurant when Fak brought her up. I mean… you weren’t lying. News traveled fast,” you admit, much to Carmy’s relief. 

“Neighborhood’s small. That’s for sure,” he agrees, equally uncomfortable with how quickly that got around. 

“And… She is like… really pretty. And… what? About to be a doctor so I guess that means she’s really fuckin’ smart. I mean-,” you continue. 

It doesn’t take Carmy long to realize that you’re trying too, deciding it’s best to put you out of your misery sooner rather than later as he cuts you off with a playful, “Oh shut the fuck up.” 

It’s your turn to laugh this time as you lean in, pressing your lips to his. 

Carmy inhales, breathing you in as he tries to memorize the way you smell, the way you taste, the way your lips feel nestled so perfectly against his. He pulls away just for a moment, intent on telling you something. 

“You do, by the way,” Carmy says, his declaration soft but sure. “Have my heart, I mean.”

“I know, babe,” you reply, with a smile. “I know.”

—-------------------------------------

a/n: if you've been wondering where i've been, i've been here! just living a whole lot of life offline these days. would anyone be interested in reading my thoughts on life? anyways, i feel like a hiatus was good for me, and now i have all this life i've lived that's inspired me to write again. i've been channeling a lot of my creative energy into other projects which has felt great and it also feels really good to be back.

[unholyhelbig]

werewolf kate RAH i love your fics

Title: What? I've Seen Twilight [A Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot Oneshot]

Summary: It's been six years since reader has been out on her own, but now that she and Kate have an apartment in the city together, the last thing they're expecting is old company.

Trigger warnings: Sadness, angst, burns (Physical), general emotional distress, therapy,very brief mentions of assult, and spelling mistakes.

A/n: I went a little wild with this one. It's way longer than I intended, but jesus, did I have fun.

Read the Full Series:

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six, Part Seven]

Kate Bishop’s height advantage killed most situations. She could ride every rollercoaster, and one could spot her in a crowd of people as they bustled in and out of the New York Subway system. She could easily lead you, just the same, her large hand engulfing yours and making sure that you’d be able to stick together.

Kate hated her height sometimes. When she was a child, she was approached by her high school gym teacher that begged her to be on the basketball team. She was lanky and awkward, sitting on a whisp of a bench.

She’d wanted to join the team, but her father was vehemently against sports. He said that it worked her up too much and she’d be a danger to society if her adrenaline became too high for her to manage, as it often was. It was just one of those rules that were accompanied by breathing exercises and the occasional sedative.

You’d never made Kate feel an aversion to her height, in fact, you utilized it to your advantage. You’d curl up in her arms, slotted against her body. Her height could nearly swallow you whole. It was no trouble for you to ask for her to reach for certain things that were out of your grasp.

She had a horrible advantage when it came to hanging things, however. Everything was crooked, including the painting she was frustratingly trying to level over a crisping water stain. She’d worked up a sweat, blowing strands that had fallen from her ponytail from her face.

You came up behind her, wrapping your arms around her toned stomach. You were too short to rest your chin on her shoulder, so you settled for nuzzling into her back instead, breathing in the lemon scent of her. Kate let a smile spread across her face, sighing into your warmth. “Remind me why we decided to move out of the compound again?”

“Because we’re engaged and wanted some form of privacy.” You mumbled into her spine.

She beamed and turned in your arms. You much preferred this side of her. You were able to tuck your head under her chin. The painting took a hard left and slid into a diamond shape on the wall. A rumbling growl moved through her chest, vibrating against your ear.

“Was that your stomach or your frustration?”

“I think maybe it was both. Where’d you put the takeout menus?”

“Drawer by the fridge, we can’t make a habit of ordering out though.”

Kate detached herself from you and crossed the mostly bare living room to the kitchen. She rifled through them until she found her prize, a menu from the Tex-Mex place that had opened up down the street. They had massive portions, and that always worked in both your favors with the appetites you carried.

“We’re not going to make a habit. I just think we deserve a little treat after moving everything up six flights of stairs. Don’t you?”

The motivation to cook had left your body between floor three and four. You were determined to prove to Steve and Natasha that you were both more than capable of being on your own. It took months of convincing, and you’d even considered making a power point to demonstrate how responsible you’d be.

It didn’t’ come to that, just a promise (and then a pinky-swear) that the two of you would return back to the compound the week of the full moon. It was an easy compromise. In fact, it even made you feel safer. There was infinite space, and it was the only place you’d ever gone through a transition. Dozens, at this point, possibly hundreds.

“Fine, just this once, and only if you get extra nachos.”

“Okay, bossy. You can brave the copious number of stairs and pick up the order, then.”

That seemed like a fair enough deal. You dawned your coat, the sound of thunder a few miles away having reached your ears. Most things, you’d learned to tune out; the sound of traffic, voices from the multiple families that lived around you. But you would actively seek thunder, enjoying the rain and the dryness you could secure.

Kate pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving your arm a squeeze, a silent plea to be careful. You always were, both at the compound and here during your trips to the city. The apartment building the both of you had rented from was far from swanky. The hallways were lined with polished wood and a fresh paint-job made it look semi-presentable.

It was the quintessential first apartment experience that you’d been craving. It made you feel normal. Living here with your fiancé. A small smile worked its way onto your lips. This was a big step, possibly the biggest you’d taken since you’d followed Kate to the compound in the first place. To your family.

You shoved your hands in your pockets as you walked down the hallway, nearly brushing shoulders with a woman who had her head turned down, struggling to find her keys. She grunted, struggling to keep a paper bag filled with produce righted.

“Jesus Christ,” her muted growl alerted you more.

Not even a full day in the city and you decided to break one of Natasha’s rules. Don’t involve yourself. Which you thought was overkill. She became strict in that way, the insinuation that you shouldn’t talk to strangers on the tip of her tongue. But you weren’t moving here to be a recluse. A simple favor wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

“Here,” you scooped the bag gently from her hands, saving a particularly ripe orange “Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, thank you. I know that paper bags are great for the environment, but they turn to mush when it rains. It makes everything ten times harder.”

Her words died in her throat when her eyes met yours. You took a defensive step back, your mouth suddenly dry and muddy. Those eyes. You cursed yourself for not knowing sooner. She’d straightened her hair, wore a suit that was wrinkled from almost an hour of transit.

She looked older, tired around the eyes. It had been six years.

MJ was at a loss for words, just as you were. Her groceries were still in your hand, the bag finally giving way and spilling oranges, apples, and two soft peaches onto the floor. Neither of you made a move to gather them.

“Let me help you pick these up.”

“I think you’ve done enough.”

The two of you remained frozen. You’d moved in three doors down from someone you’d shared your first three years of college with. The last you’d seen her, she’d been wolfing down mac and cheese, looking queasy as you’d left your key on the coffee table.

A crack of thunder snapped you both out of your staring match. Kate could hear you, you knew she could. It wasn’t that she pried but she did keep an ear out for the cadence of your voice. You didn’t want to worry her, and you certainly didn’t want MJ to see her. Not yet, maybe not ever.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” She turned away and struggled to stick her key in the lock. Her hands were trembling. She worried her lip between her teeth, a nervous habit that reminded you of when she held her tongue. She often failed.

“Okay, alright.” You threw your hands up in an act of surrender, scooting past her, careful to avoid the fallen fruit. “I’m sorry… about your groceries.”

You made it three more steps before her voice rang out again.

“About my groceries?” Her voice was harsh, you winced, stopping in your tracks. “You’re apologizing for ruined produce after what you did?”

At this, you turned, a small bit of anger in your stare. Maybe Natasha was right, as she usually always is. You should just keep your nose down, stay away from other people at least while you got settled. You’d been plunged into ice water, the realization that this city may be gigantic, but so incredibly small.

MJ closed the distance between you, her breath hot on your collarbone. It was startling, but your wolf reacted as it typically did, without fear and with a heir of competition. It figured you threatened, your nails curling into your palm hard enough to draw blood.

“You know, the police didn’t take us seriously. We went to them a week after you left, and they wouldn’t let us file a missing persons report because you left willingly. America, god, she wasn’t convinced. She spent months putting up posters around campus, at train stations. And people called, but not about you. Just to be needlessly cruel.”

The sting of her words made you tremble, your eyes downcast and your hands shoved back in your pocket. Each breath you took felt like needles being shoved forcefully into your throat and twisted until it touched your esophagus. You were going to vomit.  

“One second you were there, and the next you were gone, y/n. We never stopped searching. Anyone who looked like you, smelled like you… just reminded us that you’d run off with some stranger after being an absolute psycho for the week. I mean, for fucks sake! Your mother was devastated!”

“My mother?” Your eyes finally found purchase in her own.

“Yeah,” MJ breathed out, shoulders slumping. “Or did you forget her as well?”

“I didn’t…” You took a step back. Tears threatened to spill over, so you averted your stare back to the ground, quickly wiping them away with your fingers. “I could never forget about any of you. I left to protect you.”

“From what?” She’d gotten quieter, her voice breaking. She looked like she wanted to reach out and embrace you, but stopped herself. “Because America is going to be here any minute, and god help me, y/n, if you don’t have a better answer than that, you can’t let her see you. You can’t put her through that again.”

You took another step towards your apartment. You’d lost your appetite, your sureness in each step that you took. There was a roiling pit in your stomach that threatened to make your breakfast reappear. MJ watched you for a few moments. You were retreating again, and the sadness in her eyes cut into you like a finely sharpened knife.

She let out another breath and knelt down to collect the fruit that had splayed across the floor. She averted her gaze and you let her. There was no explanation that you could muster up without risking everything you’d worked so hard for, every moment of pain that ripped through you once a month. Years spent learning control.

The anxiety had fully built up in your chest by the time you made it the two doors down to your apartment. You shut it as softly as you could, pressing your back against the wooden door slathered in a deep forest green that reminded you of home. Your home.

The two of you had fought so diligently to get out of the compound and now all you wanted to do was retreat back into solitude, away from the world and the people you had wronged long ago. They were easy to push to the back of your mind when you didn’t see them every single day.

Of course, you never forgot them, you couldn’t. But there was a clear separation between your life before that night in the woods, and your life after. You had long ago admitted that you much preferred this one. Even if you did have dreams of finding your mother when you had the chance. Finding America and MJ. This was certainly not on your terms.

Kate was in front of you instantly, cupping both your cheeks and running her thumbs over the dampness. She didn’t’ say a word, and you were suddenly thankful for her inhuman hearing capabilities. You wouldn’t be able to explain, to tell her what made your throat so incredibly tight with grief.

Her height made it easy to tuck yourself against her, quivering as you cries were muffled against your chest. She radiated a warmth that calmed you like no other. Part of your nature, the connection the two of you carried. She could take your pain away, just as you could do the same. It evened your rapid breaths, her hand cupping your head.

She shocked you, her voice a low whisper. “I think you should tell them the truth.”

“What?”

Your voice was nasally and marred with snot. Kate gave you a sympathetic smile, moving her hand through your hair. She’d seen you at your absolute worst, and you weren’t exactly a beautiful crier. Her statement was jarring enough, though disarming.

“All those years ago, I told you that you’d be able to come back once you gained control of your wolf. And you’ve done that, you put in the work, you’ve embraced what we are. The reason for going to the compound in the first place was to protect the ones you love, and you can still do that.”

She dipped her head and your forehead pressed against hers. You stared into her startlingly blue eyes. They were genuine and so full of love.

“I mean it, sweetie. They deserve answers, I think we both know that.”

“Yeah… they do.”

It was easy enough to slip a note under MJ’s door. You figured she went to work early and returned late. There was a solid window of time for you to act. The letter contained your phone number, and an offer to talk, if she was willing.

It took three agonizing days of pacing the small length of the apartment, painting and repainting the bathroom, and busying yourself with little tasks. Kate had mastered hanging artwork and the two of you had finally made a trip to the grocery store instead of ordering from pizza places and diners that did take-out.

Kate was laying on her back on the second-hand sofa that the two of you had purchased and dragged up the stairs with little to no difficulty. She was skimming through a book she had to read for one of her classes, and the slow rhythm of her heartbeat had lulled you into a less than peaceful sleep.

