#and I thought it would be fun to build another shelf onto my nightstand out of scrap metal and crochet

[the-trans-dragon]

“Haha, fun, a trivial but new activity. This’ll be fun to do for 10 or 15 minutes”

*3 and 1/2 hours later*

“Where’s the fucking sun”

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

The Glitch

I get the Broken Reality au is a haha funny joke but there’s been some legit great art for it and since Butterfly is over and I haven’t gotten into the groove of my other projects yet, I decided to try some flash fiction of my interpretations. Note that this is very small and informal; I used whatever idea came into my head over the course of an hour or so instead of the weeks of planning that go into my usual fics. This was an experiment for fun. But if people enjoy the concept, I may be tempted to expand on it.

Credit to @lollitree @moonpaw @gentrychild​ @owlf45​ and @cyber-phobia​ (I’m sorry if I missed someone I lost track of how many people were involved in this mess).

Content working for reference to infant death.

Please enjoy!

The city shut down for a typhoon warning.  Thunder rumbled in the distance.  Dark clouds blocked the sun so much that by mid-morning it still looked like it never bothered coming up.  And yet the humidity made it too hot for coffee.  Inko didn’t know how to feel.  Work would have been a good distraction.  But she didn’t want any coworkers or clients to see if today got to be too much.  And it was already shaping up to be.  She caught herself making two plates of food for breakfast.  

Inko sat alone in the kitchen.  She couldn’t bring herself to finish her own plate.  Sickness set in fast.  The food had been cold for a long time before she summoned the strength to get up and throw it away.  Then she stood over the open trash can a while, debating whether to try and hold it together, or just throw up and get it over with.  She eventually managed to keep her stomach steady enough to go back to her bedroom.  There was another trashcan in there anyway.

A sound stopped her.  From her office.  The distinct sound of something heavy falling onto the carpet.  Right as she walked past the door.

Please not this again…

She opened the door with her eyes closed.  Her mind conjured a familiar image.  A bedroom full of books and hero posters.  Bright colors and personal touches.  A child’s room.  Inko opened her eyes to her drab home office.  Some of the older case file binders slipped off the pile again.  She really needed to sort those into storage. Not today though.  She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Inko walked faster than normal the rest of the way to her room.  She doesn’t want to face the temptation to search for old toys she remembers storing in the empty closet.  Or search the walls for scuff marks from action figures tossed into them she could always see even after the walls were painted. She hid her planner on a tall shelf and put the ladder away to make it that much harder to go through it over and over looking for doctors’ appointments and school events she knew were coming up.  Finally reaching her bed brought no comfort.

Of course she knew today’s date by heart.  She hadn’t put it on a calendar in the fourteen years since she used to look at it every day.  Inko stuck her head under her pillows, as if they could block out the silent noise of her memories.  Memories of before, the time even when she was by herself, she was never alone.

Fifteen years now, today.  With a shuddering gasp, the tears finally came.  Thunder crashed outside.  It’s not fair!  Why is it still this hard after this long?  Phantom kicks in her belly joined the growing ice there.

The hardest part was she still felt like that sometimes.  Like she wasn’t really alone.  Inko didn’t believe in ghosts, but the lost of what could have been was more than haunting enough.  She felt it watching her.  Judging her. Waiting just long enough for her to settle down into a peaceful, content existence before it reared up to plague her heart all over again.  Cliché hauntings like spooky faces in the mirror or blood coming out of the drains would have been preferable.  Those would be generic enough not to remind her directly.

Rain started outside.  Her phone lit up with a notification she ignored in time with a thunderclap.  The storm was getting closer.

Maybe I should call Hisashi, the thought crossed her mind.  Maybe he’s going through this too.  She bit her lip bloody.  Her frustrated memories weren’t in question like the others.  Probably not though.  I don’t want to talk to him anyway.

Hisashi had been stuck in the denial stage of grief, which often came off as him acting like he didn’t take hers seriously.  Not a year, not even half a year looking back, after they came home from the hospital, he wanted to try again.  

“We can’t let mourning hold us up forever,” he said.  “And it’s not like we lost a once in a lifetime opportunity!  We’ve got at least another twenty years to keep trying!”

But we did lose him! she had wanted to scream.  Still did, years later.  Why didn’t he understand?  He was your loss too!  Inko wanted for the next roll of thunder, then shouted.  

“I don’t just want any baby!  I want Izuku!”

The lights went out.  The temperature rose five degrees instantly when the ceiling fan stopped going.  The rain stopped.

Power outage.  Inko sat up with a sniffle.  Turns out the notification was a warning about roving blackouts.  Of course.  Oh well. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook tonight any-

Thunder boomed even louder than before, making her jump.  Then another.  Lightning flashed outside at the same time.  It was right on top of her.

What?  I thought the typhoon wasn’t supposed to make landfall until later toni-

Another crash.  It vibrated through her bones.  Then another. The lightning lit up her whole room. Except for a shadow on the wall. Inko jolted to look, holding her breath, and found only her own shadow in the next flash.

“I’m such an idiot…”  She went for her phone again.  For peace of mind, she decided to use her data to check if an evacuation order went out. Or any updates at all really, since the weather came so much faster than the news said.  “Nothing,” she sighed annoyed.  “I hate being alone for weather like this…”

A new notification pinged.

[Mom]

Inko blinked rapidly.  The message remained.  All of her insides turned inside out in an instant, and she started crying again. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? No one ever got a chance to call her that.  She touched the note to open it, but nothing happened.  No app or source was displayed.  Nor did it go away after a few seconds like normal.  

“Wha- What’s going on?” she wept.  In a mix of sorrow and rage, she wound up to chunk the device across the room.  But she froze.

Outside her window, floating against the pitch-black sky, were two small orbs.  Perfectly circular and glowing.  Watching her. She didn’t dare move.  

Another ping.  She looked without moving.

[I’m sorry]

“…  What?”

For a moment, all the sounds in the world dropped out.  They all came back at ounce.

Lights flickered.  Both the ones inside and the lightning going outside.  Multiple strikes laid on top of one another.  No relief.  Thunder pounded over and over like a drum solo.  It shook the whole building.  Inko ran into the closet away from the window.  She slammed her hands over her eyes but it didn’t help.  Her terrified cried were whispers to the screams of the storm.

A child’s scream.  She heard it. Each flash of light came with a cry. The distinct sound of a little boy calling out in pain blended with unyielding nature.  It came from every direction.  Every hair on Inko’s arms stood up in fear.  She felt the charge in the air.  But she had to go out.  Her baby was crying for help.

She burst from the closet into the living room.  All the lights and appliances turned themselves on and off.  The TV showed only static between its flashes. Something drew her too it.  The storm was deafening.  It pounded through her head like a heartbeat.  The beats got faster.  The static flashes started to look like a face.  Her usual caution was abandoned as she fell to her knees and touched the screen.  The snow cleared for a single instant.  Just long enough to look like the blank eyes from the window.  She felt the heartbeat there too.

Then it stopped.  All of it. The noise and lights all went quiet and dark.  The TV went completely cold in an instant.  Inko, stunned, palmed over it looking for something.  Anything.  The pulse. Warmth.  A burnt fuse or faulty wire.  But nothing.  The rain started again.

She pulled her hands back to her lap.  Her heart was still racing and tears kept flowing down under her chin. She looked around.  Everything in the living room and kitchen looked the same. No sign of the earthquake-like convolutions the whole appartement experienced only minutes ago.  Inko combed the entire space for evidence.  An object knocked off the shelf.  A picture frame fallen from the wall.  The notifications.  Toys in the closet or scuffs in the wall.  Still not a sign.  She even stepped outside her door to check the sky.  Only light rain and shattered thunder, just like the news said the day before.

There was only one thing out of place.  Back in her bedroom, the bottom drawer of her nightstand hung open.  Inko had to steal herself before approaching it. There were only two things in there: a little green blanket, and a picture of the ultrasound.  The most recent one from her last appointment. The doctor said he was doing fine.

“Izuku…” she whispered to it in her hand.

She remembered the squealing little bundling being put in her arms for the first time.  The first time he smiled at her.  Teaching him to walk, then immediately launching into play.  Him coming home with bruises and scrapes after the kids at school were mean to him, and crying in her arms.  Then, him coming home with his first real friends in a long time. She made them all dinner. Katsudon.  That was Izuku’s favorite.

Only she didn’t remember.  The same way she didn’t really remember the toys and scuffs.  Those were fantasies.  Daydreams of what could have been.  She just thought about them so often they felt like memories. Especially today.  It was his birthday after all.  They’d fade back into vague dreams by tomorrow.  They always did.  

And she would be left with reality.  The silence.  The cold, still little hand between her fingers.  Soft cheeks without blush.  Eyes that never opened.  Clutching him too tight to her chest, knowing the second she let go he would be gone for real and it would all be over.  

But it was never over.  Inko went through this same torturous song and dance every year for fifteen now.  All the guilt and dread would subside slowly over the next one, until it all came back at once.  Just like this.

At least it’s done for now, she tried to reassure herself, climbing back into bed. It still wasn’t even noon yet.  Plenty of time for another breakdown.  Hopefully the next one won’t be, feel, as loud.  She sighed heavily into her sheets.  This sort of thing can’t be normal.  I should really try therapy again.

Against her better judgement, she kept the blanket out, and clutched it to her chest.  Static electricity pricked her fingers.  With her other hand, she reached across the bed, and tried to imagine someone else there. Not Hisashi, never him anymore.  Izuku.  He was fifteen and happy, but the storm was making him nervous so he came to lay beside her.  She remembered it like it was now.  If she closed her eyes, she could feel his warm, soft skin, with a healthy, if a little anxious heartbeat just underneath.  The mattress warped as he sighed.

“We’ll be okay.  It’s just a little rough weather,” she promised.

“Okay, Mom,” Izuku answered quietly.  “…  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”  I’ll start trying to get myself together tomorrow.  For now, let me have this.

Izuku didn’t respond for a while.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.  Happy birthday.”

[thepremedthatwrites]

Isolated

request: You had married Peter as an arrangement.  There was no love involved.  At least that’s what you thought but things can change.  While you may have been unsure of your feelings for the High King, you were certain of one thing: your loneliness.

warning: slight smut in the beginning 

part 2 | part 3

Peter’s warm breath tickled my neck as he moaned into my ear.  I could feel him spill into me, my back arching in response.  We stayed in place for a moment, both of us panting, until he climbed off of me.  Peter slowly climbed out of bed, his back muscles flexing as he bent down to grab his clothes.  I watched motionless as he put on his clothes.  “Are you going to get dressed?” he asked, his voice void of any emotion.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice hoarse causing me to clear my throat.  “In a minute.”  He nodded, quickly fixing his clothes before leaving the room.  I let out a sigh, staring at the ceiling.  My heart rate had returned to normal as I rolled out of bed.  I quickly dressed, fixing my hair before leaving the room.  

I toyed with the ring that rested on my ring finger as I made my way down the hall.  I opened the large doors to reveal a nursery.  I smiled as I picked up the child from the crib.  “Hello Ollie,” I said, rocking the baby back and forth in my arms.  He had his father’s bright blue eyes which were wide with bewilderment as he reached out to grab a strand of my hair that hung over him.  I chuckled, gently removing the hair from his grasp.  “That’s mommy’s hair silly,” I said softly.  

