#Three balls in a row bowling bag

[likedovesinthewindd]

was rewatching itsv, and i love this loser—this is just nonsense i came up with. this takes place just before he's transported to miles' universe.

peter b. parker x reader

You didn't consider yourself the most neighborly person, but you were nice enough to the few people who lived around you in the busy New York apartment complex. In return, they were nice to you as well. The old lady to your left would invite you over every other Sunday for lunch. The guy to your right once fixed a leak in your bathroom and a broken cupboard door, and in return you had helped him fix up the extra room in his apartment so that his daughter could move in with him. Every other week you babysat for the couple who lived down the hallway, three apartments from yours.

You've formed somewhat of a friendship with most of the people you lived around, except for one.

The gentleman that lived in the apartment across from yours was somewhat of a loner. You hardly saw him; you only knew of his existence because you had come home from work one evening at the same moment he had opened his door to accept a pizza delivery.

You had given him a friendly smile, paired with a "Good evening," in a voice sweeter than honey itself, and he only answered with a rise of his brows and small smile.

He was never mean per say, but he also didn't seem like he wanted to be talking to you (or anyone) whenever you'd see him. He looked like he was going through one hell of a slump as well. He was always rocking a scruff, hair wild and unstyled and looking like he wore whatever he could find in his laundry. Sometimes you'd see him wear the same outfit two or three days in a row.

You were a little curious about him, as well as a bit concerned, so you devised a plan to go and start conversation in the hopes of finding out a little more about your mystery neighbor.

✮˚｡⋆

You gave two quick knocks to your neighbor's door before your hand quickly retreated back to the container of fresh baked cookies you had decided to bake him. Maybe this was coming on to strong, you thought, looking down at the bowl, the smell of the freshly baked batch filling your nose. You considered turning around and going back to your apartment, but just as you turned your back to his door, it opened with an unceremonious grunt.

"Can I help you?" you heard from behind you, and you turned back around slowly to face him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. "Hi," you smiled awkwardly, suddenly forgetting the little conversation starter you had planned out when you were baking the cookies. "I'm Y/N. I uh, I live across from you," you started, pointing to the apartment behind you.

"Yeah, I know," he said. Of course he knew, he's seen me! you thought, wanting to kick yourself. "Of course, well I just wanted to formally introduce myself, so I made you these. Hope you like gingerbread," you said, almost shoving the container at him, which he accepted gladly, albeit with a bit of confusion.

"Thanks," he said, eyes glued to the container's content, "they smell good." You gave him a tight-lipped smile, nervously rocking on the balls of your feet. "Alright well, I'll see you around," you turned around to make your way back to your apartment, but you were stopped by his gruff voice once again.

"I'm Peter, by the way. Don't think I've introduced myself," he said as you turned around once again. You gave him another small smile, finally knowing the identity of the ghost of a man that lived across from you.

"It's nice to meet you, Peter," you said before finally making your way into your apartment.

✮˚｡⋆

Night shift was weirdly one of your favorite times to clock into work. There was something oddly soothing about getting ready for work when most people were asleep, the sound of the otherwise sleepless city serving as white noise as you mutely moved around the apartment.

You were getting the last of your things together, preparing for the long night ahead of you. Just as you unlocked the door, bag messily draped over one arm while the other held onto a half eaten muffin, you were met with Peter as he quietly made his way inside his apartment. You wanted to great him, when his choice of attire caught your eye, causing the words to get caught in your throat. The blue and red attire wasn't hard to identify as a Spider-man suit, and your first thought was to laugh at it. It's not Halloween yet, is it? was what you wanted to say, but the terrified look on his face told you he wouldn't appreciate the joke at the moment. What also stood out to you was how realistic the suit itself looked, paired with the mask gripped tightly in his left hand, as the right was still placed on the doorknob. It definitely didn't look like the ones you could buy at the dollar store.

Noticing the long stretch of silence was what prompted you to finally say something about whatever this situation was. "Long night?" you asked quietly, turning around to lock your door and give him a way out. "Uh, yeah," he answered, obviously not understanding that you were trying to give him a way out. You hummed in understanding, and when you turned around, he was still standing in front of his door. "Listen—" he started.

"You should probably go inside, Peter," you interrupted him, and he finally understood what you were doing. "Right, you're right I, yeah." and he quietly slipped into his apartment without another word. You decided to not dwell on it for now. It wasn't your business anyway, even if the idea of Spider-Man being your neighbor intrigued you a bit. Besides, why on Earth would Spider-Man use the front door?

a/n: this is real stupid but i don't want it in my drafts.

[edupunkn00b]

House Call

Photo by Insung Yoon via Unsplash

Rated: T - WC: 1553 - CW: swearing, medication, vomiting and nausea, terminal illness

Wilson's been away and House goes to investigate.

(For my Sanders Sides friends, there are some familiar archetypes in this material. You might find it worth the read.) -

Thunk-thunk-thwack. Thunk-thunk-thwack. House had swiped this squash ball from Wilson a year, maybe a year and a half ago by now. It had been so long since Jimminy Cricket had been to his office, he still hadn't noticed his theft. Bouncing the ball against against the floor, then the wall, House tilted his chair further. The steady thwacking and the faint creak of his chair nearly drowned out the sound of the latest batch of interns’ greetings. Maybe farewells. He looked out the window and watched the parking lot lights click on. Farewells, then.

Desiccated leaves had collected in Wilson’s parking spot, the cement tire stop now edged in enough moss he could see it from three floors up. Were the maintenance guys even bothering anymore? House stared as a fresh eddy of fall's detritus danced over the vacant spot, one last thwack of rubber against his palm deciding for him.

He put down the ball and picked up the small amber bottle on his desk, then pushed up from his chair.

He had a house call to make.

It took an embarrassingly short time to pick Wilson’s lock. As soon as he opened the door, he was struck with the scent of sickness. Not just the sour-sweet odor of vomit, but plastic and rubbing alcohol, stuffy air and sweat. Pain.

“Working from home, my ass,” he muttered, kicking aside a blue recycling bin overflowing with empty electrolyte bottles. He closed the door with his elbow and the hall was plunged into darkness. After a moment, House’s eyes adjusted, a blueish glow spilling in from the kitchen and a dim splash of yellow from the opposite hall.

He followed the light and was greeted by the unmistakable sound of retching.

“Really tied one on last night, I see,” he said before he stepped into the bathroom. Dressed in a faded Princeton Rowing Crew hoodie and flannel pants, Wilson curled over the toilet, dry heaving into the bowl. “You know you need protein more than electrolytes for a hangov—”

Wilson straightened and looked back at him, eyes bloodshot under a thick woolen beanie. He was jaundiced, skin stretched over the sharp, too, too sharp bones of his face. The flesh around his lymph nodes was red and puffy.

His eyebrows had fallen out.

In the corner next to the trash bin was a small red sharps collector and red plastic bag half-filled with drained IV bags in various sizes. Oh.

“So the cancer doctor gets cancer,” House muttered, eyes narrowed and grip tight on his cane. “‘Medice, cura te ipsum,” he said with a little flurried jazz hand. [Physician, heal thyself.]

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” Wilson snapped—no, panted— back at him before falling silent again. House could count the veins in his eyelids, the shadows underneath a dark bruised purple. Cheeks sunken beneath his high cheekbones, his lips trembled, chapped, thin, and pale. He didn’t need a meter to tell him Wilson was hypoxic, most likely from his vomiting and whatever damned cocktail he’d dosed himself with.

Wilson's eyes cracked open and House caught a glimpse of shiny brown before he turned away from him and addressed the collection of bottles laid out on the counter. “Opening up a pharmacy?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to get a side gig.” If it weren’t for Wilson sounding so fucking broken, they could’ve been bickering in his office about Cuddy’s latest HR memo. “Metastatic cancer treatment’s expensive.”

“You’d get a better margin turning tricks. Though you’d have to keep from puking on your johns.” House scowled down at the empty glass vial in his hand before tossing it in the sink. He picked up a large amber bottle and turned to glare at Wilson. “You’re combining talquetamab and nilutamide?”

He barely shrugged.

House stared. Wilson’s eyes had fallen closed again, head lolling against the side of the shower. He looked so…

“Get up.” House snapped and hobbled across the room. He leaned hard on his cane, the tip wedged into the corner of the tub and the wall. Keeping his weight on his good, well, his better leg, he reached for Wilson’s upper arm.

Wilson’s eyes shot open, darting and wild, softening only once he focused on House’s face. He’d fallen asleep. Or, given the mix of chemicals he was marinating in, more likely lost consciousness. “Still me,” House muttered and grabbed his arm. His whole hand wrapped around Wilson’s bicep. “You should be in bed.”

Eyes closing, he shook his head and fumbled blindly at the tank before his arm dropped back in his lap. The meaning was clear. 

“Nope.” House didn’t let go of his arm. “I’ll bring you a bucket. Now come on, Dr. Wilson—” The catch in his throat was nothing more than the jolt of pain that shot through his hip as he helped him to his feet. Wilson had always been trim, annoyingly light on his feet. Now, though? Now he was like a bird, hollow-boned and just as fragile.

Wilson’s bedroom didn’t have much furniture. A bed and a nightstand. A tiny desk littered with marked up and flagged medical journals and thick, ominous envelopes from the hospital staff’s insurance company. There was an IV stand next to the bed and a cooler emblazoned with Property of Princeton-Plainsboro in big, red letters. The bedding was twisted, the comforter half-draped over the floor. Between the late hour and the pajamas, House guessed Wilson had been hoping to sleep off the meds. When did that ever work?

House waited to speak again until he’d gotten Wilson settled under his covers, a plastic-lined pail next to his bed, and a fresh bag of saline drip, drip, dripping its way into his arm. “You mind?” he said after sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. Besides the desk chair across the room, there was some fluffy Edwardian number that looked like he’d managed to free from the grip of his ex-wife’s claws. It also looked like it weighed more than Wilson did and House wasn’t delusional enough to try to drag it over just for the sake of propriety.

Wilson didn’t answer, but he let his hand rest in the space between them. House drummed his fingers against his cane grip before blurting out, “How long?”

Deep chocolate eyes searched his. He’d broken capillaries in his sclera, maybe even a little opportunistic conjunctivitis for flavor. Wilson tried to hold his gaze. “‘Til I’m dead?”

“I don’t need an oncologist to tell me that.” House cleared his throat and refocused. It was easier to watch the pulsepoint between his eyebrows. “How long were you planning on keeping this a secret? It’s been, what…” He lifted Wilson’s hand, forefinger and thumb meeting around his bony wrist. “Eighteen months?” Wilson looked away, a huff of laughter turning into a rattling cough. 

House waited until he'd stopped and wiped his mouth with the cloth on the nightstand. But he didn’t let up. “Your last annual was six months ago and you’re too far along for that to have been when you caught this.”

“Twenty-three,” Wilson muttered, head heavy on the pillow. “Found a mass in the shower.”

“Two years?” He stabbed his cane against the floor. “Two years!?” Wilson still wouldn’t look at him. Two fucking years. That was… that just after Amber and… “God dammit, Wilson, you idiot! You’ve been hiding this from me for two years? Who else knows?” Who was keeping this from him? Who was helping Wilson hide his sickness?

Wilson didn’t speak.

Anger came easy. “Who. Else. Knows?” House’s voice was low and dangerous and Wilson’s continued silence confirmed it. “Oh…” He looked away, slowly nodding. “Everyone.” His… friend had told everyone he was dying but him.

“No-one,” Wilson whispered, fingers grazing the edge of House’s sleeve. “If I couldn’t tell you…” House watched Wilson’s hand as it fell against his own, words not making any sense. “There was no-one to tell.”

“Bullshit. If you’re not going to be straight with me—” House pushed on his cane but he couldn’t make himself stand. 

Wilson’s fingers curled against his hand. “Why would I lie now, House?”

“Everyone lies,” He spat back but he didn’t move away. Wilson’s hand was so damn cold. “You’re telling me you didn’t tell Cuddy?”

He sighed, breathe wet and rattling in his lungs. “Would I be here with stolen meds if she knew?” 

“You moron!" He pounded the floor with his cane, punctuating each word. "Why didn’t you…” House's throat seized, choking out the rest of his question. Why didn’t you tell me?

Wordless, Wilson turned his head and closed his eyes. House didn’t need him to actually say it, did he? The rest of his words sat in the air between them, each of them quiet enough he kept time off some clock ticking out in the living room. Wilson was still enough that House thought he might have fallen asleep. He was considering moving over to the chair when Wilson’s eyes cracked open and he turned his hand next to House’s, palm up. An invitation. A request.

“You know now,” Wilson whispered.

The rubbing alcohol he’d used to prepare Wilson’s IV hung in the air, stinging his eyes and drawing out hot, heavy tears. He nodded and took Wilson’s hand. “I know now.”

[koochieplay123]

Creative DIY Outdoor Games for Kids by Koochie Play

Outdoor play is essential for a child's physical and mental development. It fosters creativity, social interaction, and a love for the great outdoors. To make your outdoor playtime even more enjoyable, why not add some creative DIY games to the mix? In this article, we'll explore 10 fun and imaginative DIY outdoor games that will keep kids active and entertained for hours. Step into a world of imaginative play outdoor equipment with Koochie Play's Creative DIY Outdoor Games for Kids, making outdoor fun an adventure in creativity and laughter.

1. Water Balloon Piñata:

Materials: Water balloons, string, a stick, blindfold

How to Play: Fill water balloons and tie them to a tree branch or any overhead structure using string. Blindfold the child, hand them a stick, and spin them around. Their goal is to break the water balloons by swinging the stick. Splashes and laughter guaranteed!

2. Nature Scavenger Hunt:

Materials: A list of items from nature (e.g., pinecones, feathers, acorns), bags or baskets

How to Play: Create a list of natural items for the children to find in your outdoor area. Provide them with bags or baskets to collect their treasures. This game not only encourages exploration but also teaches kids about the environment.

3. Giant Outdoor Tic-Tac-Toe:

Materials: Large cardboard or foam board, paint or chalk, bean bags or X and O pieces

How to Play: Draw a giant tic-tac-toe grid on the board and use paint or chalk to mark the spaces. Divide the kids into two teams. Each team takes turns throwing bean bags or placing X and O pieces to try to get three in a row. It's a supersized version of a classic game!

4. DIY Bowling Alley:

Materials: Empty plastic bottles, a ball (e.g., a soccer ball or basketball)

How to Play: Set up a bowling alley in your backyard by arranging empty plastic bottles in a triangular formation. Have the kids take turns rolling the ball to knock down the pins. Keep score to make it competitive.

5. Sponge Bullseye:

Materials: Sponges, markers, a bucket of water

How to Play: Draw concentric circles with different point values on the sponges. Dip the sponges in water to make them wet. Have the kids take turns throwing the sponges at a target (e.g., a tree or a designated spot on the ground). Add up their points to determine the winner.

6. Obstacle Course:

Materials: Household items like hula hoops, cones, jump ropes, and cushions

How to Play: Create an obstacle course in your yard using various items. Kids can climb over cushions, crawl under hoops, and jump through ropes. Time them as they navigate the course, or turn it into a friendly race.

7. Balloon Rocket Race:

Materials: Balloons, string, straws, tape

How to Play: Attach a string to two fixed points, like trees or poles. Thread a straw onto the string and tape it to the balloon. Blow up the balloon and release it to see whose balloon rocket can reach the finish line first. It's a thrilling race that teaches kids about physics!

8. DIY Mini Golf:

Materials: Cardboard boxes, PVC pipes, balls (e.g., tennis balls or ping pong balls)

How to Play: Create a mini golf course in your backyard using cardboard boxes as obstacles and PVC pipes as tunnels. Set up a starting point and a hole, and let the kids take turns trying to get the ball into the hole in the fewest strokes.

9. Freeze Tag with a Twist:

Materials: None required

How to Play: A classic game with a twist! Instead of traditional tagging, designate one child as the "freezer." When they tag someone, that person must freeze in place. To unfreeze them, another child has to crawl between their legs. It adds a fun twist to the game of freeze tag.

10. Sidewalk Chalk Obstacle Course:

Materials: Sidewalk chalk

How to Play: Use sidewalk chalk to draw a series of creative obstacles and challenges on your driveway or sidewalk. Kids can follow the course, hopping from one challenge to the next. Incorporate activities like jumping jacks, hopscotch, and balancing on one foot.

Conclusion

These DIY outdoor games for kids are not only entertaining but also encourage physical activity, creativity, and social interaction. The best part is that you don't need fancy equipment or a lot of space to enjoy these games. Whether you have a backyard, a local park, or just a sidewalk, you can create a world of fun for your children. So, grab some materials, head outdoors, and let the games begin! Koochie Play, top playground equipment supplier believes in the power of outdoor play, fostering creativity and active playtime, ensuring a childhood filled with joy and exploration.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[theladyofbloodshed]

Happy @gwynrielweek2022! I hope you enjoy this modern fluffy one shot.

The date had been a long time coming. For the longest time, Nesta had warned him that Gwyn didn’t date. Don’t bother. She’s not interested. Stay away. Az had never even asked for a date. It had been Cassian doing all the asking - and him receiving all of Nesta’s glares. They had met many times when crossing paths as casualties to the happy couple’s love fests. Still, it was far better to make polite conversation with Gwyn than to third-wheel Cass and Nesta when Gwyn hadn’t tagged along.

Something had shifted though. Azriel wasn’t sure when it had happened, only that it had. They stopped being friends of the couple and simply friends of their own accord. They’d all hang out together, but Az would pick her up along the way or drop her off on the way home since they lived along the same route.

Their first few instances alone had been strangely awkward without Cassian’s chaos or Nesta’s dry wit bridging the gap. Gwyn had asked if she could switch the radio on. After a couple of journeys, she stopped asking Azriel at all and switched it on the moment she slid into the passenger seat. She’d marvel at his penchant for silence, claiming it wasn’t right to drive with nothing on in the background. Her singing grew louder every journey too. That beautiful voice would fill his car with warmth and light.

It might have turned out as a fatal mistake, but Azriel bypassed Nesta’s warnings. Dodged all of her protective barriers and asked Gwyn herself for a date. She’d been half way out of the car after an evening watching a local band in a bar, but a massive smile had been thrown his way as she agreed.

Azriel played it safe with a bowling alley. It gave them the opportunity to keep busy if an awkward silence cropped up. He wasn't likely to try and fill it.

At the counter while Gwyn scrawled their names on the display card, he'd drily asked her if she needed the barriers up. Her teal eyes had lit up and she'd laughed out a no - then asked him if he did. That should have been his first warning. The second ought to have been when she pulled her own pair of bowling shoes out of her bag and he had to exchange his across the counter for a pair of clown shoes.

When they reached their lane, Gwyn gave him a sweet smile then selected a ball. There were no phantom touches, no feeling the different weights. She stalked forwards then swung the ball. Strike.

'Do you bowl?'

Gwyn nodded. 'Every week with my twin.'

Gone was the time of being a gentleman. Azriel would go down swinging with everything he had. Gwyn wasn't going easy on him either - or herself. She cursed under her breath if she didn't get a strike and on the times where she didn't even manage a spare, she gritted her teeth and slunk back into her seat.

'You're a little competitive,' he noted.

'A little,' she agreed.

Good. So was he.

Their one game followed by dinner descended into chaos. The dinner plans were abandoned for more games. Gwyn won the first, Azriel clawed a victory in the second so then Gwyn had asked for a best out of three. He then countered for a best out of five. Then, to try and save face, Azriel suggested the arcade. There was an air hockey table he'd thumped Cassian at enough times for bragging rights.

The disc flew from one end to the other; Gwyn abandoned skill for feral defence of her tiny slit of a goal. Azriel's eyes stung from not blinking enough as he tracked the florescent pink disc back and forth. She might have won more bowling games, but he was proving victorious at air hockey.

'Shall we play something else?' Gwyn suggested, knowing she was going down.

Azriel raised his eyebrows. 'Sure.'

They passed over the shooting games and the plastic motorcycles. At a giant flashing glass case designed to burn through cash, Gwyn skidded to a halt. She gripped his arm.

‘I need that!’

Everything within the case was soft and fluffy. Azriel imagined Gwyn’s bed had a row of stuffed animals meticulously lined up. She was the type of girl to give them names and feel sad when she woke up and one was on the floor, he knew it.

‘Which one?’

‘That one!’

Azriel huffed on a laugh. ‘The unicorn?’

Gwyn folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head with dismay. ‘Azriel, a unicorn has a singular, twisted horn. This is a clearly a pegasus: no horn, but a set of feathered wings.’

All Azriel knew was that it was white and fluffy with a blue sparkly collar around its neck. ‘Sorry, I’m not an expert on mythical horses.’

Gwyn was already inserting a handful of coins. ‘Lucky for you, I am.’ A wave of copper hair was tossed over her shoulder then tranquillity enveloped her. A finger pushed the flashing start button.

Coin after coin was shovelled into the machine from both of their wallets. Each time the claw grabbed the teddy, they both held their breath in anticipation. It would loosen too soon. The pegasus would flop awkwardly back onto the foam peanuts. Azriel couldn’t bear it each time Gwyn made a mock-wail or pressed her hand to the glass in longing.

They’d worked in tandem: one pressing the button and the other offering encouragement as they peered at the angle through the glass then they’d swap over. Their competitiveness with each other had shifted into comradeship in their common goal: to free the pegasus.

‘Why won’t you just fall!’ Gwyn wailed, pressing her forehead into Azriel’s shoulder like a cat.

‘I can just buy you one online.’

‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘This is a matter of pride now. I can’t give up on it. It wouldn’t give up on me.’

Azriel had to laugh at the steely determination that had seized her. ‘It’s a con, Gwyn. It’s designed so that you won’t win.’

‘I will and I must.’

It was a compulsion to feed the machine more coins, to watch with a thumping heart each time the metal claw enclosed around the toy. Azriel couldn’t take the shattered hope when it bounced the wrong way and landed back in the foam.

‘Tip in, tip in,’ Gwyn begged.

‘Gwyn. This is the last coin. The final attempt.’

‘No,’ she sucked in a sharp breath. ‘It can’t be. I can’t leave him here. Not now we’ve been through so much together.’

The sadness in her teal eyes was enough to break his heart - feigned or real. She stuck out her bottom lip then whispered an apology to the pegasus. She was so cute, Azriel couldn’t bear it.

‘This is my lucky coin,’ he lied. ‘I believe in you.’

‘No, no, no. It’s too much pressure. I can’t. You do it.’

Azriel pressed the coin into her palm, savouring the warmth as her skin brushed against his. ‘Gwyneth Berdara, you were born for this moment.’

She steadied her breathing, nodded, then inserted the coin.

Gwyn aimed perfectly, as he knew she would. The arms of the claw circled its body, lifting it precisely. But as it travelled towards the chute, the claw lost its grip.

There were no thoughts in Azriel’s head except that he had to make this woman happy and she wanted that damn teddy bear. He threw his shoulder at the glass, knocking the machine so strongly, it tipped slightly. It was enough momentum.

Gwyn squealed with delight as it dropped through the chute - but the machine’s alarm started blaring.

‘Grab it!’

They sprinted from the bowling alley, alarm clamouring shrilly back in the arcade. But Gwyn had the pegasus clutched to her chest and a big, beaming smile plastered across her lovely face.

Around the side of the building, they leant against the wall, breathless but laughing.

‘We’re criminals,’ whispered Gwyn, eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘The pegasus is a fugitive.’

Azriel snorted. ‘That machine is the criminal. It swindled us. We could have bought five of them with the amount of coins we put in.’

Gwyn kissed the soft toy on its head. ‘It’s more exciting like this. Plus it’s extra special because you won it for me.’

That smile was only for him, a thing of secret, lovely beauty.

‘I can’t believe you did that for me.’

‘I did it for the pegasus.’