Your cell phone was clenched in one hand, hanging off the side of the couch, full body weight snuggled up close to Kate, a blanket spread across you both. When your phone buzzed you shot up, knocking your forehead against Kate’s chin, she let out a startled grunt.

“Sorry, baby” You soothed your hand over the slowly growing red spot on her skin, simultaneously staring at your phone.

Unknown [3:00pm]: I’ll consent to dinner tonight. America may or may not be there.

Unknown [3:02pm]: 6:00, don’t be late.  

“I thought you said MJ was the nice one.” Kate set her book aside, peering at the messages you had received.

“She is… was. I don’t know anymore.”

Your antsy energy seemed to work in your favor when it came to preparing a dinner that was actually edible. Wanda had been teaching you to cook for the last few years, and it had been a difficult skill for you to pick up. She’d helped you master a dish from her birthplace that had quickly become one of Kate’s favorites.

She leaned against the counter and watched you cook as she always did, stretching up to retrieve the spices that were a little far past your reach. She handed you the paprika, kissing the back of your neck as you placed the chicken in the pan. You worked nervously, and methodically.

Despite Kate’s constant reassurances that they would love it, you weren’t much concerned about the food choices. Of course, you wanted it to be edible. But it could have been pizza all the same. There wouldn’t be much eating, you were sure. Even your appetite had been spoiled.

You panned the chicken onto a plate of rice and left it on the counter for Kate. She glanced down at it with confusion and then back up at you. “I’m not going, am I?”

“Darling, I would love nothing more. But, I’m certain that you being there will exacerbate things.”

Kate frowned, her lip jutting out in a borderline pout. You scoffed, gripping both of her arms. “They don’t know you like I do, Katie. They don’t know you at all.”

“Yeah,” She sighed “I know you’re right. This is just a hard thing to do and I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m not alone. You’ll be listening the whole time.

It was a comforting fact, but did nothing to quell the swirling in your stomach when you stood in front of MJ’s door. It was much too late to turn back, though everything in your body screamed at you to do so.

Before you could knock, she opened the door. She dawned an oversized flannel and a t-shirt for a band that you didn’t recognize. Her hair was damp, the scent of mint from her bodywash enveloping you. You’d missed the smell, missed her, but didn’t make a move to advance. She sniffed the air herself, raising an eyebrow. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was impressed by the meal you’d shoved in Tupperware.

 “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I almost didn’t.”

She narrowed her eyes at you but opened the door wider and gestured to the living room vaguely. You took in the deep blue walls, and the multitude of thrifted artwork that made it feel homey as opposed to cluttered. There was a warmth to her apartment that you and Kate hadn’t yet cultivated.

In a midcentury modern chair next to a large record player, was America. Your grip tightened against the dish, careful not to shatter it, something easily done with your strength. Spilling chicken paprikas all over the carpets would not a good impression make.

America’s rural eyes scanned from your boots to the collar of your shirt, stopping just shy of your own stare. She’d aged, but it was less noticeable through her fierce scowl. A black t-shirt hugged her frame, her hair curly and flowing across her shoulders. Tattoos stretched evenly over her biceps and forearms, ones you didn’t’ dare move to get a better look at.

She stood, setting her glass of wine down on the coffee table. MJ worked the Tupperware from your hands. She moved silently towards the kitchen. You could feel the tension in the air. It made your wolf nervous. You swallowed back a whine.

Her eyes flashed in anger. “It really is you. When MJ told me that she’d run into you, I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t, because if you’ve been alive this entire time, and just chose to keep us in a constant hell of wondering, then I’d never be able to forgive you.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

“Maldita derecha, I do!” She shoved you back. You were startled by her strength, but still caught yourself with a small step back.

“Hey, relax. She’s here to explain, right?”

MJ stood behind the kitchen island, her fingers drumming on the countertop. Maybe she’d been given a chance to cool off, though there was still trepidation in her stare. You let out a small breath, throat suddenly tight.

“What?” America shoved your shoulder again, you could smell the alcohol in her breath “Does this bother you? Are you going to tuck your tail and vanish for another six years?”

Again, she pushed you back, this time with more force. You stood strong, letting her show her rage, her hatred towards you. Hell, you hated you in this moment. Your skin prickled, seeing her as a threat. You were sure that Kate, down the hall, was pacing with the same pent-up worry.

MJ urged “Meri, come one, let her be. We’ll eat dinner, and she’ll tell us what happened.”

“And what if we don’t like the answer?” She turned her venomous stare on the other woman. “What if we prefer that she had died and spared us all the pain?”

A brittle silence fell over the room. You were trapped within the walls of the apartment, ears ringing. Even if you could focus your mind hard enough to hear past it’s confinement, you didn’t want to. Your blood was rushing hard enough to create a ringing in your ears.

MJ had dropped the fork she was using to shovel food onto respective plates. America’s shoulders dropped. She opened her mouth and closed it again like a fish deprived of water. Her voice came out in a sand-paper whisper. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No, you did, and that’s okay.”

“It’s not.” MJ had abandoned her task and instead flopped down on one end of the sofa. She moved a throw pillow and gestured for you both to sit. “Both of you, we need to talk about this. It’s defined us for too long and we won’t get anywhere by hurling horrible words at one another.”

Cautiously, America returned back to her chair and you sat stiffly on the other end of the sofa. It would be better for them to both hate you. But, MJ’s usual rationale had kicked in and that scared the hell out of you. You ran your hands over your jeans, trying to find purchase in them.

America’s sharpness was back. “Well?”

“Okay, alright. Just… I need you both to keep an open mind before I get into this. I’ve never had to explain what happened before and, well shit, it’s going to be a lot to take in.”

You pleaded silently with them, flitting your eyes from one to the other. MJ nodded first and eventually America gave you a course gesture that you interpreted as agreeance. You could hear both of their hearts beating, perhaps harder than your own.

“The night before that stupid frat party, I didn’t fall asleep in the library. Something happened.”

“lo sabia.”

“I know you did, which is why I did everything in my power to avoid the both of you until I left. I didn’t know what was happening and the last thing I wanted to do was throw you into something that I couldn’t even begin to understand. I was feeling weird, and overwhelmed. Confused. You’ve always been too good at reading me. You’d both know in an instant that I’d been attacked if I was truthful with you.”

“Attacked?” MJ rasped, “You could have come to us, y/n. I’ve been fighting every single day of my career to make sure that Universities are a safe and forthcoming place. Even with campus police being absolute garbage, we would have found some way to help.”

You looked at her with soft admiration, guilt soaking your voice. “It wasn’t like that. I was walking home from the library and knew that I was being followed. I thought it was a person at first, but it wasn’t. The faster I moved, the faster she did. It didn’t matter how quick I was, is the point. Because it wasn’t a human that attacked me, it was a wolf.”

“A wolf You’re expecting us to sit here and believe that a wolf somehow escaped a zoo and miraculously hunted you down? I’m sorry, baby, but that’s the most bullshit excuse I’ve ever heard.” She laughed humorlessly and moved to stand.

“I told you to keep an open mind.” You pleaded, “I’m begging you, please. Just let me finish. And if you want me to leave after that. If you both want me to leave, then I will. You’ll never hear from me again.”

It would be easy to return to the compound, shield yourself from the world and make sure that neither of them had to live with the turmoil you’d caused all those years ago. You could feel sweat at the back of your neck, mouth dry in comparison.

She leveled you with a skeptical stare but sat back down, this time swiping her wine from the counter. She took a long gulp, the red staining her lips with a pink tint. The quiet urged you forward and your stomach clenched in nausea.

“It had bitten me, right through the shoulder and it was some of the most intense pain that I had ever experienced. I was certain that I was going to die there, alone and no one would find me for weeks, maybe even months. I have never been more terrified.”

Your hand moved up to rub the pulsing scar just below your t-shirt. You could feel the hardened tissue, the indents that Kate’s teeth made before they tore through tendons and ground your bones to a shattered powder.

You pulled the fabric away, shivering from the suddenly cold air against your skin. MJ gasped, closing the gap between the two of you on the sofa. She was gentle, running her own fingers over the scar, the large-mouthed pockmarks that could only be that of an animal.

“Jesus Christ, y/n. Does it still hurt?”

“Not anymore. It just serves a reminder, is all.” America was looking at you in disbelief, her confidence in your falsehood wavering. “When you called the next morning, I was just thankful to wake up, and rushed back to the apartment so I didn’t worry you anymore than I already had.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” America asked.

You shook your head “I couldn’t understand what had happened. Just like you, I didn’t think there were wolves in New York. If I was having some type of break due to stress, I didn’t want to drag the two of you down either.”

“You can’t just decide how we’d react to things, y/n. If you had asked for help, explained what had happened, we would have been there for you.”

“I know that… and I was going to tell you both, I was. But by the second day, the bite was just gone. There was no evidence that anything had happened, and I was starting to doubt myself. At least I was, until Kate.”

That fury returned to America’s eyes. If you didn’t’ clock it in her stare, you would have in the way she smelled. The metallic edge overtook any other scent in the room, including the boisterous spices on the Paprikash. “Oh? Is that her name? I figured we were chasing a ghost for all those years.”

“We know who she is. Your mother… she was insistent that your father hire a private investigator. She knew that your behavior was out of the ordinary, but he wasn’t convinced, so she fought him tooth and nail. They had a name, and a last known address. But that was it. Her trail went cold too. It was like the two of you just vanished into thin air.”

Your heart seized at the admission, but you swallowed it back, locked it away for something to deal with later. It was one person at a time, and your mother was untouchable, something you refused to acknowledge until you were standing on her doorstep with your apologies and your broken sobs.

You cleared your throat, making a point to shove your hand with the simple golden band on it into your pocket. That was another conversation you weren’t willing to have at this point.

“Right, yes. Kate. She’s helped me tremendously over the years.” You drew in a breath, bracing yourself for the next statement. “In fact, she caused it.”

“She… caused it? Please, y/n. I may not like the girl but what you’re insinuating…”

“You’re saying she’s the one that bit you?” MJ let out a nervous chuckle “That, or unlatched the cage at the zoo.”

Another silence fell over the room. You gave them a nervous smile. God- this was absolutely harder than you expected. They didn’t’ say anything, they just stared at you blankly, and then at each other. Then, it was back to you. There was something akin to pity in their stares that you didn’t appreciate.

They thought you were insane and suddenly, it was like the glass coffee table had shattered and they were afraid that if they stepped too hard, it would cut the soles of their feet. MJ even reached her hand out and placed it on your knee. You shivered at the touch.

“Listen, I know neither of you believe me, but it’s why I had to leave.” Your voice broke. “I was so afraid that I was going to hurt you. I-I mean what if I lost control? Back then, I didn’t have a handle on any of this, so I went to a place that was safe. A place that taught me how to control it.”

“It being… Lycanthropy?” America stood up now, started pacing from the edge of her chair to the front door and then back again. “You know, we worked a case ages ago and the fifteen-year-old son of a wealthy couple believed that he was a werewolf.”

“Meri, please. Don’t psychoanalyze her.”

“Shouldn’t we? Y/n, this is an actual thing. It’s called Lycomania. It’s a form of psychosis, and with the right medications, the right therapies-“

“It’s not psychosis!” You stood from the couch, suddenly feeling frantic, like a caged animal. She was a social worker, or at least, that’s what she was studying to be. From her wording, you figured she’d gotten there just fine. “I’m not making any of this up.”

“It’s a little hard to believe, is all.”

MJ had reached up from the couch and took your hand, soothed it over your knuckles. It was like a horrible game of good cop, bad cop, and you wanted no part of it. You knew that there would be some disbelief, but the way America’s fingers inched towards her cell phone worried you.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. It’s impossible to believe, but you both deserve the truth. I need you to believe me.”

“I believe that you believe.” America said softly, “Please, y/n/n, just come get checked out with us. If you’re a… werewolf, then what’s the harm?”

You took a deep breath, glancing down at MJ who hugged a throw pillow flush against her chest. She was pleading with her stare, begging you to agree. And America, God, she looked like she was about to bolt or throttle you. But there was a kindness behind her eyes that you missed dearly.

“This was a mistake. Look, I just wanted to come here and apologize for everything I put you through. I want you to know that I mean it, and you both are very important to me.” You took a step towards the door, rolling your eyes when America stepped in front of it, crossing her arms over her chest. “Seriously?”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“If you’re a werewolf, and this isn’t some type of mental break, then prove it. Show us what you’ve got.”