“I still don’t get why you married her,” a voice on the other side of the door said.  

“Susan, we’ve been over this,” another voice replied calmly.  It was Peter’s.  “It was the best way to calm the tension between our nation and Calormen.”

“It’s stupid is what it is,” Susan replied.  “You were in a perfectly happy relationship with Maria.”

“I know,” Peter sighed.  “But I have to put my nation before my feelings.”

“Well, what about Maria’s feelings?  Don’t you think hers are important too?”  Peter stayed silent.  “I guess Narnia is more important than her too.”  The sound of heels could be heard getting gradually softer before being completely inaudible.  I could hear Peter sigh before the door to the room slowly started to open.  

I immediately turned my head to Ollie who had already started to suck on my breast.  “I didn’t know you were in here.”  I turned to Peter.

“I always feed Ollie at this time,” I stated before turning my attention back to my baby.  I could feel Peter linger near the door.  I turned to see him looking around the room.  “I’ll be done soon.  Then you can be with him.”  Peter nodded at this, putting his hands behind his back and walking around the room, inspecting the decorations.  

“You didn’t hear anything before, did you?”

“Hear what?” I lied, suddenly glad that Ollie had decided that he was full.  

“Nothing,” Peter said as I put Ollie back in his crib and adjusted my dress to cover myself.  I inhaled sharply as I felt Peter make his way to the crib, his body only inches from mine.  “He has your nose,” Peter pointed out.  

“And your eyes,” I replied.  I hoped that my heartbeat wasn’t as loud as I thought it was as Peter smiled down at Ollie.

“He does, doesn't he.”  I nodded, clearing my throat and sliding away from Peter who had slowly made his way closer to me.  “He’s all yours,” I said quickly, already making my way towards the door.  

“Thank you,” Peter replied.  I turned to him, giving a quick nod before leaving the room.  I felt my face burn up as I made my way to the library.  My brain replayed the feeling of Peter’s body so close to mine.  The doors slammed behind me as I made my way to a secluded corner, not wanting anyone to see me in such a state.  Why was I freaking out over something so small?  Surely Peter and I had been in much more intimate situations.  But the way we were standing so close, looking down at the child we had both created.  It was like we were a true family filled with love and admiration.  No.  That was stupid.  

Our relationship was not one of love but one of power.  This thought only turned my attention to the conversation I had overheard.  I could already feel the tears burning my eyes as a loud sob escaped me causing me to cover my mouth with my hands as I sat on the floor.  I had been in Narnia for almost a year now and I felt just as much of a stranger as when I had arrived.

I missed Calormen.  I missed the familiarity of my castle, the servants who always gave me friendly smiles, and my brothers who would turn boring days of study into fun adventures.  I missed feeling at home.  The sound of the library doors opening caused me to silence myself.  I quickly wiped away any remaining tears as laughter rang throughout the room.  I got up from my seat on the floor, smoothing out my dress, before walking through the shelves of books.  

I glanced around the corner to see Lucy and Edmund at a table, a chessboard between them.  “You’re cheating,” Edmund complained, causing Lucy to deny the accusation.  I shifted my weight causing the floorboard beneath me to creak.  I winced as the two turned towards the noise.  I revealed myself to them.  The smiles that had been on both of their faces slowly disappeared.  

“Sorry,” I muttered.  “I was just looking at the books.”  I quickly grabbed a random book from the shelf before turning around and walking to the door.  I could hear them whisper behind me as I left the room.  I let out a sigh, mentally cursing myself for being so careless before making my way to my bedroom.  Peter was most likely in a meeting which meant the room would be empty.  

I threw the book onto my nightstand before flinging myself onto the bed.  Almost immediately, tears started to stream down my face.  I was not wanted in Narnia and Narnia had made it very clear to me.  My body shook as I continued to cry until my body could produce no more tears, leaving my body to only shake as pure exhaustion overtook me.  I felt myself start to drift off, wishing to be in my bed in Calormen instead of the bed of loneliness that I laid in.  

“I’m pregnant,” I announced as Peter started to undress.

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.”  I watched as he put on a pair of pants before climbing into bed with me.  

“I’ll alert the others tomorrow.”  I nodded.  A year had passed since I overheard Peter and Susan’s conversation and though I would never admit it, I was hoping that being able to produce another child for Peter - for Narnia - would prove my worth to everyone.  We both laid in silence.  Soon enough, the sound of light snoring could be heard from Peter.  My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I studied the man lying next to me.  I wondered what it would be like if we were actually in love with each other.  Would Peter respond with great excitement when I informed him of my pregnancy?  Would we cuddle together to stay warm during the cold winter nights?  I wondered what it would be like to have his strong arms wrapped around me.  

I turned around, now staring at the dark room around us.  Why was I thinking of this?  Was it because I was lonely or because I actually had feelings for Peter?  Maybe it was a mixture of both.

The next morning, I entered the dining room to see the other royals sitting around the table.  “Peter told us you’re expecting,” Susan stated.  Although there was a smile on her face, it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Yes, I am,” I replied, taking my seat next to Peter.

“Congratulations,” Lucy said.  Her smile seemed to be a bit more genuine.  Of all the royals, Lucy had been the kindest when I had arrived although I could still sense a slight feeling of disdain from her.  Though I wasn’t sure if the disdain was for me or the arranged marriage I was in.  

“Thank you.”  I could feel Maria staring at me, her brother Caspian sitting next to her.  I focused my attention on my breakfast, feeling the guilt build within me.  I barely ate anything as I felt the intense stare of Maria the entire time.  Instead, I pushed the food around my plate before excusing myself after an acceptable amount of time had passed.  

Meals seemed to occur the same way for the next month.  Maria’s eyes seemed to be looking right into my soul, judging every sin that I had ever committed.  My guilt would eat away at me, inhibiting me from eating anything on my plate.  

I closed the door behind me after another horrendous dinner where Maria had reminisced of the times Peter and she used to have.  I couldn’t bear the reminder that I had stripped Maria of her lover.  I was too exhausted to worry about table manners as I excused myself almost immediately after she had started speaking.  I now laid down in bed, almost too tired to even keep my eyes open.

“(Y/n)?”  I opened my eyes to see Peter walking into the room.

“I’m sorry for leaving like that,” I said, my voice weak.  “I just couldn’t handle it anymore.”  

“(Y/n) I’m worried,” he said, making his way to me.  “If you continue to not eat, you could lose the baby.”  I could feel the tears forming at his words.  

“Don’t you think I know that?” I said, my voice a bit louder than before.  “I’m trying Peter.  I’m really trying but it’s hard when I’m not even wanted here.”  I could hear my voice break at the end of the sentence causing me to wince.  Peter seemed to freeze in place as tears streamed down my face.  “Goddammit!” I sobbed, burying my face into my hands.  I hated this.  I hated feeling so alone.  I hated that I could feel my health deteriorating.  I hated that I was crying.  And I especially hated that I was crying in front of Peter.  I could feel Peter watching me in silence as I broke down in front of him.

I felt the bed bend underneath the weight of another body.  I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, hands rubbing my back soothingly as I sobbed into Peter’s chest.  “I’m so sorry,” Peter said softly, repeating the phrase over and over again as I continued to sob.  Eventually, my sobs turned into whimpers before turning into silence.  My entire body felt heavy as I continued to lean into him, his arms remaining where they were.  We both sat there in deafening silence. 

That night, my question of what it would be like to cuddle with Peter was answered.  His strong arms made me feel protected as I fell asleep in them, our legs tangled together like vines.  Our relationship was not perfect.  In fact, it was far from it.  But we had each other and maybe that was enough.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. III) - p.l. dubois

Part I II

Here’s part III! One more part after this, then we’re going to be finishing up our time with Laurel and Pierre-Luc. It’s seriously been so so much fun writing this over the past few weeks, and I’m excited to get to keep the story going. Many many thanks to @hockeyboysiguess for being a great sounding board for Breakable Heaven so far, my favorite response of hers to anything I’ve sent has got to be “that’s rude.” So, enjoy! Reblog if you enjoy it, come scream into my inbox, and I still read every tag!

Part III

July 10 (sat)

Laurel was exhausted. Two hours after the wedding, her and her meager bridal party had shown up to her house, piling everything she hadn’t yet brought over to Pierre’s apartment into her SUV and Madeline’s white sedan. She left her old apartment with the keys at the front office and one last wistful look into the place that had once been her own. She’d miss it, she thought, as she and Pierre drove down the Ville-Marie Expressway towards his apartment, her fingers still trying to get used to the feeling of having rings on it. She’d only lived in the space for a year, but it was in that building that she started her dream job, that space that she adopted her dog, that apartment where she met one of her best friends and that place where she got married. 

They had spent a few hours half-heartedly unpacking her boxes; Laurel was excited to get settled in, but she was also the world’s worst procrastinator and even at 6 PM, all that she had managed to get done was folding some clothes and adding her book collection to the shelves in the living room. Pierre poked his head into the spare room — her room? — rolling his eyes when he saw her “progress.” “I was going to order in, what do you feel like?” 

Laurel hung up a blazer in the closet. “Pizza?” she asked hopefully. “Though I’m really going to have to teach you to cook one of these days. We can’t survive off of take-out and pasta alone.” 

“If that’s how you want to be,” he responded good-naturedly. “I’ll have you know that I can cook more than pasta, though.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows. “What’s the Chef Dubois specialty?” 

“I make a mean salmon,” he replied, before returning to the living room. That was another thing she had to get used to quickly as soon as they started going through the marriage process: Québec didn’t allow for women to take their husbands’ names at marriage. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought too deeply about, but Laurel supposed she’d always assumed that she’d take her husband’s name when she got married. But then again, she always assumed she’d get married under normal circumstances. Her parents aside, Cloquet wasn’t an absurdly conservative town, but it was still certainly something of an anomaly for a married woman to still have her maiden name. Which is what she was now. A married woman. Oh God. 

--

Pizza with white wine may not have been the most conventional choice, but it got the job done, Laurel thought as she lay in bed at half past midnight, the birds outside her door insisting on making her efforts to fall asleep as futile as her efforts to ignore them. She’d already been in bed for an hour; after dinner, her and Pierre watched a few episodes of Black Mirror — also probably not the best choice to do before bed, but oh well — before he wished her a good night’s sleep. She had taken a melatonin and drank a cup of tea before bed, put on a playlist full of rain noises, but nothing seemed to be working. Maybe it was because it was the first night in a new place, or the birds outside, or just the craziness and excitement of the day catching up to her. 

Laurel felt like a child again as she padded over to Pierre’s room, like she was five and back in Minnesota, crawling into her parents’ bed after hearing a wolf howl somewhere on the property. But really, she didn’t really care what she had to do if it meant she could get a good night’s rest. She knocked lightly on his door, careful not to wake up the dogs, who had long since fallen asleep in a corner of the living room. “Mmm?” he answered. She turned the doorknob. God, I hope I didn’t wake him up. She didn’t, as it would turn out; Pierre was propped up on his headboard, scrolling through his phone as he moved his eyes from his screen to her figure in the doorway. “You good? Everything okay?” 

Laurel shrugged, wiggling her hand. “I don’t know what it is, I tried everything but I’m just not able to get to sleep. I’d try and wait it out, but my sleep cycle will be thrown off for a week if I’m not able to get to bed tonight.”