[eng-nor-words]

Norske homonymer - Norwegian homonyms

Nouns, verbs, adjective/adverb, other

Number colour: masculine, neuter, feminine (nouns)

🏀💃 Ball: 1. Ball (sport/toy), 2. Ball (dance)

🛤️🛰️ Bane: 1. (jernbane) Railway, 2. Field; pitch; court (sport), 3. Orbit (movement)

🏦👊 Bank: 1. Bank (financial institution), 2. Beating, 3. Knock

🍪🥣 Bolle: 1. Bun (pastry), 2. Bowl (container)

🏃🧗🏻‍♀️ Dra: 1. Travel, 2. Pull

🦁💸 Dyr: 1. Animal, 2. Expensive

🚪💀 Dør: 1. Door, 2. Dying (present of å dø)

☣️💑 Gift: 1. Poison, 2. Married

🦸⚪ Helt: 1. Hero, 2. Whole; complete (neuter of hel), 3. Completely; fully; totally (adverb of hel)

🎅🤸 Jul: 1. Christmas, | Hjul: 2. Wheel

👩🐶 Hun: 1. She, | Hund: 2. Dog

🤫✏️ Hviske: 1. Whisper, | Viske: 2. Erase

🔊🌾 Høy: 1. Tall, 2. Loud, 3. High, 4. Hay

🗺️🍏 Kart: 1. Map, 2. Unripe fruit/berry

❤️🍭 Kjærlighet: 1. Love, 2. (~ på pinne) lollipop

👑💰 Krone: 1. Crown (headdress), 2. Krone (currency)

🗓️🪐 Mars: 1. March (month), 2. Mars (planet)

⬜➕ Matte: 1. Mat (e.g. doormat), 2. Maths (mathematics)

📶🛍️ Nett: 1. Internet, 2. (Bære~) Bag, tote bag

🌧️🧑‍🏫 Regne: 1. Rain, 2. Calculate

🧘🚣 Ro: 1. Stillness; silence, 2. Row (a boat)

💬🪵 Stamme: 1. Stutter (speach), 2. (~ fra) Originate from; Descend from, 3. Tree trunk, 4. Tribe

3️⃣🌲 Tre: 1. Three (number), 2. Tree (plant) 3. Step, tread

[ahtsumu]

college student!miya atsumu hc dump

pairing: gn!reader ; genre: so much fluff, headcanons/mini drabbles ; tag(s): fluff, slightly suggestive, just the underclassman years for now, based on the american college system ; wc: 1.2k

imagine college student!miya atsumu majoring in creative writing while being the starting setter on the university's NCAA D1 volleyball team. he read milk and honey by rupi kaur once and ever since then he’s been madly in love with hitting the “enter” key after typing three words and calling it poetry. his ultimate goal, however, is to play for team USA at the olympics though!

imagine college freshman!miya atsumu

longboarding across campus on the first day of class with his airpods in (now playing: rap caviar on spotify), ray-bans on, snapback over his head, and nearly falling over when he passes you on the way to your 9 am. when you stop to make sure he’s okay, his entire face goes red before he stammers out an “i’m fine, thanks” and speeds off in embarrassment, kicking himself the whole time for not even getting your name because when will he ever see you again?? but when he’s settled down in freshman seminar and looks up at the whiteboard, he sees you walk in from the corner of his eye.

spending the whole night studying the lasting effects of imperialism through the lens of feminist theory after being paired up with you for a group project. he’s sweating buckets as he walks into starbucks because he just knows you think he’s an idiot (especially after your disastrous first encounter), only to be pleasantly surprised when the first thing you say to him is, “finally gave up on the longboard?” with a cheeky grin

texting his twin osamu “pls help how do i get someone to like me”, receiving “lmao is this a joke”, then replying with “stfu i don’t wanna hu i wanna cuff”, then being spammed with wikihow links and a few articles from GQ–– none of which he thinks helps, by the way!

running into you at the nearby 7-eleven at 2 am as he stands in front of the chips (it’s cheat day and he’s studying for a midterm, c’mon), deliberating between the purple and red taki’s like it’s a matter of life and death. when you say “fuego is better” from behind, he spins around with his hand on his heart, eyes wide in shock before he grins and replies with “i didn’t take ya for a basic…” but grabs the purple bag anyway

studying under a shady tree in the quad and getting bored after finishing a couple assignments, so he texts you to see if you’re free to go over some details of your project together (you are), only to end up not getting any work done because suddenly, you’re playing an impromptu game of 20 questions and wow. he can’t stop thinking about you.

sending you excerpts of your readings with funny comments, usually just roasting the author or narrator for his inability to understand the text. the first time you send one back he’s in the locker room after practice and he grins so wide that when his teammates grab his phone and see that all you’ve sent is a screenshot followed by “this mf’s writing about pouring concrete as if it's a RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE LMFAO someone come get their man!!”, they’re like, atsumu… you good? but no, he’s not–– he’s into you to the point it hurts not to have you

inviting you to one of his games after class with his heart pounding so fast that it almost feels like he’s playing the game right now, but then you take the ticket from his hand and grin, promising that you’ll be there as a representative from the official miya atsumu fan-club. he thinks that he might just die on the spot from happiness, but then you ask if you should come with a poster of his face and that’s when he really thinks he might just combust

looking nervously for you in the stands during warmups just to make sure you’re there and playing so hard after he spots you that he breaks his personal best for service aces in one game. he actually turns around at one point in the game to look you in the eye, winking as if to say “this one’s for you.” (you blush and hope he didn’t see it. he did!)

raising up one eyebrow in class when you meet his gaze and mouthing “wanna get out of here?” just to get you flustered, except when you mouth back “sure, my dorm?” with the same mischief in your eyes, a bright red blush blooms over his cheeks–– and he suddenly finds it very hard to focus, the only thing on his mind being you and him… in your dorm…

finally asking you out to the fall ball (this year’s theme: masquerade!), showing up at your door in a black three-piece suit and white mask and thinking that there’s no way he’ll be able to work up the courage to make his move once he sees you dressed like that, except he does when he walks you back at the end of the night, kissing you right in front of your door with his heart about to leap out from his throat

imagine college sophomore!miya atsumu

in plaid sweats, hair fluffy from sleep, leaning against the kitchen counter with a bowl of lucky charms in his hands, murmuring a “mornin’ babe” with a soft smile when he sees you walk in

pulling you onto his lap on his sofa as he reads to you a poem he has to analyse for class–– “[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]” by e.e. cummings–– and when you ask him if he’s finally moved on from his weird obsession with enjambment, he laughs out an “as if!” and pulls up a poem he’s just written on his notes app

leaning over the court-side barriers before games for his ritual “good luck kiss” because ever since you started coming to his games in freshman year he’s only set personal record after personal record (even breaking the school record for service aces at one point)... even though his teammates and coaches all make fun of him for it

making out with you on his desk after you walk into his room in one of his team hoodies–– the one with his jersey on it–– his calloused hands running up and down your waist as he kisses you fervently because god, he can’t hold himself back when he sees you in something that claims you as his, even if he has a paper on 18th century french poetry due in two hours

tapping your shoulder as you file out of your 8 am class with a goofy grin and your coffee order in hand after you rushed out the door a few minutes late that morning (thanks to him and his stupid wandering hands)

driving you around campus on an athletic department golf cart after class because of his student athlete special privileges, giving out high-fives and aggressively shouting “hey! have a great day!” to the students and faculty you pass (all while cementing your reputation as the cutest couple on campus)

begging you to stay another night at his off-campus apartment even though you have your own dorm room because he sleeps better knowing that yes, you’re still there beside him and you haven’t left like so many other people in his life

inviting his parents to the NCAA volleyball finals. the second they see you in his jersey in the front row they rush over and hug you, introducing themselves and saying that they've heard so much about you from their little ‘tsumu that they could recognise you from anywhere. and when atsumu strides on the court with the rest of the team and sees you giggling with his parents, he thinks that he really could just marry you right then and there

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Surprises

Surprises of all kinds, found after a shopping trip goes wrong. Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, threats of violence, mentions of suicide and incest, and copious amounts of headcanons.

As always, there is more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, and send me a message if you liked it, I crave positive feedback.

~*~*~*~

TXT: where the fuck are you guys it's already quarter past

After a few minutes, you got a ding.

M: idia doenst want t leave something about a person see you aftr he needs freind

Oh goddammit, it's so fucking hard to get him out and about. At least Mal was with him.

You looked to Grim at your feet. "Looks like it's just us, buddy."

~*~*~*~

It was just you and Grim browsing through the dollar store, when a boy in a ratty shop apron came up to you. "Ma'am?"

You turned to him, and he coughed. "Uh, Miss. You're not supposed to have pets in the store."

Grim bristled at him. "I'm not a pet!"

Poor kid, he looked so startled. And you decided to make it worse, because yanno, why not. "How dare you refer to my son as a pet! Does he look like a pet to you?"

He looked between your face and Grim's, confusion growing. "Wh-"

"I know the resemblance isn't the strongest, but honestly! How could you say such mean things about him!"

Grim, bless him, actually caught on and decided to play along for the chaos of it. "Why are you being so mean to me? My mom works hard to keep me happy! She said I could pick out a toy today!"

The confusion had turned to anger. "That's not your kid! You're too young and he's an animal!"

Grim looked up at you, mock tears in his eyes. "I'm your kid, right? I'm not adopted like the boys at school say?" He started sniffling. "I'm not adopted, right?"

You clapped your hands over Grim's ears and glared at the now horrified shopboy. "Look what you've done! I hadn't told him yet!"

He just fled in horror, and it was all you could do to keep from laughing.

~*~*~*~

The village on the island wasn't the worst appointed. Being equidistant between two prestigious magic schools, it had a few places worth going, and after hitting up your personal favourite, you went to a small park, settled down on a bench, and started unwrapping your prizes.

You have a love for gashapon machines that bordered on a serious problem. In your biweekly trips to buy snacks and supplies to stock up your miserable, beautiful dorm, you easily fed 3000 madol (which you think was about thirty-five dollars or so at home, but couldn't be sure) into the long rows of machines in the drug store, coming out with tiny keychains, figures, and various useless but wonderful little totchkes that you kept lined up in rows in your bedroom. The joys of tiny presents! And the containers were useful too; for a creature who heavily insisted he wasn't a cat, Grim lost his shit like one every time your rolled a ball with a bell inside across the floor.

You were marveling over a tiny, perfectly realistic jellyfish on a phone strap as someone sat down heavily beside you. "Is that," they pointed to Grim poking his way around the cattails by an ornamental pond, "yours?"

"... Yes?" You turned to examine your seatmate. Charmingly strange looking, they sat impeccably robed in forest green velvet and squinted at you from behind perfectly round sunglasses. Flat-faced and thin-lipped, they reminded you of a toad, with their roundness and severe expression.

"Ah, then you are the one I am looking for. You're the pet of the prince."

"I'm a friend of his. Is that a problem?" You decided to keep opening your prizes, and pulled out a heavy ball from the bottom of your bag.

"His Highness does not have human friends."

"And yet, I am." This one, unwrapped, was the chase in the set: a tiny cauldron the size of a thimble that seemed to be actual cast iron. The chill of it was pleasant in your hand, and instead of returning it to your bag, you left it in your lap.

This presumptive stranger leaned in. "You're a diversion. A distraction from what he should be learning. Instead he plays with mortals and lets them forget their place."

"If it was so important that he didn't play with mortals, then why was he allowed to attend here?" You got a cheap set of rings on a goldtone chain in this one. Boo. You'd wanted the miniature necklace of the set for your doll. "He's very happy with the company of us all."

"Too happy. He forgets his place." The toady eyed the glittering paste gems before looking away. "Above you. Instead he crawls into your lap and serves you like a dog."

You froze. "Now, where did you get that idea?"

"We have sources." They leaned in further, smiling. A barely perceptible line of triangular teeth, sparsely placed and translucent in tone. "Foul things happen to the unwanted lovers of heirs, don't you know?"

"I am a wanted friend." 

"You're a parasite who should flee."

You realized something, and turned to face your strange benchmate. "Why are you threatened by me?"

They scoffed. "Why would we be threatened by you?"

"If you weren't," you said, dropping your voice as your leaned in, "then you wouldn't be here trying to put the fear into me." They leaned back, glasses slipping off their nose. The eyes in their face were exquisite, shining gold and black speckles with a ring of gold around an oval pupil. You could help but laugh. "Pretty eyes. You really are a toad. Who sent you? The Thorn Witch? Can't be, I'm not worth her time and if I was, she'd've sent a fucking letter."

"We're a concerned party, preventing our future king from making the mistake of dealing with filth." 

Well, that one pissed you off. You grabbed their wrist, feeling bumps and warts on their skin through the fabric, and pressed the tiny cauldron to the back on their hand as they started screeching.

"You," you looked them dead in their impossibly lovely eyes, "You go back where you came from, tell them I'm not a threat to whatever stupid bullshit they're worried about, and never bother us again. Or I will make you swallow this and you'll beg the precious prince you're so damned worried about to burn you alive to stop the pain."

You'd never seen anyone run so fast in your life when you let them go.

"Hey, Grim! We gotta go."

~*~*~*~

TXT: MAL SOMEONE SENT ME A TOADY SAYING I CAN'T BE AROUND YOU ANYMORE

TXT: MIGHTA BEEN YOUR GMA BUT I DON'T THINK SO

~*~*~*~

"I'm gonna kill that fucker."

"Killing them might start an international incident. If one hasn't happened already. You burnt them with iron, Yuu."

"I should have done worse! Whoever the fuck they were, that's two friends they've tried to threaten to stay away from you! That we know of!"

It turns out that the mystery toady had been the person to scare the piss out of Idia the night before. Not that they'd gotten far into their leave-the-prince-alone spiel, Idia had simply kicked them square in the stomach and fled, assuming another kidnapping attempt.

"It wouldn't have been my grandmother. In the last letter I got from her, she said it was very nice that I was making friends. She said to keep making them, even."

"She'd probably care if she knew you were sleeping with said friends." Idia was curled into the corner of his bed, and from the looks of it hadn't slept since his own encounter.

"No she wouldn't."

"You sure about that?"

You'd said that that was only going to happen once. Everyone agreed. But when all three of you settled in to play a game or watch a movie, hands moved and bodies flushed and you all seemed to find yourself tangled and gasping. And it didn't seem to require all three of you - you no longer had the strength to say no to Mal's obvious advances, and you'd walked in on your boys more than once. At least you were still friends? Really, really close friends?

"She wouldn't."

"Could they be worried about heirs?" That seemed logical. Even if no accidents were happening, they might not know that.

"That's not possible."

You raised an eyebrow. Everything worked right, and you all knew it.

Mal looked back at you. "Yuu, I hatched from an egg. I could have you both five times a day for a decade and all there would be to show for it is you couldn't walk. I cannot have children with either of you without magical intervention."

Idia made a truly impressive death rattle before mumbling something about the end of his bloodline, and you just nodded. "Makes sense."

"It's quite interesting, really, it requires numerous spells and potions, that if not kept up on, the babe will-" Malleus placed his hands together, back to back, and mimed the motion of tearing something open.

You flinched. "That's awful, goddamn."

"I have a direct ancestor who took a great deal of human women as breeding stock and simply let them be eaten from the inside out. That's what started one of the earlier human/faerie wars." 

"... Wow."

"I am not proud of her."

"Can we please talk about anything else?" Idia looked ready to be sick. "I don't want to think about any of this."

"Sure, let's grab one of your doujins."

~*~*~*~

"So you're already engaged?"

"As soon as it was clear I would survive to adulthood, yes. Idia, what is this series?"

"Nyan Neko Sugar Girls. It's not that great storywise, but it has great gags." He reached over and grabbed the next one in his pile. "It's not that unusual. My mother wanted Ortho to marry my cousin Alecto when they grew up, before..."

"Before he made a lifestyle change?" That seemed the politest way to put it.

"Before she went to the criminal ward."

You shut your book with a soft thump. "What?"

"I remember the trial." Mal sighed. "Strychnine in the sugar bowl at Sunday dinner. I made sure to get the newspapers sent to the palace."

"Mother was heartbroken over it, until she realized that the wealth of that entire Shroud branch defaulted back to us." Idia shrugged. "It's sad. She was just eleven. I still send her emails."

"Idia."

"Mm?"

"Why the fuck would an eleven year old poison someone?"

"My uncle said she couldn't get a puppy until her grades went up."

"What the fuck." You'd lie down if you weren't already doing so.

"It's the curse." He sighed. "We thought she might've been from an affair? But that proved it."

"My dearest Shroud, you can't guarantee it was from the curse." Malleus turned a page. "It might have been trauma from her mother's death."

You could see more bad history incoming. "Oh no."

"Alecto was from Uncle Jo's first marriage, to my dad's cousin Alita. She had a sister, but when her mother drowned herself, she only took-"

"Is this normal for your family? Or is that just some exceptional bad luck?"

He leaned in, lamplight eyes flashing. "Out of all the Shrouds of my generation that are still capable of inheriting, I'm the most mentally sound."

Both you and Mal had to stop and really consider the implications of that.

"So, Mal. Yours isn't that closely related?"

"Fifth cousins at most when they're finally born."

You sat up. "What?"

"I'm supposed to marry the third grandchild of the Hollyoak Baron. They're a well-respected family, and of snake fae descent so little aid will be needed for conception. His eldest child is in..." He had to think about what words to use. " I believe the term is 'middle school'?"

"They really planned it that far ahead?"

Mal shrugged, the movement rolling down his whole body. "I cannot complain. It gives me a very long time to learn how to be a husband before I have to be one."

"But what if you don't like them?"

"Marriage is chiefly a contract to produce heirs. I'll learn to like them, and ideally love them."

"And if you don't?"

"I'll still treat them as kindly as I can."

"And I suppose you'd take a lover."

"Maybe. They can too, as long as all the children are mine. For legal reasons," he added.

Idia, snapping out of his thoughts, tapped Mal's shoulder. "Does the Hollyoak Baron have any friends who are toad faeries?"

It was Mal's turn to sit up. "That... He could be worried that if I have favourites at school, I'll resent my betrothed for not being either of you. Or that I would attempt to break it off entirely."

"That still doesn't tell us how he found out about..." You gestured around the room.

Idia rolled his eyes. "All that would have to happen is any one student from the Valley of Thorns writing a letter home."

"But -"

"Malleus, you're not shy in your affections. At all."

"Yes I am," he bristled.

~*~*~*~

"Mal?"

"Mmph?"

"You have to put me down. I have class."

He made a slightly different mmph and shook his head.

You tried to pat his head, but your arms were securely pinned to your sides. "I know they're fantastic, but you have to stop."

He still refused to remove his face from your chest, making a noise that could have been purring if it cane from anyone who was a proper mammal.

"Mal, we're blocking traffic."

He still wasn't putting you down, instead swaying slightly in place.

A familiar long-fingered hand with dark nails reached from behind you and tugged at Mal's lapel. "Malleus, please stop, it's ten AM and everyone is staring."

Mal finally put you down - only to switch targets, wrapping his arms around Idia's waist and pulling him flush, fixing him with such a look of besotted fondness that you immediately felt like you were intruding.

"You look beautiful today."

Idia immediately burst into a ball of pink flame.

~*~*~*~

"... Perhaps I am a bit obvious."

Idia stared up at his ceiling. "You'd be at home in my otome games."

You chimed in. "What would be obvious, in your mind?"

"Very easy. I finish the paperwork declaring you Lord and Lady of the Bedchamber and have you officially ensconced as Court of Thorns royalty, ensuring you're both taken care of for the rest of your days."

"... Finish?"

"It seemed the easiest thing to do if either of you chose to visit my homeland."

You swatted his leg. "And you didn't think to ask us first?"

Mal was starting to clue in that he had once again overreached himself. "... Surprise?"

"I'm okay with it."

You glared over at Idia. "That's not the point."

"Look, if I ever get disinherited, I have a place to go. He won't make me go outside if I don't want to. I'll bring Ortho. It'll be great."

"They don't even have dial-up over there, Idia. Lilia told me he had to get all this stuff installed to play his MMOs."

Idia pointed at Mal, easy smile turned to outrage. "How dare you try and trap me!"

It honestly seemed like Mal and Idia had switched expressions, the look of worry on his face so strange. "It's a protective measure! If you're titled, people will get in trouble if they try and remove you!"

"That's still... wait." The gears were turning in your head. "If you finish that paperwork, whoever sent Mixter Toad is going to get in so much more trouble."

Everyone went silent as they considered this.

"... As soon as I get the official permission from my grandmother. She won't like it very much, but if I explain..."

Idia turned to Mal. "You were going to make your human fucktoys official members of the Court of Thorns without telling your grandmother, the queen. Who has a notable and often justified dislike of humans."

"No?"

"Mal."

"I simply prepared ahead."

"Mal."

"I - "

"Malleus." You leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're so goddamned stupid. Love you."

He didn't say it back with words, but you got the message loud and clear.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet uglies, 41, Sternclay, NSFW?

Here you go! And if you're a fan on "Let me be good to you" this has very similar vibes.

41: I’m at the 24/7 gym at 2 in the morning and I thought I was alone so I’m singing in the showers, but when you start singing with me, I’m startled and slip so the first time we meet, we’re both wet and naked

Stern blames the playlist he had on at work for the fact his morning devolves into chaos. He works better to the blues (or 2000s pop hits, but those don’t feel right when going over files on suspicious incidents in Appalachia). So he hums as he rinses the remnants of his workout down the drain. He’d never sing where someone can hear, but since no one is here.

I want a little steam on my clothes

Maybe I could fix things up so they'll go

What's the matter daddy, come on, save my soul

He goes to rinse his hair and realizes the song is still going.

I need some sugar in my bowl, I ain't foolin'

I want some sugar in my bowl

His lizard brain yells two separate messages; “baritone voice very hot” and “oh god who’s there.”

The second message leaps into the driver seat and, in his attempt to turn, peer out of the stall, and be sure it’s just another patron, his foot finds the traces of soap on the floor.

“Shit” He falls backwards out of the stall, thudding to the floor.

“Oh fuck.” A man emerges two stalls to his left, soaking wet and flailing for a towel, “I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so used to singing along with the radio. Are you okay?”

Joseph scans his body, finds nothing broken, “Yes.”

“Thank god.” The other man flicks shaggy hair from his face. In the split second before he gets the towel around his waist, Joseph’s gym manners fail him and he glances down. At least he’s getting several weeks worth of masturbation fodder from this humiliating moment.

“Here man, lemme help you up.”

Joseph takes the offered hand, then grits his teeth and swiftly turns to grab his own towel from where he hung it. He’d rather not show a stranger his ass, but this is how his night is going. As he turns back, he spots the other man quickly redirecting his stare from his ass to the floor.

Once both showers are off, Joseph changes and packs his bag. The stranger is at the mirror, tying his hair back and combing his beard.

“I’m sorry, my singing probably startled you too.”

A shrug of broad shoulders, “I work in kitchens, I’m so used to background noise some of it barely registers. And I always have the radio on when it’s just me in the mornings.”

“Hence the singing along?”

“Yeah, and why I’m here so early. I try to get my exercise in before work. Gotta admit, when I joined this gym I didn’t expect anyone else would be in for a 2 a.m workout.”

“My hours are all over the place. I’m with the FBI and when I’m on a case I tend to, um, lose track of time. Or work way later than I should.” He shoulders his bag, raises his hand in a wave, “it was nice meeting you. Even it was alarming at first.”

“Same to you” the man smiles at him over his shoulders, “and if you’re ever here at zero dark thirty again and want a gym buddy, I’m happy to keep you company.”

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

It’s a month before Joseph runs into him again. He swipes his card at the gym, finds the clank of a weight rack in place of the usual silence. The man from the showers smiles at him as he puts his bag near medicine balls, and when he’s done with his set he crosses the 80s-colored carpet to join him.