A dry laugh escaped you, one of disbelief. You glanced back at MJ, she looked nervous, but didn’t’ object to the demand. You’d grown so used to living in a home with ten other people who never doubted what you were, because they were the exact same.

Your ‘wolfy’ attributes were mostly limited to the night of the full moon. By all accounts, you were normal the rest of the month, and things that weren’t normal often were disguisable. Sometimes, if you roughhoused with Peter or even Clint, your eyes would catch the color of the sunset, glowing in response to their own. But there were no sudden outbursts of sharpened teeth and extended claws- not anymore. You’d fought so hard to contain it.

If you let the curtain slip, even this once, would you be able to get it back up? It was another two weeks until the next full moon, and by then, you were sure they’d grow tired of waiting for you to prove yourself.

With a groan, you walked over to the kitchen. MJ practically threw herself over the back of the couch as you started to rummage through drawers, not finding anything but plastic forks, and a butter knife that certainly wouldn’t do the trick. “Jesus dude, this is not cutlery.”

“I’m not home often,”

You turned the closest knob on the stove and watched as the electric cooktop started to glow an angry red. This was going to fucking suck. Just because you could heal, didn’t mean you enjoyed utilizing the perk. It came in handy when you’d broken two fingers sparring with Natasha, and again when Tony had taken you on a long-winded hike and you’d lost your footing.  Both still held the same amount of pain that was expected.

With a deep breath you splayed your hand on the burner before MJ or America could object. They both made distressed noises in the back of their throat, the sound of your skin against the intense heat sizzled with a popping fierceness.

“What the fuck!” America clawed at your wrist, struggling to pull your hand away. With your strength, she didn’t’ get it to budge “Y/n, stop!”

When you were satisfied enough with the heat eating away at your skin, you released your hold. Your palm was angry, already blistering. Some spots bloomed a darker red, wounds close to the base of your ring finger where the gold band had heated up enough to cause some stinging damage.

“Oh my god, I’m going to vomit.” MJ moved her forearm over her mouth, swallowing heavily. “I’m calling an ambulance. Do we run it under cold water?”

“Relax, just watch.”

“Relax! You want me to relax?”

Her jaw snapped shut, head lilting to the side. America still gripped your wrist, watching as the redness quickly faded away to the smoothness of your palm. The blisters seemed to vanish, and the bleeding split by the edge of your ring sealed back together. You could still feel your hand throbbing, but flexed your fingers to prove your point.  

“You wanted me to prove it, and I didn’t much feel like ripping your throw pillows to shreds.” You snatched your hand back from America, twisted the ring around in a nervous habit. “Can we take the psyche unit off speed dial, please?”

“No, no, keep it up for me.” MJ leaned her back against the island, trying to steady herself. “That just… your hand was… did you see that?”

America whispered, her stare suddenly fuzzy. “Yeah, I saw it.”

You flicked the stove off and crossed your arms over her chest, letting them take a few moments to relish the quiet. You were feeling a bit too self-satisfied considering the circumstances, but enjoyed the fact that you had stunned them into silence.

“So, you left with this Kate chick because she turned you into a werewolf and then you’ve what? Been hiding these last six years? It’s hard to vanish in the 21st century. Nearly impossible.” America said, voice quivering.

“I went to a place where there were others like me. They taught me how to live with this, how to control it. They’re my family.”

“Your pack?” MJ asked. “What? I’ve seen Twilight!”

You laughed “Yeah, my pack. Kate included.”

“no confío en ella.” America growled.

You let out a sigh of relief. You’d take it. For now, you’d take it. The tension in the apartment had lowered a few notches, enough for your stomach to clench in hunger. It made an audible growl. You hadn’t been able to eat for the last few days, worry enveloping you.

America pulled her jacket from the back of the sofa. “You two eat. I’ve got a few case files I have to finish. Y/n, it was good to see you. I hope… take care of yourself. Okay?”

“Okay,” The word came out as a breathless whisper. Even if your objections weren’t trapped in the netting of your throat, you wouldn’t’ have had a chance to say them. She was slamming the door behind her, shaking the photos on the wall.

“She’ll come around,” MJ squeezed your shoulder, giving you a wavering smile before she started to divide the food with her plastic fork. “In the meantime, I have so many questions.”

[keyboardsmashess]

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Twenty Three: The Appointment, or Therapy is One Hell of a Drug

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, eventual smut, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence, implied abuse MINORS DNI. A/N: Hiiiii I stayed up way too late last night outlining the remainder of this fic and I am so excited for where we're going! CW for implied abuse and therapy chats. P.S. I made Cleo's playlist for bonus content (also posted separately) - listener beware, these jams are explicit

Summary: Bucky and Cleo try to learn how to be better at feelings. They have mixed results.

Chapter Directory

“So, are we going to talk about the haircut?”

Bucky shrugs noncommittally, studiously avoiding his therapist’s intense gaze.

Dr. Raynor sighs. “Let me rephrase that - talk to me about the haircut, James.”

Bucky folds his arms across his chest and slouches back in his seat. “Well, doc, sometimes people take these things called scissors and they -”

She cuts him off with a stern look. “James. You hate change, you hate strangers, and you hate people in your space. That makes this a pretty big deal, and I’d like to hear about it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “There was… an incident. Someone called me… that name.”

“Do you seek to protect her, Zimniy Soldat?” The Philosopher’s words jolted through Bucky as if he’d been shocked by a current of the man’s red electricity. He hadn’t heard that name - The Winter Soldier - since coming to live at the Avengers Tower. At least, he hadn’t heard it outside of his nightmares.

“Before you ask, I was completely fine. It was just surprising to hear, that’s all.”

Alone in his bathroom, Bucky braced himself with a hand on either side of the sink. Slowly, an inch at a time, he raised his gaze to the mirror. When he met the eyes of his reflection, he didn’t even hear the crack of porcelain as his metal hand squeezed tighter. 

He shrugs. “I just realized, y’know, it was time for a change.”

On autopilot, Bucky stalked into the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets at random. Whatever got in his way was tossed to the floor without another thought - cutlery and tupperware and takeout menus all forming a haphazard pile in the center of the kitchen. Finally, he spotted them. Right there at the kitchen sink, he made the first cut. Bucky didn’t need to look in a mirror - didn’t need to see the Soldier staring back at him - he just needed to fix this. Now.

“One of the Avengers knows how to cut hair, so I asked if she’d do me a quick favor. Not that I would’ve minded getting a stranger to do it - this was just more convenient.”

Bucky stared down at the pile of hair on his kitchen counter, feeling the uneven lengths with his right hand. He wiped at his face, realizing as wet pieces of hair came away on his fingers that he’d been crying. He dropped the scissors, not registering the clattering sound as they fell to the ground alongside all the other odds and ends he’d thrown to the floor.

He wiped at his face again, this time getting a bit of hair in his eye, and he screamed in frustration. It sounded like an injured animal, and he was grateful to Stark for having the good sense to soundproof these apartments. Bucky stalked back into the bathroom with half-closed eyes, banging into walls and furniture on the way, and rinsed his face at the sink. When he straightened and saw his reflection, a strangled sob escaped from the back of his throat.

“God, what am I doing?” he choked out, but his reflection gave him nothing in response. Knees buckling, he sank to the tiled floor of the bathroom and clutched his head in his hands. “JARVIS,” he called out. “Call Steve. Please, I need Steve.”

Dr. Raynor gives Bucky an appraising look that lets him know she doesn’t believe a speck of what he’s just said. “Okay, sure. We’ll pretend that’s how it happened. How did it feel letting this woman -”

“Cleo,” Bucky interjects before he can stop himself, and he hates the glimmer that appears in his therapist’s eye at the correction.

“Okay, how did it feel letting Cleo get close to you like that?”

“It was… fine.”

Bucky shivered as Cleo ran her delicate fingers through his hair - it had been so, so long since someone had touched him with this kind of gentleness, and he was almost angry with confusion at the unfamiliar sensation. 

“Sorry if that tickles,” she said.

“It’s fine,” he responded, knowing he couldn’t tell her what was really going through his head. It’s perfect. It’s horrible. It’s ecstasy. It’s torture. 

She cut his hair the way she moved through the world - quickly, confidently, and yet surprisingly gently. 

“Fine?”

“Yep. Fine.”

Bucky hated how Cleo saw right through him - how she innately understood what set him off. He didn’t mean to hurt her, but when she asked him to talk about that name, he couldn’t help it - he lashed out, landing on the one thing he knew she wanted to talk about as little as he wanted to talk about the Soldier. And goddammit, she talked about it anyway.

He knew Cleo was holding things back when she talked about her stepfather - he knew it the way he recognized another soldier out in the world. He saw the haunted look in her eyes. He saw it, because he had it, too. Bucky wanted to push her - wanted to demand she tell him every detail so that he’d have a plethora of deeds to choose from when he tracked the man down and made him pay for whatever he’d done to give Cleo the countenance of someone who’d survived a war.

He wanted to push her, but when she stood firm, he found himself spilling his own guts instead.

“What did it feel like to trust another person to be that close to you?”

Bucky shrugs again - he shrugs a lot in Dr. Raynor’s office, mainly because he can tell it drives her nuts. 

She sighs deeply. “James, you’re going to have to give me something here.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Maybe he’ll ask her, if only to get her off his back for the rest of the session… Yeah - he plans to ask Steve anyway, eventually. There’s no harm in one little question, right?

“Doc, how do I… Is there a way for me… Dammit, I don’t know how to say this.”

Dr. Raynor gives him a rare, patient smile. “Take your time, James. I’m not going anywhere.”

“D’you think, after everything I’ve done, I could, y’know… have someone? Does it make me horrible for wanting that, when everyone I- I’ve hurt doesn’t get to have it?”

She considers this for a moment, and Bucky appreciates that she doesn’t act smug about him cracking a little bit. “Do you think punishing yourself will bring anyone back, James?”

He shakes his head somberly. “Nothing will.”

Dr. Raynor nods. “Right. So, aside from making your amends.” She gestures at the book in Bucky’s lap. “There isn’t anything you can do to change the past.”

He scratches the back of his neck, unsure if he’s going to like where she’s going with this. “Right, so…”

“So why would you allow the past to ruin your future? Why keep making the same mistakes when you have an opportunity to do things differently?”

Bucky shakes his head and fiddles with the pages of his little notebook.

“If you aren’t careful, James, you’re going to take over for HYDRA,” Dr. Raynor says quietly.

He whips his head up, glaring at the therapist he never wanted to see in the first damn place. “What the hell does that mean?”

Her mouth is a firm line, but there’s kindness in her eyes. “You’re going to become your own abuser.”

******

I’m wailing on a heavy bag, my workout playlist blasting through the speakers, when I feel the door to the gym open behind me. I’ve been working on using my abilities to maintain an open channel for the frequencies of any given room, allowing me to sense if someone comes into my space without seeing them, and I’m delighted to know it’s effective.

“JARVIS, pause, please.”

“Pausing ‘Angry Feminist Killjoy Playlist.’”

Without turning, I flex my fingers to feel the energy of the person. “Hey, Bucky.”

“Sorry, I was just… I’ll leave you to it.” His voice is gruff, none of the humor I’ve come to enjoy hearing present in it.

I turn and face him, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the way his metal hand is clenched in a fist, the ticking of his jaw. “I was just fucking around,” I say. “You’re welcome to join me, or I can get out of here. Either way, it looks like you need it more than I do right now.”

I think the grimace he gives me is an attempt at a smile, so I smile back. “It’s fine, stay,” he says. “I just need to blow off some steam.”

I nod, gesturing to the heavy bags. “Be my guest. I hope you like Bikini Kill.”

His eyebrows knit together and his head cocks to the side like a puppy. “What are you doing with a bikini?”

I laugh as he walks over. “Oh, my sweet frozen friend. You’re about to get a lesson in 90’s punk and the Riot Grrrl movement.”

He looks slightly nervous as he starts warming up with light punches to a bag a few paces away from me. “I don’t know what most of those words mean.”

“Don’t worry, you will. JARVIS, please play the music again.”

“Resuming ‘Dead Men Don’t Rape’ by 7 Year Bitch.”