He moved over from the middle, reaching over to the side of his bed and getting another pillow before throwing back the covers and patting the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

“Are you sure?” Laurel said, furrowing her brow, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was wearing an old t-shirt and panties, leaving very little to the imagination. 

He nodded, putting his phone down on the nightstand, smiling softly at her. “Of course. What’s mine is yours, eh?” That was all it took for Laurel to climb into the right side, claiming it as her own, and throw the duvet over her body. She fell asleep almost instantly. 

---

Laurel woke up to the unmistakable smell of bacon frying and the other side of the bed devoid of Pierre’s sleeping form. She straightened the bed before walking out, where she was greeted by two plates on the breakfast bar, a pot of coffee brewing, and her husband at the stove. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” Laurel teased, leaning up against the granite countertop. 

“Good morning to you too.” Pierre shrugged. “I hardly think being able to fry an egg and not burn toast qualifies as cooking, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Laurel stepped further into the kitchen, lightly dragging her fingers over his back in a silent thank you as she opened the cupboard. “Let me get the coffee, at least,” she said, grabbing two mugs off the shelf and the creamer out of the fridge. “How do you take yours?” Laurel asked, glancing at Pierre from the side as he buttered the toast. 

“A little bit of cream, more sugar,” he replied, sliding the plates onto the bar as she handed him his mug. “Perfect,” he said, smiling. A few minutes into breakfast, with Laurel just about to crunch into her second piece of toast, he spoke again. “So, I was thinking…”

She nodded. “I should hope so?”

Pierre laughed, ducking his head. “I was going to post something about the wedding today, online and stuff, but wanted to check with you first.” They had spoken about it once or twice before the wedding, both of them knew that it wasn’t practical nor honest to think that they’d be able to keep the news from everyone over the entire duration of their temporary marriage. And part of the “sell,” part of what she needed to prove, was that their relationship was real. And real would mean posting about each other online, real would mean flying down a few times a month — thank God her schedule gave her a long weekend, and thank God the flight wasn’t too long  — for games and galas and real would mean meeting his friends and him meeting her family and Laurel had to stop thinking about it all before her head exploded. 

“Go for it,” she said. “I don’t like having to hide from it any more than you do, so it’ll be a relief to let everyone know, give a heads-up to the four people on my Instagram page who actually care about my life. 

Pierre poked her arm. “Five, now.” He opened his phone, scrolling through the pictures Madeline had sent from yesterday. She had run a small side business doing photography in university, and insisted on taking their photos as a wedding present. “You deserve something beautiful to look back on,” she had said. The final book wouldn’t be done for a few weeks, but she had sent over the raw shots the night before. “What about this one?” He leaned over to show her. Their foreheads were touching, his arms wrapped around her waist as they stood in the middle of one of Vieux Port’s cobblestone side streets. Laurel’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, her other hand loosely holding her bouquet. If you didn’t know, they looked like a real couple. They looked like they were in love. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Laurel murmured softly. “I knew Madeline was talented, but wow. She outdid herself.”

Pierre nodded in agreement. “She did. I know I already told you, but you really did look incredible.” Laurel’s cheeks burned; she raised her mug to her lips, hopeful the oversized ceramic would cover enough of her face that he couldn’t see the effect his words had had on her. Laurel opened her own phone, scrolling through to find the matching photo. A few minutes later, he handed her his phone and she passed hers, giving their captions one last once-over before giving up their secret. Her eyes flitted across the screen.

Yesterday, I had the incredible fortune of marrying @laurel.klerken, the best person I’ve ever had the fortune of loving. I know it might come as a shock, and that we’ve kept our relationship under wraps since realizing after years of being friends that friendship just wasn’t enough any more, but this wasn’t a decision that either of us made lightly. Laurel, you’re an amazing woman, and even though it’s only been a day, an amazing wife. Whether it’s for your patients, your friends, or me, you make everyone around you feel warm, safe, and cared for beyond measure. You have a sharp wit and an even sharper mind, and I have endless admiration for how committed you are for standing up for what’s right, even when it’s not popular and even if it’s gotten you in trouble once or twice. Marriage is a partnership and a journey, and I’ve never been so excited to start a new adventure. 

Laurel sniffed, not even noticing the tears pricking her eyes until Pierre handed her a tissue. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You don’t think you’re laying it on a little thick, though?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Not at all.” One tap later, and it was posted. Three minutes later, his phone rang as they were doing the breakfast dishes. Cap ❤️ flashed across the screen. Pierre grimaced. “It’s the captain. I should probably answer this one,” he said, pressing the speaker button as he dried his hands on a spare towel. 

“You’re married,” Nick Foligno said, wasting no time. “Is this a fucking joke?” Laurel more than understood his apprehension, but the words still stung. 

“Yes I am,” Pierre said slowly, “and no, it’s not a joke. Laurel and I are legally married in the province of Québec.”

She could hear a labored breath from the other line, followed by an airy laugh. “What the hell, man?”

Nick was ultimately happy for them, and after being introduced to Laurel after they switched the call over to FaceTime he apologized for his reaction, but Laurel waved him off. “You’re just looking out for your boy is all. I’d do the same.” 

Nick nodded. “Take care of him for us, Laurel. Your address still the same?” He looked over towards Pierre, who hummed his assent. “Janelle and I will send you something. Something useful.”

---

July 28 (wed)

“Something useful” turned out to be a gorgeous set of Wüsthof knives and a stand mixer, the latter of which Laurel was nearly jumping out of her socks with excitement to try. Baking had long since been one of her favorite hobbies and her go-to method of stress relief; while she was grateful for the arm muscles her years of having to hand mix everything had given her, she wasn’t going to miss the extra effort. So Laurel Klerken was taking full advantage of her new toy. She had gone down to the Jean-Talon market in the morning, which was quickly becoming one of her favorite weekly activities. Especially with Pierre around to help her, she was learning to shift her speaking into the Québecois dialect, and her French was good enough to order from the vendors in their language and be understood. In her book, that was a win. The peak of summer meant it was berry season in Montréal, which meant it was time for Laurel to break out her nana’s blueberry oatmeal muffin recipe. And chocolate chip walnut cookies. And a French apple tart. Okay, so maybe she went a little bit overboard, but they had their desserts for the week and it made the kitchen smell so good. 

Pierre opened the door just as Laurel was pulling out the last pan of cookies, walking around the corner into the kitchen and raising his eyebrows at the view. She looked over at him. “You going to complain about your wife’s baking when you’re the primary beneficiary?” she asked, challenging him with a playful smile on his face. 

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, holding the mail between two fingers. “No.” He picked one of the cookies off of the cooling rack, taking a bite. “Definitely not.” 

Laurel nodded towards the mail, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. “What came in the mail?”

“Nothing much,” he said, shrugging. “Just a little letter from IRCC.”

Her eyes lit up. “Immigration finally got back? Did they send my card?”

Pierre nodded, handing her the envelope. It barely took five seconds for her to rip it open. “You, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, are now officially a permanent resident of Canada. Congrats, babe.”

Laurel squeaked in excitement, dancing around in the kitchen , the holographic detailing on the card catching the glow of the late-afternoon light. She threw her arms around Pierre, giving him a kiss on the cheek that was just barely off to the side of his lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said breathlessly. 

“Don’t mention it.”

She pulled back, still smiling. “No, ‘don’t mention it’ is for when you bring home dinner without being asked, or take a drunk friend home from the bar. Not for things like this,” she said, wiggling her card. “This is everything to me, P. I get to stay in the city that I love, I get to stay at the job that I love. I get to —” She looked down, eyes widening. “I can finally get a health card!”

Pierre let out a laugh. “Out of everything, you’re most excited about that?” Being a dual citizen who lived in the U.S. for the better part of the year, Pierre understood the absolute chasm of accessibility that separated the American and Canadian health insurance systems better than most, but he still looked at his wife’s choice with incredulity. 

“Of course it is,” Laurel said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She still had insurance purchased through her work, but the fact that now it was so much easier and official and came out of her taxes instead of having to try and navigate the bureaucratic system of forms and checks and private insurance companies made it so much easier. “It’s just nice to finally be a part of a system that acknowledges healthcare as the human right it is. That’s another thing about how it works in the U.S., it’s tied to employment a lot of the time so it’s not always a guarantee.” 

She gave a tense smile, leaning back against the counter. “I might seem a little worked up about it, but that’s because I am. Uh,” she paused, eyes flickering up towards the chrome-plated track lighting, “my dad lost his job when I was a kid. He was a foreman at a construction company, but then the recession hit in ‘08 and he was laid off.  We lost our insurance. Maggie and I were able to get on MinnesotaCare, which is the state insurance for low-income families, but our parents didn’t get approved. Not enough money to go around, I guess,” she scoffed. “Unemployment wasn’t paying enough and mom’s job isn’t full-time, so she doesn’t get benefits. Apparently they think healthcare is a benefit.” Laurel took another pause. “And then Dad had a stroke. It wasn’t serious, thank God, but the bills...Maggie was almost graduating high school and headed off to college, and money was tight even before the layoffs. We were able to come up with the money, but only because the community really came together, in a way I had never seen before. I still haven’t seen anything like it since. Bake sales, church fundraisers, garage sales.” The tiniest of smiles played on Laurel’s lips as she looked back up at her husband. “Do you know how much pasta Minnesotans can eat at a spaghetti dinner?” 

“A lot?”

“A whole hell of a lot,” Laurel confirmed. “But anyways. That’s when it became personal to me, and I think it’s why healthcare and access to quality care is still something that I’m still so passionate about and invested in. It’s why I became a nurse.”

Pierre walked over to her carefully, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “It makes absolute sense, Laurel. I know that probably wasn’t easy for you, so thank you for sharing. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to let me in like that.” Laurel wasn’t a cold person by any means; she was one of the kindest and most giving people Pierre had ever met, even in the few months that they’d known each other. But she was someone that could be guarded at times — for very good reason — and it meant the world to him that she was willing to let him chip away her hardened exterior little by little to see the brilliance that lay within. 

She pressed against his side, her head resting on his arm. “You’re my husband. Why wouldn’t I?”

 ---

 Laurel was in the ensuite of her and Pierre’s room, washing her face before going to bed, when she heard her phone vibrate with a text. After that first night, Laurel had made it a habit of sharing a bed; she’d never slept better in her life than the past two and a half weeks, and even though she may have been loath to admit it, waking up to an incredibly attractive man — who was shirtless half of the time — wasn’t something she was about to complain about. “Can you get that for me?” She was expecting a text from her mom, something about confirming her and her dad’s flight times for their visit next week. 

“Laurel?” Pierre called cautiously. 

She turned towards him, patting her face dry. “What? Did their gate get changed or something?”

He shook his head, walking towards her and holding the phone out like it was a bomb. “It’s Maggie.”

Laurel’s mouth immediately went dry. “M-Maggie?” She took the phone, staring at the screen, open to the text. 

“Do you want to talk to her? You don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it,” Pierre said, searching her face for any semblance of apprehension. As far as he knew, she hadn’t talked to her sister in years, and he didn’t know why that was suddenly about to change. 

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I just...I have no idea what she wants. Why, after three years, is she finally deciding that she wants to be a part of my life again?” She looked down at her phone. 