“It’s much nicer to see you when I can see you coming.” Joseph smiles politely, not catching his own subtext until the other man blushes.

“No kidding. I, uh, this may sound weird, but could I work-out with you? I’ve been doing the same routine for years because it’s what I know, but it gets so fucking boring.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company, though be warned that I do a lot of core and don’t use the machines all that much.”

“Totally fine. I’m, uh, I’m Barclay, by the way.” He holds out his hand and Joseph pictures twisting it behind his back while pinning him over one of the benches.

Instead, he shakes it, “Joseph.”

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

“I’m serious about skipping this if you need to” Joseph starts up the treadmill as Barclay jogs on the one beside him, “if you’re on your feet all day at work this could make that really uncomfortable.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

It’s the truth; he may not be as in-shape as Joseph, but he’s still pretty fit, and they only do thirty minutes of running. But it’s equally true that he’d rather suffer some extra-sore legs than lose out on a half-hour of his limited time with his friend.

He’d been hoping for someone to spot him and maybe teach him some new lower body exercises, with the added bonus of having some basic things (like music taste and bonkers work schedules) in common. What he’s gotten is someone with a dorky sense of humor, and extensive knowledge of cryptozoology and mystery novels, and the stamina to make engaging conversation about those things while running or working a rowing machine.

It helps that Joseph is so hot that he could caramelize sugar just by looking at it. The glimpses he caught of him when they met were tantalizing; the way his dark hair gradually loosens from it’s gelled state, the way his cheeks turn pink when flushed and sweating, the few times his voice turns truly breathless? Barclay is ready to get on his knees and beg for him to do obscene things in the locker rooms.

What makes this desire impossible to shake is the suspicion that it’s shared. He’s caught Joseph looking at him in a way that isn’t just about his form, and when he shows Barclay a new exercise he stands closer and lingers longer than strictly necessary. And his Freudian slips are so frequent and obvious they may as well be Freudian nightgowns.

Just when he thinks Joseph can’t get any hotter, the agent texts him around their three month mark of working out together warning that he’ll be late. When he arrives, Barclay drops the five pound plate he was moving.

Joseph hasn’t changed clothes. He’s in a full, black suit, shined shoes, and a silver and blue tie that Joseph wants him to take off and loop around Barclays throat instead. The agent smiles with a promise to be right back, seems bemused when he returns to find Barclay in the exact spot and position he left him.

“You okay, big guy?” The nickname is one of the many ways he built a home for himself in Barclays daydreams.

“Uh. Uh, yeah, sorry, got lost in thought. I haven’t started on the full workout, did some extra stretching since I’m kinda tight from yesterday. You wanna do weights first?”

“Sure.”

Their routine lasts about an hour. It’s an act of god that Barclay gets through it unscathed. Joseph is even more hands-on than usual, and his cologne (bergamot and citrus, if Barclay has his scents right) hasn’t had a chance to fade. The most distracting element of the whole morning is his friend’s voice; there’s an edge to it, like a knife in a velvet sheath, and Joseph gives fewer suggestions and more orders.

Barclay wants him to sound like this forever. But only if he can rearrange his life so that he can follow every command.

After a very cold shower, he falls in next to Joseph as they push through the double doors into the warm night. When he reaches his car, the other man touches his cheek.

“Drive safe, big guy.”

He wonders if Joseph can feel him blush in the dark, “I will, agent. I promise.”

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

“I told them to get those dark spots checked” Joseph shakes his head at the notice on the door informing them the gym will be closed for the next two weeks to repair massive water damage in the ceiling.

“I’m just bummed I won’t get to work out with you. It’s not as fun alone in my apartment.”

“You could come over to mine, if we can find a time where it works.”

“I’d love to.”

Barclay double checks that the address on the apartment in front of him matches the one Joseph sent, while trying not to fixate on the text that came with it.

Joseph: Be ready, big guy, I’m going to work you hard

He knocks on the designated door, pushes it open when Joseph calls for him to come in. There’s a yoga mat on the floor and a stationary bike in the corner, and far too little space for two grown men to work out together.

“Do you want me to help move the couch? That might give us...more...room.”

Joseph, in his full suit and dress shoes, leans against the kitchen doorway with a confident smile.

“Y-you’re not working out with me, are you?” Barclay’s hopes hurry to the front of his brain, tripping up his tongue.

“No. I did mine earlier today.” He runs a finger along Barclay’s chest, “I designed a special one, just for you. If you get through it all, you get a reward.”

“What kind?”

Joseph leans in to kiss him softly and swiftly, “I’ll let you fuck me.”

Barclay’s hands fly out to grips his shoulders as he groans, “fuck, babe, really?”

“Really. But first, you have to pick two things from this list.” He hands Barclay a sheet of memo paper with a neatly written list of the lewdest exercises he’s ever seen. He’d offer to do all of them, but then he might not have enough energy to enjoy his reward.

“The, uh, the push ups and the crunches.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“Please?”

“Okay, big guy, we’ll do those. Get on the mat, push up position.”

Barclay hurriedly obeys. Freshly shined shoes step onto the top edge of the mat.

“We’ll just do thirty today. I’ll count. Ready?”

He nods.

“Good boy. Down, one”

Barclay bends his elbows, only stopping when his lips touch the top of Joseph’s shoes. He holds there a two-count, then rises.

“Down, two.”

He repeats the motion, keeps time with Joseph’s count as a hint of polish curls into his nose. It should be boring, maybe even degrading, but fuck him if it isn’t the hottest fucking thing he’s done in years. Joseph is so put together, so poised, Barclay feels like an unkempt beast next to him in his gym clothes. Yet he’s letting him kiss his lovingly shined shoes, telling him he’s a good boy as he works up a sweat.

“Down, thirty.” Joseph joins him on the floor as Barclay sits back on his heels, “well done. Now, on your back please.”

Barclay lays down. Joseph grabs a silver item from the side table and holds it in front of him. It takes his lust-glazed brain a second to grasp it’s a cock cage.

“Can I put this on you? You’ll have to wear it the rest of the workout.”

“Ohfuckplease.”

Joseph leans forward enough to kiss his chest, then shifts his shorts down to his thighs and locks the cage into place.

“If you need to stop, just say red. Okay?”

He nods frantically.

“Okay?” Joseph repeats with a stern look.

“Okay.”

“Good boy.” Joseph lifts his legs and sets them over his left shoulder. Barclay whimpers as there’s a snap of a latex glove and a pop of lube. Joseph smirks as Barclay whines at his teasing touches.

“Two sets, forty each. Go ahead and count in your head.”

“Okay” He curls his body, only gets through two more crunches before a finger presses in. “fuck!”

“Focus, big guy.” Joseph kisses his knee.

“I am, I’m focusing on the fact you’re a fucking genius.”

“If you lose count, you’ll have to start over” he presses in the second finger, “and that means longer until your reward.”

“I’m, I’m on twenty!”

A kiss to his calf, “Keep going.”

By the time he hits the second “forty” his legs are burning and Joseph is stretching his ass open with three fingers. He pulls them free but keeps Barclays legs in place, tugs the glove off and removes a blue, silicone plug from his jacket pocket . It slides in comfortably, but Barclay whimpers his name all the same.

“You’re doing so well Barclay. Are you ready to keep being my good boy?”

“Yes, please yes.”

Joseph sets his legs on the floor, guides him to his knees so he can pull his shorts up, and then helps him to his feet, pausing to kiss him sweetly and run his lips along his neck.

“Twenty minutes on the bike. Whatever speed you like.”

Barclay eases himself onto the seat, starts pedaling and watches longingly as Joseph heads into the kitchen saying he'll be back in a minute. The plug isn’t too uncomfortable to sit on, so this should be a breeze.

He hunches forward with a moan as it starts vibrating. Joseph strides back into the room, remote control in hand, only stopping to give Barclay another kiss and run his fingers through his hair before dropping onto the couch.

“Let me know when you’re done.” He picks up a copy of Empire and starts reading, heedless of Barclay’s increasingly loud moans.

The vibrator starts and stops, sometimes a gentle buzz and sometimes a furious pulse, and Barclay fights to keep the pedals going under the onslaught, desperate not to lose time and eager to please the man stealing tender, hungry glances at him from the couch.

“Time” He gasps, pulling his feet free from the pedals. Joseph is up and to him before his legs have a chance to wobble. Once he’s on the couch, shirt soaked with sweat, Joseph straddles him and kisses him demandingly, mouth moving from lips to cheek to neck without a care for sweat.

“Will you be a good boy and let me get off on you?”

“You know I fuckin will, fuck, babe, wanna be so fuckin good for youAH, ohgod” He throws his arms around Joseph, clinging and groping as he grinds on the cage and the aching cock within it.

“You look so good like this big guy, exhausted and obedient for me.”

“Yes, yesyes all for you, Joseph, please cum on me.”

“I will baby, don’t worry.” He brushes their lips together, “do you want some more kisses while I do.”

“Uhhuh” He whines, the noise only growing as Joseph kisses him and works his hips recklessly, his hands slipping up Barclays shirt to squeeze his pecs and toy with his nipples. When the tempo of his jerking hips changes, Barclay holds him tighter, needing to feel the way his body tenses and shudders as he cums more than he’s needed anything in his life.

“There” Joseph grins, panting, and pulls the key to the cage from his breast pocket, “now you can have your reward.” He slides to the floor, yanking Barclays shorts with him on the way. The cock cage hits the carpet and then a wet, enthusiastic mouth swallows him almost to the root.

“Ohfuck, Joseph, babe I’m gonna cum in like two seconds you, you might wanna-”

The agent pulls off, lazily licking the head, “I don’t want cum on the carpet, big guy. So be a good boy and cum down my throat.”

He gets exactly three and a half ecstatic thrusts into Joseph’s mouth before his orgasm knocks the breath from him and he cums, moaning out thanks as he does. When he’s spilled the last of it, Joseph sits back, breathing deep and wiping his lips.

“J-joseph? Will you, uh, will you kiss me again?”

The other man clambers into his lap, bitter taste on his tongue when Barclay glides his own against it. When he finally stops to breathe, Joseph pets his beard.

“Was all that okay?”

“So fucking okay. It was incredible. I, I feel so fucking good. Sweaty, but good.”

A kiss on the cheek, “Shower is just down that hall. Go get clean while I order dinner.”

“Okay.” Barclay looks at him with dreamy hope, “do you, uh, wanna do this again sometime?”

“Often. If, um, if that’s okay with you?”

Barclay nods, “as long as we can still work out together? I like doing that with you.”

“Of course, big guy.”

[sigillaria-svt]

Ferris Wheel

Pairing: Pianist!Wen Junhui x CollegeStudent!Reader

Word Count: 3,455

Genre: fluff, childhood friends, secret feelings, childhoodfriend!Joshua

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

You sit in awe as you watch Jun, your childhood friend, perform in his first-ever solo piano concert. You've watched him grow up learning the piano day in and day out. It's always been his dream and you were happy to see him achieve it.

He was able to secure tickets to the front row seat just for you, and you were happy to see him perform up close. When he finishes all his pieces, he gets up from his seat and takes a bow. Jun smiles back at you before turning around to leave the stage.

After the show, you visit him backstage, bringing him a congratulatory bouquet for his successful concert. "You were great as always, but I'm really glad you managed to get me some front row tickets."

"I picked a good seat, didn’t I?” He says playfully.

Knowing you, of course, you wouldn't miss the chance to show the good side of your face." You hand him the bouquet. “Thank you for giving me a free pass, and at the front row, at that!”

"It's nothing," he says, looking away and playing with his bow tie. "I should be the one thanking you. Your support means a lot to me."

"Ehhhh, why are you being so shy? You should be proud of yourself!”

"I just...I've never performed for an audience like this before," he says. "I'm a little nervous."

You give a short laugh at his statement, but he doesn't seem amused. "Oh come on. You did well, incredibly well for your first concert. The crowd loved it as well. "

"I suppose..."

"Well, you're the one who always wanted to play the piano. How can you not be proud of such a great accomplishment?" you say.

There's a brief silence.

"Thanks..."

Before you can question him any further, he suddenly pulls you into a hug. You return the hug for a while before you both let go.

"Well, I should be off." He says, giving you a small nod.

"Hey, wait! Do you want to grab some food? It's on me. Think of it as a congratulatory gift."

"I can't, I have to practice in a few hours," he says sadly.

"Well, we still have a few hours, we won't eat for long. I insist."

He smiles once more and nods. "Yeah, sounds good."

The both of you make your way to the nearby Chinese restaurant, the one you two always ate at when you were in high school. You lead him to an empty table and begin to order your favorite meals. Soon enough, the two of you are eating your favorite foods and talking about anything that comes to mind.

"How's college?" Jun asks while taking a bite of his food.

"Oh, it's okay," you say. "A little difficult to adjust to, but I'm doing good. I miss hanging out with you. It was way easier when we had so much free time when we were in high school. "

"I missed that too," he says, "But things are certainly way easier now."

"How so?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm a full-fledged pianist now, instead of just a struggling one. Also, the girl I was dating broke up with me."

"What?!” You almost slam your hand on the table. You quickly lower your voice. “Wasn't she heads over heels for you? What happened?"

"Eh, she just tired of waiting. You know how she is."

You nod slowly, but something about the story doesn't feel right. "Waiting for what?"

"Waiting for me to become a success, of course. She said she couldn't wait around forever for me to achieve my goals."

"That's weird..."

"What?"

You purse your lips. "I mean, you've always been famous around the school for being a good pianist, but it's not like you're going to earn money overnight."

"It was for the best anyway. It showed that she was really just after the fame and not... Me." He says sadly, running his spoon through his bowl of soup.

With a burst of energy and anger, you puff your chest. "Hey, don't get yourself down! What are you, huh? You're funny, friendly, a good pianist, handsome, and a pretty good guy! She doesn't know what she lost. Hey, if she ever comes back, don't say yes, alright?!"

"Hah, yeah. Don't worry, I'll hold out for the real thing."

"Yeah, you always do."

You laugh it off, but to be honest, you were a bit disappointed. You held feelings for Jun when you were younger, but let go of him when he found a girlfriend. Now that she broke up with him for a shallow reason, you were so mad. You knew how good of a guy Jun was, and how much he treasured the people that are close to him.

You wouldn't be able to forgive such an insult. Surely he would see that.

"I have to go, my piano teacher is calling," Jun says.

"Alright, take care on your way there."

"I will. Later."

The both of you give a little wave to each other. Jun then leaves you to your own thoughts, while you ponder why you had such a strange feeling about this.

You pay up at the counter before heading back to your dorm.

When you get into the building, you see Joshua hanging out in the dorm lobby. Along with Jun, he was one of your classmates in high school and ended up forming a close friendship as a trio. Joshua ended up going to the same university as you studying psychology, while Jun ended up in a different music university.

"Hey, Josh!"

He looks up at you with a smile, waving his phone at you. "Hey, how was the concert? It's sad that I couldn't go because of exams."

"It was good. I think Jun was really happy to hear that your results came out well." You quickly take a seat next to him, putting your bag on the table. "And you know what? He just broke up with his girlfriend. I didn't see that coming. "

"Really? What for?"

"Shallow reasons. It makes me upset."

"Hmmm." Joshua says, nodding and looking away. "What do you plan on doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if he's broken up with his girlfriend, do you think you could possibly...?"

"What? No! Josh, I..." You unintentionally stutter at the thought. Although Jun was clueless, Joshua knew everything. When you first found out about Jun getting a girlfriend, you cried at his house for hours. You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew you still had a bit of lingering feelings for Jun. "I mean, you know already, right? I let go of him years ago. I thought he'd be better off with you know... Someone better. "

"Someone better? That sounds very final!"

"I'm just saying, that it would be a better path for him."

"Let's hang out with him over the weekend. It wouldn't do good for him to keep thinking about it while he traps himself in practice." Joshua says, flipping through his phone to look for Jun’s contact number.

"Trapping himself in practice? You really think so?"

"Yeah, I do. Just trust me on this one." Joshua says with a sigh.

Well, it's one way to look at it you suppose.

"Let's take him to an amusement park. It's about time we bring out his inner child again."

"An amusement park? I've wanted to go to an amusement park for so long! Alright, let's go!"

You trust Joshua to invite Jun to the amusement park. Although you weren't a fan of the fast rides, you knew that it would make Jun and Joshua happy. The next day, both of you get on a bus from the university to the nearby theme park. The both of you get down just in time for the park to open.

"So, have you been to this amusement park before?" you ask.

"I've been here multiple times, but this is Jun's first time." He says. Joshua looks around, looking for the familiar tall figure. "There he is."

You wave to Jun as he walks towards the two of you, a big smile across his face.

"Hey Jun, I'm glad you managed to get yourself some free time," Joshua says.

"Yeah, I could use a breather," Jun replies.

"Man, these rides really take it out of you, don't they?"

"That's why they're fun." Joshua replies as the three of you may your way to the line to buy entrance tickets. Although the two men are ecstatic, you feel a churning feeling in your core. You’ve never been a fan of heights, and of the three, you were the one that easily got seasick. You knew that this was going to be a long day, but you wanted to make it a good one to cheer up Jun.

Jun looks over at you, who seems to be looking pale at the sight of all the tall rollercoasters. "Are you going to be fine?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." You say. "Just... Never ridden a rollercoaster before. Not exactly the most confidence-inspiring rides. Besides, there's a first time for everything, right?"

"Yeah, there is." Jun replies, giving you a smile.

Your stomach starts doing flips as you remember that you need to get on that ride eventually. Eventually, the three of you get tickets for unlimited rides and head over to the first ride. The three of you get onto the roller coaster, which is about to begin boarding.

"Hold on to your butts!" the attendant jokes, and the two of them have a good laugh. You, on the other hand, simply smile awkwardly.

To be honest, you feel like you're taking the rollercoaster ride to your death.

The ride starts, and you scream the whole time. The roller coaster takes a wild turn through the inversion and while you're going at a pretty decent speed, you don't feel quite right. Over to your right, you see Jun and his large gummy smile.

"This is so fun! I wish I can do this all day!" he screams.

The rollercoaster takes a bunch of twists and turns, throwing you around left and right. You hold on to the restraints for dear life, your knuckles turning white at the effort. Eventually, you let out a deep, heavy sigh as the coaster finally comes to a stop, leaving you disheveled and nervous. Beside you, Jun vibrates in excitement. He's laughing like a kid as the restraints go up.

"Let's do it again!" he says.

You and your best friend laugh, then quickly sober up as you realize that you are at an amusement park after all.

"Let's get on a softer ride before we go back on this one."

"Alright!" Jun says excitedly.

Jun walks ahead of you and Joshua, excited to get on the next one.

Joshua leans closer to you. "If you feel sick, just let me know so I can help calm him down, alright?"

You nod, and follow after Jun.

There's a giant inflatable slide ahead of you that has a giant inflatable ball on it.

"I want to go on that!" Jun squeals.

"That's a lot of fun, huh?" You say back.

After a few minutes of waiting in line, you get onto the giant inflatable slide.

"Come on!" Jun excitedly takes your hand and pulls you to the slide.

You sit down in the middle of the slide, and let out a laugh as the inflatable ball inflates in front of you. As you and Jun glide down the slide, you look at your childhood friend. His bright, beautiful smile makes you feel at ease. Slowly, steadily, you let all your worries and concerns wash away. Compared to his pale face just after the concert, he seems happier now. That's enough to satisfy you.

As you both laugh and have an enjoyable time, the three of you ride the giant inflatable slide again and again. After about half an hour, you finish off the giant slide and get onto the next ride.

To those that don't know Jun, he may seem like a calm and cool pianist, but in reality, he's the most energetic man-child you know. He screams with joy with practically every ride he gets on.

You and Joshua manage to calm him down by convincing him to eat lunch and go on soft rides to prevent indigestion. You all sit together on the side of the park, munching on the lunch Joshua brought from home.

"After all these years, your mom's sandwiches are still the best, Josh." You say.

"Aren't they though?"

You smile and nod in reply. You take another bite of the sandwich, enjoying the stringy meat as it slides down your throat.

"I'll go buy some drinks." Joshua says. "Anything you guys want?"

"I'll have orange juice." You say.

"I'll have one of those drinks too, please." Jun says.

"Alright, I'll be back." Joshua says.

You and Jun continue to eat and chat as you wait for Joshua. You take a bite of the sandwich and start up the conversation. "Man, it feels like yesterday we all first met in music class. That was such a different time, you know?"

"Yeah..."

"Joshua and I were learning guitar for fun, and somehow we both ended up in majors completely unrelated to music.

"Yeah, I remember. Good old days." Jun says, his tone suddenly turning somber. "I just... Don't know what I'm going to do after college."

"What do you mean? You're going to be a professional pianist! I'll go to all your shows and buy all your releases!"

"Oh, you will?"

The two of you laugh as you take another bite of your sandwich. "Well I mean, if it gets expensive, I'll split the cost with Josh"

Moments later, Joshua comes back with the drinks.

"Here you are." He says, handing you each a small cup of orange juice.

"Thanks, Josh." You say, taking a sip from your cup.

The three of you finish your lunch and walk around before getting on the merry-go-round that's in the center of the park. As you slowly turn, you think about how much has happened since you first met. Your friendship with Joshua and Jun has strengthened and gotten closer to what it is now. You were happy to have these guys with you in your life. You pull out your phone and take a selfie with the three of you on the ride.

'Best friends.' You think to yourself with a smile.

You look up at the Ferris wheel. There are a few people still waiting to get on, along with a little girl and her mother.

"Let's get on the Ferris wheel later on during sunset." Joshua says. "The view of the city will be beautiful during that time."

"Yeah, a Ferris wheel sounds fun." You reply.

For the next few hours, you and your friends ride all the rides, eat all the food, and enjoy every moment you can. Even though you and Joshua are almost out of energy, Jun is as happy and energetic as ever.

He mainly uses his phone to take pictures and videos of himself. It came to a point where you could barely stand because of the dizziness, so you and Joshua had to stop him from riding any of the roller coasters.

Eventually, the sunset comes around, and you three fall in line for the Ferris wheel. Just as the three of you were about to step in, Joshua pulls out his phone as if to pick up a call.

"Oh man, wait I need to take this call." He says, even though you see no sign of a call on his screen. Joshua pushes the both of you in. "Go on without me."

You didn't have time to think before he closes the door and leaves you and Jun alone in the cart. The Ferris wheel turns, taking you and Jun higher at a slow pace. Somehow, being alone with him makes your heart beat faster. You look over at Jun, who's looking out to the city as the orange light hits his face. It's a new experience for you, being this close to him. The two of you don't say a word, just take in the view.

"Hey, I want to tell you something." Jun says quietly.

You turn your head to him, who seems to sit uncomfortably in his place.

Jun takes a deep breath in. "I'm afraid that if we stay friends, I'll lose you as we grow up. You're a really important person to me, and I don't want to lose you."

A lump forms in your throat. "Don't worry about that." You tell him. "We'll always be friends. No one is taking you away from me."

Jun looks down for a moment, and then looks back at you he stares at you for a moment, hesitating. "I love you." He blurts out.

You stare at him in shock while he quickly adds, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that! Just forget I said it!"

"No, don't--"

Before you can say anything further, Jun buries his face into his hands.

You say "Jun?"

"I can't take this anymore." He says in frustration. "We can still be friends if you want. I'll leave you alone if that's what you want."

"Wait, Jun, look at me."

Jun raises his face, refusing to look you in the eyes.

"Calm down, you haven't even heard my reply yet." You lean forward to put your hand on his knee. "You love me? In... That way? "

"I... I'm sorry, but yes."

"Oh..." You exhale. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, I'm glad you finally said it." You laugh. "All this time I've been holding back because I thought you would never like someone like me."