Bucky blanches at the title, but from the way his hits start to come faster and stronger, I think he secretly likes it.

******

Avengers minus Thor (only use when 🔨 off-planet or to talk shit about Loki)

Iron Man: Any progress on Operation Turtleneck?

Legolas: I told you guys to stop highlighting the turtleneck thing. It’s weird.

Heartless by Kanye West: I’m working on it. 

Heartless by Kanye West: I’ve been talking to one of the librarians from the NYPL about the books that were burned and I have some ideas.

Heartless by Kanye West: Also, Tony. 

Heartless by Kanye West: Change my name back right now.

Manchurian Candidate: Do we really need to involve the librarians? They’ve been through enough.

Iron Man: If the nerd squad wants to help, let em 🤷

Heartless by Kanye West: STARK, CHANGE MY NAME BACK RIGHT NOW

Iron Man: Jeez, what do you have against Kanye?

Heartless by Kanye West: I’m Team Taylor, if you must know.

Iron Man: 🙄

Legolas: Me too, tbh

Captain Grandpa: Are we talking about Taylor Swift, the American musician? Sincerely, Steve Rogers

Heartless by Kanye West: Yes, Steven.

Captain Grandpa: Oh! Well I like her music a lot, so I’ll be on her team as well. Sincerely, Steve Rogers

Nat TonyifyouchangemynameagainIsweartogod Romanov: Same

Iron Man: Et tu, Natasha?

Nat TonyifyouchangemynameagainIsweartogod Romanov: She makes me feel things

Legolas: She makes ALL of us feel things 😾😿😻

Jolly Green: So we’re just not talking about the mission anymore, then?

******

Dr. Benally calls me at ten on the dot, perfectly on time as always. 

“Hey, Dr. B.”

“Cleo, I was surprised to see you pop up on my schedule again.”

I close my eyes for a moment, steeling myself. “Yeah, I guess I just needed a tuneup.”

She laughs. “Alright then, let’s take a look under the hood. What’s been going on?”

“Dr. B,” I say flatly. “Come on. I know you watch the news.”

“I still want to hear about it in your own words.”

“Okay. My own words. Well, in my own words, my life has become a fucking circus. I read a weird book in the library that took my heart out of my body and replaced it with magic crystal powers, which prompted the Avengers to come looking for me. They brought me back to their Tower in New York City to run tests on me, and then they offered me a spot on the team. My next door neighbor is a formerly brainwashed HYDRA assassin who I might be falling in love with, Iron Man signs my paychecks, Captain America goes running with me every morning, I’m learning mixed martial arts from a superspy, and a villain with a penchant for turtlenecks is out to get me.” I blurt it all out in one long stream of consciousness, not even really processing what I’m saying as I vent out several months’ worth of frustration.

Dr. B hums. “Lots to unpack here. Do you have a starting point in mind, or do you want me to decide?”

Lots to unpack here. That’s Dr. B code for ‘Jesus Christ, Cleo, take a breath and focus.’ Or something like that, anyway. “Dealer’s choice.”

I can hear the smile in her voice. “Why don’t we start with the reformed assassin who you said you might be falling in love with.”

“Fuck,” I say. “I was kinda hoping you’d missed that little tidbit.”

“Well I didn’t, and the fact that you shared it means that you want to talk about it. Would you like to tell me more about those feelings of love?”

“Love might not be the right word.” She waits, allowing the silence to stretch. I sigh. “His name is Bucky. Or James. But I sort of reserve James for when we’re alone and I’m in my feelings. I’m sure you know all about the Winter Soldier, so I’m not going to get into his tragic backstory, but we’ve been… spending some time together. He drives me absolutely fucking crazy sometimes - like leap across the room and strangle him crazy. But then other times, I don’t know. There’s this side of him that’s unbelievably gentle, and kind, and a little bit lost. I don’t know if it’s love, but I’ve definitely been feeling… feelings. About him.”

“Why are those feelings so distressing for you?”

“You know why.”

She sighs, and I can practically see her steepling her fingers together in her office. “Cleo, I don’t know anything until you tell me.”

“Because, Dr. B, I don’t do that. I don’t have those kinds of feelings.”

“What are you afraid of happening if you do have those kinds of feelings?”

“I’m going to hang up on you,” I say, and Dr. Benally laughs because she knows me, as frightening as that might be. She waits me out, so I continue. “With everything that happened, I’m not a person who gets to have a normal relationship. And it isn’t fair to James - especially because of what he’s gone through - to make him deal with all my bullshit.”

Dr. B hums thoughtfully. “Two things - one, as we’ve talked about before, there’s no such thing as ‘normal’ and you need to stop aspiring to something that doesn’t exist. Two, do you really think it’s fair of you to make that kind of decision for someone else? Maybe he would want to deal with your bullshit. Maybe he wouldn’t think of it as bullshit at all.”

I frown. “I thought therapists were supposed to just listen quietly and write shit down in their little notepads.”

She chuckles. “We made a deal, Cleo - when you’re stuck on one of these foundational, maladaptive ideas, I get to call you on it.”

“What’s so maladaptive about avoiding relationships? Plenty of people never date. I’ll just fight crime and get a bunch of cats and eventually be Meg’s kids’ weird, cool aunt.”

“The maladaptive idea here is that your childhood trauma makes you unworthy of adult happiness. And while I understand you might have formed that idea to protect yourself, you and I both know that it is simply untrue.”

My voice is quiet when I finally speak. “I really fucking hate you sometimes, you know that?”

Dr. B laughs, and I can hear the sound of her typing. “I know. Let’s start meeting regularly again, biweekly unless you think you need weekly. You can have Mr. Stark email me whatever confidentiality forms he deems necessary.”

I roll my eyes. “Biweekly is fine, but never is even better.”

“Great,” she says, ignoring me completely. “I’ll talk to you the week after next. Your homework in the meantime is to do one thing a day that makes you happy.”

“Fantastic, I’ll start right this second,” I say, and I hang up the phone.

[artists-ally]

I have a Harvey request if you’re taking them! He’s dating an UES socialite who actually cares about the world and people and isn’t the stereotypical aloof type. He tries to buy her a fancy gift (jewelry/bag/whatever) and she tells him to return it and he gets upset. Thank you!!!! 🩷🩷🩷

{Affection} Harvey Specter x Reader

Hey babes!!! Yes I am always taking Harvey requests!!! NGL I had to google what that meant and I hope I did this right 😭 Enjoy!! Title from this song.