So, I had to hear it through the Cloquet grapevine that you got married?? What’s that about, L? Maggie wrote. Laurel pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. The gossip train in her hometown was second to none; to be honest, she was a little bit surprised it even took her older sister this long to hear about it. She was already enough of an anomaly. Less than a quarter of her city had a college degree, even fewer left the state to do it, so her going to Toronto for university was practically unfathomable — even if it was closer than Texas, where her second-choice school was. So, needless to say, she was a frequent headline in the Cloquet rumor mill. She had heard it all. That she had run off to Canada to escape a high school sweetheart turned sour, that she had cut off all ties with her family, that she had shaved half of her head and dyed her eyebrows bright pink. The last one actually had some truth to it, but it was just the eyebrows and she was a drunk 20-year-old, and at least she didn’t get a tattoo of the Maple Leafs logo on her thigh like her friend Ethan. 

But this one wasn’t a rumor, and if nothing else, Maggie deserved to know that much. Not much to say. It’s true, if that’s what you were wondering. 

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out third-hand?

Laurel rolled her eyes, sitting down with a huff on the edge of their bed. Not to be harsh, Maggie, but it’s not like you’ve wanted to be that invested in my life since you left home. How was I supposed to know if this was even your number any more? I don’t even know what country you’re in right now. 

Her response was almost immediate. I’m working at a hostel in Tokyo. But seriously? I know we haven’t been super close the past few years, but I’m still your sister, and I would have thought you’d tell me about something like this. Getting married is big. You don’t think you’re still a little young? Have you even finished school yet?

I graduated last year, I’ve been working at a hospital in Montréal for over a year, Maggie. And I know it’s a little early, but Pierre-Luc and I are happy. I love him, and he’s a good man and respects the hell out of me. I don’t really need anything else. 

It was a few minutes before her next text came through, this time in all caps. YOU MARRIED A FUCKING NHLER? Laurel grew up knowing hockey, obviously; you couldn’t really live in Minnesota and not, and she wasn’t even a half-bad skater herself, but Maggie had always been the more dedicated of the sisters. She’d been the one who was always begging their dad to make the two-hour drive to St. Paul for a Wild game. Even when money was tight, Doug always found a way to scrape up enough for the tickets as her birthday present in January. 

Denise from church didn’t tell you?

All she said was that it was some hot French-Canadian guy, and mom said you moved to Quebec, so I thought it could be any number. Fair enough.

Denise seriously called him hot?

Laurel could imagine her sister rolling her eyes all the way in Japan. Okay, fine, she didn’t say hot. But like...am I wrong? 

For the first time in a long time, her sister made her laugh. Yeah, okay. He’s hot. I’m very aware that my husband is a class-A babe. 

“You think I’m hot?” Pierre said, peeking over her shoulder and wiggling his eyebrows. 

Laurel’s cheeks heated. “Yes, okay. I think you’re very attractive. Happy?” 

“Very,” he responded. “I’m glad my wife thinks I’m hot. The feeling’s mutual,” he said before walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving her even more flustered than before. She turned back to her conversation with Maggie. My shift is about to start, so I’ve got to go. But I’m happy for you, L. I really am. You’ve done exactly what you want with your life, and I couldn’t be more proud. 

Laurel’s finger traced the words on the screen, a small smile on her face as Pierre came back into the room, throwing back the sheets. She plugged her phone into its charger, turning it face-down onto the nightstand. Things weren’t perfect between her and Maggie; far from it. One conversation over text wasn’t going to change that. But maybe, just maybe, there was still something there that was worth saving. After flicking off the lights, the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Pierre snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her to rest her back up against his chest. And Laurel let him. 

August 17 (tues 

It had been one of the worst days of Laurel’s life, and she wasn’t one for dramatics. Certainly the worst shift of her career. She knew when she chose to work in a pediatric intensive care unit, that it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. If she wanted sunshine and rainbows, she would have gone with something less taxing. Something like dermatology, or working in a pediatrician’s office, or being a school nurse. God knows she could hand out ice packs and tampons. But no, she had to pick critical care, and critical care with children, one of the most emotionally and mentally taxing areas in the entire healthcare field. She saw the highest highs, the incredible moments when a three-year-old girl with a brain hemorrhage was able to get home, or a twelve-year-old boy finally got a kidney transplant after having been waiting for years. She saw the highest highs, but on days like today, she also saw the lowest lows.  

Laurel carried her scrub top in one hand, her backpack slung over one shoulder, and tried desperately to regulate her breathing as she turned her key in the lock, pushing the door open. No matter how many times she had helped her patients breathe, she never seemed to be able to take her own advice. 

Pierre stood in the kitchen, making a smoothie, but immediately turned off the blender when he saw her face. “What happened?” he asked, gently taking her bag from her and placing it on the floor. 

Laurel collapsed into his arms almost instantly. “T-there was a little girl who c-came in yesterday from a car crash, and it was pretty b-bad, but she made it through the night and everyone thought she’d b-be fine,” she hiccuped, “but then right at the end of m-my shift she started coughing up b-blood and she was crashing, so I tried to do CPR until the t-team got there, but it didn’t work and we…” Laurel trailed off, sobbing, gripping the back of Pierre’s shirt like a lifeline. “We lost her, P. And the doctor on call was tied up with another patient, so I had to notify the family, and God, it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. She was only seven.” She looked down at her scrub top. “I have to go throw this in the washing machine before the stain sets.” 

Pierre pulled back slightly, gently taking the navy shirt from her, giving a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll do it. You need to rest. Take a shower, or a bath, get into some comfortable clothes. I’ll take care of dinner.” 

It was almost forty-five minutes later when Laurel finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in high school sweats and a faded Blue Jackets t-shirt. “I hope you didn’t mind that I took this one,” she said, picking at a loose thread on the bottom hem, “I hadn’t gotten to laundry yet this week.”

“It’s fine, Laur,” Pierre said, plating chicken stir-fry and rice. Cooking together had become one of their things; Pierre certainly wasn’t as hopeless as some people she had met, and he was right that he made an excellent salmon. But they couldn’t eat fish every day of the week, so Laurel broke out one of her few cookbooks and they had been making their way through the recipes together. They had finished breakfast and were making their way through poultry. Hence, chicken stir-fry. “You look better in it anyways.”

They ate in silence, her half-heartedly picking up forkfuls of rice only to put them down again. She smiled weakly at Pierre. “The food’s good, I swear. I just don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”

“I get that,” he said. “How about I put this in away in the fridge and you can get a yogurt or something? You don’t have to have a full meal, but you should eat something. We can watch something after, or you can go to bed if you’re not feeling up to it. Your call.”

“TV sounds nice, do you still have the old Parks & Rec recorded?” Laurel needed something she didn’t need to pay attention to, something that could just be background noise as she tried to sift through the emotions of her day and try to make sense of it all. 

He nodded. “Wouldn’t get rid of it before asking, I know how much you love it.”

They were curled up on the couch together a few minutes later, a striped blanket thrown over Laurel’s lap despite the weather outside still lingering in the mid 70s. It wasn’t for warmth, not really; it was for comfort. Pierre’s arm was slung over her back, his thumb absentmindedly moving across her upper arm. She leaned into his touch, hardly paying attention to the show. “Do you want to talk about it?” Pierre murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You don’t have to, but it might help.” He wasn’t an expert by any means, but Pierre obviously knew that people died in hospitals, in intensive care units even more so. Which meant that there was an almost surefire chance that she had had people die on her watch, die on her shift. Had children die on her watch. And that didn’t mean she was a bad nurse or a bad person, but just that sometimes there were illnesses and injuries so severe that even the best medical care in the province couldn’t save them. So why was this one impacting her so intensely? Had she reacted this way before, with Madeline or her coworkers, and he just hadn’t seen it before? Or was there something different about this case, about that girl that made it hit closer to home for some reason?

Laurel took a shaky breath. “I know you’re right, that it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside. But that’s what I’m used to, you know? I love my job, I do, but you have to compartmentalize sometimes. With this one, it’s just…” She searched for the right words. “It was so immediate, so in front of me, that I didn’t have any time to reach beyond trying to save her life. I didn’t think, I just went based on instinct and training. And she still died.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Laurel,” Pierre said firmly. “You did everything you could, you did everything right.”

“I know that,” she sniffed, “but it’s so hard to believe sometimes. That if I had gotten there a few seconds sooner, or if the crash team had been a little earlier, she might have survived. And I wouldn’t have had to tell a mother and father that their daughter was dead.” Pierre felt terrible, like there was nothing he could do, because there was nothing he could do, not apart from sit and listen. “I think it was different this time because I finally saw myself in their shoes, I obviously don’t have kids, not yet, but I imagined what it was like to have to be on the receiving end of that news, and it tore me apart, P.” Her voice cracked, and his heart broke. “Being the mom to a beautiful child and then all of the sudden having them all of the sudden stripped away? No longer living? I know that life’s not fair, but fuck, I thought I thought it would be a little better than this.” 

Her voice went silent, and Pierre took the opportunity to speak. “It’s not fair, and I think part of what makes you so good at what you do is the fact that you recognize that. You’re so dedicated to giving everyone that comes through those doors the best care, because you genuinely believe that they deserve it. And that’s incredible. You don’t get complacent, you’re never satisfied with just doing things adequately and just enough to get by. You give everything 110%, and that’s how I know the kind of incredible person you are.” He paused. “And I think every parent worries about their kid getting sick, or getting hurt. I know mine did, and I’d be willing to bet yours were the same way. Worrying means you care. And you care the most deeply, the most genuinely, out of anyone I’ve ever met. And I know, when the time comes, that you’ll make an amazing mother. Whoever gets to do that with you will be a lucky man.”

“You really think so?”

Pierre slipped his hand into hers. “Positive.”

September 10 (fri)

Laurel’s fingers tapped nervously on the counter as she waited for Pierre to bring the last of his bags from the bedroom. He didn’t usually schlep a ton of things back-and-forth from Montréal to Columbus every time he needed to travel, but his ticket came with two free checked bags and if there was one thing Pierre-Luc Dubois was, it was efficient. It was the middle of September, and that meant training camps. That meant leaving Québec. That meant Ohio. That meant not seeing Pierre for weeks at a time, when the longest they had been apart since July was a two-day trip to Québec City Laurel took with her parents when they visited in August. Over the past two months, they had settled into a routine, and that routine was about to be broken. Grocery shopping, him washing the dishes while she dried, falling asleep together and waking up with legs tangled in the middle of the bed. She knew that he liked his coffee with a little bit of cream and more sugar, that Georgia got fussy if she wasn’t let out in the morning but Paul was more of a night owl, that dessert wasn’t supposed to be on his meal plan every day but that she could always get him to break for a slice of peach pie. He knew that she needed two Advil on the first day of her period because one just wouldn’t cut it, that her favorite Disney princess was Jasmine because of her independence, and that she liked to light lavender candles when she was stressed. 

Pierre wheeled a bag out of the doorway. “That the last one?” Laurel asked, passing Phil’s leash to him as she held Georgia’s. He nodded. She spun her keys around on her finger. “Got both of your passports?” 

Pierre patted his jacket pocket.  “Right here.” It was easier for him; he could skip the wait in both countries. Exit Canada with the Canadian, enter the U.S. with the American.