"That's not true! I do like you! I probably just held back saying it because I didn't want you to leave."

"Well, why would I leave, Jun?" You ask. "You're basically my best friend, and I'm happy spending time with you."

"But, what if I change?"

"You won't."

"What if something makes you so mad at me, that you won't want to be with me anymore?" He says softly, opening himself up to be vulnerable for the first time in years.

"We've had dozens of fights ever since we were kids. But I'm still here."

"What if it's worse than those?"

"Well, we'll deal with it then."

"But what if it's something you can't fix?"

"Then I guess we won't deal with it." You say. "We'll just accept it when it happens."

"Oh." He exhales. "That... That sounds a little bit easier than I thought it would be."

"Easier?" You laugh in disbelief. "Of course it's easier. If things get to a point where we can't deal with it, then we'll still accept each other.”

"Yeah..."

"We'll get through it together."

"I know we will."

Jun links his legs with yours, gently playing around with his fingers.

"I was really scared that I would lose you to someone else." He says.

"Like who?" You laugh.

"Like, maybe even a boy you met at the park."

"That's not gonna happen, I promise." You assure him.

"I know."

"How are we going to explain this to Joshua when we get down?"

"He'll probably figure it out even if we don't say anything." Jun says. "He's pretty smart."

"True..."

Before you know it, the Ferris wheel stops and the two of you exit. When you get down, you see Joshua on his phone on one of the benches. He looks up at the both of you with a smile. You return his smile and walk over to him.

"Hey, guys." He says. "How did it go?"

"It was good!" You answer.

Joshua looks over at Jun, who seems to be pretending that nothing happened. "Say what, let me take a photo of you guys. It's both your first time at this park, we need to document this."

You look at both of your young faces and give each other a look. After a brief moment, when you understand that the other is going through with this, you nod. Joshua takes a photo of the both of you with the Ferris wheel in the background, a large grin on his face

"Perfect." He says, returning his phone to his pocket. "Let's go and take a break at the cafe."

Joshua walks ahead of you and Jun, and you both follow. Jun shyly links his pinky with yours, swinging his arms around happily.

"Thank you for coming with me, I really had a good time here." He says.

"Anytime." You smile. - END -

[welcometoels]

Session Twelve - Monthend

Among the entrails of a giant lizard creature and an undead Dragonborn, the victorious party stands.  The skies have cleared, and off to the south, a huge tower stands - Monthend.

This is a matter for tomorrow, though, since cleaner-turned-publican-turned-mayor Tiatha Rowe is standing in the doorway of the Jaunty Skinner, furious about the gore that slicks her entryway.  She fetches buckets, mops and brooms, and gets Normal Leg Barty on the case.

Oddsock is discomforted by the idea of cleaning and hides himself behind some barrels, but Julius mucks in with gusto, using his druidic magic to help sluice the worst of the detritus away from the pub.

Once everything and everyone is looking cleaner, Tiatha locks the pub doors, fetches all the bedding from upstairs, and invites everyone to enjoy ale and food on the house.  Barty fetches out a roasted two-faced pig from the back, along with some grilled fish for Julius.

A squeak is heard from Oddsock’s pack, and beside him appears two barrels, both marked in Infernal with their names - Elvish Juice and Jackies’ Hammer.  Accompanying them is a letter - also in Infernal - and a little bag of treats.  Oddsock wolfs down the treats before reading the letter, which is just as well, since that is what the letter instructs him to do.

The treats taste of Oddsock’s favourite meats - a mixture of imp and beholder flesh - barbecued and mixed with a variety of warm spices.  He feels a pleasant burn in his throat, which gives way to a gentle tingle of power.

Barty, spotting the barrels, fetches them over to the bar and taps them.  The sheer number of revellers proves to be a problem, however - the pub is short three clean mugs.

X produces her bejewelled Cup of Sune, and Oddsock his iron dog bowl.  Talion, after a moment, remembers the simple wooden cup in his pack, and produces it.

Barty - a man of the world who has seen many a magical thing - feels sure he recognises the cup, and asks for one of the party’s potions.  Filling the cup, he passes it to the clearly wounded Freginald.  Supping it down, the burly fighter reports that the potion seems to be at full potency.  Furthermore, he can sip what he needs from the potion, and leave the rest for another person.

At this time, what he needs is the whole lot, so he chugs it down before getting an ale.

Oddsock, meanwhile, has a chew on his dragon toy Tim, and requests an audience with his patron in his domain, rather than just at the edge of unreality.  It’s his first time in his patron’s lair, and he finds it rather comfortable - a small bar with a single beer pump dominates one wall, while the rest of the cosy space is bedecked with cushions and low tables, with howling dog head lanterns on the walls, spitting balls of fire from their mouths.

The two enjoy a nice chat over a fresh IPA, while Oddsock quizzes the black-robed figure about various things - mostly about the meanings of terms like “core competencies” and “vertical integration”.  The patron is unsure, and advises him to seek out a more evil being for these answers.

Back in regular reality, Julius carves a couple of his pebbles - one in the likeness of Barty, and the other as he imagines X’s goddess Sune.  Both turn out quite well, and he decides to offer them up as parting gifts in the morning.

Talion, meanwhile, begins a new composition - a stirring number that details the events from his arrival in Dogwood to the final defeat of Slathiel.  Even at these early stages, it is a fine song, and one that will doubtless get even better with successive renditions.

Kadis sits apart from the fun, contemplating the gear that was planted in his hand by mysterious forces.  It is made from a smooth material, with a suggestion of unknown magics.  In this respect, it is just like the egg that hangs next to his idol, but he feels no connection to it.

The drinking and eating continues with much joyous revelry, until the air is filled with the sound of steam-powered hooting.  Aberron - who had secreted himself in a corner with the remains of his brass owl Dominique - holds aloft his repaired companion, who spreads her wings in celebration.

The night draws on and the food and ale dwindles until nothing remains but sleep.  Oddsock gets the best place for himself - right by the hearth, in a pile of racoons.

The party has strange dreams of a creepy house filled with unknowable horrors, though Kadis finds that his usual writhing tentacles are confined behind a locked door.

After a moment, he finds himself on the other side of that door.  Before him is a single, glowing egg.  A dark tentacle slinks up and around it, clutching it tighter and tighter until the shell breaks.

Then, he sees a face.  Though it is older by some margin than the last time he saw it, it is definitely his own, with the strip of material bound around his eyes.

After a couple of minutes, he comes to a realisation:

He is no longer asleep.

As he reaches up to touch his face, his vision blurs and skips, until he can see himself from an elevation, lying on the inn floor with his friends.

Taking a moment to gain his bearings, he begins to move to where he believes the vision is coming from.  Understandably disoriented, he stumbles over Julius, who awakes with a hiss and a grumble.

Assisting each other, the two find the source of the visions - a tiny little floating green ball with a single eye in the middle, and four miniscule flickering tentacles.

Based on their encounter at Mansion de Mortesque, Julius identifies it as a beholder - probably a newborn, and much more alive than the one they fought before.

Julius gives Kadis a once-over, and finds nothing new or different about him that would explain his connection to the creature.  He does, however, notice that the mysterious idol is gone, and shards of it are across the monk’s chest.  The only thing that remains on Kadis’ necklace is the egg that was once a black-green lantern.

Feeling the bond with this creature, Kadis holds out his hand and beckons it to him.  It floats warily over, before nestling into his palm and purring gently.  Julius takes copious notes, and observes that the beholder’s connection to Kadis is similar to his own link with the fey weasel Rupert - who, upon hearing his name, pops up from under Julius’ potato sack robe, squeaking curiously.

By now, the rest of the party has awoken.  After a series of disgruntled borks, Oddsock accepts the new arrival, though Talion remains unimpressed.  The baby beholder, a little overwhelmed, tucks itself into Kadis’ clothes, peeking out with its little bulbous eye.

Now that the sun has risen, Tiatha unlocks the doors and Barty brings out the breakfast - porridge, and eggs in various styles from a farm in the north.  Oddsock tucks in to the eggs, and Julius enjoys the porridge, though Kadis and Talion are rather more wary.

After breakfast, Julius hands over his carved pebbles to their intended recipients.  Barty is moved almost to tears by the gift, but he keeps his cheeks dry through the sheer power of swarthiness.  X is also delighted, though she does mistake the woman in the carving for Em.  In either case, she is enchanted.

And so, the time comes for departures.  Aberron and Freginald decide to stay in Dogwood to pursue their new trades of artificery and tattoo artistry respectively.  38/12 also opts to stick around for a while to assist Aberron with his research into... whatever 38/12 is.

X and Gyder, unsurprisingly, decide to move on, having unfinished business elsewhere.  Barty also chooses to leave, to return home to his Polly - the most beautiful bird there ever was.  To fill his post at the Skinner, Tiatha recruits Dandy Bianco, former castle guard and horse testicle enthusiast.

Also leaving town today, though with very little fondness, is Eno Greysect.  Tired of his home being pissed upon and his nose being punched upon, he hangs up a sign reading “God Does Not Live Here” and strides miserably south.

Oddsock, naturally, changes the first word to “Dog” as he trots over to bid farewell to the Jackies.  His firm raccoon friends have committed themselves to keepings Oddsock’s beers brewing, and will share the profits next time he visits.  They also ask that he spreads the word of Dogwood to the Monthenders, so they they can grow the town and eventually start a proper Chamber of Commerce.

Oddsock agrees, and wonders how long it will be before the Jackies become mayors of the town.  Jackie Face mulls this over with a peculiar look upon his face while Oddsock exits cheerfully, a four pack of new raccoon-made health potions in his pack to share with the party.

Having bid farewell to their new friends, the party leaves town.  Then, after a moment, they return, having forgotten that they have two horses.  Then they leave town.

On the way to Monthend, a couple of things break up the journey.  Firstly, as evening draws in, the team arrives at the southern farm - the journey being much quicker with horses and without displacer beasts.

As they arrive, they see a familiar, unconscious Dwarf being loaded into a wagon, and being shuttled off to Monthend.  Apparently, last night, an undead Dragonborn burst out of the ground, shouting about a monk that had stolen his lantern, startling former trading post manager Grum Swabspud half to death.

The party feigns ignorance as they join the farmers for some simple food (no porridge) and some beds for the night.

Shortly after departing in the morning, they encounter a group of mounted High Elves, on their way to investigate the town that had suddenly appeared in the woods around (and owned by) Monthend.  Embracing the opportunity to quiz some of the new town’s residents, they join the group on the road to Monthend.

Many questions follow, most of which are answered by another stirring rendition of Talion’s new song.  The Elven guards vow to pass on the information - especially the addition details regarding new trading opportunities with several individuals named Jackie.

At the gates of Monthend, a miserable little horse administrator takes down the details of their steeds so they they can be kept in the stables until they leave.  When asked for the names of their horses, the team freezes - they never named them.  Fortunately, Oddsock uses his broken knowledge of Domestic Animal to speak to them and ask them.

Turns out they’re both called Horse.  Who would’ve thought?

After receiving a receipt made out to group leader Mr O Sock, the adventurers find themselves in the luxurious, high-end sprawl of Els’ unofficial capital, with nothing on their schedule.  This can mean only one thing...

Shopping!

Over the next couple of hours they put some serious damage into their communal funds.  Kadis purchases a new cloth to cover his eyes - one that can be carefully adapted to secrete an infant beholder, with a little slit for it to peek out.  Julius also opts for clothes, but something in a thicker hide than his current clobber.

Talion and Oddsock have their sights set on something more magical.  The dog goes sniffing around for magic ink, to transfer some Necromantic cantrips from the Mortesque books to his magical codex, while Talion attempts to chat with girl at the counter - a surly High Elf of no more than 90 years, with a tag that reads “Hello!  My Name Is NUNYA”

His conversational gambits are rebuffed, so he tries a little magical charm.  Suddenly, a crystal on the counter flashes with a lightning bolt that he barely avoids, and the girl taps a little sign on the counter which says “Do Not Charm The Staff”

Chastened, he browses the shelves an finds a copper bracelet within his price range, which slightly improves his weak constitution.  The High Elf rings up the sale with the same sullen disposition, tapping the sign reading “Do Not Bother The Staff” when Oddsock demands to speak to their raccoon.

Threats to speak to a supervisor follow, and the girl taps her Supervisor badge, and then a sign simply reading “No”.  The two leave the shop under a cloud, but take their revenge in their signature ways:  Talion playing a vicious polemic about poor customer service upon his lyre, while Oddsock pisses in the doorway.

On their way to rejoin the others, Kadis and Julius encounter a harried Tabby Tabaxi trying to wrangle two kitten-aged Persians out of the gutter where they’d found a rat, whilst also pushing a third kitten in a pram.  Julius goes over to introduce himself and offer assistance, but the Tabby panics and ushers her young charges away.

The group as a whole is a little put out by their experiences in Monthend, but a little cheer follows as a crow-like Kenku rounds the corner, shouting about happy hour at The Wayward Alchemist.  He hands the group some flyers filled with food and drink offers, and they notice a sign around his neck reading “I Repeat Your Message For One Gold A Day.”

Julius and Talion try to engage him in conversation, but all he does is repeat what they say back at them.  Realising what is going on, Talion pens a short missive, hands the Kenku a gold coin, and reads aloud:

New trade routes have opened up to Dogwood!  Come and visit the best new town in Els!

The Kenku pauses, then repeats it word for word, before offering them a chance to change the message if needed.  Most of the party members are satisfied, but one adds “Presented By Oddsock” to the message before accepting the final draft.

The Kenku waddles on, alternating between his new Dogwood message and the one for The Wayward Alchemist.

Since they are now at a loose end, and since the position of the sun as it descends behind a clock tower suggests that it is now happy hour, the party decides to check out this tavern.

The handy map on the back of the flyer leads them out of the well-heeled streets of central Monthend, and into the less salubrious (though still adequately-heeled) outskirts.

Oddsock takes a minor detour after spotting a church of Commerce on the mini-map, and after sullying their windows with magically hurled dog eggs, soiling the curtains and placing anti-capitalist propaganda runes on the steps, he skips cheerfully along to join the rest of the crew.

The Wayward Alchemist is a large, stone building, with a large, stone doorman.  Julius introduces himself, and the Golem returns the greeting, indicating the name carved into his chest:  Stopdick.  He opens the door for the party, and they enter.

The interior is bustling with customers enjoying two-for-one Jinn & Tonics, and waiting staff in very little clothing.  Kadis and Oddsock are slightly overwhelmed, but Julius takes in every detail with great clarity, from the fancy High Elf at the bar, to the stern Tiefling standing before a door at the back, next to a wide flight of stairs leading up.

As Julius heads off to introduce himself to the Tiefling - having never met one before - Talion regards the place with a lesser eye for the details, but a greater understanding.  With liquor in the front, and probably poker in the back, plus several scantily clad servers, he does the mental arithmetic and comes up with the most likely answer: brothel.  With a sly smile, he heads for the bar.

As he does, Julius engages in conversation with the Tiefling, whose name is Tabitha.  He boldly asks what she is, and she informs him that she is a bar manager, which Julius takes questionably accurate note of.  She asks if he plays cards, and, accurately judging the confusion on his little otter face, guides him gently towards the safety of the bar.

Down at the other end, Talion tries to gain the attention of a barman, but instead attracts the High Elf, who introduces himself as Herrington.  Pointing to the dragon scale on Talion’s necklace, he sidles in close and tells him that he and his friends are hunters too, and may have taken down a dragon or two themselves.

Unable to stop himself, Talion prepares to take a swing at Herrington, and is stopped at the last moment by a pressure on his elbow.  Beside and somewhat below him stands a very glamourous Halfling carrying a bottle of aged Goodberry wine on a tray.  She tugs at his arm insistently, and guides him back over to his friends, and then over to a nice quiet table at the back.

She introduces herself as Zanthia, and drops off the bottle on the table, along with four glasses.  She says that they are on the house - better than the watered down Happy Hour swill - and that she has a lot to talk to them about after her performance..

Before they can ask any questions, they are interrupted by a drunken hand across Zanthia’s buttocks.  A leering customer demands that she go and fetch him another drink - which, with a barely perceptible flash of something across her eyes, she does.

She then takes to the small stage at the far end of the bar.  Throughout the room, the candles dim, save for those that illuminate her.  Fetching up a saxophone from beside the stage, she performs a slow, haunting number - one which Talion finds strangely familiar.

The tempo has been slightly adjusted, and the key is different, but there is no mistaking it - The Ballad of Araniel: his signature composition.

Once the applause has died down, Zanthia returns to the table and invites the group to join her upstairs for a private conversation.  She knows who they all are, and needs their assistance.

The party remains silent - a silence only broken by the lecherous customer behind, as he snores face down into his drink.

[pinkja]

Sports, Crushes, College and All Other Things Stressful (Nora x Black Female Reader)

AU where Nora is a stressed out college student and you are a simple black girl who has no time management.

Nora felt like she was a simple person.

She grew up in a small town near Salt Lake City, made it through the akward teenage phase, and graduated high school with honors.

Does it matter that she was always so close to pulling her own hair out in frustration? She doesn’t think so.

She liked to think that her high school years went swell.

She was captain of the swim team, played in both tennis, chess, soccer, and volleyball. She was also co captain of the debate team, won the Reading Bowl in TOME for three years in a row (she didn’t join freshman year) and did a bunch of community service at the homeless shelter every other Saturday from 9am to 3pm.

Yeah, Nora was a simple person, she thinks.

Does it matter that she barely had time to sleep? She doesn’t think so.

She got into college with a full ride scholarship (which her family celebrated for two days straight. It practically turned into a block party.) She was on the Pre-Med track, wanting to become a pediatrician like her grandmother had been, and like her mother had been, and like her older sister had been as well.

Wait…who exactly was she doing this fo–

Doesn’t matter!

She got to get an apartment on the campus housing first year with her best friend, Abby, who’s a biology major of all things, when Nora was pretty sure she was gonna be an English major. Her room was pretty average, but Abby often made comments about how it really needed some personality.

“You don’t even have a poster!” Abby remarked one day while she was laying on Nora’s bed. She had an old copy of Lord of the Flies in her hands, read and re-read about eight times.

“Not everyone needs a poster, Abby.”

“Yeah, they do. Especially when you don’t have a book or a video game, or even something to play music on-”

“Isn’t it enough that I have a phone?” Nora placed her head on Abby’s lap. Abby rolled her eyes and sat up on the bed so Nora would be more comfortable.

“And you had to beg your mother for it. Now hush and let me finish this chapter.” She leaned against the headboard and made a comment about how she was going to buy her a poster for Dirty Dancing or something.

Now that freshman year was almost over, and tennis season for the school had started up again a month prior, Nora, being captain of that and many other teams, was starting to feel even more stressed. She has to aid the coach in training the less athletic recruits, plan their next meeting, and prepare for their next game which was in two weeks, which was a few days before a big biochemistry test.

She was out by the track, the slightly warm early April air hitting the side of her sweaty face after almost an hour of staying out in the sun. There was another hour of practice left, and with a clipboard, a pen, and a timer in her hand, she watched the baby-faced girls run laps around the field.

“Ok, the game is on a Saturday, it takes around 30 minutes to get there by bus, so 30 minutes to get back… but the game ends at 6:30 so I have to give at least another 30 minutes to an hour for traffic, not including the time it takes to shower and pack our stuff up so the latest I’d get home is around…” She looked up from her clipboard, tapping her feet on the floor. “Jackson! If you want to play in the next game you gotta beat your record! Pick up the speed!” She called out to a red haired girl.

God, I really hope I’m not sweating out my hair, she thought, brushing a few stray hairs back in her ponytail. Nora went back to muttering.

“Ok so that means I’ll be home by 8 at the latest, and if I lock myself in my room and pull an all nighter, I could probably get all my studying done by 6-ish? Maybe… I would have to stock up on coffee. I’ll stop by the store on the way ho–”

Nora’s quiet rambling was interrupted by a voice.

“Hey, Captain!” Nora didn’t turn around, already knowing who it was by the voice alone.

(Y/n) (L/n).

Ah, Nora’s feelings for you were…complicated, to say the least. But we’ll get to that later.

“Sorry I’m so late.” You rubbed the back of your neck with a sheepish smile.

“Fourth time this month, (Y/n).” Nora’s voice was stern, exasperated and a bit annoyed.

“I know. I know, but–”

“You know the drill. 10 extra laps and you have to beat your record or else you don’t play in the next game. Go.” Nora didn’t look up from her clipboard, but knew you were pouting anyways.

Your footsteps echoed in Nora’s ears as you ran to the field, smiling at your teammates as they passed you. She marked off your name on her clipboard and wrote “Late” next to it, again, with furrowed eyebrows and annoyance tickling the back of her brain.

When 4 o’clock came, the girls all filed out of the field and towards the locker room, feet tired and sore. You were still running, of course, doing the 10 (plus 10 extra) laps you were assigned. Although you weren’t, Nora felt like you were taking your time, acting as if you hadn’t a care in the world.

“God, I have to get home and study…” Nora whispered and rolled her eyes, even though only 5 minutes had passed. By 4:15, you were done, walking back to her while rubbing your left thigh.

“How’d I do, Captain?” You asked while wiping the sweat off of your forehead. You balanced yourself on the balls of your feet. Nora clicked the button on her timer once again and finally looked at you.

You had sweat stains on your blue shirt, and you picked at the edge of your shorts that rode up your thigh just a little bit.

“Two minutes under your last time. I guess you get to stay in this time around.” Nora said curtly, pursing her lips while doing so.

You smiled as if you already knew the answer. “Aw come on, Captain. Have a little faith in me, yeah? I’m not all bad.” Your nose scrunched you as you pouted.

God your lips were so cu–

“But I do stink though. Imma hit the showers real quick. You coming?” Nora gulped, mind going a little to the left as she snapped out of her thoughts.

“Yeah.” Was all Nora could say in response.

They walked into the locker rooms, all of the girls clean and gone. Nora placed her things on one of the benches, opening and looking into her locker for clean clothes. You did the same.

“Jeez, all that time I put into doing my hair only to sweat it out in less than 10 minutes. I don’t know how you do it, Captain.” You remarked, looking in the mirror of your locker. Nora hummed, but didn’t respond. She grabbed some fresh clothes from her gym bag and started stripping.

Nora peeked into the mirror in her locker at you. Yours was diagonal from hers. You were still looking at yourself, not at her. Part of her wanted you to be.

Once she was done, she wrapped a towel around herself and grabbed some soap and a rag. She showered in silence, only being interrupted by the pat pat of your footsteps on the floor as you hopped in the showers next to her. You tied your hair up and put a bandana around your head before starting the shower, and Nora looked away before she could see anything else.

She thanked whatever god there was that there was a wall between you two.

But what if there wasn’t?

Nora started to feel very self-conscious all of a sudden. She started to take note of the stretch marks and too thick hairs on her stomach and arms and legs.

Oh my god, is my hair presentable?

She went to smooth out her hair with a (thankfully) not soapy hand, but stopped herself. She wouldn’t want to ruin her hair now. She spent all morning getting it together.

Wait? Why am I worrying about my appearance? My body is fine.

After her little realization, Nora started scrubbing really hard at her arms and legs, preoccupying her mind with the upcoming test.

Nora finished before you did, wrapping a towel around herself and waiting until she was out of your sight to start drying herself. She put on some lotion and deodorant, got dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a green shirt and sneakers before grabbing her stuff and going to leave.

“Captain!” Your voice stopped her.

Dammit! She was almost free!

“Yeah?” Nora took a few steps back but didn’t look in your direction.

“Can you…um…stay?” Nora’s spit got caught in her throat. “I mean, until I’m done. I really don’t like being in the locker room by myself. My mom always told me don’t let myself be in a room alone.” You let out a laugh, albeit a bit nervous.