Word Count: 1,400

Warnings: language, mild angst, fluff

Tagging: @rosedpetal @bbyanarchist

~~~~~

For the past six months, ever since Harvey closed that deal with Smith and Klein, he has had a crush on their public representative, Yn. She is just… she is so pretty. And damn good at her job. She was responsible for representing his client and spreading word about their business on social media. 

But she was just different from the other upper east side assholes in New York. The way she talked and carried herself was enough to catch Harvey’s eye. 

In the last few weeks she’s been at the firm, trying to renegotiate the deal. Harvey took the opportunity to ask her out. To his surprise, she actually said yes. And their date that night had been lovely. At a quiet, riverfront steakhouse closer to where she lived. It was intimate and was a night filled with laughter. 

But there was just one problem. 

She never kept any of the gifts he gave her.

____

READER POV

I scoffed. Was he serious? The blue Tiffany box sat on my desk, its obnoxious blue bow staring right at me. I flicked open the note.

Yn, maybe these are more your style. See you tonight for dinner – Harvey.

What a shallow dude. Was his ego bruised so badly by my three other rejected gifts that he had to send me a fourth? How did one of the smartest men in the world not get the hint? He was good at his job, at closing deals and stirring up trouble, but he seriously couldn’t accept the fact that I didn’t want any presents?

I just sighed, sliding it in the drawer in my desk until later. 

It was annoying enough when he bought me the first set of earrings, giving them to me on our second date. Way too early for jewelry, for one. Second, what was I supposed to do with them? To me it was nothing but a gesture of utter disrespect. Did my time mean so little to him that all he thought to get me were earrings? 

The watch was way worse. And the necklace with matching earrings was just horrendous. Sure, that does it for some girls, but I am not the type to wear it just to make him happy to see it around my neck. Diamonds and glitter can only do so much.

It was nearing our anniversary and clearly we were still not on the same page. Sure, were they pretty? Yes, but that wasn’t the point. 

After I sent my last email for the day, I wrapped my jacket around my shoulders and headed out of the office, tiny blue box in my hand. 

_____

“Don’t you look lovely,” Harvey grinned, accepting my kiss with more than a little enthusiasm. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I smiled, stepping through the door as he held it open for me. “Thank you.” “Of course.”

We were seated at our regular table immediately, the box, which I had stuffed in my purse now burning a hole through it. I caught Harvey looking at my ears, and anyone else would’ve missed the way his eyes dimmed. 

“Good evening, what can I grab you guys to drink?” The perky waitress asked, flipping open a notepad. 

“Just water for me,” Harvey said, scouring the menu.

“I’ll do an iced tea, no lemon please,” I decided. 

“Okay, I will bring those out for you in a few minutes. Take all the time you need to look at the menus.”

She bounded away and I took a deep breath. Any second now.

Harvey tapped his fingers on the tablecloth. He looked… tense. Then again he always looked tense. But this was a different type of discomfort. 

“You’re not wearing the earrings I gave you.”

Here we go. 

I just sighed, “Look Harvey, I-”

“You don’t have to be condescending.”

I paused. “What?”

“I think you’ve been planning on breaking up with me for a while now so just get it over with.”

I couldn't do anything but blink at him. My brain might’ve actually disconnected from my mouth. “Harvey, where on earth did you get that idea?”

“Well, what the hell else am I supposed to think?” Harvey’s eyes were wide, voice barely below shouting. “You don’t ever want to come to events with me, you’re hardly willing to go on dates. You clearly don’t want any of the gifts I keep giving you since you’ve given every single one of them back over the past few months. But you also won’t tell me what to get you so every time I go shopping, I feel like I’m blind. I have no god damn clue what it is that you like.”

“Because you don’t ask,” I shrugged, looking at the menu again. 

“What are you talking about?”

“If you ever bothered to ask, you’d know the answer."

“Well, I do ask. And every time you give me the same response.”

“Have you ever asked me why?” Harvey just stared at me, brows furrowed together. “As I was trying to say before, it’s not that I don’t think the jewelry is pretty-”

“Then what is it, Yn? Because clearly I am doing something wrong or you’re just fucking with me,” Harvey sighed, and that sad, defeated look crept into his eyes. 

Guess I'm just going to have to be blunt.

“I don’t give a shit for the jewelry,” I said honestly.

“But- but why?” Harvey threw his hands in the air. “It’s some of the best money can buy.”

“Which is precisely why it bores me. You can only say so much with a pair of earrings and a necklace, Harvey. To me, it screams lazy and mindless. Anyone can get anyone a pair of earrings.”

“Well, what do you want? Anklets? Ear cuffs? How about-”

“I want conversation,” I explained, setting down the menu and really taking him in. He was still. “I want good, meaningful conversation. I want thoughtful gifts like a new bookmark or a little porcelain cat you saw in a window and thought it looked like mine so you bought it for me.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

I couldn’t suppress my glare. “That’s not the point. Harvey, I like you a lot. And I do think you’re great, but you aren’t seeing me. You aren’t looking beneath the surface, you’re just going off your past instincts of what girls like. I’m not those girls.

“I am not a complicated person. Surprise visits and late night drives me more to me than anything you could ever buy in a store. I like being spontaneous and going to new places. And before you even think about it, no, I do not mean booking an all exclusive resort in Jamaica and flying first class. I want to go to museums and grab lunch on the way at a little cafe. To discover hidden gems in this city and make actual memories, not collect material ones. 

“I like authenticity. And I don’t know anyone who is more themself than you are, Harvey. That is what I like about you. You are not afraid to show your personality. You are unapologetically yourself, and I love that about you. But you haven't given me the chance to show that side of myself."

Harvey took in a big breath, nodding in understanding. 

“I am looking for something real. For you to really understand me and what makes me happy.”

“I get it, and I’m sorry I never thought of it that way. Most of the women who I’ve dated in the past tend to go for the biggest, boldest, baddest diamond on the shelf. I started getting offended when you kept sending the jewelry back. I couldn’t figure it out no matter how much I thought about what to get next.”

I smiled, reaching for his hand. He placed his fingers in my palm. “I am not a materialistic person. Earrings and necklaces mean nothing to me. Just a piece of sparkly rock that I’ll probably lose at some point. Or break.”

“So what you’re saying is I should just never buy you anything expensive ever again? Perfect, saves me more money to take you on all those vocations you don’t want to go on.” “Oh hush,” I giggled, easing at the sight of his smile. “Not that those things aren’t nice, I just don’t appreciate them the same way others do.”

“I understand,” Harvey said. “So, would you like to get out of here and go do something spontaneous?”

My heart swelled. “I’d love to.”

[moonlight-prose]

wip wednesday!

i don't think anyone tagged me in this last week (but if you did then thank you). i also just really like dropping little snippets here each wednesday so here's a big one for the one, the only, eddie alden fic.

this fic has consumed me entirely and well i've got a surprise that goes with it but that's for a different time.

hopelessly devoted to you

Trailing to the kitchen with you hot on his heels, he rummaged in the take out drawer full of old menus that needed replacements eventually. Pages were stained, ripped, and crumpled from years of use. You snatched the only pizza place one out of his grasp, eyes flicking through the selections with a grin. Predictable. He could have ordered blindly for you if he'd have known your tastes were the same.

"Lemme guess–"

"Pepperoni–" you began.

"With sausage and jalapenos," he finished.

"Fuck off Eddie."

He smiled, confident enough to have your mind falter on anything except the man before you. How did he do that? Render you a bumbling fool who could barely put the correct words in order to form a complete sentence. One day you might have to ask if that was just his Eddie charm, or if it only worked on you in particular.

"I would. But it's my place kitten." Dialing the number he knew by heart, he left you to wander spots in the apartment that hadn't been on his grand tour.

A corner table held a photo of Eddie's mother, his father nowhere to be seen in the background. You didn't blame him for avoiding the man entirely. After what occurred you were surprised that Eddie hadn't killed him; although he once came close at nineteen.

The night his mother spilled the truth over one too many glasses of sherry; the night Eddie figured out the man he once looked up to had a different family in an entirely different state.

If you trailed your fingers down the back of his neck you'd find the spot his father had slammed him into the banister of their front staircase. The fight bordered on brutal. A viscous act that left what relationship remained tattered and torn to shreds on the floor around them. Both men landed hits with no true aim, teeth bared and seeking blood through the red haze of their anger.

Eddie wanted revenge. His father wanted submission.

They'd always stood on thin ice ready to crack beneath the weight of their baggage. A horrendous cycle of push and pull—each one aware of how to tear the other down with ease. Their bond was built on torment. And to watch the tension explode, drowning them both beneath the glacial waters, left you stuck in a dark chasm of helplessness.

Stupidly you got a scar to match when you threw yourself in front of a near unconscious Eddie, attempting to stop the man from landing a final punch to his son's face. He hit you instead. The scar on your shoulder was small, barely there, but you could still feel Eddie's lips on it when he cleaned the wound. Apologies spilling from his lips until he fell asleep in your bed.

But you supposed that was Eddie. A protector above all else.

The man who would throw himself into the heat of battle before considering the consequences that came with a choice that reckless.

"They'll be here in twenty minutes." He crept up behind you, glancing at the photo of him on his Mom's birthday. "Thinking about that night?"

You jumped, glancing at him over your shoulder. "Yeah."

He nodded. "Hard not to."

"Has he ever..."

"No." The darkened shadow across his face gave you enough of a response. It was time to move onto a different subject.

"So..." You settled on his couch with a heavy sigh. "Your work."

Dragging the throw blanket his mother sewed him over your legs, he clambered onto the empty space beside you. The heater was slowly sputtering to life—radiator giving it all it had to keep the both of you warm. But beside him you felt the heat practically emanate off his body in waves.

What you wouldn't give to curl into his lap and seek it from the source.

"The drama has been exquisite," he stated, draping his arm on the top of the couch behind your head. "You remember me tellin' you about Jane?"

"Goodall?"

"The very one." He settled further into the cushions, legs spread beneath the blanket until he nudged yours. "She and Ray broke up. It's been hell in the office dealing with their confused tension."

"Wait, isn't this the guy who cheated with her?"

He nodded. "Now I'm not saying he's horrible. But you gotta at least break up with the girl before you go with another."

"Ahh you're taking my teachings to heart," you smiled, leaning your head against his arm.

"I have to Kit. Every time I don't I feel like you're gonna pop out and whack me–" Landing a weak hit to his side, he clamped his hand around your wrist, tugging you close with a laugh. "Like that!"

Attempting to free yourself was futile when he outmatched you in strength and speed. Yet you found that you enjoyed being this close to him. Laughing as you once did in the years of your youth. When all that mattered was which movie you were seeing that Friday and what school the team was playing.

Somehow—in the blink of an eye—you were two adults stuck in your own travesties. Forced to forgo the blithe energy of your childhood. You'd jump at the chance to go back; if only to get more time with Eddie. To spend a few more hours in his bedroom watching horror movies that left you both shell shocked and restless.

To cheer him on at every game with the promise of burgers and shakes at the local drive in afterwards. To watch him grow up and move to New York. Only this time...you'd follow him the second he asked.

His eyes softened as your smile slipped from your lips, fingers curling around his fist. Hazel had never been your favorite color until Eddie left. You rarely thought of it when he was home, but as his absence became a reality you could no longer suffer through you began to see the color everywhere. In the trees, in the color of your old blanket you stole off his childhood bed, in the flannel that once belonged to his grandfather.

You found traces of Eddie Alden in every little aspect of your life, except him.

"Kitten," he murmured, a fraction closer than he'd been a minute ago. His eyes dropped to the curve of your lips, how they parted so sweetly at the sound of your pet name.

"Eddie..."

All that remained was the space between your heads—your body practically leaning into him the longer you talked. He could lean in and kiss you. He could finally learn what you tasted like, figure out how you'd sound if his tongue licked along yours. Fuck he'd never wanted something more.

 The dazed glint in your eyes made his heart twist, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. Your gaze fixed on the movement immediately and Eddie felt his cock twitch in interest. One day he'd explain to you how fucking beautiful you were; how his mind went haywire at the sight of your smile. How he'd destroy himself to get you to look at him like he hung the moon and stars.

One day he'd spill his deepest darkest secrets to you.

Starting with three little words that kept him up at night tossing and turning.

He swallowed thickly. "I..."

The door buzzed loud enough to scare the shit out of you. Leaping back, you felt the breath catch in your throat painfully and like an idiot you began to cough. Eddie's eyes went wide, his hand tapping your back as you waved him off to get the pizza. Leaving you to sit there on his couch and choke...on air.

Dumbass.

"Thanks man," Eddie muttered, handing off what cash he had left in his wallet. "Keep the change."

He rushed back to the couch, pizza in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Kit, you okay? Here drink this before you die on my fuckin' couch."

"Shut up Eddie," you snipped, eyes burning with a glare. Though the smile on your lips told him something else. "Hand over the pizza before it's you dying."

"Yes ma'am," he muttered, flipping open the box and swiping the remote off the coffee table. Taking his spot by your side back with a grin.

tagging whoever wants to do it!

[lesbiankimdahyun]

new match, pt. iii

2.0K words

CW: A/B/O dynamics, GP, starting off vanilla bc we have to start with a foundation of TRUST 