It was 2 and his flight wasn’t until 4:15, but Laurel didn’t trust the traffic and she didn’t trust the wait times at the airport. “Guess we should get going then.”

“Guess we should.” Laurel grabbed one bag and he got the other, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and wheeling it out the door. It only took twenty minutes to get to the airport. Laurel pulled up next to the curb, double-checking the signs to make sure she wasn’t about to get fined for stopping, and put the car into park. Pierre was the first to open his door, grabbing both the dogs; Laurel followed suit a moment later.

“You’ve got to pop the trunk, babe,” Pierre murmured. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Oh, right,” she said, pressing the button on her key. It popped open with a telltale click; Pierre hefted out the black bag, she got the silver one. “Do you know how many people are going to have this exact bag? It’s going to be a nightmare at baggage claim, P” Laurel tried to joke. She always coped with humor. 

Pierre laughed, this time a real one. “Fair enough. Guess I’ve got a lot riding on my luggage tags,” he said, flicking one of the offending objects around the handle of the bag, the black one. Laurel handed him the other handle, their fingers brushing as he gripped the metal. He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. He could see the apprehension in her eyes. There were a lot of things that Laurel Klerken did well, really well, but lying was never one of them. She was always an open book. “Hey, don’t look so down, Laur,” he said softly. “I know you’ll be missing your personal space heater and Piper will miss her siblings, but you’re coming to visit in two weeks and it’s going to be amazing. I’ll introduce you to the boys and the other wives, you’ll get to catch one of the preseason games, finally see my place in Columbus. It might be weird being alone for a while, but —” He cut himself off. “Scratch that, it will be weird for a while, for both of us, but we’ll get through it. You’re a great person, and not a terrible wife either. People have done long-distance relationships that were longer distances for more time, and they made it through just fine. You’ll be okay, Laur. We’ll be okay.”

Laurel took an unsteady breath, trying her best to put on a brave face. “Not a terrible wife, huh? Well, you’re not half a bad husband either.” As she spoke, she was thinking over his words. How normal they sounded, but how abnormal that was for them. They weren’t a normal couple, all they really were were friends who got married — right? So why was he saying those things, things that made him seem like a real husband talking to his real wife, things that were making her feel that maybe, just maybe, this marriage wasn’t as much of a hoax as the thought it was? And it was only because of that, only because she was either reading way too much into a situation that wasn’t even there or was the premier of reading people’s body language and being able to parse out their unsaid words, that she did what she did next. She threw her arms around her husband, and she kissed him.

[steppedoffaflight]

Van has just come back to the land of the living, rubbing his eyes groggily as you enter the room.

“Shit,” He croaks, “I meant to get up before you. Wanted to surprise you.”

“Don’t be silly,” You brush him off, but secretly you’re pleased that he remembered. He’d been talking about it all week, sure, but you wouldn’t blame him if it slipped his mind first thing in the morning.

“Happy birthday,” He grins as you hand him his warm mug of coffee. He takes it right into his hands, unbothered by the heat, and immediately takes a sip. Three years into your relationship you no longer openly cringe at him trying to blister his tongue every morning.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” You retort with a grin, climbing back into the warmth of your bed.

based on the prompt: Hi! Can I request a fic in which readers bday is valentines day and she spends the day with Van❤️

A/N: This probably went in a different direction than you meant it, but I hope you like it! Also I’m completely in love with this universe, and if anyone would like to read more of it feel free to let me know!

Word count: ~4.5k

As soon as your alarm goes off, you dread getting out of bed.

February in New York is as cold as can be, and as usual the frigid air has seeped in through the exposed brick walls of your apartment. Your first act of the morning is barely allowing one of your arms to emerge from the warm bubble of your comforter and sheets, your hand reaching blindly to turn the bedside lamp on. 

Your second order of business is forcing yourself to peel away the warm, soft layers of protection from the rest of your body, your skin breaking out in goosebumps as you slowly get your feet off of the side of the bed, your toes landing in the plush rug your bed rests on. You take another deep breath before you manage to stand yourself up, stepping off of the rug and onto the chilly hardwood floors as you start to stumble out of the bedroom.

You scowl at Van as you go. He’s nestled happily next to your empty space on the bed, deeply asleep and oblivious to the torment you were being subjected to.

Your shared apartment relies mostly on natural light, so preparing coffee on early morning workdays means you’ve learned to navigate the space in near-complete darkness. The kitchen light nearly blinds you when you flip the switch, your eyes unprepared for the burst of brightness.

Van’s put the coffee filters one shelf higher in the cabinet than you can comfortably reach, and you groan as you hoist yourself up on your very tiptoes, barely able to grasp them with the tips of your fingers. But you manage, and soon the coffee maker is starting to sputter, warming up in preparation to make a pot for the two of you.

You head across the room to the thermostat, satisfied when it reacts to you changing the settings by coming to life, the vents creaking as lukewarm air starts to blow from them.

You head into the living room, then, tugging open the curtains that are covering the big window. It reveals the same city you’ve been staring at all winter; gray skies and dirty, slushy snow. 

Once you’ve used the bathroom the coffee is ready, and you pour two mugs before heading back into the bedroom. 

Van has just come back to the land of the living, rubbing his eyes groggily as you enter the room.

“Shit,” He croaks, “I meant to get up before you. Wanted to surprise you.”

“Don’t be silly,” You brush him off, but secretly you’re pleased that he remembered. He’d been talking about it all week, sure, but you wouldn’t blame him if it slipped his mind first thing in the morning.

“Happy birthday,” He grins as you hand him his warm mug of coffee. He takes it right into his hands, unbothered by the heat, and immediately takes a sip. Three years into your relationship you no longer openly cringe at him trying to blister his tongue every morning.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” You retort with a grin, climbing back into the warmth of your bed. 

Your text messaging threads and Facebook wall are already full of messages from friends and family wishing you a good year. The rest of your feed is dedicated to Valentine’s Day, everyone and their uncle making long, sappy posts about their significant others, complete with a spread of photos. You’ve never made one for Van before out of respect for his hatred of social media, but this year it might be fun to join in with the tradition. You’ll have to ask him about it later.

Van’s set his coffee on his nightstand, wrapping his arms around your midsection. “How do you feel?” He asks, before burying his face in your stomach.

“Older,” You laugh, setting your phone aside. You pet his hair with the hand not holding your coffee. “Like I don’t wanna go to work today.”

“Don’t go,” He pleads, his voice muffled in your shirt. “Call off.”

It’s his go-to line almost every morning. You roll your eyes.

“It’s not that simple,” You tell him, as if you haven’t a hundred times before. “Plus, you’ll be at the studio all day, so it won’t even be worth it!”

“You can come to the studio with me!” He begs, right on cue.

“Shush,” You shut him down. “I’ll have plenty of time in the summer to drop by the studio.”

It’s hard to imagine that summer will ever exist, given the ice and snow that’s covered every inch of New York for months, but the thought of it still excites you. You’ll finally be getting a much-needed break from work, the band will be done working on this album, and you and Van will have nothing but quality time to spend with each other. The thought of it brightens up your day, as if the July sunshine has somehow magically transported here today.

After coffee you’ve got to force yourself to get ready for work. A few friends from your office have already wished you happy birthday this morning on Facebook, so you’re sure you’ll have people constantly stopping by your office to give you their well-wishes. You sift through a few outfits, feeling more self conscious than you have in months.

You end up tugging on a sweater dress that clings tight to your skin. It almost feels like it’s suffocating you, but when you step out of the walk-in closet Van’s eyes almost bug out of his head. 

“Do you like this?” You ask him, your voice betraying your uncertainty. 

“Love it,” Van nods before taking a glug of his coffee. “Proper sexy.”

You glare at him. “It’s so tight. I feel like a fucking balloon.”

Van rolls his eyes. “You can say it, doesn’t make it true.”

You head back into the closet in a huff, but Van’s approval means you leave the dress on. You pair it with a loose cardigan so that every single contour of your body isn’t clearly visible, and after deciding you look decent you struggle to roll on a pair of thick stockings and a tall pair of boots, preparing to keep yourself warm on the walk to work.

You share the bathroom with Van as you fix your hair and makeup and he shaves in preparation for his own day, and then he’s helping you into your warm wool coat, giving you a quick goodbye kiss before you head out. 

Your thick layers of clothing make your buttoned coat feel like it’s squeezing you, so before you’ve gotten very far from your building’s front door you’ve already decided to unbutton it. It’s not windy today, and during your walk to the office you work up a bit of a sweat, so overall today is going better than usual. 

\\

As predicted, people stop by all morning and into the afternoon to wish you a happy birthday and gush about their Valentine’s Day plans. When they ask you what you’re doing to celebrate in return, you try not to be bothered by the way all of their faces fall when you tell them that you and Van have nothing special going on, just a quiet night in. 

You run behind schedule all day from interruptions, and by the time you’re heading out into the snow to head back home you’re frustrated, trying to mentally calculate everything you’ll have to get done when you get back to the office on Monday to make up for your lackluster performance today. 

“Christ!”

You jump when Van’s voice materializes behind you, and you turn on your heels to see he was leaning on the brick near the door, rushing to catch up with you, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

“You didn’t even recognize me!” He laughs in disbelief, the steam of his breath floating into the air.

“People smoke there all the time!” You laugh, happily taking his hand when he holds it out for you. You two start the walk home. “Good day in the studio?”

“Oh, it was class. I feel like I’m writing better than I ever have.”

You beam at the profile of his face, watching the nippy evening wind carry his exhaled smoke away. “Oh really,” You tease, “Why?”

Van’s been happier ever since you two relocated from LA to New York, but with the way things have been going so well between you two he’s been even happier, an extra pep in his step everywhere he goes. Everyday he looks like he’s on the brink of proposing. You’d be lying if you hadn’t sort of had your hopes up for today being the day.

“The summer,” He grins. “Can’t fucking wait.”

He’s lazily swinging your hands between you two, and you watch your hand move back and forth in his before you sigh. 

“Give me a hit of that,” You insist, reaching out for his cigarette with your free hand. Van looks appalled, plucking it from his mouth to hold it on the other side of his body.

“You quit!”

“I’m not gonna start again over one hit,” You roll your eyes. “Not with you keeping me so fucking accountable.”

Van doesn’t look convinced, and you scoff.

“It’s my birthday! And fucking Valentine’s Day! Don’t you love me, like, at all?”

At this Van narrows his eyes. “Oh, quit,” He mumbles, but then silently passes over the cigarette. 

You close your eyes at the taste of your first hit in months. God, you miss smoking so much. “Happy birthday to me,” You joke when you finally let the smoke out of your lungs, stealing another quick hit before you pass it back to him. “You know, you’re gonna have to quit soon.”

Van shakes his head on his next inhale. “Don’t think I can, honest,” He tells you on his exhale. “But I’m gonna give it a hell of a try.”

You snort, and you two fall into a comfortable silence the rest of the way.

Van doesn’t let go of your hand until the elevator arrives on your floor and he has to let go to unlock the door for you, ushering you inside.

“Oh my God,” You laugh when you see the inside of the apartment, which Van’s decorated with red, white, and pink streamers. “I’m not cleaning all of this up.”