Nora nodded, spitting out a stuttered, “Sure.” She hopes she didn’t sound too excited. She leaned against the outside wall of the showers, facing away from you once more. Nora waited (im)patiently, suddenly remembering how she forgot her glasses at home and that’s why she hasn’t been able to see well all day. She also remembered the stain on the coffee table that she was too busy to clean up because she was rushing out of the house because she had slept through her–

The squeak of the shower faucet snapped Nora out of her thoughts as the rush of water stopped. Nora kept her eyes on her shoes as you passed her, suddenly very interested in the speck of dirt on the toe of her left shoe.

I should clean it later, Nora thought.

“Captain?” Nora’s head snapped up, looking towards you with large brown eyes. You brought a plump lip into your mouth before giving Nora a smile. You were done getting dressed, snatching the now-wet bandana off of your head.

God, is it hot in here? Nora feels like she’s been sweating oceans.

“Thank you for staying. I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

“No problem.” It’s not like she doesn’t have a test she has to study for or a meeting at 6 for a club that she really couldn’t remember the name of now which was really concerning, but Nora couldn’t bring herself to care because you were smiling at her and Nora’s heart was not working anymore.

Although part of her wanted to be mad at such a carefree attitude and your seemingly lack of schedule, she settled on scolding you instead.

“Practice is next Monday at 3. Try not to be late next time.” You nodded before grabbing your stuff from the bench behind you and walking out of the locker room in silence. Nora followed before you both split off in different directions.

Nora’s weekend was filled with nothing but meetings and studying and homework, with the constant repetition of “Game on a Saturday, test on a Monday” leaving her mouth. She started her mornings at 4 am, going for a 2 hour run around campus. At 6 she went back home and took a shower, answered a bunch of emails about things that Nora couldn’t bring herself to care about anymore, and then she spent a good 3 hours studying old material from her classes, read a book she was assigned for Lit, then she was back studying again.

Wait, did she eat anything?

She wouldn’t have if Abby hadn’t practically shoved a piece of turkey bacon down her throat because, “You literally haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon” which she should be grateful for her friend’s willingness to remember the important things for her when she forgot them. She had meetings for Spanish and French Honor Society, Creative Writing, the school’s green club, and she also had to tutor a bunch of kids who were failing their math classes.

And to top it all off, you were late to practice, again! God, Nora wanted to be mad at you. You were being selfish at this point. Didn’t you know that if you were late she had to stay with you until practice was over?

Well, technically, she didn’t. She could leave practice whenever she wants to but honestly she didn’t want to leave you to practice alone. Plus, you might slack off!

Nora’s eyebrows twitched at the thought. It’s like you didn’t have a care in the world! You just walked around wasting her time, your time even!

You arrived 15 minutes late, better than last time, but still late.

You were already preparing your excuses, but Nora shushed you, telling you to go and practice on your serves. You did just that. Nora had already completed her drills, now just waiting for you to show up. She wrote your name down and the word “late” next to it once again before she went back to observing her team.

Once 4 o’clock rolled around, the girls rolled out and into the locker rooms, while you stayed behind. Your serve was good, Nora thought, you were just a heavy hitter and would forget to try and get the ball into the court first.

After watching the ball fly past the court for the 3rd time, Nora sighed and made her way over to you. You spotted her and gave her a smile.

“Hey, Captain! You need something?” You asked as you threw the ball in the air. You hit it across the net and watched as it flew straight into the wall. You grabbed another ball from the basket next to you and went to do it again until Nora gently grabbed your wrist and pulled it back down.

“You hit too hard, (Y/n). Try it again, but with a little less force.” Nora stated, backing out of the court to watch you once more.

You tried again, only for the ball to land just outside of the court.

“That’s ok, (Y/n), just try again.” Nora encouraged you. You tried again and again, only for you to keep hitting it out of the court.

You let out a huff, frustrated. “Captain…” You whined, turning to her with dragged feet. “This seems pointless. I just keep hitting out of bounds.” Nora raised a brow, not taking you for the type to give up so easily.

“You know we can’t leave until you get it right.” You pouted at her answer before going to try again. Nora stopped you, walking up to you and grabbing the hand you were holding your racket in. “Here. Make your hand face the net. That always helped me serve better.” Nora turned your wrist. “Now plant your feet so they’re in line with your shoulders.” You listened. “Now breathe in, slowly, and as you breathe in, toss the ball into the air and as soon as you exhale, swing. Don’t focus on the force. Focus on how your hand moves to hit the ball.” Nora realized how close she was to you, how weird this must’ve looked to others and what they might think.

She was starting to get self-conscious again.

Nora cleared her throat and backed out of the court again. Once she was far enough, you served again, the ball just making it into the court. You jumped up in excitement, coily hair bouncing with you. Your eyes darted towards her, a wide smile on your brown face.

“Captain! Captain I did it! Did you see?” You spoke with the giddiness of a child with a new toy, and, suddenly, Nora’s anger at you disappeared. Nora nodded with a smile.

“I saw. Good job, (Y/n).” You smiled wider at her praise, going to pick up all of the balls you managed to drop. Nora helped.

After cleaning up the mess you made, you both walked to the locker rooms. You repeated your routine from Friday, with Nora finishing earlier than you once again. Nora remembered how you had asked her to stay, and decided not to leave you behind. She walked to her locker in silence, getting dressed in some jeans, a graphic tee, and her same pair of sneakers she always wore before leaning against the walls of the showers like she did once before.

She was still facing away from you.

“(Y/n)?” Nora called, despite the lump in her throat about having to talk to you while you were naked.

“Yeah, Captain?” You answered, stopping the humming you were previously doing.

“May I ask, um, why are you always so…late?” Nora tapped her fingers on the wall and hoped she didn’t offend you with the question.

You were silent for a moment before answering. “I just lose track of time, y’know?” Nora’s eyebrow twitched again. You spoke as if you knew what she was thinking. “Yeah, yeah. I know that’s not a good excuse. However, I get so caught up in the little things that I just forget to remember the big things.” Another twitch of the eyebrow.

God, was it gonna get stuck like that?

You turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself as Nora moved to sit on the bench. She preoccupied herself with her shoes again and waited for you to get dressed. The buzz of your phone interrupted the silence between you two. You grabbed it from out of your locker and looked at the bright screen before scowling and placing it back in your bag.

“I wanna know, Captain.” You started, as you put underwear on. Nora cursed the human evolutionary habit of looking at anyone and anything that made noise, as she had turned her gaze towards you as you were putting on a dress and oh my goodness you weren’t wearing a bra. Nora’s face burned as she quickly turned back around to look at her shoes. “Have you ever had Mr. Lance before?” It took a few seconds for Nora to register your question, and once she did, she shook her head no.

“U-Um… no. No I haven’t, um… Why do you ask?” Preoccupy yourself with the test, Nora. Focus on the test.

Game on a Saturday. Test on a Monday.

“I wanted to thank you for once again putting up with me and helping me in practice. Other captains would’ve just left me there.” Now she felt bad for thinking about leaving. “You wanna go?” You turned to her with another smile, not caring that Nora wasn’t even facing you.

“You don’t have to. It’s really no problem.”

Game on a Saturday. Test on a Monday.

“Come on, Captain. Please. I promise you it’ll be worth your time!” Nora finally gained the courage to look at you, and you were pouting. Good god you were pouting and it was so adorable and Nora really has to learn how to focus again.

Game on Saturday. Test on Monday.

Nora was in a trance. Your eyes had caught her in a trance and she couldn’t get out but she had to. So she agreed to your little adventure. You jumped up again in excitement and Nora was once again reminded of the fact that you don’t have on a bra. You both walked out of the locker room and you led Nora down the street to one of the coffee shops about 7 minutes away.

“Mr. Lance is just a few minutes from here.” You started as you put your phone in your bag after checking it again. “And I know the name seems kinda boring, however, they serve the best ice cream there is.” You gave Nora another beaming smile to reassure her, even though Nora didn’t need any reassurance.

Once you both arrived at the little parlor, you opened the door for Nora and she was immediately hit by the cool air and the smell of mint. Nora scrunched up her nose a little bit and sat at one of the red chaired booths. You sat opposite of her and folded your hands on top of each other.

“What do you usually get here?” Nora asked you, pushing her glasses up to her face.

“I either get the triple chocolate milkshake or the extra cookies and cream ice blizzard. But that’s my personal preference. Get whatever you want.” You said nonchalantly, not even looking at the menu.

Would it be too embarrassing for Nora to admit that she didn’t know how to choose? Nora thought that yes, it would be. However she couldn’t just not order something after you had brought her all the way here. That would be rude! But it would also be rude to sit there and order something she wouldn’t want and then sit there and pick at it because she had never really had time to–

“And what about you, miss?” Nora jumped at the voice. She looked up from her death match with the colorful menu and at the waiter who was standing there with a notepad in her pale hands.

“Uh…oh! Oh! I would like a…” What the hell was that first thing you said? “A triple chocolate milkshake, please.” Nora’s face burned at her awkwardness. Maybe she didn’t leave that weird teenage phase at all.

“Coming right up! I’ll just take these off your hands.” The waiter grabbed the menus and walked off to the kitchen.

Nora tried to act like she didn’t feel your gaze on her while you waited, and felt grateful when your phone buzzed for the third time that afternoon.

“Guess I’m popular today, huh Captain?” You let out a chuckle as you turned your phone off.

Nora smiled back and she hoped it wasn’t crooked.

You pulled at a curl on your head and frowned. “I’m so glad tomorrow is wash day. My hair’s been so uncooperative lately.” You pulled at the same curl again and watched as it bounced back into place. “Captain.” You called her. Nora answered. “What do you think I should do with my hair? Twists or plaits? Ooh maybe I can do box braids instead.” You shot out ideas to her, hoping she would choose and make your life a bit easier.

“Um… I think you’d look good in–in twists.” Frankly you would look good in anything.

Wait, what?

“Don’t you have to set out the whole day for that? You have classes tomorrow, don’t you?”

“I have one class in the afternoon but it shouldn’t be a problem. I can catch up easily.” You said nonchalantly.

She looked at the clock on the wall to check the time. 5:45 p.m. She cursed how fast this day was going.

Their treats came a few minutes later and you popped open your straw and dug in. Nora did the same, eyebrows raising at the onslaught of very, very sweet chocolate attacking her taste buds.

“See. I told you it was good!” You said, licking a little bit of chocolate off of your lips. You swirled your straw around your glass. “I’m glad you decided to come with me, though.” You said offhandedly.

“Why did you decide to bring me here?” Nora didn’t mean for her voice to sound all nervous. She would roll with the punches.

“Hmm. I already told you earlier that I wanted to thank you for putting up with me.” You took another sip and stuck your tongue out a bit. “But also, and forgive me if I seem rude but, I thought this would relax you.” Nora raised an eyebrow. “You always seem so…pent up. Like a stiff. I just noticed that you might need some sort of release or something, Captain. That’s all.” Nora realized that you were the only one to address her as Captain after practice, and in that moment she started to feel very…different.

Was she uncomfortable?

No, Nora wouldn’t exactly describe it as that.

It was just that the heat creeping up her neck and the sudden realization that you were right and the idea of getting some sort of release, as you put it, was making her feel very, very weird.

It didn’t help that Nora’s gaze went back to your lips and eyes and hands and chest and the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra hit her again and–

Why the hell was she so focused on that? Of all the damn things to focus on? It’s not like the concept of not wearing a bra was foreign to her, she did it from time to time herself but what the fuck was so different when you did it?

Focus on something else, Nora. Focus on something else.

Like the test!

She had a game on a Saturday, and a test on a Monday.

Game on a Saturday, and a test on a Monday.

Game on Saturday, and boy were your eyes cute.

Game on Saturday, test on a Monday.

It’s not like she had a problem with it.

Game on Saturday, test on Monday.

She was fine. Nora was so fine. Nothing to worry about here.

Maybe she did need a release. A time for herself to relax.

Game Saturday, test Monday.

Oh god was she staring at you?

Game, test. Saturday, Monday.

Were you smiling at her? You look so sweet.

Monday. Saturday. Monday. Game. Test. Relax. Release. Relax. Relax. Game. Test. Saturday. Monday. Relax. Release.

Her glass was empty and you were smiling at her and UGH.

Nora stood up, her knees knocking into the booth as she did so.

“Is everything alright, Captain?” You expressed concern over her. Your eyebrows furrowed as your smile went away.

“I gotta go.” Nora managed to choke out. She reached into her back pocket for her wallet as you stared at her with confusion.

“What? Are you sure?” Nora threw $20 on the table and grabbed her bag from the floor.

“Yeah. I gotta… I gotta go…” Nora turned and sped out of the shop, leaving you alone.

She made it back to her apartment and unlocked the door with shaky hands. Abby greeted her from the couch, hair in a low ponytail instead of its usual braid.

“Hey, Nora you–“ Abby stopped herself when she finally looked at her roommate. “What’s wrong?” She turned to her and grabbed her before Nora could sped past the couch. “Come on. Around the couch you go.” Abby pulled Nora by her belt loop around the couch and made her sit down. “What’s up with you. And don’t say you have another test to study for because you’ve already studied enough.” Nora scrunched up her nose and looked away from Abby.

“There’s no such thing as too much studying.”

“Nora…” Abby’s voice was stern.

“Fine, fine… There’s this… this girl and she… she said I was a stiff and treated me to ice cream today and I can’t focus around her and also I can’t stop thinking about her and also–” Nora plopped herself face first into Abby’s lap, groaning loud enough for her roommate to hear.

“Does my Nora have a crush?” Abby teased at her, poking the back of her head. Nora sprung up.

“What! No! Of course not!” Abby didn’t believe her. “I just can’t focus around her, that’s all. And it’s frustrating me.” Nora defended herself, slumping against the couch.

“Hmm. Sounds like a crush to me.” Abby retorted, leaning her head on her hand.

Nora couldn’t have a crush! I mean, when has Nora ever had time to think about crushes? Or dating? Hell, with boys or girls!

“I don’t have time for crushes, Abby.” Nora slumped some more until she sat on the floor.

“You don’t have time for anything, Nora! All you do is work, work, work. And I know we’re in college but that doesn’t mean you have to give yourself to the seeds of capitalism just yet.” Abby kicked Nora in the thigh as a way of telling her to get off the floor.

Nora got up with a pout.

“All I’m saying, Nora,” She started, propping her feet on the coffee table, “is that maybe this could do you some good. You got to enjoy life, and you can’t enjoy it if you’re stuck hunched over a book all day.” Nora rolled her eyes before retreating to her room to take a cold shower.

The next morning, after her 4am run and a long shower, Nora got dressed for the day and sat down at her desk to study. She didn’t have any classes today, her professor for the day sending out an email to cancel class the night before. She opened the giant biology textbook that never left her desk and tried to remember where she had left off last.

I was writing notecards, she remembered as she searched her desk to find them.

Her search was interrupted by the loud ping of her cellphone. Nora chose to ignore it, thinking that it was probably just Abby trying to remind her to eat something. Her phone vibrated again and Nora rolled her eyes with a loud sigh and got up to check it out.

She walked over to her bed and picked the phone off the pillow, squinting her eyes at the sudden light hitting her face as another notification came.

“Hi, Captain!” It was you. You texted her.

Oh my god you texted her!

“I know you said only to use your number in case of emergencies but I guess this would qualify as an emergency because you kinda left in a hurry so!!!”

“Are you ok, Captain? I wanted to check up on you afterwards but I didn’t know whether you’d want me to use this number or not so I didn’t text you but I didn’t know what happened and I was getting nervous so I texted you.” God did you ramble.

“Sorry for rambling.” You sent a few seconds later. You added a crying emoji for effect.

It was then, in that moment, that Nora realized she didn’t know how to respond to you.

Why weren’t her fingers moving?

Why was she just staring at her phone with a stupid face?

Move, dammit! Move!

With a deep breath, Nora let out a big, long groan of, “ABBY!” Said friend was at her door within seconds, hair in a frenzy and protein bottle in her hands, ready to attack someone.

“Nora! Nora what is it? Is someone dying?” With wide eyes, Nora handed Abby her phone, to which Abby lowered her guard and grabbed it out of Nora’s hands. “Nora are you fucking kidding me?” Abby deadpanned after reading the messages, seeing it was only someone expressing concern over her friend and not like…cyberstalking her or some shit.

“I don’t know what to do please help me.” If Abby wasn’t so mad at her she'd tease her for her inexperience and compare her to a lamb. Abby flopped on the bed with a groan and started typing away.

“Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing?” Nora asked frantically as she tried to snatch the phone out of her hands.

“I’m replying. Duh!” She said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, but Abby! What are you saying to her?” Nora whined, attempting to grab it again only to fall on Abby’s lap.

“You know, for someone who denies that this is a crush you aren’t really helping your case all that much.” She continued typing, and Nora thought that whatever she was typing would be long and embarrassing and stressful.

“Abby!” Nora dragged out her name as she tried to reach for the phone again. “Come on! I know you’re gonna put something embarrassing!” Nora gave Abby a pout and made no move to move off of her friend.

“I’m not! I swear!”

“Then read it to me!”

“What?”

“Read what you wrote to her!”

“Ugh, you’re so childish.” She said as if she wasn’t the one typing something to Nora’s…Nora’s…well…Nora’s whatever. “Hey, (y/n).” Abby paused. “Such a cute name by the way. Good choice.” She continued. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking up on me. I was wondering if we could meet up later and–” Nora started to protest, reaching up for the phone. Abby held it away from her. “And I could, hey quit that–” Abby smacked her hand away. “I could explain why I’ve been acting so weird lately, if that’s alright with you–Nooooooo.” Abby whined like a child when Nora snatched the phone away and deleted the text message. “All my hard work! Wasted! Oh the inhumanity!” Abby fell on the bed, fake fainting.

“I don’t wanna meet her.” Nora muttered as she stared at the phone with a glare.

“And why not? I told you, this is good!” Nora looked at her in disbelief. “This is good! You need a break, Nora. If you don’t slow down now next time you have time for yourself you’ll be a bag of bones!”

“Not a bag of bones…”

“Yes, a bag of bones! So you are going to take this phone, text this girl back, and you are going to talk to her or by god I will throw your planners away. And I know where you keep them. All of them.” Abby pushed the phone up to Nora’s face.

“Even the Scooby Doo one?”

“Especially the Scooby Doo one. That goes first. Now type.” With a cry and a wail about how hard Abby was making her life, Nora started texting you back, giving the phone to Abby for approval.

“Hey, (y/n).” She started typing. “Abby please don’t make me do this.” Abby didn’t budge. “I’m fine. Thank you for checking up on me. I promise I’m ok and you don’t need to worry about me–”

“Don’t put that. You're invalidating her feelings.” Abby interjected.

“…I’m happy you checked up on me. If you want I’d like to meet–”

“Abby I’m nervous! Please can’t I just go back to studying?” Abby told her no.

“…up with you again. Maybe sometime this afternoon. Or whenever you want to it doesn’t have to be today it could be tomorrow or next week or–”

“You’re stalling.” Abby warned her, already reaching for her Scooby Doo planner hidden under her mattress.

“…Is this afternoon good?” Nora closed her eyes and hit send.

You replied within a minute.

“Sure! How about around 5. I should be done with my hair around then.” You sent a bunch of emojis afterwards and Nora plopped down in the bed with a groan after she agreed.

“See? You see how good things go when you listen to me?” Abby put the almost destroyed planner back in its place and patted Nora on the head. Nora groaned even louder. “Now. I want to know what time you’re going so you can have time to look nice.” Abby added emphasis on that last part. “And I mean it. No sweatpants or oversized jackets. I want you looking nice.” Nora’s face dropped at Abby’s constrictions.

“You’re already making me suffer by going outside but now you’re making me dress nice? You’re killing me, Abby!”

“No, I’m helping you. Now hold on for a second. I need to text the group chat about this historical moment.” Nora's eyes widened as she watched Abby get up and run back to her room before she could stop her.

When 4:30 rolled around, Nora patted herself down nervously and stared at Abby with a confused face.

“Come on, Nora. You look fine.” Nora stared at herself once more, her black jeans, light blue t-shirt and black shoes seeming too…boring for this.

“I-I don’t know, Abby. Maybe I should just cancel and say I got sick. Is it too late to hit myself with something?” Nora held her purse in shaky hands.

“No! You’re doing this. Now come on.” Abby dragged her from out her room and to the living room, where their friends, Manny, Owen, and Mel were hanging out and watching tv.

“You guys! Abby’s forcing me to go outside! Help me!” Nora tried to plead as she dragged her feet on the floor.

“Hmm… I don’t see a problem with that.” Manny spoked, looking at her with amusement clear on his features.

“Yeah, Nora. Owen and I for sure thought you were going to turn into a vampire or something if you stayed inside any longer.” Mel agreed while Owen nodded his head.

“That’s not how vampirism works and you know it!” Nora planted her feet into the ground and groaned. “Owen! Hide me! Help me! Save me!” Nora pleaded as Abby pushed her along to the door.

“Sorry, Nora. My expertise is animals not humans.” He said with a shrug and put his head on Mel’s shoulder.

“Traitors! Traitors! All of you!” Abby finally got her to the door and pushed her out with a huff.

“You be back no earlier than 6. Got it?” Abby ordered. Before Nora, could protest, Abby interrupted her. “If you wanna save the Scooby Doo planner you better start walking.” Nora closed her mouth and glared at her before calling her a muscle head and walking away. She heard the chorus of bye’s and have fun’s as she walked down the hall. You both had agreed to meet up at the campus park, and as Nora walked up, she saw you sitting on the bench with a book in your hands. Nora recognized it as Pride and Prejudice, something Abby had read a thousand times.

You looked up and spotted her. With a smile, you said, “Hi, Captain!” You placed the book beside you and waved at her. You had twists in your hair, and it went down to just below your shoulders.

“Hey, (Y/n).” Nora sat down next to you and placed her hands in her lap.

“I’m glad you decided to meet up! I was really worried about you yesterday.” You tried to keep the smile on your face despite the concern present.

Nora’s face burned as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Yeah, um, sorry about that I…um…” Nora couldn’t really explain herself in that moment.

“No need to explain yourself, Captain. I’m just glad you’re ok.” Your smile never faltered and Nora decided to smile back.

“But-But thank you! For, um, taking me to the ice cream place yesterday. I really appreciate it.” Nora didn’t know why she was stuttering so much. If the group were here they’d be laughing at her.

“No problem. I like going there a lot. Not just for the treats but…it’s calming. Gives me time to get away.” Your phone buzzed and you checked it with a frown.

“Is everything alright?” Nora felt kinda sad when your attention wasn’t on her.

“Yeah. It’s just my stupid ex.” EX? Ex as in ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend? Ex-partner? Oh my god what was Nora thinking? She didn’t have time for crushes! Let alone any time for exes or dating of feelings or–

“Hey, Captain.” Nora perked up.

“Y-Yeah?” She could run. Nora could run and hide and go back to the apartment Scooby Doo planner be DAMNED.

“You remember when I told you about getting caught up in the little things?” Nora remembered, yes. “This is one of those little things. Just relaxing in the park, or going to the ice cream parlor, or staying after practice with you.”

Wait, what? Nora must’ve misheard.

“I could never share those little things with anybody else. Not even a person I had thought I liked. But I can with you.” You turned to her with a smile, moving a stray twist from out of your face. “I’m glad I was able to show you the things that relax me. Hopefully, Captain, they can relax you too.”

“Nora.” She blurted out.

“Hmm?” You titled you head to the side.

“You can call me Nora. I-I don’t mind.” You smiled at her, and Nora started to feel her heart burst in her chest.

“Ok…Nora.” Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Nora liked you.

Holy shit. She liked you.

“I-I’m glad you thought about me so much.” Nora played with her fingers as she spoke.

“Well, Nora. How about we go see a movie? I hear there’s this new mystery movie that’s so intense that people lost their senses when they left the theater!”