[Sub!A!Mina x O!Reader] 

The more time you spent with Mina, the more you saw of her genuine personality— who she really was in private. And it turned out that she was just as shy as she appeared from afar. As a result, you’d grown accustomed to speaking up for the both of you at restaurants and cafes when you went out. Mina seemed comfortable following your lead, taking your suggestions for what to try off the menu, and deferring to you when deciding whether to sit indoors or out. 

One night, you came over to cook dinner with her. It was the first time the two of you were alone in a more intimate setting together. Mina helped, but she liked watching you make cocktails for the two of you a lot more. She also clearly enjoyed watching you cook for her in her kitchen; that you didn’t mind coming in and taking over the space to cook.  

When you noticed she was watching you as you chopped vegetables, you stopped. 

“I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I’m not letting you help with much, am I?” 

Mina shook her head, a soft smile on her face. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I kinda like it.” 

Skeptical, your eyebrows went up. “But then I’m not including you on what we drink or how spicy dinner’s going to be. Or what if you actually hated all of my vegetable choices for tonight and here I am making you eat them!” 

Mina laughed. “I’m not as picky as Soyeon when it comes to vegetables.” Your cheeks burned at the mention of Soyeon, but Mina continued. “I mean it, I really don’t mind,” she said. “And you look good doing it. I’d prefer it be that way, anyway.”  

There was so much to take in from Mina’s comments that you couldn’t even reply. While you turned off the stove and rinsed your hands off one last time, Mina set plates on the counter. While you started dividing the meal between the two of you, she grabbed two sets of cutlery and chopsticks out from a drawer.  

Mina really was a unique Alpha. And if she was into kitchen tops— you froze for a moment, stealing a glance at her. Maybe it was too soon for wishful thinking, but maybe, just maybe Mina would be open to other kinds of tops, too. 

That last thought gave you butterflies: getting to push all of Mina’s buttons and making her lose her collected, quiet facade. You wondered what she looked like when she was turned on. Was she still shy when she was rutting? Had she ever…begged? 

You nearly dropped the plates of hot food as you went to set them down on her table. 

“Sorry!” you said quickly. 

Normally conversation flowed easily between the two of you, but you were almost as quiet as she was. You watched her mouth move as she ate, eyes moving up from the beauty marks near her lips up to the one on the bridge of her nose. 

“Y/N?” the Alpha was suddenly looking at you, concerned. 

“Huh?”

“I said are you okay? You were kind of zoned out.”

You blinked. “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, quickly reaching for your drink. 

“What were you thinking about?” 

You nearly choked. “Uh,” you stalled, trying to think of anything, literally anything besides Mina and rutting. 

You took a second too long to pause. Now you couldn’t lie—  it would be obvious. So instead, you truthfully stumbled over all of the words that came out of your mouth next. 

“You,” you said. “And what you said earlier. About me cooking and you preferring…” you trailed off. 

Mina’s eyes widened a little, but she just nodded, taking her time with her next bite of food.

You couldn’t help but try to fill the nervous silence. “It just caught me off guard. But not in a bad way!” you laughed a little. “Most Alphas I’ve known want to be in charge all the time. It’s—”

“I know my personality probably isn’t quite like what you’re used to—“ Mina started. 

“No, no!” you interrupted quickly. “I mean, yes, but it’s nice,” you said. 

Mina hummed in response. She seemed surprised. 

“Can I ask what you like about…” you prayed to god she was picking up on what you were trying to ask. “Like, you’d rather someone else decide what’s for dinner?”

“Absolutely,” Mina replied. You could tell she was studying you, choosing her words carefully. “I like people who know what they want.” 

“Why?” You cursed internally for asking so fast. You worried Mina was going to be kicking you out soon just like Soyeon did. 

Mina blushed, letting out a shy laugh. “I don’t know. Alphas are always viewed as the ones with all the power, the ones who should be making big decisions for them and their Omegas. But I don’t want it— that power,” she said. “I find it mesmerizing when Omegas realize they have power just like Alphas do.” 

“What do you mean?” you were literally leaning in now to listen to her, dinner remnants abandoned. 

Mina shrugged. “Think about it,” she said. “At the end of the day, it’s the Omegas that have what we– what Alphas want. Their attention. And–” Mina’s voice got a little softer, suddenly shy again. “To…I mean, we rut, of course so we want them in that way, too. We try so hard to get their attention, and once we have it, we can be so possessive over them. It should be the other way around, though, Omegas shouldn’t be the ones begging for Alphas to–” she paused. “But I know most Omegas really like take-charge Alphas.” 

You raised an eyebrow at that. “Most, I guess,” you said, reaching to grab your now empty plate, “but definitely not all.” 

You started clearing dishes and collecting utensils to bring over to the sink when you stopped suddenly and turned around. You turned back to Mina. 

“Wait on the couch for me?” you asked. It was a test. A small one, but a test nonetheless and both of you knew it. You were curious, wanting to get a feel for just how submissive the Alpha might be. 

Mina bit back a smile and got up. “Sure,” she said. She turned to look back at you before leaving the kitchen, a brief, curious glance. 

You took your time washing up, wiping down her kitchen before finally going back to Mina in her living room. You sat down next to her wordlessly, taking in her scent while she undoubtedly took in yours. There was tension now. You could feel it. You were hyper-aware of your arm brushing up against Mina’s– how soft her hair looked, how her scent was becoming slightly stronger. 

You can’t remember if she asked you or you asked her about kissing, but suddenly it was happening and you felt like you were going to burst into flames, your desire was so strong. 

Mina’s lips were soft and light. Even when kissing, she was shy at first. But as you continued to make out, slow and shy became less bashful and more sensual. Your hands found their way into her hair, then down her neck and shoulders. 

With a bit of help from Mina, you shifted into her lap and straddled her. You were still kissing her when you went to sit in her lap. And as soon as you sat, you felt it. 

You’d made the Alpha hard. Very hard. 

The older girl broke the kiss, stifling a groan.  

Her scent, you realized, was everywhere now. You got wet almost instantly, adding your scent to mix in with hers. 

You looked at each other for a moment before you hastily got off of her lap. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “We totally don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You moved away slightly, giving her a little space. “And you can kick me out if you’d rather take care of it alone. Otherwise, I’m more than willing to…” you glanced down, unable to resist a peek. “...help,” you finished. 

Mina licked her lips while she thought. She looked you over slowly, subtly reminding you of her Alpha status. There was always something about the way Alphas did that– looking at you with a sort of hunger in their eyes. You rarely felt like an Omega outside of your heat, but that look? You lowered your eyes instinctively. 

Normally, Mina would have said no. She would have been too shy to let you continue. But she was just as curious about you as you were about her. She nodded. “Okay,” she said, eyeing your mouth. 

You felt like you were going to explode. You had to remind yourself to breathe as you leaned in to kiss her again, your hand working its way up her thigh. You deepened the kiss, cupping her bulge lightly. 

“Ah,” Mina broke away from your lips for a moment to watch your hand gently rub her over her clothes. 

“May I?” you asked softly, your hand moving toward the zipper on her pants, and she nodded again. 

In a few quick movements, Mina’s pants were unbuttoned and unzipped. Her eyes were wide as she watched you, her breathing a little shallower. 

“Is this still okay?” you asked, hand hovering over her boxers. 

“Yes,” Mina breathed. 

Fishing her cock out, you let out a little moan as you started to pump her length in your hand. Mina was even bigger than she looked. Her scent hit you hard now, making you swoon a little. 

You moved down onto the floor, placing yourself between her legs. After helping Mina out of her pants and boxers, you turned your attention back to her stiff cock. Kneeling in front of her, you gently kissed her tip. 

Mina’s heart pounded in her chest. It had been a long time since she’d let anyone touch her. You hadn’t even done anything yet and already she felt like she could cum. 

With her permission, you kissed your way up her length, starting from the base. Then, slowly, you took her into your mouth. 

The Alpha moaned, her head tilting back and eyes closing for a moment. Her fingers curled into the couch a bit. 

Your tongue swirled over the tip, coaxing her to let more of her length fill your mouth and slide into your throat. You took as much of her in as you could, and what didn’t fit in your mouth, you teased with your hand. 

Everything you did felt like heaven to her, and Mina whimpered in response. 

You paused for a moment, watching her. “Does that feel good?” you asked. She nodded. 

In one swift motion, then you took one of her hands and guided it through your hair, to the back of your head. 

“Show me what you like,” you said. “Let me make you feel good.” 

Mina’s cock twitched at that, and she nodded, guiding your head back down. You went back to work, bobbing on her length. Mina’s grip was light at first, but soon her fingers had a tighter hold on your hair and she pulled you further down on her cock, nearly making you gag. 

You moaned as she began to fuck up into your throat, holding you still as she used you, her hips thrusting swiftly. 

“Y/N,” she rasped. She was closer to coming than she thought. She released you suddenly, hips stilling. “I-, sorry, i-is it okay if I, um–” 

You smiled, catching your breath. “You really are shy, how cute. Yes, you can cum in my mouth if you want.” 

It was all the Alpha needed for encouragement. With a light groan, Mina snaked her hand back through your hair, bringing her cock to your lips once again. 

It didn’t take long before you felt her thighs tense and her breathing become a little uneven. 

“Y-Y/N,” she said breathlessly, “Fuck, I’m going to…” 

Panting a little, the Alpha released her load into your mouth. She threw her head back and moaned as you swallowed everything she had to give. Greedily, you licked her clean before finally coming up for air yourself. 

Mina was blushing furiously when you looked up at her, a sheepish smile on her face. 

Smirking a little, you licked your lips. “Can I do that again sometime?” 

[mydarlingdearestdead]

On one particularly memorable night, Rosalyn commissioned me to dive into their jewellery box in search of a twin for the singular of a stunning, silver sapphire earring they had found discarded within a desk drawer. The jewels were moulded into a shape of a lily flower- By hand, if Atlas was to be believed. They were a gift, that which he had donated upon Rosalyn's thirtieth birthday.

Since such an event, Rosalyn had worn them to one gala and then, subsequently, allowed the existence of the pair to slip their mind. Why this pair demanded attention on this particular night, I do not know, nor do I particularly think it is of consequence.

Atlas lay upon the bed. To me, he advised, "Make them do it themself. Teach them a little responsibility for their actions."

Rosalyn, stood before an ornamental mirror in the room's centre, scoffed, "My love, nothing could teach me that. Not now. Who learns new things at thirty-seven? What a waste."

Grinning, I produced the earring from the very depths of the heavy, wooden box. Before I could inform either of the pair, Atlas sighed, "Oh, don't know it." He crept up to stand at their side. Elevated upon a footstool, Rosalyn towered over him. Atlas looked up with nothing less than pure adoration in his gaze, "Do you really want those earrings?" He asked, "Because you don't need them by any stretch of the imagination."

Rosalyn's lips parted. For the briefest instant, I feared they intended to submit to rage. My concerns were, thankfully, utterly unfounded. Their voice was light as they replied, "No," They allowed him to lay his hands upon their waist and lift them to the floor, "No, I think I'm alright without them."

Finally, they addressed me, "God, I've got you doing that for nothing, haven't I?" Without pause, they spoke their solution, "Tell you what, there's cash in my office. Use it and buy yourself a takeaway. Anything at all. Menus in the kitchen cupboard."

Closing my fist around the recovered earring, I forced a smile.

"Sounds good."

[gothicmama]

"The Hunt" Bagginshield ABO (Rough Draft)

I posted a little snippet of this, the end of it, awhile back, and since then I've been fiddling with it constantly and I'm on the verge of rewriting all two thousand something words and start over. So, I'm posting it here first, hoping for some advice/criticism/reassurance on what I should do with it. Please, help (;

Bilbo had adjusted to the cultural shock of living with Dwarves relatively quickly. The months he’d spent on the quest with the company had helped him when it came to being the only Hobbit in a mountain of them. Everything was completely different from what he was used to, from the food to the clothing, to the weather itself. Some of that had been expected and easily managed. He ate meals with everyone else plus the extra four he was used to, with whoever happened to be free at the moment keeping him company, so he didn’t eat alone. He’d even added some Hobbitish dishes to menus all over the mountain. The same was said for clothing, his closet was full of Hobbit style clothing that were decorated with the floral designs Hobbits preferred, alongside or combined with the traditional geometric patterns Dwarves favored. Dori and Nori had taken on the challenge of making his whole wardrobe and they’d outdone themselves. Several of the tailors and shops in the marketplace now offered similar items themselves. And the weather had simply been solved by finally giving in and admitting that his bare feet needed something during the winter months, especially if he wanted to go outside. As such he now had a drawerful of thick socks, also made by both Dori and Nori, that were just as decorated as the rest of his clothing.

But the one thing he was still struggling to adjust to was how different they were when it came to their secondary genders. For Hobbits, there were expectations and responsibilities for each. Alphas were expected to be the head of the family and do the more dangerous things, like being Bounders. Omegas were expected to be pregnant as often as possible, as long as it was safe to be so, and Betas were expected to fill in any gaps and be whatever was needed in whatever relationship they were in.