“Course not,” Van laughs, tenderly touching your lower back as he heads into the kitchen. “Come open gifts.”

“I didn’t even ask for anything!” You protest. “Besides that new pillow. If you didn’t get me that, I’m pissed.”

Van throws his head back, laughing as you two come through the doorway into the kitchen. There’s a birthday cake sitting happily on the island, which Van has poked a billion candles into.

“I feel like there’s more than 25 here,” You try to count them with your eyes.

“Nope, 25 exactly,” Van grins, presenting you with your first gift. “I can’t take credit for this one, it’s from Bob.”

As soon as you pick it up you know exactly what it is, the wrapping crinkling around the edges of a picture frame, the glass panel cool through the paper. Van leans on his elbows across the kitchen island from you, a knowing grin across his face.

“Is this what I think it is?” You’re hesitant to get excited, starting to rip the wrapping paper away from the corners. “Holy fucking shit,” You gasp as the photo is revealed.

It’s a photo of you and Van in black and white, standing in front of the living room window. The contrast of the bright white lighting of the window against your dark bodies showcases both of your silhouettes. Bob must’ve taken it when you two weren’t paying attention, because you’re both laughing about something. Van’s hand is absentmindedly resting on your baby bump, which is showing up prominently in this photo.

“This is so gorgeous,” You murmur, unable to stop the tears that spring to your eyes. Bob had just been over last week to take these; you hadn’t expected him to have them developed and ready so soon considering the boys were extremely busy right now. You’re just getting settled into your second trimester, and although it seemed a bit premature for photos Van was adamant about capturing your newly blossoming stomach. 

“I didn’t realize I already have such a bump,” You sniffle, still admiring the photo. Despite the fact it’s your maternity shoot your eyes are glued to Van, looking so content and joyful. 

“Me either!” Van exclaims, rounding the corner now to admire the photo with you. “It’s gotten bigger this week, too.”

“I know,” You sigh, reminded of the way your sweater dress has been squeezing you all day. “Speaking of, let me change into something comfy.” Van holds his hands out for the frame, and you pass it over to him. “Can we hang that up tonight?”

“Your wish is my command,” Van jokes as you head into the bedroom, quickly changing out of your work attire and into one of Van’s baggy t-shirts and pair of leggings. You instantly feel more like yourself now that you’re out of your stuffy office clothes that make you feel like you’re middle-aged. 

You’re much happier as you bounce back into the kitchen. “What else do you have for me?”

Van carefully places the photo down on the counter, heading back to the other side of the island and leaning down. When he stands up his arms are full with the pregnancy pillow you’ve been begging for now that your stomach is starting to weigh enough to make sleeping uncomfortable. 

“My pillow!” You clap your hands together in excitement, reaching over to squish it. “It’s so soft. It better be as good as the reviews say.”

“It better be,” Van laughs as you take the pillow into your arms, trying to get a feel for the shape of it. “It cost a fortune.”

“Oh, shut up,” You tease, narrowing your eyes at him. He laughs, unable to keep a straight face. Van McCann? Worrying about finances? As if.

“Is this everything?” You ask, hauling your pregnancy pillow into the bedroom before returning. 

“Well, I’ve got another one for ya, but I had to run it by you first.” Van is drumming his fingers on the countertop. You grab a knife from the knife block, playfully giving his ass a squeeze as you tug your birthday cake towards you, ready to slice into it.

“You can’t eat that yet!” Van protests, momentarily distracted.

“Why not?” You ask, as you lick strawberry icing off of the finger you’d swiped over the piping on the edge. “You know I always crave Salty’s!”

Salty-n-Sweet Bakery, two blocks away and right on your route to and from work, has become your favorite place to splurge on a cupcake or a danish during your pregnancy. You know Van’s paid a premium price for this cake, and you’re eager to see if it was worth the money. 

“You haven’t even blown out the candles!” He grabs your wrist as you make to dig your steak knife into the flawless icing, undeterred by his argument. “It’s bad luck!”

“I don’t think it is,” You roll your eyes but surrender, setting the knife down. “Anyway, what were you running by me again?”

“What I was saying,” He glares at you playfully as he continues, “Is that I thought we’d use your two weeks vacation time and fly south so we can visit your family for a week, and then we can fly across the pond and see mine.”

“No fucking way!” You exclaim, birthday cake forgotten. “When?”

Van shrugs. “Whenever you wanna call off! Within the next couple’a weeks, ideally.”

You’re already imagining your parent’s face when you tell them you’re coming to visit. Since you and Van have told them the big news your mom has been calling you almost everyday for updates, eager to dispense the wisdom that only other child-carrying women can provide. You know it’s hard for them, what with their only child fleeing the state, but you hadn’t planned to see them until after the baby was born, so Van’s gift is the best surprise.

You know Mary’s been worried about you too. You’ve heard Van reassuring her that everything is moving along smoothly during their late night phone calls.

“I’ll check the schedule on Monday,” You promise, wrapping your arms around Van’s neck and leaning up on your toes to give him a kiss. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“I love you,” Van replies when you stop punctuating each thank you with a kiss. “Happy Valentine’s birthday.”

You snort at that title, and Van reaches into his back pocket for his phone.

“You wanna order dinner now? I was thinking we’d do that Chinese place you love.”

Your mouth practically waters as you head to the drawer in the kitchen where you keep the menus, tugging the one for the restaurant out. “You actually love me,” You joke, already pondering what you’ll order. “I actually feel so bad I don’t have anything for you.”

That’s the agreement; You tend to go overboard for Christmas, splurging on Van with a custom-built electric guitar, too many pairs of black socks, and embroidered scarves for him and his family, and in return you are not allowed to buy him anything for Valentine’s Day, so that you are allowed to enjoy your own birthday without the stress of finding the perfect gift for him a second time per year. 

“You’ve got something for me!” Van pokes at your tummy. “Best gift I could ask for.”

“Aw, quit,” You laugh, but Van’s palm flattens against your skin, warm and reassuring, and you rest your own hand on top of his.

“I still haven’t felt him kick,” Van frowns when he finally pulls his hand away, reaching for his phone to start placing your order.

“Don’t call it a him when you don’t even know!” Your hand is still resting against your bump. “And I’m still early along, it only happens sometimes.”

“You want me to DoorDash it?”

You think about it for a second. “Nah. Let’s walk.”

Once the order’s placed you two get a head start on leaving. With only Van’s thin t-shirt on your coat can actually button, and after Van pulls his long, gray coat (your favorite of his) over his own shoulders you two head out, holding hands like always.

There’s foot traffic in LA, but not like this. The businesses are more spaced out there, so you’re required to at least make a partial drive in order to get somewhere by foot. But here it’s nice to have everything so close to your apartment, and to have the opportunity to stroll around with Van. Especially in the evening, when all of the lights of the city are twinkling.

You two are quiet, simply enjoying each other’s company, when a mother pushes a baby bundled up in a stroller past you two. “I was thinking…” You start, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Do you care if I post that photo on Facebook?”

“The photo Bob took?” Van asks, and when you nod he shrugs. “You mean like, tell everybody? Sure, but wouldn’t you rather wait for him to develop the rest?”

He’s got a point. You’re sure Bob has a ton of other gorgeous photos of you two. “I dunno,” You still sigh. “I mean, I can post the rest when Bob gets around to them. But I can see people at work starting to be able to tell. And everyone was acting like it was so pitiful we weren’t doing something crazy tonight! It’d be nice if they knew why we’ve been enjoying our quiet alone time so much.”

“And we’ve already held off so long,” You point out. 

For the first week after that pregnancy test, when Van came home from the studio to find you pacing around the apartment like a madwoman, it had remained a secret between the two of you. It was a tiring week filled with early work mornings and late nights, the conversations between the two of you within the darkness of your bedroom stretching on for hours. Your voices quietly pondering if you two were ready to bring a real life human into this world, if your careers would allow it, or if you were better off scheduling an appointment at the local clinic. But by the end of the week the idea of starting a family was equally as exciting as it was terrifying, and so the decision was finally made.

But first pregnancies are at such a high risk of miscarriage, and you two didn’t want to get your families worked up over nothing. Both only children, the expectation of a grandchild from both sets of parents was not something to be toyed with. You two held off for another week or so, waiting with baited breath for blood in your underwear, or for your doctor to reveal this was all smoke and mirrors. But instead your ultrasound revealed a heartbeat, steady and strong, and you two finally called your families to spill the beans.

Van told the boys when they bugged him about being glued to his phone, asking you for constant updates when they had a few performances in the UK during your first trimester. And that’s how things have remained, but now you’re ready to share the news.

“I know,” Van beams, squeezing your hand. “I didn’t know we had it in us.”

“We?” You laugh. “Which abandoned social media page were you going to post on?”

Van throws his head back laughing, the breeze ruffling his hair. “Christ. Instagram, maybe?”

You snort.

“I’m serious!” Van’s voice climbs in pitch. “If I’ve ever had a reason to log on to that godforsaken app again, this is it.”

“Shouldn’t you warn your team first? They’ll probably have a heart attack getting the notification.”

Van shrugs, looking mischievous and carefree and every other reason you fell in love with him.

\\

The Chinese food is even better than the last two times you’ve had it, you and Van joking through the entire meal that the chef was on his A-game today. And then you blow out your candles and each help yourself to a slice of cake with buttercream that melts in your mouth before retiring to the couch, bloated and happy.

It’s not long before you’re gripping the armrest of the couch, on your hands and knees atop the cushions while Van fucks the shit out of you from behind. Pregnancy hormones have only made everything feel more intense, and the sound of Van slipping in and out of you is unbearably noisy. 

“That’s too much,” You grit out when Van gets a hand between your legs, his fingers trying to circle your clit. Any other day his fingers would be necessary to come, but today you can feel your orgasm building from lower down, deeper inside of you, and you know as long as Van doesn’t stop you’ll come from that alone.

“Oh, fuck,” Van laughs in disbelief, and you hear the leather of the couch rustle as Van wipes his fingers against the back of the sofa. “You’re soaked.”

“I know,” You groan in annoyance, pushing your hips back harder so that Van’s next thrust is twice as hard. The sensation has you crying out, your fingers aching from gripping the armrest so hard. Van’s rhythm falters for a second time, and you make a displeased noise in return. “Harder, babe, c’mon.”

“Woman, I’m giving you all I’ve got.” Van’s out of breath. “I’m about to bust.”

“C’mon, baby, c’mon,” You plead with him, your eyes squeezing shut as he has another burst of energy, his hands roughly grabbing your waist so that he can control the pace better. You know that Van’s still trying to figure out what to do with this version of you in the bedroom, more demanding and particular and forced into doggy style by your round belly, and if you think about it too hard you might laugh through your bleary state. To his credit, he’s handling the nightmare you’ve become amazingly well. So well, in fact, that the pressure that’s been building between your legs finally implodes, sending you into a fit of swearing and screaming Van’s name so loud you’re positive the neighboring apartments can hear. 

Van shudders into his orgasm right after yours is complete, his chest hair tickling your back as he slumps forward, letting you support his weight until he’s finished, pulling out as he still twitches with aftershocks. 