Nora laughed at your giddiness.

“Sure. I’d like that.” You stood up and grabbed your book to place it in your bag. You held out your hand to Nora and she took it, although a bit hesitantly.

“Cool. Let’s go, then.”

Maybe, just maybe, Nora could learn how to handle a crush this time around.

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 15

Harry remembers this day perfectly last year. How he'd woken up to y/n starfished across the bed, a leg and an arm thrown over him and her impossibly full belly peeking out from where her pajama shirt got bunched up in her sleep. The sun was barely rising, and Harry still blames his early rousing on the 'gut feeling' he had about Arlo being born that day, but y/n knows he was just excited about his birthday and most likely woke up with a stiffy. He had rubbed his palm over her belly, hoping to feel their son kick against his palm but it was even too early for him. Harry woke y/n with dozens of kisses dotted to her face and belly, and his intentions became clear when he nibbled on her shoulder. Y/n had sleepily wished him a happy birthday, moaning softly under his lethargic kisses and somehow he managed to undress her without any complaints from his wife. He remembers literally being inches away from burying himself in her when she'd shot up like she'd been punched in the stomach, smacking into his chest with a gasp. Before he could ask what was wrong her thighs (and a little bit of him) were wet as were the bed sheets. And he remembers scrambling to the hospital, throwing the overnight bag over his shoulders after he'd thrown on random articles of clothing and helped y/n dress. Remembers rushing to the hospital, hands tight on the wheel as he listened to y/n harshly pant and whimper through contractions. He remembers sitting through hours of nothing but contractions and ice chips, remembers going a bit light headed when delivery started and he could see blood on the doctor's hands. And he'll always remember the sound of his son crying for the first time.

Harry thought that he'd spend every birthday for the rest of his life only being able to think about how it felt to hold Arlo for the first time, but that thought's completely out the window today, because y/n's got a firm hand on his cock and her mouth latched onto the junction where his thigh and pelvis meet.

"Fuck me," he groans, eyes squeezing shut and hands immediately flying to grip her hair. Her hum vibrates through his skin, obviously pleased that he's finally woken up. A loud pop sounds through the room as she pulls her mouth from him, skin throbbing with a blossoming hickey.

"Rain check until tonight?" She cheekily asks, and the curse on the tip of tongue morphs into a heavy moan when her lips move around the head of his heavily leaking prick. He finds himself nodding, lifting his head up to peer down at his wife. Once their eyes meet, his wet and bleary with sleep and arousal, y/n drops further down him until her hand meets her mouth.

"Bloody-"he throws his head back on the pillows, eyes squeezing shut and hips flexing up into her mouth. The hum that resonates through her tickles across his dick, body racking with pleasure. He can't stop the guttural groan that leaves his mouth, brain swirling.

His feet find the mattress, hips propelling up and shoving his cock further down her throat. He feels her hands tighten on his hips and her throat spasm, but like always, she takes him with no complaints. He lets up, knowing he can't be balls deep in her mouth as much as he'd like to because his poor girl needs to breathe. Hips falling back to the mattress, he whimpers softly as he tongue works around his head. His thighs twitch, waiting for her to sink down on him again.

"S'okay H, go ahead." Her voice is a little rough and sleepy, but she speaks to him firmly and moves her hands down to grip his thighs. Lips parted and awaiting his next move, Harry doesn't waste a second in guiding himself back down her throat. He takes it slow at first, not wanting to hurt her or make her uncomfortable. It's not until her eyes have dropped shut, staggering pants leaving her nose does Harry snap.

Head thrown back on the pillows, teeth clenched shut to keep from being too loud with their son only a room over, Harry fucks into her mouth with all he's got. His mouth can't even form anything other than guttural groans, but he hopes y/n knows that he wants to tell her he loves her, that's she's the most perfect wife in the world. And he thinks the same may be coming from her with the way she's tenderly stroking over the tattoos on his thighs and tummy, almost encouragingly. She offering silent praises to him for fucking her throat.

One of her hands drop to softly cup his balls, fingertips running over the sensitive skin, and that's what does Harry in. He stills, hips twitching against her mouth as his cock shoots ropes of cum into her. Harry feels like he's gone to heaven. He literally woke up to y/n sucking his soul out in the best way possible. What a way to go, he thinks happily, slowly falling back to the mattress. Y/n stays latched to the head of him, mouthing at his still drippy slit until he's calmed down to actually open his eyes again.

She makes her way back up his body, dotting his bare skin with wet little kisses as she goes. He tilts his head to the side when she reaches his neck, purring as she leaves a sucking kiss there. She moves up his chest, knees straddling his tummy and peering down at him. The sight makes him groan. He's been welcomed to heaven with her.

Eyes glossy but happy, lips swollen and red with spot on them, and hair tussled from his fingers, she smiles sweetly at him. "Happy birthday bub."

Harry closes their mouths in a needy kiss, stomach clenching pleasantly when he tastes himself on her. "I love you darling." Harry mutters against her lips, tangling his fingers in her hair again.

"I love you Harry." His head thumps back against the pillows, smiling all dopey at her. If his still throbbing cock is anything to go by, he knows she loves him.

~

Straightening out the table cloth he's thrown over the folding table, Harry looks up just in time to see Arlo smack a balloon out of y/n's mouth, the rubber material flying through the air and sputtering.

"Heeey," she whines, as he giggles happily and Harry can't help but chuckle too. The balloon lands in a heap at his feet, and he bends down to retrieve it and toss it back at his wife. She jostles in her lap, glaring dramatically at him. "you're ruining all of mumma's hard work!"

Arlo ghosts his fingers over her lips, eyes wide as if looking at the brightest star. Harry's pretty sure he looks at her the same way. "Mumma,"

Just as Harry expected, y/n gulps, and her breath trembles as tears well in her eyes. He tries not to laugh as she squeezes Arlo into her chest. "You're getting so big," she cries mournfully, "my baby boy is not a baby anymore!"

Arlo grunts against her chest, little arms wrapping as far around her as they can, and Harry decides it's time for him to swoop in before she hugs him so tight he pops.

"Of course he's still a baby," a Harry reassures, picking Arlo up of her lap and settling him on his hip. "he's our baby, huh? Always gonna be our baby aren't ya?"

Y/n sniffles sadly as Arlo gurgles what Harry thinks is supposed to be the word baby. He's getting better at speaking, trying out more words, but there's only a few he can really say, the main ones being daddy, mumma, and peas. Harry couldn't be more proud. In fact, he thinks those are the only three words Arlo needs to learn.

"How am I the one crying?" Y/n laughs sheepishly, wiping her cheeks. "I thought you'd be the mess today."

Harry makes an offended sound, bouncing Arlo in his arms. "Me? Never!" Arlo smacks his palm against Harry's jaw, smiling at his pout. "Big, strong daddy never cries." Y/n doesn't have to laugh because Arlo does it for her.

"You cried the whole day after he was born."

Unable to come up with an argument, Harry changes the subject. "You just keep blowing up balloons. Us birthday boys are gonna go get in the shower." He turns to the stairs just as y/n throws an empty balloon at his back, both of them giggling as he dashes up the stairs.

~

"Gotta look extra nice today, okay? Give mumma something to brag about."

Arlo babbles, splaying his fingers out over the swallows on Harry's bare chest. He digs a diaper out of the dresser drawer, tossing it on the bed before placing Arlo down on the sheets, towel still bunched around him. Harry quickly slips a pair of boxers and grey trousers, keeping an eye on his son to make sure he doesn't take a tumble off the bed or anything.

"Alright, no more naked baby," Harry lays Arlo down, tickling the bottom of his foot when he shoves it up towards Harry's face. He gets a deep belly laugh in response, Arlo laying back and smiling up at Harry, happily letting him put his diaper on. Harry had set aside their clothes last night, hanging them off to the side in his closet where y/n wouldn't spot them because he wanted to surprise her, and it makes his job of getting Arlo dressed easier.

Matching grey pants with black suspenders attached, a little white button up, and a dark green bowtie to top it off. It may be a little over the top, but Harry will always treat his family like royalty, especially on their birthday. And the same goes for him, he reminds himself, pulling his own black suspenders up and straightening his tie.

Arlo sits on the sink by him while he brushes his teeth, and then he uses his finger to rub some baby toothpaste on the few teeth Arlo's got, finally dabbing some cologne on his wrists (and a tiny bit on Arlo's too).

Harry holds him up in front of the mirror, grinning proudly at the baby that looks like a miniature him. "We look good mate." He nods, patting Arlo's bum when he grumbles an agreement. They head downstairs, Harry leaving the gates open since Arlo will be watched all day, knowing he won't be able to get close to climbing the stairs on his own without someone swooping in.

Theo is yapping at the front door, and Harry can hear y/n chatting excitedly with whoever's arrived. Balloons have now been hung up, tied in a row the crosses the living room and dining room, framed by green and yellow streamers. Plastic plates and bowls designed to look like footballs sit on the serving table, surrounding a cake in the shape of a Packers logo. HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY AND ARLO is piped in thick white icing on it, a big #1 candle for Arlo and a #26 for Harry.

"There they are!" Harry turns, almost tripping on Theo who's pawing at his pant leg excitedly. Kate and Scott greet the two boys excitedly, wishing them both a happy birthday with a hug. Kate attempts to pry her godson off of Harry's hip, but Arlo grumbles threateningly, the sound bordering on a cry and turn his head into Harry's shoulder.

"Good to know he's still attached to you like a leech." Scott jokes, clapping Harry on the back with a laugh. Harry shrugs at Kate's pout, smiling sympathetically.

"Give him a bit. He's not used to sharing his house with everyone."

"I think you mean he's not used to sharing you." Kate mumbles, reaching down to pick up Theo. The pup wiggles happily, licking her hand. "When did ya get this little beast?"

Y/n comes moves around them into the kitchen, Scott following her as she offers him a drink. "Christmas gift for this little beast." He laughs, jostling Arlo. That earns him another grumble.

Scott and y/n return, a beer in his hand and a cup of iced tea for Kate. Y/n, now noticing her boys, falters when she sees they're matching and Harry beams. Until her eyes well with tears again, and then he's trying not to laugh as he hugs her.

"We're having an emotional day," Harry says through surpressed giggles, finding the bewildered look on Scott's face to be even funnier than his wife. Y/n whines, pinching his side until he yelps.

The front door opening distracts everyone from y/n, who's trying to stop crying, and the obnoxious shout of "oi oi!" from the door let's Harry know that the Tomlinson's have arrived. Scott and Kate step up to greet them, giving Harry and Arlo a minute to smack kisses to his wife's face until she's giggling.

Steve and Marie come in with trays of food, sticking to the football theme with hot dogs, hot wings, and burgers. The food gets set up, and Harry and Arlo are passed around for hugs and kisses while y/n let's Theo out back. Chloe stacks gifts in the living room, most of which are for Arlo but Harry really doesn't care. His best gift is sat in his arms wearing a matching bow tie and playing with the buttons on his shirt.

It's a bit overwhelming when Nick, Lionel, and Liam all show up together, the three men being more rambunctious together than usual, especially when they see Louis is here as well. Harry's so caught up in trying to get Arlo to say hello to Liam that he misses Gemma and Anne arriving until y/n calls out to them. He knew they were coming, they were so excited when they received their invitation, but seeing them step into his house to celebrate his birthday for the first time in ten years is like the first drop of a roller coaster.

"Well aren't you two cute," Gemma says in greeting, reaching up to flick his bow tie. He rolls his eyes, noticing the wrapped present Anne is holding.

"Oh, you can put tha' over there." Harry says, using the present as a distraction from hugging either of them. He ignores the suddenly overwhelming need to cry, swallowing thickly and stroking his fingers up and down Arlo's back.

"Happy birthday you two." Anne says shyly, lips twitching in a nervous smile. Harry thanks her, calling Gemma away from y/n so he can take them for introductions with Kate and Scott. Anne finds a spot with Steve and Marie, and Gemma settles in with Chloe and Kate. Charlie runs over to try and play with Arlo, but he's still upset with the thought of not being carried around by Harry so he sends his niece and nephew out back to play with Theo. Steve ends up following, being a sucker for dogs.

Harry meets up with y/n in the kitchen where she's making more punch. "Thank you for the party darling." He murmurs, coming up behind her to press a kiss to her cheek.

"Don't have to thank me. I've been waiting for an excuse to actually throw you a party." She teases, turning around to wrap her arms around his waist. Arlo lays his head on Harry's chest, watching his mom fondly. She leans in, kissing his chubby cheek.

"Last year at this time I was feeding ya ice chips while you cried." Harry whispers, eyes stinging with tears again. Y/n notices, but she doesn't draw attention to it. She knows how swamped he must feel with everyone being here today, especially Anne and Gemma. He was so heartbroken when they didn't show up last year that it's probably a little much to finally have them here. Not to mention the fact that the first year of his baby's life has gone so fast.

"S'your fault. Gave our son your big head."

Harry laughs wetly, pecking the crown of Arlo's head and then y/n's forehead. He should feel bad for not being out with the guests right now, but it feels so nice to have a moment of just the four of them that he doesn't care. Like Arlo, he doesn't want to share either.

~

Harry and Arlo are sat at the head of the table, the Packers cake placed in front of them and candles lit. He feels a bit odd being under such heavy attention, but he doesn't worry about it too much because Arlo starts crying as soon as they start singing. He burrows in Harry's chest, the miniature cake hat that matches Harry's falling off his head as he wails. Harry bounces him, laughing a bit. Arlo doesn't calm down until the signing has stopped, still hiccuping when Harry turns him around for a picture and then blows out the candles. The cheering makes him grunt angrily, slinking lowly in Harry's lap.

"You used to cry on your birthday too." Gemma tell him as y/n passes around cake. Marie starts the tale of Louis doing it too, claiming it's a 'boy thing' because y/n loved being sang to on her birthday. That makes Harry smile, knowing that to this day she blushes and smiles all pretty on her birthday.

Him and Arlo share their slice of cake, majority of it ending up as mush on Arlo's face. He does enjoy the frosting, so much so that he ends up smearing it all across Harry's face trying to feed some to him. He has to take off his tie that's had cake dropped on it, and Arlo's button up and tie end up in the laundry room as well.

They move to the living room for presents, Arlo receiving an abundance of toys and clothes from everyone, but much to Harry's surprise, his favorite gift comes from Anne and Gemma. It's an old baby bath towel, the corner turning into a good that makes a beaming frog. The fabric is worn but soft, and Arlo immediately throws it over his head with a squeal. The picture in the box is what makes Harry freeze.

It's him. Him when he couldn't have been much older than Arlo is now, sat in a diaper on his father's lap. He's got the towel thrown over his head, face scrunched up in a smile that matches his father. Harry had forgotten about the towel, and he hadn't known that this picture even existed.

"What is it?" Louis asks, nudging Harry with his foot. Harry hesitates, not sure if he wants to share the special photo with everyone. But then Arlo crawls into Harry's lap, eyes barely visible under the too big hood and he smiles.

"Daddy," he coos, chubby fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt again and Harry realizes that if this were him and Arlo, he'd like to think his son would proudly show him off.

"S'me and my dad." Harry grins shyly, handing the photo over. He doesn't look up as it's passed around, not wanting to see everyone's pitiful looks or sympathetic smiles. Instead he brings Arlo to his chest, hiding his nose in his babies little shoulder. Arlo's arms wrap around his head tightly and his legs slink around his torso.

"Daddy," he says again, as if telling the whole world that this is his father and he's the absolute best father ever.

"Yeah bug," he murmurs, "s'me. And I love you so much."

~

Harry feels good as he throws another crushing hit to Liam's hand. He's not tired, nothing in his body seriously aches, he's still focused. And it's refreshing. He feels like he hasn't fought in years, spending weeks resting after his concussion and then taking time off for his family. Maybe he should've trained more, gotten more ready for such a serious tournament, but he thinks the time off did him well. His family is healing, his son just turned one, and his beautiful wife is growing bigger with his baby each day. He's got everything together.

"That's it H!" Liam encourages, absorbing each hit with only a grimace on his face. After all these years, his palms are used to taking the brunt of Harry's beatings. "Finish it!" Fueled by the cheer, Harry throws a few more quick but hard punches, knowing the final hit would've been a KO.

He smirks, rolling out his tense shoulders as Liam shakes out his hands. He moves off the mat, loosening his gloves with his teeth and peeling them off. He flexes his taped knuckles, accepting the towel Liam tosses him to dry off his sweaty torso and neck.

"Cool down on treadmill?" Liam asks but Harry knows it's an order. He gulps down some water, tossing the towel to the side and heading to the treadmill. He keeps the speed low, lightly jogging as he removes the tape on his hands.

"Ready for this weekend?" Liam asks him, leaning against the wall in front of Harry. He crosses his arms over his chest, nodding at Harry’s speed approvingly.

"Yeah. I feel really good, think I can give Martin a good fight." Harry tries not to be too prideful but it's hard when he finally feels like his life is becoming what he's always wanted it to be.

Liam chuckles, leaning over to check Harry's heart rate on the machine. "What about the missus and the babies? Gonna do okay without them?"

Harry's smile falls, eyebrows dropping at the reminder. The fight this weekend is out of town, two nights before he'll get to come home and it just didn't seem right for the whole family to go. Arlo can't go to the fight, which means they'd have to take a babysitter (Anne and Gemma most likely) but there's really no reason to take everyone. And y/n and Harry are still too attached to leave him for two nights, meaning y/n stays home too. Besides, she should be getting restful, comfortable sleeps in their bed at home. Not some hotel in a rowdy city after sitting on the rough benches in an old gym.

"I'll be fine," Harry says, most trying to assure himself. "s'not my first overnight fight without them."

He lowers his speed to just a walk, chest feeling a little heavier. He knows he can handle two nights without his family, but he doesn't really want to. He hates waking up in a bed without y/n, and he knows it'll be worse now that's she pregnant again. He's not just leaving one baby behind, he's leaving two.

"It'll go by quicker than you think." Liam promises, and Harry shuts off the treadmill, stepping down. He follows Liam back to the bench, praying that the rundown for this weekend goes by quickly. He's eager to shower and head home so he can snuggle up with his wife and babies.

~

Harry's crying, and it's pathetic, and he knows that. But he couldn't care less. Y/n has got Arlo on her hip, looking so small and cute with his two babies, and he just wants to wrap the three of them up and never let go. But he can't. Because he's got a fight to get to and a family to provide for. You can set them up for life, he reminds himself as he pecks Arlo's forehead and y/n's belly.

"I'll call you when I get there, yeah?" Harry mumbles, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

Y/n nods. "And before bed?"

"And in the morning." He promises, eyelashes fluttering when she reaches out to brush a stray curl off his forehead. Y/n jostles Arlo on her hip, and Harry turns to him with a fake stern look on his face, not wanting to crack under the piercing frown his son is giving him.

"You be good for mumma, okay? Man of the house this weekend. Gotta make sure her and the bub are eatin' and sleepin' good. Don't want to come home to any messes." Arlo grunts, obviously displeased with his dad's departure and not wanting to hear the 'responsibilities' Harry's bestowed upon him.

"Daddy," Arlo whimpers, reaching out to Harry with a pout on his pink lips. He shouldn't, but Harry cradles his baby to his chest anyway for a last minute snuggle.

"I know baby," he whispers, "but s'only for a couple days. I'll be back before ya know it." He lifts Arlo away from his neck, taking in his pouty baby. The light onesie he's wearing and the clear skies above make his eyes shine with a baby blue glimmer, and Harry wishes he could just look at him forever.

The longing look Harry's give his son is heartbreaking, and it's even worse when Arlo returns the same gaze back. He grumbles something that sounds like 'miss' and Harry takes that as Arlo letting him know that he'll miss his daddy. "I'll miss you too bub, but you know I love you more than anything."

Arlo's tiny lip wobbles sadly at the soft spoken sentiment, and Harry immediately brings him back to his chest. It's the first little cry that makes Harry's eyes burn with tears and he squeezes his eyes shut as he splatters kisses to Arlo's head.

"We'll be okay Harry," y/n comforts, taking the wailing baby from Harry. Arlo curls into her chest, little body wracking with sobs. His own lip wobbles, y/n cupping his cheek to assure him that they'll be okay.

"I love you," he swears, leaning into to kiss her deeply. She happily kisses him back, mumbling the promise back to him. With one last fleeting kiss to each of them, Harry drags his feet towards Nick car that's holding a very patient Nick and Liam. His bag's already been loaded in the trunk, so he climbs in the backseat, waving sadly at his family on the doorstep. Y/n returns it, smiling sympathetically as he shuts the door. He tries not to look at them as Liam quickly drives away, not wanting to give Harry an opportunity to jump out. It's not until the gate leading up to the driveway shuts behind them that Harry scrambles for his phone, clicking y/n's contact.

"Hiya love," she greets cheekily, "miss me already?"

"Yes," Harry answers honestly, "and I forgot to remind you to lock the doors and set the alarm. I'll check the gates and stuff."

Y/n giggles at his protectiveness. "I will Harry." She promises, knowing he worries. Every time he's ever had to leave her home alone he's taken the time to remind her to be safe and let her know that he'll be watching over them when he can.

"Good," he murmurs, wiping at the tear that dribbles down his cheek. He can hear Theo yip happily, followed by a wet giggle and his chest feels lighter knowing that Arlo's being cheered up already. The dog was a damn good idea.

"There's a bag in the backseat with you-" Harry looks over, finding the reusable bag sitting on the floor of the car, "s'got some stuff for the trip for you."

He hauls it onto the seat, smiling when he finds his favorite snacks and banana smoothie, including a container of peas and mashed potatoes. "I love you." He breathes, smiling when he finds a travel sized blanket and one of her the pillow cases for their bed folded up.

"I love you too,"

"I'm gonna make you proud." He swears, wiping at his wet cheeks.

"You already have Harry." Y/n assures him, and he can't help but choke out another sob. He's always been quite the crybaby when it comes to his family. He loves them so much and he's got a chance to take care of them for the rest of their lives, all starting with the fight tomorrow night. He's not going to let this one get away from him.

[mldrgrl]

Prompt: Mulder and Scully investigate a case in a carnival and get trapped with a fortune teller. Early seasons.

Getting There

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Note: I’m setting this right after Two Fathers/One Son.  I know the request was for early seasons, but I wanted to separate it, in an emotional sense of where they’re at in their partnership, from Humbug.

Bright lights.  Beeping, hissing, clanging, sirens.  Screams that ebb and flow.  The smell of deep fried food everywhere.  Sawdust and straw underfoot.

“Remind me again why we’re here,” Scully says.

“12-year old Faye Rawlings,” Mulder answers, holding up the 3x5 school picture-day photo cupped in his hand and scanning the crowd for a blonde little girl with a pixie cut and explosion of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.  “Disappeared in 1977 at the Oklahoma state fair.  She went into the fun house with her 9-year old brother, Tommy, and never came out.  Tommy claims he was separated from his sister in the hall of mirrors and that one minute he was holding her hand and the next, Faye was gone from his side, but she was still in the reflections of all the mirrors.  The local authorities classified it as a kidnapping, but the case has been cold since she first went missing 20 years ago.”

Scully scans the crowd along with Mulder and pivots several times for a 360 degree view.  She holds up an identical photo to the one Mulder has, drops it again and gives an impatient sigh.

“And what’s your interest in this case?” she asks.  “We’ve had the x-files back for barely a month and this is not an x-file.”

“Sure it is.  Missing 12-year olds don’t go popping up 20 years later at traveling carnivals.”

“32, Mulder.  She’d be 32-years old by now.”

“I know.  That’s what makes it so weird that nine witnesses have reported spotting 12-year old Faye Rawlings in the last three months.”

“Is your theory alien abduction?”

“I don’t have a theory.  Yet.”