Despite that Hobbits were all mostly similar in certain ways regardless of whether they were Alpha, Beta, or Omega. They were, as a people, generally gentle and kind-hearted folk. Suspicious of the outside world, with good reason, and with few exceptions, they were all content to live in their smials, throw parties for any an all reasons, and drink and eat to their hearts’, and stomachs’, content. They spent their heats and ruts either at home alone or with their mates, and it was highly expected to choose a mate and marry them as young as possible. For the majority of Hobbits, regardless of their gender, they only ever touched or were touched by one person and that was the person they chose to be their mate.

Dwarves on the other hand were completely different. They drew clear lines between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, while simultaneously treating them all equally. Unlike Hobbits, Omegas weren’t expected to have children. He knew and had met several Omegas who had dedicated their lives to their crafts instead of relationships or were in a relationship and simply didn’t want children. Also, Omegas weren’t looked at differently or whispered about for doing dangerous work. Neither were Alphas sneered at for doing what would be considered delicate work, such as embroidering or knitting. No, for Dwarves, they wore their genders proudly in their braids, but it made no difference to how they were treated by others.

And for Bilbo, a Hobbit who had for many years been the local oddity due to being an unmated Omega who was head of his family and the family business, it was both a pleasant and a jarring change.

He’d thought he’d grown used to the way things were, he’d even started letting Fili and Kili put an Omega braid in his hair. Something that still seemed to unsettle Thorin, so much so that for the first few times he had quickly excused himself before running from the room. Bilbo had yet to get an explanation for that, so he’d simply chalked it up to some Dwarf thing he didn’t know about. And then, he’d found out about the Hunt.

“I’m sorry, could you explain it to me again please?” Bilbo was sure he’d heard Balin wrong. There was no way Dwarves actually did that.

Balin chuckled and looked up from the scroll he was writing on. “Any unmated Alphas, Betas, and Omegas may participate in the Hunt. It’s two weeks of eating, sleeping, and preparing. It is called the Hunt because at the end of the two weeks, some are hunted, while the others are the hunters.”

Bilbo swallowed heavily before he hesitantly asked, “Hunted for what?”

Balin set down the scroll completely and looked at the Hobbit over his glasses. His eyes stared into Bilbo’s as he answered, “For mating.”

“Mating?” Bilbo squeaked out. His face was already burning but his curiosity was stronger than his embarrassment. He knew what mating was, understood it on a purely physical, educational level, but he’d never experienced it. And even if he had, Hobbits didn’t do anything like what Balin was describing.

“Yes. On the final night, the hunted run, and the hunters chase, and almost everyone finds a mate, if not more than one,” Balin explained. “It is a night for us to give in to our primal urges, to experience a heat or rut in a different way.”

“Isn’t that, well, dangerous?” Bilbo asked. The thought of alphas and omegas running loose, lost in their heats and ruts, sounded terrifying to him.

“It can be, yes,” Balin agreed. “But even in our most primal, animalistic states, we are not cruel or vicious. Fighting is to be expected, but most know when they’re beaten and will yield. Likewise, most know when they’ve won, and they’ll let the loser go. It’s not unheard of for people to die, for fights to get out of control or for someone to take it too far, but it is uncommon.”

“I see. But, what if you,” Bilbo paused to think over his words. “What if someone is interested in another, but they aren’t interested in return?”

“It’s even rarer for forced mating to happen, but it has happened in the past,” Balin regretfully admitted. “It’s a risk one takes to be a part of the hunt. But most are more interested in finding willing partners than wasting time and energy forcing themselves on another.”

Unsure of how to respond to his reassurance, Bilbo simply nodded. Balin smiled kindly at him and explained, “There are risks, yes, but that is why it is optional. It is for those who are without mates, who wish to have a little fun. Everyone gets to show off in the days leading up to the hunt, by decorating themselves with paint and jewels or showing off their prowess in fights. And on the final night, they run wild and free in ways that they don’t usually get to experience. Though, some do go into it with other motivations.”

Bilbo leaned back in his chair, his head swimming. This took culture shock to an entirely new level. He cleared his throat several times and fiddled with the buttons on his waistcoat, before he stammered, “Other motivations?”

“Oh yes.” Ignoring the worrying expression on Bilbo’s face, Balin got comfortable and leaned back in his chair. “Some who enter are looking for a mate, and they will have their token with them. It’s an unspoken rule that tokens are not to be touched, stolen, or damaged in any way. Even in our most primal of states, that’s instinctual. If someone finds another that they like they may present the token to them. In the heat of the moment, it’s easy to get lost in the intense feelings and lose track of people, especially if you have multiple partners during the night.”

Bilbo’s head spun again just from that sentence. Multiple partners? He wasn’t touching that right then, probably never would because it didn’t concern him. He shook his head slightly and tuned back into Balin’s explanation. “The tokens make it easier for people to find their chosen afterwards. Assuming of course their chosen accepts. Rejecting a token is allowed, and encouraged if the feelings aren’t mutual.”

“I see,” Bilbo replied faintly. He clasped his hands on the desk in front of him to stop them from fidgeting. “You said motivations, plural. What else is there?”

“Children.” Balin chuckled when Bilbo gasped in shock, his eyes bulging. “There are some who wish to have children, without having to go through the trouble of finding a suitable donor or partner. They simply wish to mate with as many people as possible to give them the best chance of being impregnated. Or they only wish to mate with someone they find acceptable, such as the strongest hunter of the group, to ensure their child is also strong.”

“That makes sense.” That was all Bilbo could say through his disbelief. That was entirely unheard of among Hobbits. If someone had children, it was because they were mated and married and had usually planned them. No one just had children on their own, with the rare exception of an Omega who’d been widowed during pregnancy. But even then, they would often take another mate to help with raising the child, they didn’t do it all on their own. Bilbo cleared his throat and offered an apologetic smile. “Forgive me for my surprise, please. This is very different from how we Hobbits do it.”

“Oh, no worries, laddie, I thought as much.” Balin waved away his apology with his hand. “I don’t think anyone else but us Dwarves do it, not the men nor the elves. It’s why we don’t talk about it much.”

“Ah, yes, one of your many secrets.” They both chuckled at Bilbo’s teasing, then he turned serious again. Now that his mind was working through this new information, the surprise and embarrassment were completely replaced by his curiosity. Questions were popping into his head fast, but one stuck out amongst the lot. “How do you ensure children occur? After all, if the Hunt is a once a year, scheduled event, most of the participants won’t be in heat or rut when it occurs.”

Balin winked at Bilbo and gave him a smirk. “We’re back to the secrets again, laddie. We’re not as good as Hobbits when it comes to gardens and vegetables, but our healers know their herbs. Part of the Hunt is taking the right ones. Everyone eats or drinks, whichever they prefer, an herb that sends them into heat or rut. For Betas, they’re given something different that simulates whichever they choose.”

Balin entwined his fingers over his beard as he continued, “Everyone who enters is given just enough herbs based on their size and how fast they burn through medicines. No one is given too much, and what they are given is given in small amounts over the course of the two weeks, so it builds in their systems, and they have time to adjust. This also gives them a chance to change their mind or for them to see a healer if something does go wrong.”

“That’s why the preparation is so long,” Bilbo assumed. It made perfect sense to him, and it sounded as though the Dwarves had it planned out perfectly. The thought of the Hunt, while still jarring to him as a Hobbit, sounded less like a uncontrollable thing where people went crazy and did awful things to each other, and more like a large, planned party where everyone was there to go wild and have fun together. As a Hobbit who loved parties, he appreciated the logistics that went into this. And as an Omega who’d never so much as been kissed, the thought of having this chance to see what he’d been missing without fear of hurt feelings, or an arranged marriage, was beginning to sound appealing.

Bilbo shoved that thought away. He absolutely wasn’t going to do it, no matter what fantasies went on in his own head. He cleared his throat and continued with his questions. His purely academic questions. “For those who don’t want children?”

“Preventative herbs are available before and after the hunt, and we’ve worked out many options that are safe to take with the stimulant herbs,” Balin replied matter-of-factly.

Bilbo nodded slowly, taking a moment of silence to process all the information he’d just been given. When he felt like he had a good handle on everything, he smiled at Balin. “It certainly sounds like you all know what you’re doing. When will the Hunt take place, then?”

Balin tapped his chin thoughtfully before answering him. “We’ve been preparing for it for weeks now, but now that Thorin is completely healed and it’s safe for him to participate, we can finish the last few things up. It should only take another two weeks before we can get started.”

The Hobbit froze and for the second time in just five minutes he was sure he’d heard incorrectly. “Thorin? He’s going to?”

“Oh, yes, laddie, as an unmated king, it’s one of his responsibilities.” Balin barely held back a laugh at Bilbo’s surprised expression. “It is in the hopes that he might meet someone, but also to prove his raw prowess and strength against other Alphas. That’s why it’s only for unmated kings unless they wish to do the Hunt together as a couple. Most don’t though, there’s always the chance that things can go wrong in such a situation.”

“I understand that, yes.” Bilbo swallowed. He hid his hands under the desk and nervously wrung them together. “So, he will for sure be a hunter, as you called it?”

“Oh yes. We use the terms hunter and hunted, because those terms are not used solely for Alphas and Omegas respectively, but yes, Thorin, as an Alpha, will be a hunter.” Balin’s eyes twinkled over his glasses as he suddenly asked, “Will you be joining the Hunt, too, Bilbo?”

“Yes.” The answer popped out before Bilbo could even think about it.

[whippedstrawberrycream]

It’s Not a Date

Stone had hoped to wait until the end of the day to reveal his gift, but with Robotnik around, things never turn out as he'd planned.

Word count: 794

“You can’t run from me, Stone!”

Stone raced from the lab, admonishing himself as he did so. It was stupid; he felt stupid. Two weeks ago, he’d seen the Doctor browsing a website, lingering for a long time on an item before closing the browser tab. Of course Stone had taken it upon himself to purchase said item, shipping fees be damned. 

He was normally the first to arrive at the lab, but upon entering, Robotnik was already seated at his station. Stone had every intention of moving over to his own desk to hide the item in his drawer, but it was too late; the Doctor had spotted him quickly maneuvering something behind his back, and his eyes had narrowed in suspicion.

Whirring sounds suddenly approached from the corridor behind him, and in seconds his back was to the wall, and he was surrounded. Stone knew the badniks wouldn’t attack him, but he had no chance of escape. One of the badniks bounced up and down, thinking that it was a game. Slow footsteps echoed in the corridor as Robotnik sauntered over, his hands behind his back. He arched an amused eyebrow at Stone.

“You know better than to believe you can outrun my technology, agent.”

Stone eyed the floor. “I know, sir.”

With a flick of the Doctor’s wrist, the badniks dispersed. He stepped forward and held out his hand.

“Gimme.”

Stone sighed and retrieved the item from underneath his blazer. He glanced up as Robotnik took it from him with a furrowed brow.

“Cookies,” he said, frowning.

“I, uh, saw you looking at them not long ago,” Stone mumbled, nervousness seeping into his voice. The well-rehearsed speech that was to accompany his gift had fled his thoughts. “I was going to give them to you at the end of the day.”

“A Belgian woman gave these to me once as a child,” Robotnik replied, inspecting the packaging. “I wanted to see if they tasted as good as my memory would have me believe.” He placed the box against his hip. Stone felt the Doctor’s curious eyes on him as his heart began to thud; he knew what question was coming next.

“Does this have anything to do with today’s date, Stone?”

“No,” Stone quickly replied, as his heart continued to pound. “They arrived a day ago.” 

Only part of his response was a lie. That today was Valentine’s Day was not entirely coincidental: he just wanted to give the Doctor a thoughtful gift to express his appreciation, and what better day than today? By the suspicious looks being thrown in his direction, he knew the Doctor wasn’t buying it. He took a deep breath and continued: “I didn’t know you observed Val-”

“I don’t,” Robotnik interrupted. “But I do keep to my own traditions.”

Stone nodded. “So do I.”

Robotnik gestured with his free hand. “Go on.”

Stone leaned against the wall, feeling less apprehensive now. “I get takeout for dinner, then after I watch a couple of movies with a box of chocolates. Usually thrillers. Anything but a rom-com.”

He saw the Doctor visibly shudder. 

“Sounds similar to my evening,” Robotnik replied. “I sit down to a double feature. I eat something loaded with sugar until I fall asleep.” He lifted up the box slightly. “These will do just fine.”

Stone felt himself smiling. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Hitchcock’s on the menu tonight: Rope followed by Rear Window.” He paused as if thinking something over, and then shrugged. “You can join me, if you feel inclined.”

Something akin to excitement arose in Stone’s chest. That the Doctor had invited him over to his apartment unprompted and on a non-work related matter made him feel a little warm inside.

“I’d lov-”

“But don’t get weird about it,” Robotnik continued. “Or I’ll rescind my invitation.”

Stone shut his mouth. He was well aware of the Doctor’s aversion to anything that might be deemed romantic.

“I’ll bring the chocolates,” he said instead.

“What shapes?”

“Oval, square, rectangle.”

“Any hearts?”

“Not that I’m aware of, sir.”

“Don’t let the dim lighting in my lounge room fool you, it’s optimised for film-viewing purposes.”

“Of course.”

“My couch is on the small side, so don’t be surprised if I’m pressed up against you for the duration of the night.”

“That’s fine.”

“If fall asleep with my head on your shoulder, it’s entirely accidental.”

“I completely understand, sir.”

“Good. First feature begins at eight-thirty.” Robotnik stepped back and eyed Stone. “It’s not a date!”

As soon as the Doctor had turned and stalked off, Stone let out a grin.

“Sure it’s not,” he muttered under his breath, then jumped when he received a reply:

“I can HEAR you from here, Stone!”

[thedreamworldlibrary]

Starlight's Coffee Chapter 1- Happy Hollow Street