“Oh my God,” You gasp as you flop into a sitting position, your thighs soaked with a mix of sweat and come. Your stomach rises and falls in jagged zig-zags while you catch your breath, and you pat it like you might pat a dog that’s sitting for a treat. You feel a bit sorry that there’s another person that’s going to be witnessing all the sex you and Van will be having for another five months, but you’re even happier that Van still treats you like normal Y/N, and not just an oven cooking up his firstborn. “That was so fucking good.”

“You’re mental,” Van grins. He sees you smiling down at your bump, and leans forward to give your stomach his own pat. “Sorry, lad.”

“You don’t know if it’s a lad!” You cry for the millionth time.

“Speaking it into existence,” Van brushes you off as he lights a cigarette for his usual post-sex smoke. 

You reach out for a hit, the craving crashing into you full force. And Van shouldn’t let you, but he does, affectionately rolling his eyes as he passes his cigarette over again for the second time. 

“Do I really have to quit?” You whine when you pass it back, itching for your own. “I’m sure it’s not a huge deal.”

Van shakes his head. “Benji showed me tons of studies on it.”

You slump into the couch, exhausted and sated. “I’m too tired to take a shower.”

“C’mon,” Van nudges you. “I’ll wash your hair for you.”

\\

Clean and warm from your shower, you doze off immediately after you and Van slip into bed, preparing to watch some TV. When you wake up two episodes later, Van’s nose is buried in his phone.

“Told ya,” He smirks, shoving his screen right into your face. You have to blink the sleep out of your eyes before you understand what you’re looking at; an Instagram post with Bob’s photo of you two.

Buzzing to announce we’re expecting a little one this July, Van’s caption reads. Can’t wait xx

\\

[war-sword]

2019 Draco/Reader Secret Santa Fic Exchange - A Flurry of Memories

summary: Christmastime has always help many memories for Y/N, but now so many of them are imbued with Draco Malfoy, it’s hard to think of much else. A/N: ahhahahaha holy fuck. so i went back and forth between 2 versions of this fic for a couple of weeks before picking this one and i wrote the majority of the 2k in about... 3 hours. so. take what you will.thank you to bae aka @eltanin-malfoy for organizing this exchange!!! i hope you enjoy! prompt: first snowfall words: 2.6k taglist: @clockworkherondale @accio-rogers @mayorofzillyhoo @diademofdraco @drawlfoy @ladybuginthetardis @silversslytherin @lushlavenderskies @socontagiousimagines @acciodracoo

◈◈◈

A drop of wine made its way down the side of the bottle, ending it’s journey by staining the napkin below with a bloody star burst. Y/N tapped the top of her glass with her nail, listening to the gentle ring as she gazed out the window. It had begun to snow– the first of the season. 

Y/N was desperately trying to get into the holiday spirit, and she grabbed her wand with her free hand to point it at her gramophone in the corner to flip her Celestina Warbeck holiday record. The needle landed gently on the b-side and “Merry Christmas, Happy Goblin Days” started with a quiet crackle. A song that would normally make her want to get up and sing, only coaxed a sigh from her. 

Christmas used to be a fun time when she was in school. Large parties at the family estates, wearing fancy dresses and stuffing themselves silly with horderves. Sneaking into their father’s studies to snoop through the drawers before running away giggling, Ms. Zabini’s extravagant gifts of fine jewelry that every year got more stunning. Loading their pockets with olives and crackers, and braving the cold outside to try and coax the Malfoy’s albino peacocks close enough to stroke. And the one year they all stayed at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament, it’s own league of fun and dressing up.

And then she remembers no Christmas parties at all.

Now she has no big house to live in, no fun parties to go to, and the first night she needs to build a fire in her little house always stirs up feelings of nostalgia and longing. It’s annoying to feel depressed for no reason, but almost just as annoying when she realizes, year after year, it’s about how winter reminds her of him. 

The dregs at the bottom of Y/N’s glass have created interesting patterns. She doesn’t remember emptying her glass again. The snow outside is coming down in big flakes now, and her record has gone silent. She still has a few hours to kill before she needs to start dinner. Perhaps a walk in the fresh snow can get her out of her Christmas funk. 

Y/N pulls on her boots and coat at the door. She decides a hat is in order with all this heavy precipitation, and reaches up to the top shelf in the hall closet to grab her warm knit one. Something else comes down with the hat, and a length of emerald fabric pools at her feet. At one end are the initials D.M. in elegant silver stitching. Y/N had forgotten she’d had this. She considers kicking to the back of the closet for a moment while her chest swirls with a concoction of emotions, before snatching up the scarf and looping it around her neck.

A scarf is a scarf, and it’s unfortunately as warm as she remembered.

Y/N and Pansy Parkinson laid side by side on the cold oak floors of Malfoy Manor, carefully monitoring the planks for creaking. “I haven’t heard anything for a few minutes,” Pansy whispers.

“Me either,” Y/N says back.

“Check the clock again.”

Y/N carefully moves herself into an upright position and pads across the floor to check the clock on the nightstand of the room she and Pansy are sharing for the night. Together, the hands read exactly twelve fourty-five. She pads back and lies down next to Pansy again, taking a moment to steady her breathing before relaying the information.

“Shall we go?”

Y/N bites her lip, pretending to contemplate. “Yes. Should we take a candle?”

“No, stipud, we have to go in the dark. The moon is out. We should be able to see.”

Y/N looks back at the bed to look at the lumps under the covers they had created with pillows, and then follows Pansy out into the hall. Sure enough, moonlight streaks through the windows. The girl’s socked feet make no sounds as they count the doors and go around the corner. When they reach Draco’s bedroom, they stop and hold their breath to listen at the door. Y/N can hear that Draco, Blaise, and Theo are still awake and talking.

Pansy gently knocks on the door three times, waits, and then another three times, before cracking it open so they can slip inside. Abandoning all care, they sprint the few steps into Draco’s room before launching onto the bed with their other friends. “We had to wait a little while longer,” Y/N explains, “Dobby was in the hall cleaning.”

Draco, who is perched atop a pillow and leaning against his elaborate headboard, rolls his eyes. “Stupid elf. He should be downstairs cleaning, where the party was, not up here. I can’t believe our family got stuck with such a useless one.”

“That’s why my mum just got rid of ours and hired a person,” Blaise says.

“I’ve told father we should do the same, but he insists that people are too inclined to snoop,” Draco’s eyes glint with importance. “At least house elves you can be sure they won’t tell anyone anything.”

Pansy nods along with Draco as he speaks. Y/N curls her feet under her and rearranges her nightgown about her legs. “Have you tried asking Dobby about the Heir of Slytherin? If he has been around your family for a long time, maybe he knows something.” Y/N tries to steer the conversation to what they were discussing before being sent to bed, a topic they all found very important and adult.

“I doubt he would’ve had access to important information like that, besides, it’s not me,” Draco says.

Blaise, Theo, and Pansy all do the same. “I don’t understand who it could be if it’s none of us. We’re the most important people in our house,” Theo says.

“Maybe it’s a Pureblood who got sorted into another house, and wants revenge on the sorting hat,” Pansy suggests.

Blaise wrinkles his nose. “Ew, like Weasley?”

They all laugh at that, and spend hours into the morning spinning increasingly wild theories, only to be found in a heap on Draco’s bed the next morning by their parents.

The snow outside is satisfyingly crisp under Y/N’s feet. She looks down, mesmerized as her boots cut into the fresh, untouched snow and leave behind a perfect imprint of her boot. She refocuses her eyes to her hair, spilling over her coat and scarf as thick white flakes catch on the strands. Only a few minutes into her walk, she’s dappled with snow. 

Thinking about old times in Malfoy Manor make her smile. The property itself isn’t very far from her current home. After the war, she’d tried to move around to various wizarding communities, but none were all too welcoming. Even though Y/N’s family’s estate was lost to her, being back in the area she grew up brought her some comfort. Even if Draco’s home was still only a few miles away. 

The empty road lined with trees soon gave way to a tiny town. It was once filled with bustling shops for the magical folk in the area, disguised as run down buildings to any muggle passing from afar. Now, most of the stores truly were that, only a few like the food markets, apothecary and bookshop were still open. As Y/N passed the old tailor’s shop, she tilted her head to the sky, sticking her tongue out to catch a snowflake.

“Y/N, have you given any more thought to what colors we should wear to the ball?” Draco moves the letter away from his face, letting his arm flop off the side of the couch. 

Y/N sets down her quill next to the divination chart she’s working on. “Last I heard from mum, she was sending me three to try in green, ice blue and some shade of purple. Do you care to look at the clippings of the different styles she owled me yesterday?”

“Not particularly,” Draco sighs, looking past her and into the distance. At Y/N’s beat of silence, Draco moves his eyes back to her. “I am sure whatever you pick will look very pretty,” he adds, lifting his mother’s letter to emphasize.

Y/N smiles a little despite herself. “I don’t know why she keeps writing you, my own mother is just as accessible.”

“I know!” Draco groans. The fire in the common room hearth gently illuminates his handsome features he’s grown into the past two years. Y/N goes back to her essay. “Pans still not talking to you?” Draco asks, tossing the letter on the table and turning on his side to look at Y/N more directly. 

Y/N just shakes her head. 

“Well, she’ll get over it soon enough, whatever it is.” 

But Y/N knew exactly the reason why Pansy wasn’t talking to her, and the reason was sitting right in front of her. Pansy could be stubborn sometimes, but this was going on for nearly a week now with no conversation outside of anything in a classroom, if that. “I just want us all to have a fun time at Christmas here,” Y/N sighs, resting her head on her hands. “It’s probably the only time our parents will let us stay here over break.”

Draco looks at Y/N sympathetically. “I know. I’ll try to talk to her again tomorrow. You sure you don’t know what’s got her bothered?”

Y/N bites her lip before deciding it’s stupid to hold out. “I think she’s upset about who she’s going to the ball with.”

“What?” Draco says, wrinkling his brow. “Why, what’s wrong with Theo?”

Y/N picks her quill back up and pretends to contemplate her essay agan, so her words seem more casual. “I think she’s upset that you didn’t ask her.”

“Well, that’s dumb. She knows damn well I can ask who I want, and I asked you.” Draco catches Y/N’s eyes and gives her a sly smile. “I’ll talk to her. I dunno what’s got her wand in such a twist these days.”

“Thanks, Draco.”

“Anytime. Hey, speaking of dates, who do you reckon Potter is bringing?”

“Maybe Snape.”

Draco laughs, and Y/N can’t help but feel warm inside.

Y/N is long past the shops, and is almost near what is considered the park for the area. Mostly a collection of short, winding trails through the trees, now transformed into a gigantic snowglobe in less than an hour. Bird sounds are amplified in the silence the snow brings, and two robins chase each other across the path. Their red feathers look beautiful against the white. Y/N walks her favorite trail, stopping to look at the frost covering the berries on a bush, and check a branch to see how many inches of snow have fallen so far. At the place where her path converges with another, she notices another set of footprints. They lead in the direction of the lake, and she decides to follow them, Y/N carefully stepping in the tracks of whoever came before her.

The snow has significantly improved Y/N’s mood. The snowflakes clinging to her hair and eyelashes make her feel like a winter fairie, and the combination of the wine and her layers has her feeling cozy against the cold. She crosses her feet over to fit in the footprints, like she’s walking a tightrope. Y/N is so focused on her footsteps again that she doesn’t realize right away that she’s reached the lake. 