“I still don’t believe it’s an x-file.  Someone is simply playing a cruel prank.”

“Nine separate witnesses, Scully.  The first in Broken Arrow, the last in Enid.  The only thing they have in common is that they were all reported at this traveling carnival.”

“Mulder, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that while finding Faye Rawlings isn’t outside the realm of possibility, finding a 12-year old Faye Rawlings stands contrary to reason.”

“That’s what we’re in Lawton to find out.”

Scully sighs again and Mulder moves off towards the concessions area.  He flashes his badge and the photo of Faye at the vendors, but receives a shake of the head in response when he asks if anyone has seen this girl.  It’s a no from the hot dog cookers, the cotton candy spinners, the candy apple dippers, the pretzel salters, the churro fryers, and the corn-on-the-cob roasters.  Moving on, it’s the same no sir, haven’t seen her, sir, from the barkers trying to entice customers into ring tosses, popping balloons with darts, throwing ping pong balls into tiny glass fish bowls, or shooting jets of water into clowns’ mouths.

“Where’s the Fun House?” Mulder asks, trying to peer through the chaos of bummer cars, Tilt-a-Whirls, and carousels.

“Left?” Scully asks, pointing towards a row of string lights at the top of a wooden building.

They head left through narrow, but well-trodden paths created by the haphazard barriers from ride to ride.  No matter where they zig-zag, they can’t escape the constant assault of organ grinder music and screaming children.

“It’s the Tunnel of Love,” Mulder says, stopping in front of the building with the string lights.

“The other end.”  Scully points to the right where another building stands.

“Try here first so we don’t have to backtrack.”

They wait in the short line, standing out like sore thumbs amongst giggly teenagers holding hands.  A wave of nostalgia comes over Scully and she catches herself smiling a little wistfully as she remembers summer nights at the fair with friends from high school.  Mulder bumps his elbow into her arm a few times and gives her a quizzical look.  She lets the smile fade and shakes her head a little.  They keep moving forward until they’re the next in line.

“Eight tickets,” the operator says.  He’s tall and skinny with dark, greasy hair that he flips out of his eyes every so often.  He’s also barely older than the giggly teens he’s been shepherding two at a time into the tiny red boats.

Even though Mulder already has his badge out, he still produces a roll of tickets and hands them over to the operator.  “Agents Mulder and Scully,” he tells the kid.  “We’re investigating a missing persons matter.  Have you seen this girl?”

“I see a lot of girls, man.”

“Could you take a look?”

“Never seen her.”

“You didn’t even look.”

“In or out, man?  Gotta keep the line moving.”

“Come on, Mulder.”  Scully tugs at the elbow of Mulder’s suit jacket.

“Thanks for your help,” Mulder answers with thinly veiled sarcasm.  To Scully’s surprise, instead of moving towards the exit gate, he ushers her towards the tiny red boat.

“Mulder?”

“Get in.”

Confused, Scully steps into the boat and sits down.  Mulder squeezes in beside her.  The operator drops a bar across their laps and gives it a yank.

“Hands and arms inside the boat at all times,” he says.

The boat jerks forward towards a heart-shaped entrance into a tunnel and then they’re submerged in darkness.  They float along slowly and twinkle lights begin to blink in the ceiling and walls.

“What are we looking for?” Scully asks, dropping her voice when it echoes loudly in the darkness.

“Nothing,” Mulder answers.  “Didn’t want to waste tickets.”

She shifts uncomfortably.  As small in stature as she is, she still feels oversized in this small boat, wedged in so tightly next to Mulder.  He shifts as well and then stretches his arm along the back of the boat behind her shoulders.  The boat jerks to the side as they take a curve and jostles them into each other.  Reflexively, Mulder grabs onto her arm and pulls her close.  Reflexively, she tries to grab something to steady herself, which happens to be his thigh.

“Sorry,” she whispers, letting go so quickly that she falls deeper into his side.  He merely squeezes her shoulder.

As the ride continues, Scully becomes more and more uncomfortable to the point of feeling flustered and angry without exactly knowing why.  She just knows she can’t wait to get out of the boat and get away from Mulder.  And suddenly, she thinks, wouldn’t he much rather be in here in the dark with Agent Fowley?  And she knows exactly why she’s flustered and angry.

Finally, they emerge from the tunnel back to where they started and the bar across their laps pops up before they come to a stop.  Mulder lumbars out of the boat and turns to take her hand, which she ignores and steps out on her own.  He furrows his brows a little and then follows behind her as she tries not to stomp down the metal ramp to the exit in her haste to leave.

They head to the Fun House without a word.  There is no line there, just a mother and father with three small children trying to make it past the large, slowly spinning barrel into the rest of the attraction.  The kids are laughing and falling all over themselves trying to keep standing as long as possible as the barrel inches them higher.

Mulder breaks off the appropriate number of tickets from his roll and slides them under the glass partition to the ticket taker.  She barely looks up from the book she’s reading and he begrudgingly flashes his badge and the photo of Faye Rawlings.  She looks up, annoyed, and shakes her head before going back to her book.

They both walk through the spinning barrel quickly with little effort, although Mulder does keep his hand at Scully’s back.  He takes her hand as they meander through dozens of hanging punching bags.  She tries to pull away, but he holds tight.

“Don’t want to get separated,” he says.

“Why, Mulder?  You afraid I’ll disappear?”

He comes to an abrupt stop and she bumps into him.  He glances down at her, purses his lips slightly, and then slowly relaxes his grip on her hand and lets go.  “Can we just stick together, please?” he asks.

“I’m here aren’t I?”

“Barely,” he mutters and then moves off without her towards an undulating suspension bridge.

Scully is forced to hold onto both sides of the railing as she tries to make her way across the bridge as it tips and tilts from left to right.  There’s a doorway at the other side that leads into the hall of mirrors.  Mulder is waiting for her at the entrance.  They walk past the line of distortion mirrors that make them wide or tall, squat and elongated in all sort of ways, directly into the maze.

They head left and hit an immediate dead end with Mulder bumping into a mirror.  They head right and Scully bumps into a mirror as well.  They shift again, going forward, slipping along angled corridors with their infinite selves in front or to the sides of them at all times.

Scully hears the laughter of a small child and turns around, but sees nothing.  Mulder turns as well and a thousand Mulders turn with him, looking over her shoulder  She catches his eyes in the mirror and looks away, but she can still see him.  Everywhere she looks, she can see him, watching her from hundreds of different angles.  She feels overwhelmed and exposed.

Taking a deep breath, Scully closes her eyes for a moment and when she opens them, Mulder is gone.  A panicky, sick feeling comes over her and she whirls around to where he’d just been standing behind her.  When she moves left, she bumps into a mirror.  When she moves right, she bumps into another.  Her heart starts to pound and she holds her arms out, searching for open space.

“Mulder!” she calls.

She hears the child’s laughter again and when she turns around, this time a blonde little girl with a pixie haircut crosses in front of her.  “Mulder!” she calls out again.  When she turns, the little girl is in front of her, staring directly at her.  She reaches out to her and moves forward only to bump into a mirror.  When she steps back, she’s alone again.

“Faye?”  She turns in all directions, searching.  She whirls and whirls, but there’s no one but her and then she feels a hand at her wrist and she gasps.

“This way,” Mulder says, tugging her with him to the right.

“Mulder, did you…?”

“What is it?”  He glances back at her, but doesn’t stop moving her through the twists and turns of the maze.

“I thought I saw…”  

“What did you see?”

“Nothing.  Nevermind.”

They exit out of the mirrors to a set of stairs, half the steps on one side, half on the other.  Both sides move up and down in opposite ways.  When the footholds on the right move up, the footholds on the left move down and vice versa.  Mulder grabs onto the rails and heads up with ease.  Scully, still a little shaky from the mirrors, takes a little longer to climb up.

They move through an alley of spinning floor tiles and have to push through more punching bags until they come to a platform overlooking the entirety of the carnival.  They stand together at the ledge, silently watching from above.

“What did you mean when you said I was barely here?” she asks.

Mulder takes his time answering.  He stares out at the carnival and then he finally turns and looks at her.  “You’re here physically,” he says.  “You show up.  You do your job.  I’m just not sure you’re altogether present.  I’m not sure you want to be back on the x-files.”

“How can you say that?  Mulder, how can you say that after everything we’ve been through to get them back?”

Mulder holds up his hand in defense and shakes his head.  “Correction.  I’m not sure you want to be back on the x-files with me.”

“Oh.”  Scully looks away and out at the blinking lights and activity below.

“I notice you’re not disagreeing with me on that front.”

“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“I wouldn’t blame you.  But, if you don’t trust me-”

“Dammit, Mulder, why is it always about whether or not I trust you?  What if the problem is you not trusting me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“No, you don’t.  You trust Agent Fowley, but you don’t trust me.”

“I thought we were past this.”

“Apparently we’re not.”

Mulder grips the railing tightly and hunches his body as he lowers his head.  He stands up again after a few moments and blows air from his puffed cheeks.

“Would you rather have her as your partner?” Scully asks.  She’s been terrified to find out the answer to this question and so she’s been avoiding asking it, but it feels like a breaking point.

“Diana is gone.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”  

Scully turns and walks away from the platform.  She balls her hands into fists and shakes the tension out of her shoulders as she crosses the final gauntlet of rollers across the floor.  Without stopping to check on Mulder or wait for him to catch up, she crouches down and pulls herself into the spiral slide and lands on the mat at the bottom.

Standing with her back to the exit and her arms crossed, Scully waits for Mulder to come out.  A little boy and a little girl tumble out of the slide together before he does.  He pats dust from his knees and then they wordlessly walk away.  They head down a street of games promising oversized teddy bears for guessing the weight of an object or being able to ring a bell with the strength of the swing of a sledgehammer.  There’s a magic booth and a dunk tank.  Mulder diligently holds up the photo of Faye Rawlings at each station with no success.

They reach the small tent of Madam Zarina, Fortunes Told and Read.  An older woman with black, curly hair and olive skin sits outside.  She’s wearing silk scarves and a long, flowing skirt and gold hoop earrings and Scully thinks she looks the epitome of a cliche.

“Would you be Madam Zarina?” Mulder asks the woman, pulling his badge out of his pocket.

“I am Madam Zarina,” she answers.  

“We’re looking for a missing girl.”

“Come, come,” Madam Zarina beckons, pulling back the beaded curtain into her tent.  “I have something to tell you.”

“Ma’am my name is Agent Mulder, this is my partner, Agent Scully.”

“This way,” she answers.

Mulder steps into the tent and Scully reluctantly follows.  There are small bells attached to Madam Zarina’s skirt that tinkle lightly as she swishes past them to a small, round table covered with a blue cloth.  In the center is a crystal ball and a stack of tarot cards.

Scully remembers her sister Melissa dragging her to a psychic once in Venice Beach.  Melissa was a senior in high school at the time, eager to get out of the house, eager to start her life, and she was desperate for someone to tell her she was going to fulfill all her wildest dreams, which, at that time, had included being allowed to feather her hair like Farrah Fawcett which their father had expressly forbidden, wearing bellbottoms to school instead of her stuffy Catholic school uniform, backpacking through Europe as soon as she graduated, and becoming the next Sonny & Cher with her boyfriend, Todd.  

Melissa had excitedly plunked down a five dollar bill for the disappointing news that she was an unhappy girl that would never settle.  Still, though, she had taken it as a sign that she needed to be in more control of her destiny and as a result, quit school a short time later and she and Todd jumped on a flight to Spain only to break up two weeks later and part ways at a hostel in Italy.  Melissa was back in San Diego within a month, but she never regretted it, not for a minute.  

On that day, Melissa had also convinced Scully to reluctantly part with her hard-earned babysitting money and have her own reading done.  And she hadn’t forgotten what the stern-looking woman with the cigarette hanging off her lip, dropping ashes onto the table every time she spoke, said to her.  ‘You feel you are destined for greatness.  But, you’ll never reach it unless you stand up for yourself.  Don’t let anyone tell you what path to take.’  She’d remembered it when she was considering joining the FBI, but it had been a long time since she’d thought about it.

“Sit, sit,” Madam Zarina says, pointing to the two chairs in front of her.

“We’re with the FBI,” Mulder says, holding out his photo of Faye Rawlings.  “I want to know if you’ve seen this little girl at all.”

“Are you sure that’s what you’ve come here for?”

“Pretty sure.  Not much of a psychic, are you?”  Mulder snorts, tucking his badge and the picture back into his breast pocket.

“I read fortunes, I don’t claim visions of the future.”

“What’s the difference?” Scully asks.

“You have a question, the cards will tell you the answers.  I tell you what the cards say.”

“I don’t suppose you can activate that crystal ball there and let me show my photo to it, can you?” Mulder asks, flippantly.

Madam Zarina narrows her eyes a little and then with a flourish, removes her wig to reveal thinning, mousy brown hair.  She drops the wig over the back of her chair and then pulls off her clip-on earrings as well.

“People like the show.  They think a fortune teller is a gypsy, and that this is what a gypsy looks like.  You think anyone wants their cards read by Phyllis Davidson from Stillwater, Kansas?  Or the dark and mysterious Madam Zarina?”

“Sorry to have wasted your time,” Mulder answers.

“I’d like a reading,” Scully says.

Mulder turns to Scully with his brows raised.  Scully ignores him and slips into one of the chairs.  After a few moments of hesitation, Mulder sits in the other.

“Ten dollars,” Phyllis says.

Scully moves to get her wallet, but Mulder beats her to it and waves her hands away, slipping the bill over to the fortune teller.  Phyllis folds the bill and slips it inside the front of her shirt, tucking it under her bra strap.  She slides the stack of tarot cards over to Scully.  They’re larger than playing cards, well-worn and soft.  The cover is a faded navy blue background with gilded sun, stars, and moons printed on them.

“Shuffle the cards in whatever way you feel comfortable with,” Phyllis instructs.  “When you’re finished, place them face-down here on the table.  While you’re shuffling, think of what you’d like the cards to tell you.  Is there something you’re fearful about?  Is a relationship causing you trouble?  Do you need career advice?”

“I’d like to know how to repair a fractured partnership,” Scully says, picking up the cards.  “If it’s even salvageable.”

Phyllis nods and Scully shuffles.  Mulder shifts uncomfortably in his chair.  When Scully is done, she sets the cards down and takes a glance at Mulder.  He is nervously stroking his mouth and chin.

“With your left hand, fan the cards across the table and then choose the first card from anywhere that feels right.  Pull a total of five cards and give them to me.”

Scully does as she’s told and then slides a card out from the fanned pile.  She hands it to Phyllis who positions it in front of her.  She selects four more, giving each of them to the woman across the table, one by one, after she slides them out.  The cards are ordered with three across, one at the top, and one at the bottom.  Phyllis turns the card in the middle.  It’s a colorful drawing that Scully can’t quite make out.

“The Page of Swords is telling me that you feel what you’re not getting right now is honesty.  The truth is very important to you, something you value, and what you’d really like from your partner.”

Scully licks the curve of her upper lip, but says nothing.  Beside her, Mulder begins to bounce his knee.  Phyllis turns the card left of the middle.

“The Moon is telling me you feel you’ve been deceived in some way.  You feel that what you once believed to be true was an illusion and that is keeping you from moving forward right now.”

Scully nods a little, unconsciously.  Phyllis turns the card to the right.

“The Five of Cups.”  Phyllis pauses and takes a glance at Scully.  “In this instance, the card is reversed, which is a good sign.  It means that whatever happens, you will be able to find forgiveness and acceptance, regardless of outcome.”

“What does that mean, regardless of outcome?” Mulder asks.

“Whether the partnership is repaired or if it remains fractured, she may grieve the loss of something that once was, but ultimately move on and be free of negativity.”

The fourth card Phyllis turns over is obvious the second Scully sees it.

“The Devil,” Phyllis says, shaking her head in dismay.  “This reinforces the strong feelings you have about being deceived.  Someone has driven a powerful wedge into your partnership.  This person is inherently dishonest, not to be trusted.  The root cause of how you feel and it appears as though you have every reason to be wary.”

Scully can’t help but feel disappointed with this answer.  What it means to her is that as long as Diana Fowley is out there, the wedge between herself and Mulder will exist.  Not that she needs a fortune teller to give her that information, but it makes it sink in just a little more.

“Oh,” Phyllis says, turning the last card.  “This is good news.  The Star.  What The Star tells me here is that after the struggle is over, you will be left with a renewed sense of self and of faith.  When you come out onto the other side of what’s currently making you feel so uncertain, you’re going to know yourself much better and enter a phase of calm, one that will be peaceful and loving.  This is very good.”

Scully is relieved, almost pleased.  She’s been so caught up in anger and turmoil lately that she couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.  Even though she really doesn’t believe in fortune telling, she still finds herself comforted by what she’s heard.

“Thank you, Phyllis,” Scully says, standing.

Phyllis sweeps the cards up and pulls them back together in a stack.  Mulder stands as well and follows Scully through the curtain and out of the tent.

“Well,” he says.  “That was certainly...interesting.  You don’t actually believe in all that stuff back there, do you, Scully?”

“Of course not,” she says.  “They see what people are interested in and then just tell them what they think we want to hear.”

“Is that...is that what you wanted to hear?”

Scully stops walking and Mulder stops as well.  She looks up at him.  The flashing lights of the Gravitron play across his face.  The screams of thrill-seekers make it difficult to hear.

“What I want to hear isn’t going to come from a fortune teller,” she says.

“You want me to tell you that I choose you over Diana.”

“You make me sound like a jealous girlfriend.”

“You honesty, right, Scully?  Sometimes, that’s how it feels.”

“Jesus, I don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of a carnival!”

“I don’t think you want to have it at all!”

“Mulder, mere weeks ago you wouldn’t even hear me out when I handed you proof that Agent Fowley did not have your best interests or the best interests of the x-files at heart.  You refused to hear anything to the contrary.”

“Because you weren’t showing me proof of anything.  All you had was conjecture.”

“I have plenty of proof, you’re just unwilling to connect the dots.”

“You’re seeing what you want to see.”

“Then tell me, Mulder, where is she now?  She wasn’t amongst the bodies found at El Rico airforce base, so where is she?  And where is the Cancerman?  It doesn’t strike you as suspicious that they are the only two people unaccounted for after the massacre?”

“I don’t know where they are, but I know I’m not going to jump to any conclusions.”

“Then you’re just blind to what you don’t want to see.”

They seem to reach an impasse.  Scully has said everything that needs to be said about Diana Fowley and she’s tired of even thinking about her.  She looks away, puts her hands on her hips, licks her lips.  People pass them by lost in their own excitement, paying them no mind.  She’s embarrassed by the outburst, but feels less angry than she has been.  She feels a little more melancholy also.

“I choose you,” Mulder says, brushing a knuckle lightly under her chin to get her to look at him.  “I choose you, Scully.  I want you here.  I want you as my partner.  I just don’t know how to make you believe it.”

“You can’t choose me and refuse to trust my judgment,” she answers, pulling her chin away.  “It doesn’t work like that.”

“We won’t work if you keep punishing me because I disagree with you about Diana.”

“You’re right.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“I want…”  Scully breaks off, unable to articulate what she really feels.  She wants to know that her importance in Mulder’s life means as much to him as he does to her, but in this moment, she’s unwilling to make herself more vulnerable than she already has.

“Scully?”

“I just want to do the job,” she answers, lowering her gaze.  “I want to get back on track with our work and I want us to be on the same page again.”

“Oh, is that all?”  Mulder smiles a little, trying to catch her eye.  “When exactly have we ever been on the same page to begin with?  I’m always like, Scully, obviously Leprechauns have committed this crime, and you’re always like, Mulder, you’re crazy.”

Scully smiles a little in spite of herself and scuffs her boot into the sawdust at her feet.  “Leprechauns don’t exist, Mulder.”

“See, there we go.  Back on track already.”

Their problems aren’t going to be solved in one night, but at least they can put them aside to focus on the task at hand.  That’s something she feels they can do.  There is one more thing she feels like she needs to say, though.  As Mulder starts to walk away, she grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“When we were in the Fun House, I thought I saw Faye Rawlings,” she says.  “In the hall of mirrors.”

“You saw her?”

“I thought I did.  And then when I looked again, she was gone.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I don’t know.  Because I felt scared and foolish and I know my mind was just playing tricks on me.  Because I don’t believe we’re going to find a 12-year old girl out here no matter how hard we look.  And, I don’t think you do either.”

Mulder nods slightly.  “I know it’s implausible, I just…”

“You want to hold on to that hope.”

He swallows and nods again.

“I know you, Mulder.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah, I do.”

On the way out, Mulder gives the rest of his tickets to a little girl on her way in, holding the hand of what appears to be an older brother.

The End

[stusbunker]

AGA: Cornered

A Supernatural AU Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny LaFitte​

Other Characters: Sam, Bobby, Mick, Ash, Castiel

Written for: @thoughtslikeaminefield​

Word Count: ~2700

A/N: No kink square this chapter, just backstory and bowling. Mention of drug use. General flirty banter. xoxo

    The crack and rumble of balls striking pins rang throughout the bowling alley; the consistent soundtrack of Dean’s Wednesday nights. He had gotten there early, just after six, to claim their alley and get himself dinner before the rest of the team arrived. Dean shrugged into the simple black and red collared Singer’s Slingers bowling shirt with his name on his left pec. As he sipped his beer and waited for his burger basket, he wondered how late Sam would be this week.

    Ash and Bobby showed up just as Dean had a greasy mouthful. He managed to murmur his greetings as they bypassed the bar for the row of vinyl chairs, changing out of their street shoes. They were followed shortly by Mick, who always seemed to swagger in, no matter how ill fitted his bowling shirt. Dean continued to devour his burger and fries as the team ordered their drinks one after the other. It was 6:25 and the other team were toweling off their balls, eyeing them while glancing at their watches. 

    “C’mon Sam,” Dean urged under his breath.

    “Sam, I expect, but where the hell is Cas?” Bobby wondered, squinting towards the entrance.

    “Told you, you should have asked someone else to take the old man’s spot,” Dean smiled smugly, before popping another fry in his mouth.

    “Yeah, well, most my friends are too old or too tired for this shit. Can you imagine Rufus out here each week?” Bobby sighed, shaking his head before taking a sip of his whiskey.

    “Bobby, can I ask you something?” Dean started. “Are you still bowling because you enjoy it or because it’s a night out of the house?”

    “You work with your wife for twenty years and tell me if you wouldn’t be out here every chance you got.” Bobby eyed Dean like he was slow. A burning grin pulled across Dean’s face, he almost choked on his last bite he was laughing so hard. Dean took a swig of his beer and Bobby rolled his eyes.

     “Singer! Let’s go!” Roy Wilkinson called from down on the lane.

     “What a jackass,” Bobby whispered to Dean, before turning to the opposing team’s captain. “Yeah, I’m getting there.”

     It was 6:31.

      Dean had learned by now to place Sam last in the line up, but Cas usually went second. With a quick scramble, Dean adjusted their bowling order and sent Cas and Sam their own personalized texts of annoyance. It shouldn’t be that much of a deal, but he was embarrassed. Plus, Dean didn’t want to see Bobby continue to take shit for their tardiness.

    At 6:44, a sheepish Castiel and an annoyed Sam walked into the alley together. Sam still had his suit on, his bowling bag slung over his shoulder. 

    “Dude, what the hell?” Dean asked once his brother sat down to swap shoes.

    “The hoopty bit it, Cas called me because he figured I was closest,” Sam explained, knowing that would have been Dean’s next question.

    “Did he hit anybody or did it just die?” Dean asked, eyes raking over Cas’s body for signs of injury.

    “It killed while he was driving. Not sure if it’s electrical or if he just ran out of fucking gas,” Sam whispered, frustration evident.

    “Well, you guys missed the first frame, but you got yourself a hot minute to catch your breath and grab a beer,” Ash butt in. Mick came back from picking up a spare and the story got told all over again.