Hi guys! Got a new AU for you all and it’s a Coffee Shop AU!

Welcome to Dreamworld felt fitting for a Coffee Shop AU, and after being inspired by another well known coffee shop AU, I just had to create my own. Now, unlike my other AUs this won’t be a multi chapter fanfic, and rather just a series of mini stories centered around the AU. Some will be multi chaptered, but they’d be at least 10 or less chapters. 

I’m working on more AUs for this web series, and because a ton of them are multi chapters/novel length, I wanted at least an AU where it’s just one long drabble, or small multi chapters, where I can work on them from time to time while focusing on my other fanfics.

Big thanks to @gigilefache for being my beta reader!

Enjoy!

Happy Hollow Street is one of the most popular areas in town with many stores, great places to eat, and a popular arcade. Right across from the said arcade stands a brand new coffee shop called Starlight’s Coffee & Cafe, which about this time was set to open. Inside, were three people; Sara Covetman, Oliver Acrimony and Lewis Bright, the owners of the new coffee shop. The three looked to be in their late teens or early 20’s. They set up the inside of the shop with cute and cozy decor.

“Alright, just two weeks left until opening day, and we’re almost done setting up!” Sara beamed.

“I can’t believe the money we saved up back in high school helped us open our very own coffee shop!” Lewis added, as he put up the menu.

“It took us a few years, but we finally got a building to open it.” Oliver said, as he put up paintings and posters on the wall.

For years it was Sara’s dream to open her own business, and it was finally coming true. She saved up money from chores, part time jobs, even competitions with her best friends to bring her coffee shop to life. She couldn’t wait for everyone to come to their lovely coffee shop to relax and hang out.

“Okay, we got everything inside set up and ready to go.” Lewis proclaimed. “Now what’s next on our list?”

Sara pulled out her phone, opened her Notes app and went to her checklist. She saw they were almost done, two more things; Poster advertisements and Storage stocking. “We just need to put up advertisements and get ingredients, then we’re done!” Sara explained. “Maybe, we can open up early at this point.”

Lewis and Oliver smiled, excited they were almost there. “Darling, I can do the posters.” Lewis offered.

“Sure.” Sara replied. She then walked over to the counter and pulled out two huge stacks of paper that made Lewis’s glasses slide off his nose.

“Darling, this is a lot of posters.” Lewis commented.

“Well, I made enough to cover all of Happy Hollow Street.”

Lewis sighed. He grabbed the first stack of paper, then he opened the drawer and took out a roll of tape. “I’ll come back for the rest,” he said. Sara and Oliver nodded in reply. Lewis then left the shop, walked over to the nearby light pole, and taped the first poster. He went around taping posters to other light poles, walls, and even giving it to other business around Happy Hollow Street.

Lewis was about to head back to the shop, when he saw someone running and knocking into him. The pappers fell from Lewis’s arms and onto the ground.

“Oh no.” Lewis groaned. He kneeled to the ground to pick up the papers.

“Do you need help?”

Lewis looked up and he started blushing upon seeing the other boy in front of him. The boy looked shorter then him, with messy brown hair, and round shaped glasses. He wore a blue vest with stars over a lilac shirt with folded sleeves, dark blue pants, and brown shoes.

“Uh…” Lewis trailed off not knowing what to say to the gentleman.

The smaller boy waited for his response, but from the looks of the stacks of paper, concluded Lewis needed help. “Here. I’ll help you.” The boy said, kneeling down and starting to pick up the papers.

Lewis snapped out of it and went to pick up the papers too, only to touch the boy’s hand. The two looked up and the two boys started to blush. They quickly moved their hands away and looked down nervously.

 The boy read the advertisement, seeing it was for the coffee shop opening across the street from his family’s arcade.

“Oh, so your one of the workers of the coffee shop opening soon.” The smaller boy said, standing up.

“I’m one of the owners, darling.” Lewis replied, standing up as well.

The boy was impressed. “Really? You look too young to be running a business.”

“I’m only 20-years old.”

“Same here!” The smaller boy exclaimed. He then held his hand out, “nice to meet ya, I’m Wiatt Nicholson.”

“I’m Lewis Bright.” He replied, shaking Wiatt’s hand.

“Well, welcome to Happy Hollow Street.” Wiatt said, as he let go of Lewis’s hand.

“Thank you, darling.”

“No problem, darling.” Wiatt replied, giving a smug smile.

Lewis blushed and gave a nervous chuckle. He never had anyone use darling on him, not even his friends. Yet, here’s this boy he never met using darling at him, and it was attracting. Lewis cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject hoping the blush on his face would disappear. As they were chatting they started putting the rest of the posters up together.

“S-So your grandfather runs the Nickel Per Play Arcade?” Lewis asked.

Wiatt nodded as he taped one of the posters on the wall. “Yep!”

“I used to play there all the time when I was a kid.”

“Really?” Wiatt asked. Lewis nodded in reply. “Did you open the coffee shop across from the arcade because of it?”

Lewis chuckled while putting up another poster. “No. It was just a coincidence that the only open building was across from the arcade.” He explained.

“You must feel lucky!” Wiatt exclaimed.

“You can say that.”

The two boys continued to put up and give out posters for the coffee shop. While doing so, Wiatt and Lewis kept on glancing at each other and blushed every time he saw the other’s eyes. Lewis wanted to ask if Wiatt was single, but it felt rude to ask. Wiatt wanted to do the same, but he was worried if Lewis had someone already or wasn’t into him. Then again the blush on Lewis’s face said so otherwise. 

“So…” Wiatt trailed off.

“So…what?” Lewis asked as he put another poster up.

“Uh…are you…available later today?” Wiatt asked.

“I just got to do a few things inside the shop, but I’m free after that.” Lewis answered.

Wiatt smiled. “ I was wondering if you’d like to hang out at the arcade and play some games?”

Lewis smiled. “Sure!” He beamed. “I mean,” Lewis cleared his throat, “sure I’m up for it.”

“Great!” Wiatt exclaimed. 

“Lets finish with these posters, then I’ll grab the next ones to put up, and then we can hang out at the arcade.”

Wiatt nodded. “Okay!”

The two put the rest of the posters up, and soon the stack was completely pinned to every wall and pole. They headed back to Starlight Coffee & Cafe, but someone came out and marched behind them, looming over the two.

“Wiatt!” A gruff voice yelled.

Wiatt and Lewis is gasped and turned around to see an older man come out and walk over to the two boys. The man wore a blue jacket over a dark blue polo shirt, black jeans, and black shoes.

“Where were you?” The man asked.

Wiatt chuckled. “Sorry, Grandpa.” He replied. “I was just showing Lewis around. He and his friends own the coffee shop across the arcade.”

The older man glared at Lewis. Lewis shivered to where he couldn’t think of anything to say that was polite polite to the older man.

“Oh Lewis, this is my grandfather, Carlos Nicholson, the owner of Nickel Per Play Arcade.” Wiatt introduced his grandfather. “Grandpa, this is Lewis Bright.”

“N-Nice to meet you, sir.” Lewis stuttered, as his hand nervously shook, trying to shake the older man’s hand.

Carlos gave the boy a cold glare, before a smile formed as he shook Lewis’s hand, tightly. Lewis flinched as the older man’s grasp became harsher. 

Carlos laughed. “Well, welcome to the neighborhood, kiddo! Sorry for the scare!” He beamed.

“N-No problem, sir.” Lewis stuttered, in pain.

Carlos let go. Lewis held his hand feeling it throb. “So, what have you been doing with my grandson?” The older man asked.

“I was just putting posters around for our new coffee shop, and Wiatt offered to help me.” Lewis explained. 

Carlos looked at his grandson, who nodded in reply. The older man sighed, “as much as I appreciate my grandson helping you. I need him to watch the arcade for a bit while I go run an errand.” He explained.

Wiatt sighed and pouted, but Lewis patted his new friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, darling. When I’m done I’ll come in and hang out with you.” He explained.

Wiatt smiled, “thanks Lewis.” He said.

Lewis smiled. “Anytime, darling.”

Wiatt walked back inside the arcade while Carlos left to go run his errand. Lewis walked back inside the cafe and grabbed the rest of the posters. However, he looked up to see Oliver and Sara smirking at him.

“Darlings, why are you looking at me like that?” Lewis asked.

“Did we just see you flirt with the Nicholson kid?” Sara asked.

Lewis blushed, “uh…not really flirt. We just hung out for a bit.” He replied. “Wait, you know him?”

Sara nodded, “he and his grandfather came to me a few days ago to say hi.” She explained. “They seem pretty nice.”

“Yeah, he is.” Lewis sighed, as he turned to the window to see Wiatt overlooking the counter at the arcade.

Oliver went over and put his arm around Lewis. “Sounds like you like him?” He asked.

“I-I mean.” Lewis replied blushing. “He’s cute.”

“Ooooh.” Oliver and Sara said at the same time.

Lewis’s face turned a bright red as he glared at his friends, who chuckled in response. He then marched out the door and slammed it, which made Oliver stop chuckling but not Sara. She continued to laugh until Oliver nudged her shoulder, causing her to stop.

“What?” Sara asked.

Oliver pointed to where Lewis was standing and saw he was gone.

Sara’s face quickly formed into a frown. “Oh.” She sighed. “Too far?”

Oliver nodded in reply, while Sara sighed.

“Don’t worry, he’ll calm down once he’s done.” Oliver reassured his best friend.

Sara nodded as she and Oliver went back to working more on the inside of the coffee shop.

After Lewis finished with putting around the posters. He felt better, and decided to go straight to Nickel Per Play Arcade. Once inside he realized everything looked the same as the last time he was there. There were some new arcade games and claw machines, but that seemed to be it, everything else was as he remembered it.

Lewis looked around to find Wiatt, and saw him helping three boys with their prizes. One boy wanted a purple robot toy, the other wanted a stuffed rabbit, and the last boy got a water gun. They thanked Wiatt before they ran back to their parents and showed them the prizes they got.

Wiatt chuckled. He then saw Lewis and smiled. “Hey! You made it!” He exclaimed.

Lewis chuckled. “Sure have,” he said. “So, what do you feel like doing darling?”

“I don’t know, what are you up for, darling?” Wiatt asked, narrowing his eyes and smirking.

Lewis’s face turned red as a tomato as he let out a nervous laugh. “W-Why do you like calling me darling?”

“Well, you call me darling, so I should also call you darling.” Wiatt replied.

Lewis chuckled nervously. “Well, I call everyone darling. Even my friends.”

Wiatt chuckled, “well, it’s dashing.”

Lewis squeaked as his face turned very red. He turned away from the other boy, as the latter chuckled. “C-Come on let’s play some games.” He stuttered, grabbing Wiatt’s hand and dragging him to the arcade floor. Wiatt chuckled seeing his cru-er-new friend be all flustered.

Once calm, Wiatt helped Lewis with his game card and the two spent the rest of the day playing arcade games together. Lewis was so impressed with how skilled Wiatt was with gaming, that he would be distracted as Lewis lost.

“Yes!” Wiatt cheered, beating Lewis for the 5th time. “Beat you again!”

Lewis sighed, chuckling. “You have skills darling.” He said. “I guess I’m distracted by your skills.”

“Well, I’ve grown up in this arcade so I’ve learned a lot.” Wiatt said, stretching.

“I can tell.”

Wiatt smiled and Lewis smiled back, rubbing the back of his head blushing. “So, you want to play more or do you need to head back?” Wiatt asked.

Lewis looked back at the coffee shop before looking back at Wiatt. “I guess I can play a few more games before I go back.”

“Cool!” Wiatt beamed. “Want to play the new VR game we got set up?”

“Sure!” Lewis replied. The two boys ran over to the VR game and started playing.

Back at the coffee shop, Sara looked through the window, and glared at her best friend hanging out with Wiatt across the street. They we’re near opening day, and yet Lewis was playing games and flirting with the Nicholson.

Oliver didn’t seem to mind, “relax Sara, Lewis is having fun.”

“I know that!” Sara spat. “It’s just, we have a coffee shop to set up, and Lewis is busy playing video games.”

“Sara.” Oliver said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “You can’t be jealous over Lewis making new friends, or in his case, a boyfriend.”

Sara frowned and turned away. She didn’t have a crush on Lewis, but he was one of her first best friends. He protected her from the bullying she went through, even to the point he took a beating, which landed him in the hospital.

Oliver frowned and tried to think of something else to help cheer Sara up. “Even though we’re near opening, it doesn’t hurt for Lewis to take a break.” Oliver stated. “Plus, you did say we could open early, so Lewis spending time with Wiatt doesn’t sound so bad.”

Sara glanced at the arcade and sighed, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” She replied. However, she lied as it was a bad idea.

Oliver smiled. “See! What can go wrong?” He asked.

“Everything.” Sara thought.

Oliver then heard his phone vibrating and pulled it out from his pocket. He saw it was his younger sister Liz calling him. “Sara, think you can bring the cups to the storage room? My sister is calling me.” He asked.

Sara nodded. “Sure.” She replied, picking up the boxes.

Oliver picked up the phone and walked outside to take the call. 

Sara then made her way to the storage room. She walked down the hallway to it, and just as she was about to open the door to the room, she saw another locked door nearby that piqued her interest. 

Curious, she put the boxes down, and went to look at the door. The only odd thing about it, was the keyhole was in the shape of an eye. “Huh?” She wondered. Sara remembered in her office, a case with keys all hung up, and quickly went there hoping to find the key for the door.

In her office, Sara saw the case hung over her desk and opened it. Inside she saw many different keys, and one stood out; a black key with a red eye on the top. She took the key and went back to the door, putting the key into the keyhole and twisting it. Sara heard the door unlock, and upon opening the door there was a flight of stairs, going down.

“Huh?” Sara asked. She stepped in and walked downstairs, and was surprised to see bottles filled with colorful substances. “Are these potions?” Sara looked around seeing the amounts of potions around her. She froze seeing a giant, rusted red book at the end of the room. Walking towards it, Sara brushed her fingers on the dusty book. She brushed the dust off her hands on her pants as she read who the book belonged to.

“By Edmund L. Avidmiser.” Sara read. She wondered what he wrote in this book, and carefully opened it. There she saw many potion recipes, some looked worn out due to age, but some were able to be read. “No way!” Sara laughed, as she continued to look through the book.

The potion recipes ranged from making flowers grow bigger, being sticky like glue, all the way to making you fly.

“This is amazing!” Sara exclaimed. Suddenly, she had an amazing idea. Something that could make the coffee shop one of the best places in Happy Hollow Street.