    “I’m really sorry, Bobby,” Cas explained.

    “You bowl for a mechanic’s team, boy. You shouldn’t have let it get that bad in the first place,” Bobby dismissed the clueless man as he made his way to the ball return.

    “Dean?” Cas asked, leaning over Dean’s shoulder at the now useless scorer keeper’s spot.

    “Yeah?” Dean replied.

    “Do you think, could you give me a ride to the bar? And home after I do my nightly paperwork?” Cas explained, his blue eyes beseeching and all too familiar.

    Dean groaned and closed his eyes. “How late? I’ve got a day job I need to be at, too, man.”

    “Wednesday’s are Ladies’ Night, so it could be awhile,” Cas pondered aloud. “But you don’t have to stay, I can ask at the bar, maybe Ana wouldn’t mind.”

    Dean’s stomach instantly knotted with guilt, knowing how the waitress would feel to be trapped with Cas duty after a long shift. He shouldn’t have been so short with him, his car problems probably weren’t his fault. 

    “Nah, man, I got you. Let’s just bowl, get out of here as soon as possible,” Dean suggested, chin jutting out toward the lanes. Cas was up.

    “You’re a lifesaver,” Cas grinned in relief. Dean swallowed and nodded, biting back the smile that crept up whenever Cas looked at him like that. A sour taste settled in the back of his throat as he watched Cas barely clip the 6 and 10 pins. Ignoring the rest of the frame, Dean went back for another drink before it was his turn.

    Losing the first game was inevitable, but the Winchester brothers had a reputation to uphold and they rallied the team for the final two games. Together, they gave the opposing team some much deserved karma. Dean racked seven strikes in a row, but missed the 7 pin on his last ball. Sam, looking utterly ridiculous in his dress shirt and bowling shoes, followed up his tenth frame with a shaky spare. Then he pulled a strike out of thin air with the third ball.

    The lane erupted.

     Mick and Ash hooted and bumped chests. Dean jumped at his brother, nearly tackling him, before lifting him off the floor by his waist in celebration. Bobby, proud as ever, gave everyone a high five before he shook hands with the now salty Roy. Then Bobby ensured his team followed suit, as a sign of good sportsmanship, even if their faces didn’t hide the smugness of victory.

    The champion’s high was short lived for Dean, because reality reared its ugly head when Cas awkwardly started to shadow him as they cleaned up their equipment. Dean towelled off his ball and slipped it into his bag, trying not to let the disappointment of missing out on a drink with the team to cart Cas’s ass across town show. Or the phantom nervousness of being alone with him that Dean had to tell himself to shake.

    Cas was just his friend. He had only ever been his friend. No matter how many times Dean craved to be alone with him, it had never meant anything more than friendship to Cas.

    Dean had nothing to feel guilty about. But when Cas dropped onto the bench seat beside him in the impala, Dean’s heart started to race. He felt like he was walking a dangerous line between ambiguity and cheating.

    “Thanks again, Dean,” Cas’s deep voice croaked.

    Plastering on a company smile, Dean brushed him off. “It was only a matter of time for that jalopy anyway, now if you just trust me and sell the damned thing, maybe you could get a reliable set of wheels.”

    “Ash says he can have it at the shop by tomorrow afternoon,” Cas threw out there tentatively. 

    Dean gave Cas the side eye. “You’re calling Ellen first thing and BEGGING her to work you in, cuz I am no good at weaseling somebody onto the schedule.”

    “I know, Bobby warned me. And Ash.”Cas squinted in thought. “And Mick, now that I think about it.” 

     Dean told himself to keep his eyes on the road. And to ignore the suddenly crushing weight of his phone against his thigh. He felt like he should be letting Benny know what he was doing, somehow. Like if he didn’t tell Benny where he was and with who, then he was asking to get dumped. 

    Dean, no stranger to self-sabotage, overthought until his head hurt. He couldn’t cheat if they weren’t dating. Driving a friend home wasn’t cheating. It didn’t matter that he had had feelings for Cas for as long as he could remember. Benny wasn’t his boyfriend. Officially. Right?

    Cas turned to look at Dean. “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

    Again with the inopportune observations.

    “Just got a lot on my mind,” Dean dismissed Cas’s concern and leaned over to turn on the radio, close enough that Dean got a whiff of Cas’s familiar cologne. The scent flooded Dean’s senses with bittersweet memories and he had to clear his throat to clear the haze of desire that was always associated with it, with Cas himself. Dean drummed his thumb against the steering wheel and held onto the music for as long as he could.

    They arrived at The Pearly Gates just before ten, cars and suvs filled the small parking lot and spilled over onto the narrow side street. Dean cursed and backed into the narrow alley, unwilling to risk his paint job among the other vehicles.    

    “Alright, I’ll wait here, go do your busy work.” Dean cranked the car into park.

    Cas gave Dean a cautious look before he crawled out of the passenger seat, mindful of the space between the building and his door. Dean didn’t want to think about whatever Cas thought was going on with him. And Dean really didn’t need him prying all of the sudden.

    Dean thought about how oblivious Cas used to be and how much he had changed since they’d been friends. He was still Cas, but he wasn’t the same.

    They’d met at a party on campus, which Dean always seemed to find despite not attending. A very drunk Cas had been locked out of his house by his asshole roommates, which were mostly his brother Gabe’s friends. Dean sat on a half-broken picnic table in the backyard toking, as Cas yelled to be let in. It was barely above freezing, but Dean didn’t want to share with the asshole college crowd he’d seen so far.

     Cas was in black jeans and a tee shirt, shivering.

    “Hey buddy?” Dean called out. “Look, give me a sec and I’ll pick the lock for ya, alright? Cool it.”

    “What?” Cas looked at him like he had three heads.

    Dean chuckled. “Stop yelling. I’ll get you in. Just let me finish my joint.”

    Cas walked over, rubbing his arms with his hands before he started blowing on his hands. Dean had stared, the buzz slowed his thoughts. He just took in the details of Cas’s hands and the way his meaty lips probably looked as the hot air left them. 

    “You want a hit before I pinch it off?” Dean offered, hand extended in selfish offering.

    “I’m good.” Cas waved him off, smiling without teeth. A good kid, Dean thought, or a dweeb.

    Dean sucked in the last puff of smoke and carried it in his chest as he crossed the lawn to the backdoor. As he squatted, he exhaled, letting himself completely relax before he dug for his small set of tools. 

    “I’m sorry, but my roommates are---,” Cas started.

    “Dicks?” Dean guessed.

    Cas sighed in agreement, and that moment Dean probably will never forget as long as he lives. Dean looked up to see Cas in the yellow glow from the porch light, his blue eyes distinguishable for the first time.

    “Uh?” Cas squinted in confusion.

    “Right.” Dean sighed and shook his head, fitting the pick into the lock.

    “You’re sure you can do this?” Cas continued, disbelief clung to every syllable.

    But Dean didn’t have to answer, because just then Dean cackled in triumph, “Yahtzee!” and the door swung open. 

    Cas marched past him and into the warmth of the overpacked house. He turned just before he got swallowed by the crowd and nodded his thanks, eyes deep enough for Dean to get lost in.

    Dean couldn’t remember much else from that specific party, but meeting Cas. They weren’t friends until a few more chance encounters and a flat tire, but it was their beginning. 

     Dean hadn’t told Benny about Cas, other than he was a friend that he helped out. He didn’t have labels for what Cas meant to him, he’d never let it solidify from thought and feeling into word or definition. There had been something there and if he wasn’t careful, Dean could get lost in the familiarity, the lingering hope of perpetual possibility.

     Dean probably should say something, eventually.

     The car had gotten cold while he waited for Cas to finish the deposit. Dean had turned off the engine to save the gas, but was starting to regret it when his phone rang. 

     “Heya, gorgeous, how’d ya bowl?” Benny drawled before Dean could finish his greeting.

    “Alright, just around my average, but I tanked the last game. You off work already?” Dean asked, knowing Benny usually worked well past mall hours if he was in the middle of something. 

    “Yeah, leaving it for another day. You at home?” Benny continued.

    “No, at the bar, killing time,” Dean inaccurately summarized. “Why? You miss me?”

    “Well not if you’re gonna be like that, I don’t,” Benny teased.

    “What days are you off again?” Dean sidestepped.

    “Tomorrow and Sunday. You wanna come over?” Benny asked.

    “I do, but I can’t, I’m wiped. Six am is early enough on a good night,” Dean apologized. “I can roll in after my shift at the bar on Saturday though, if you don’t mind me showing up close to three.”

    “That could work. I’ve gotta be somewhere at eleven, but you’re welcome to join me,” Benny offered.

    “That depends, is it a church service? I need to prepare myself for the smiting showing up after a night with you,” Dean countered.

    Benny laughed, “Not a’tall. Me and some buddies do brunch every week.”

    Dean sobered up, but he couldn’t stop the snark. “You do brunch?”

    “Yeah?” Benny replied, not giving Dean anything more. Dean licked his lips and gaped at the offer. Benny wanted to introduce him to his friends. “You alright, cher?”

    “Yeah, just got distracted, sorry,” Dean lied horribly. “I don’t want to crash your plans. We’ll see, alright?”

    Benny inhaled audibly. “Yeah, I understand. You’ll still stay over though?”

    “Yeah, I’ll be there.” Dean agreed.

    “Hey, maybe, if you don’t mind I could slip in for a drink after my shift Friday?” Benny suggested.

    Dean smiled. “That’d be great. Gives me something to look forward to on a double shift.”

    “You alright?” Benny almost whispered.

    “Yeah, just tired, sorry, not my usual charismatic self,” Dean huffed.

    “Nothing to be sorry for, sugar. Just checkin’ in on ya,” Benny soothed. Dean closed his eyes and relished in the sound of Benny’s calming voice.

    “Tell me something,” Dean asked, not wanting to end the conversation.

    “What do you want to know?” Benny chuckled, deep and genuine.

    “I don’t know, just keep talking. What were you working on tonight?” Dean said.

    “A pair of saddle bags for a custom bike,” Benny started. “Real nice ones too. Sturdy, but soft. Got some staining to do then the branding. But I got everything cut and measured for now. You ride?”

     Dean hummed, then remembered he was asked a question. “Sorry, on occasion, I don’t have a bike of my own anymore. Do you?”

     “Well, they don’t call me a leather daddy just for my outfits, cher,” Benny teased. “Before it snows, I’ll see if we can get the bike out for a spin.”

     “Now I’ve got that visual burning through my thoughts,” Dean murmured suggestively. 

     “Happy to oblige,” Benny goads. 

     “I’m sure you would,” Dean huffs. “Thanks, it was just nice to hear your voice.”

     “Anytime, Dean, all you have to do is call. You know that right?” Benny pressed.

     “Yeah, I know, I know.” Dean agreed, when an extra blast of cold air hit his side. Cas was back. “I better go. I’ll see you soon.”

      “Dean?” Cas interrupted.

      “Okay, well, enjoy the bar,” Benny sounded like he’d heard Cas. “Bye, darlin’.”

     “Night,” Dean ended the call.

     “Who was that?” Cas asked, tugging at his trenchcoat to get the seatbelt on.

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Part 6: Loose Lips Sink Ships

[therainroguefanfiction]

🎃 Frightful October Act I, #3 ~ Movie Marathon (Nathan Prescott)

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Halloween

Word Count: 2,876

Pairing: Reader x Nathan

World: Life is Strange

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The bell rang, signaling the end of class. You stretched your arms above your head, your back cracking. For some reason, the day felt like it had passed by agonizingly slow, and you still had another class before you could go home. Unlike most of the students that attended Blackwell Academy, you didn’t live in the dorms on campus – your apartment was a five-minute walk away. The main reason you chose not to live in the dorms is that you didn’t much care to be brought into all the drama that the students thrived off of.

You gathered your things before stepping out of the classroom. Your best friend was waiting near the door, his fingers flying across the keyboard on his phone. Sean Jamison stood at five-foot-five, his thin frame covered by a pair of jeans and a chocolate brown sweater. His blonde hair looked like it had been cut using a bowl, and his brown eyes shined with mischief. He was a technology geek that planned to major in computer science and game design when he graduated.

He glanced over at you, pushing his square glasses up with his middle finger. “Last period is math, your favorite.”

You scowled at him as you passed. “Don’t remind me. We can’t all be number genius’ like you.”

Sean chuckled, throwing his arm over your shoulder. “Don’t worry, the number genius won’t let you fail!”

“You better not. I can’t afford to flunk because of one subject.” You entered the classroom, making a beeline for the table at the back but Sean tightened his grip, pulling you back.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Y/N.” he wagged his finger in your face. “How can you learn properly sitting in the back of the class?”

“I am not sitting in the front,” you deadpanned.

Sean frowned, pushing up his glasses. The fluorescent lights reflected off of the lenses, hiding his eyes. “Then we can compromise by sitting in the middle.”

You didn’t care for that, either, but it was better than sitting up front. There were four rows of three desks, allowing two people per desk. You scanned the room before choosing the third row from the front, sitting under one of the large windows. Sean sat beside you, focusing on his mobile game.

There were still a few minutes before class began, so you turned your attention to the window. It was the beginning of October, the sky overcast as a chilly breeze knocked leaves from the trees, colored in various shades of brown and orange. The school grounds had been covered in leaves. If you didn’t watch your step, it was easy to slide and lose your footing, hitting the ground. Just ask Miss Grant, the science teacher. She had been peddling another petition to passing students and wasn’t paying attention to the ground. Too bad she was wearing a skirt that day – her underwear choice had been the talk of the school for a week.

You felt eyes watching you and you glanced at Sean, but he was still buried in his game, hiding the phone between the desk and his lap so the teacher wouldn’t see it when she entered. You scanned the room, eyes locking with those belonging to the one and only Nathan Prescott. He was sat at the opposite end of the class in the back row. When he realized you caught him staring, he snapped his head in the opposite direction.

You frowned, turning to the teacher as she entered the room.

As expected, class was long and boring, and you found yourself zoning in and out more than a couple of times. Sean was going back and forth between taking notes and elbowing you in the side whenever the teacher sent you a pointed look. By the time class ended, your side was sore – you were sure it would bruise by tomorrow.

“What are your plans for the weekend?” he questioned as he shoved his books into his bag.

You hummed, thoughtfully, doing the same. “I’ll probably just watch a few horror movies and sleep.”

He tsked. “So much youth, wasted.”

“And what are your brilliant plans?” you scoffed, but immediately regretted it as his eyes lit up.

“Isn’t it obvious? Dino Murder Force 2 is finally being released tomorrow and I’m going to camp out in front of the store tonight so I can get my copy, then I’m going to spend the entire weekend beating the game I’m going to be the first to write an in-depth review!”

You stared at him, blankly.

He had said all of that without pausing for air, so he huffed when he finished the run-on sentence. Saying nothing, you slung your bag over your shoulder and left the room, ignoring Sean as he called after you, “You don’t understand the brilliance that is Dino Murder Force, Y/N!”

“Stop yelling, Mr. Jamison!” The teacher scolded him.

You chuckled. He was such a weirdo, but he was your weirdo.

You stepped outside, a blast of cold air stinging your skin. Autumn, in your opinion, was the calmest, most peaceful time of year. There seemed to be less drama around this time, and that was something you appreciated. Halloween was pretty cool, too.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!”

You paused near the gate, looking over your shoulder.

Nathan was jogging toward you, his usual cocky expression switched out for a nervous one.

“What’s up?” you asked, softly.

“Can I… walk you home?” he asked, shifting from foot to foot. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.

‘It’s only a five-minute walk, it can’t hurt…’ you contemplated it for a moment before nodding. “Sure,” You walked side by side, his hand occasionally bumping against your own. It brought back a flood of memories.

The first time you had met Nathan, you were in kindergarten. Back then, he was a pretty shy kid, but he was so cute that the girls in class naturally migrated towards him. He had this polarizing aura that pulled people in. You appreciated how he tried to help others the best that he could. Deep down, though, he was already beginning to harbor feelings of self-doubt and loathing.

One day during recess, you chased a rubber ball that had been kicked to the back of the building. That’s where you found him, curled up against the building as his small body shook with silent sobs. Instinctively, you rushed over to him and brought him into your arms, running your hand through his hair as you told him it would be okay. That was the first time you had spoken to him and, from that day onward, Nathan stuck to you like glue. You were his best friend, the rock that kept him grounded.

Having him depend on you so strongly made you feel needed and happy, and you oftentimes dropped whatever you were doing to accommodate him and provide comfort when he was upset, which was slowly becoming more common as you both grew.

As your relationship deepened, his parents started to take notice of you. They didn’t think that you were good enough to be friends with Nathan, and they were sure you were just trying to get to his money. Your family had no social standing, and your single mom worked three jobs just to make ends meet. In their eyes, you were trash, but they always acted pleasant on the rare occasions you met them. You had no idea how they truly viewed you.

Nathan never told you how his parents put you down and insulted your mother, or how they pressured him to stop spending time with you, but you knew him like the back of your hand and you knew he was beginning to change. The shy, kind little boy that you had become so close to was starting to morph before your eyes, but Nathan Prescott did not morph into a beautiful butterfly, he morphed into a monster – arrogant, entitled, and full of hatred.

The time you spent together became less and less frequent until, in the second year of middle school, he completely cut you out of his life. You tried talking to him, to demand an answer, but he was always surrounded by his new friends. Every time you got close, they would make fun of you and Nathan would just stand there, acting like you didn’t exist.

You became invisible to him.

While you were friendly with the other kids in your class, Nathan had been your only friend. Now you were left alone.

Shortly after, your mom began quite ill after pushing herself to keep working. She ended up being hospitalized. It was at this time that you met Sean, who found you in a similar way that you had first met Nathan.

Sean was a loner, preferring to tinker with his games and gadgets over talking to his peers, but he knew that you didn’t have any friends and he recognized that you were very distressed. Rather than bring you into his arms like you had to Nathan all those years ago, his way of comforting you consisted of forcing a handheld game into your lap and making you play with him. It wasn’t conventional, but it helped.

Your mom passed away a month after you started at Blackwell.

Nathan came to the funeral, returning to the empty apartment with you. He held you, allowing you to cry your heart out until you finally fell asleep, clutching his shirt in your fist. When you woke up the next morning, he was gone. There was a thick envelope left on the table – ‘sorry’ was the only thing written on it. Inside was a key to an apartment on the other side of town and fifteen grand in cash.

You remember thinking how typical it was that he thought cash could solve everything.

You didn’t want to accept the money, but he gave you no chance to return it. The apartment had been paid for in advance for the next four years, but you still had bills to pay and needed to buy food, not to mention the tuition for Blackwell. No job given to a high school student would be enough to pay for everything, so you did end up using some of the money, but you used it sparingly, only taking out enough for the bare necessities. In the meantime, you had gotten a part-time job at Two Whales diner.

A couple weeks later and you found another envelope in your mail. It read: ‘Quit your job. I’ll send you a monthly payment – N.’ Enclosed was fifteen hundred dollars.

You didn’t like this at all, but Nathan did what he wanted, and what he wanted he got. He had you fired from your job, knowing you wouldn’t quit on your own. You considered confronting him about everything, but that would require stepping out into the spotlight and you didn’t need that kind of drama in your life.

Even after all that, he still treated you like you didn’t exist, despite the monthly payment that was put in your mailbox every month.

So why the sudden change? Why was he suddenly approaching you after all this time?

Nathan frowned at your thoughtful expression. He knew he had royally screwed up the best thing he ever had but was it too late for him to fix things? “Hey, we’re here.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, smiling sheepishly. “Oh, right. Thanks…” you paused at the gate, hesitating. “Do you… want to come in?”

He nodded, not wanting to leave you just yet. Nathan followed you to the third floor, his mind running wild – he couldn’t remember a time that he felt so nervous.

You unlocked the door and stepped aside to let him enter. “Want something to drink?”

“Water,” he added as an afterthought. “Please.”

You stepped into the small kitchen attached to the living area, pouring out a glass of ice water for him and ice tea for yourself. He sat on the couch as you set the drinks on the coffee table, absentmindedly playing with the black rope around his right wrist.

Your eyes widened when you saw it and you reached out, holding his wrist so you could see it better. “You kept this?” It was a simple piece of rope with a yin-yang symbol tied through the front of it. You made it for him in fifth grade as a birthday present.

He quickly pulled his wrist away, his cheeks tinting as he tugged the sleeve of his jacket down. “It was a gift from you, of course I kept it.”

Those words went straight to your heart, making it increase in speed as it grew warm. You looked up at his face, taking in his appearance for the first time in a long time. His brown hair was slicked back but messy, as if he had run his hands through it nervously. His blue eyes, once bright and full of life, were dull and he had deep bags under them from a mixture of stress and lack of sleep. Overall, he looked exhausted and aged.

Seeing him in such a state made you frown.

“Stop staring at me,” he muttered, starting to feel self-conscious. People around him were constantly complimenting him, saying how gorgeous he is and how handsome, but he wasn’t very good at reading people, so he couldn’t tell if they were being genuine. Whenever you used to compliment him, it always felt genuine and made him feel happy, but when everyone else did it, it felt empty.

“Have you been sleeping, Nathan?” It was the first time you had said his name in so long, it made his breath catch in his throat. His body started to shake despite himself. “Nathan, what’s wro – ” you squeaked in surprise when he threw himself at you, sending you both to the ground. His arms were tight around your body as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You gently rubbed his back, free hand running through his soft hair. It had been so long since you last held him, but your body remembered the position perfectly.

“I’ve missed you… so goddamn much…” he sobbed, clutching you tighter. “I didn’t want to, to push you away… I had to do it! I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you sink with me…”

“Oh, Nathan,” you chided, softly. “You’ve always been such an idiot. You’re my best friend, I would have happily sank with you. And you know what? I would have dragged you back to the surface.”

“You’re too good… for me…” he cried.

You hummed, thoughtfully. “I don’t think so.”

It took a while for him to calm down and stop shaking, but you didn’t mind. Even after everything that had happened, he was still the most important person in your life. You would always be there to catch him when he fell.

“Can I… spend the night with you?” he asked, softly. He sounded like a child, lost and scared. The shy boy flashed in your mind.

“Of course you can,” you smiled, gently pushing him back. He pulled away from you, sliding back until he was leaning against the couch. His eyes were red and swollen, but they held more life than they had earlier. You pulled yourself to your feet, feeling pinpricks in your back and butt, unhappy about being squished against the wooden floor for so long. You glanced at the clock – it was eleven-ten. “Hey, Nathan?”

He glanced up at you.

“There’s a Halloween marathon starting in twenty minutes. Wanna watch it with me?”

Nathan smiled, remembering all the times you had binge-watched movies as kids. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You returned the smile before heading into the kitchen to make some popcorn. When you returned, Nathan had curled up on the couch with a blanket he had taken from your bedroom. He held one side of the blanket up and you squeezed in beside him, holding the bowl up as he flung it over your body. You turned the TV on and he moved closer, finding comfort in your warmth.

The first movie began, a cheap knock off of A Nightmare on Elm Street. He reached for your hand but hesitated. You smiled, slipping your hand into his and interlocking your fingers with his.

After two movies, Nathan’s eyes started to droop. He fought against the sleep invading his mind, not wanting this moment to end, but his body and mind were exhausted. His head fell onto your shoulder, breath evening out. You smiled, turning down the TV so the screams wouldn’t disturb his rest.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring – if he would go back to ignoring you or if you could be friends again, but that didn’t matter to you at the moment. You had your best friend at your side and that’s all that mattered to you.

You brought his hand to your chest, holding it with both hands. ‘No matter what happens, I will always be here for you, Nathan Prescott,’ You pressed a kiss to his palm and he smiled in his sleep. For the first time since he was a child, he slept peacefully through the night.

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