When a familiar root forces her to take a large step into her next foorprint she looks up. The lake hasn’t frozen over yet, and it’s dark water stands out in contrast to the pale sky and landscape surrounding it. Even the bank on the other side is white, white, white, and Y/N’s gasp cuts through the quiet as she takes in the view. “Wow.”

Something in her peripheral vision moves, and Y/N turns to see what it was. Sitting on the bench facing the lake several feet away is Draco Malfoy. He’s the mirror image of the landscape she sees before him, all pale hair and face emerging from a black coat. And he looks positively scared to see Y/N.

It’s a look she knows all too well.

“Y/N,” Draco says, half greeting and half in surprise.

“Draco.” Y/N stares back, almost equally bewildered. “I… I was just thinking about you, actually.”

“That’s funny… so was I,” he says. “Would you like to come sit?”

Y/N makes her way over to the bench, and Draco pulls his wand out from his coat and melts the remaining snow on the bench. Y/N tucks her coat beneath her and sits down, unable to look away from Draco. Despite the fact that he still looks unsure, he’s not looking away either.

It’s been almost five years since Y/N has seen Draco. She can’t help but drink in the sight of him, just as handsome and heartbroken as the day he’d left. Already she’s shifting on the bench to face him.

“You look well,” Draco finally says.

“Funny, you don’t.”

Draco laughs. Really hard. “You can always tell, can’t you?”

Y/N just shrugs. “I am a talented witch, what can I say.”

Draco reaches out and fingers the edge of Y/N’s scarf, and her heart drops in her chest. She’d forgotten his initials were on display. “You kept this?”

Y/N is quite focused on Draco’s ungloved hand in close proximity to her body, but she does say, “I honestly had forgotten about it until today.”

Draco lets go of the scarf. “I remember when I gave that to you.”

“So do I.”

Draco doesn’t put his hand back into his pocket, and instead lets it rest on the bench in between them. 

“I miss you,” Y/N blurts out.

“Me, too,” Draco says immediately. 

Y/N scoots a fraction closer, and Draco’s hand moves from the bench to the top of Y/N’s knee.

Y/N curls closer into Draco’s lap, and dips her finger below the collar of Draco’s dress shirt to trail her nail up his neck and along his hairline. Draco runs his finger slowly back and forth across Y/N’s bare kneecap.

“Ugh,” Pansy pretends to act disgusted as she glares at her best friends from the opposite couch. “I can’t believe I used to want that.”

Daphne runs her fingers through Pansy’s hair affectionately, and Y/N can feel Draco’s laugh in his chest. “Yeah, and I can’t believe how much you acted like a bitch over it.”

Pansy rolls her eyes and just settles against Daphne. “That was like a month, Draco. Besides, nothing could ever separate me and Y/N.”

That night Y/N lays awake in the guest bedroom as Astoria sleeps in the twin bed opposite her. Pansy has ditched her this year to share with Daphne, which was expected, but didn’t make sleeping in the same room with Astoria any less weird to her. But it was fine, really. 

She checked the clock beside her bed. Almost one in the morning. 

Y/N threw back the covers, not bothering to hide her tracks. Astoria was a smart girl, and all the parents never bothered to check the rooms anymore. When Y/N reached Draco’s room around the corner, she just knocked once. The door flew open, revealing a tired, yet no less excited Draco. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Draco grabbed her by the wrist and swept her inside. 

Y/N moved her hand to rest on top of Draco’s. “I miss everyone. But especially you.” She runs her thumb across Draco’s knuckles. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Absolutely free,” Draco says breathlessly.

“Good,” Y/N says, “because I still have half a bottle of wine to finish.”

[lancetuckershairgel]

Countdown

Part of the Phone Sex Series

Phone Sex

Wrecking Ball

Punished

Switch

Jealousy

Birthday Surprise

Characters: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 2180

Warnings: real person fic, BDSM, established d/s relationship, spanking, dirty talk, Sebastian speaking filth in Romanian, teasing, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, multiple orgasm

Tag List: @southernbell91 @marvelgirl7 @jobean12-blog @anxiousamandapanda @loricameback @louisianaspell @cchellacat @book-dragon-13 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @randomfandompenguin

"I'm an old man, baby" Sebastian chuckled when you had asked him if he wanted to do anything for New Years Eve. "Let's just stay home and have our own party" 

You tried to argue that thirty seven wasnt that old but Sebastian's mind was made up. The two of you were to stay home, but little did you know that Sebastian had a plan to have a very exciting evening. 

The morning of December thirty first your eyes fluttered open and a soft gasp left your lips. Sebastian was between you legs and already having his morning dessert, lapping at your pussy hungrily.  Your hand moved to lazily tangle in his hair, giving what you could grasp a tug in effort to urge him on. He sucked against your swollen nub, flicking his tongue over the sensitive head as his fingers moved to push into your hole. A comment about how wet you were went unheard as you arched your hips into his touch. He lifted himself to his knees and bent your legs back, his mouth still latched onto your pussy as you moaned out his name. 

"You're too good at this, Seb!" You gasped out "I'm gonna..I'm close...dont stop"

"Not yet, baby" 

Sebastian pulled away, hovering over your body with a smirk upon his wet lips. You whined at the loss of his mouth and looked up at him with a pout. 

"Tease."

"Oh good, you figured out the theme for today" 

He grinned, moving your arms to pin them above your head before lowering to take your mouth into a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on him and moaned, his tongue finding it's way inside your mouth to give you more of the flavor. As his erect cock slid along your pussy you shifted your hips in an attempt to have him enter you but he just hooked your leg with his, pinning you to the mattress. 

"You're going to abide by my rules today, understood?" 

"Ohh, is daddy feeling dominant today?" 

Your teasing remark was met with the sharp thrust of his cock entering your pussy, bottoming out and stilling until Sebastian willed himself to move. The walls of your pussy squeezed around him, begging for more. He laid still inside of you as he continued to kiss your lips and softly. You whined, attempting to roll your hips but his weight held you taught. 

"Don't make me punish you." He murmured, lips soft as a feather as he lightly brushed them over your collar bone. 

"I need you" you whimpered out

With a low growl he began to fuck you, slow and deep so that you felt every inch of his thick cock stretching you open. He held you against the bed, taking his time, ignoring your pleading as he took his pleasure. When he began to speed up his thrusts you cried out, the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot straight on and you leaked juices around him as you felt your orgasm building in the pit of your belly. He buried his face in your neck, his hips snapping in quick and sharp motion. 

"Oh God, Sebastian! It feels so good. Harder!"

His hand clamped over your mouth to silence your commands. This wasn't about you, this was about him taking his pleasure and leaving you a mess for the rest of the morning. 

"Dont you dare fucking cum" he ordered in your ear as he began to relentlessly pound into you 

You now knew his goal and your pussy gushed even more upon the realization that you would spend the entire day being teased and tortured, another one of his games that you both loved and hated to play. 

You could do nothing but lay under him as his cock greedily slid in and out of you, his moans and Romanian swears causing you to begin the inward battle to resist having an orgasm. You closed your eyes tight and tried your best to think of anything else besides the large clock's punishing thrusts, or the muscular body holding you down, or the heavy hand still pressed over your mouth, or the scent of expensive cologne and last nights cigarette wafting off or your lover. It was too much, your pussy seized around him as you began to tip over the edge. 

"No!" Sebastian growled, pulling out quickly before your orgasm could come full circle

He flipped you over onto your stomach and began slapping your ass, surely leaving handprints. You squealed under the blows your aching pussy leaking its juice down onto the sheets with every strike of his hand. As he spanked you he stroked his cock, the animalistic grunts and growls he was making almost sending you over the edge again. He came, hot streams of cum falling onto your red ass as you panted. As he finished, Sebastian slid his cock between your ass cheeks and dipping the head into your neglected hole just to tease you more. You shivered as he peppered between your shoulder blades with light kisses, his panting breath hot on your skin. 

 The entire day was spent having Sebastian relentlessly teasing you, keeping you on edge of orgasm any chance he got, only to deny your release with a grin. While the two of you made breakfast he kissed your neck, whispering the filthiest Romanian in your ear that made you squeeze your legs together and squirm. You let out a sigh of relief when it was time for the morning run,  meaning he'd be too busy to torment you but being the masochist that you are you put in your headphones in and turned on the playlist of songs the two of you had made for the bedroom. Even at the grocery store Sebastian made sure to tease you. In an empty aisle he pushed you against the shelf, sliding his hand inside your yoga pants to rub your clit with his fingers as he kissed you. When he pulled away you caused after his lips, wanting more of his taste. He just chuckled as he picked up a bag of corn chips, tossing them into the basket. 

"Asshole." You muttered, the heat between your legs driving you mad

That night Sebastian had you splayed out on the bed, hands tied to the headboard  with velvet ropes and a black ball gag was pushed between your lips. You laid waiting for Sebastian to come in and finish his plan for you, your pussy soaking through  your black lace panties as you tried to press against the Hitachi he had strapped with bobdage tape against your thigh. He left it turned off just to fuck with you and went diwnstajd to get the champagne. It was ten thirty, you noted the time as you turned your head to the clock on the nightstand. The sound of the door clicking open made your oussy clench, knowing that your boyfriend was entering. Holding two glasses of champagne and a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries, Sebastian made his way over to stand next to the bed and look down at you with a smirk. 

"Comfortable, baby?"

"Fuck you." You grumbled behind your gag, eyes playfully gleaming up at him

"Oh what was that, Prinţesă? You're not being mouthy are you?" 

You shook your head and he smiled softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He pulled the gag out of your mouth and dropped it to hang against your neck before he ran his fingertips over cheek as he leaned down to kiss you. 

"Want some champagne?" He asked

"Before midnight?!" You gasped in mock offense 

"Yeah. I have a feeling you're going to be quite busy at midnight"

Sebastian's hand trailed down your body and inside the hem of your panties, pushing between the vibrator and your mind until he found your clit. 

"Incă atât de umed pentru mine" 

His words sent a shiver down your spine and you mewled beneath him. You hardly ever knew what he was saying when he spoke his native language but it sounded so incredibly hot that you didn't care. 

"Wh-what?"

"Dont worry about it" He chuckled, rubbing his fingers in a circular motion over your clit  "I could read you my grocery list and you'd cum, wouldn't you, Prinţesă?" 

"Probably,  yeah" you shuddered unashamed 

"Asta e curva mea"  That's my whore

You knew what that meant and you nearly came then and there but he quickly removed his hand and placed his slick fingers against your lips. You placed your mouth on them and sucked him clean, eyes rolling back at the taste of your own arousal. When he removed his fingers, he picked up one of the champagne glasses and took a sip, leaning down to press his lips against yours allowing the alcohol to pour from his mouth into yours. You swallowed, eyes filled with fiery lust, hungry for more.  He repeated the action, giving you another drink, then held one of strawberries up to your mouth and smiled as you took a bite. He fed you champagne and strawberries until the first glass was empty. He picked up the second glass and took a sip, swallowing as he looked at his watch. Grinning and without warning he switched on the vibrator onto the lowest setting. He then stripped himself of his clothes and laid down beside you and replaced the ball gag. For the next forty five minutes Sebastian made you edge close to orgasm as he played with your breasts and spoke the filthiest words in your ear as his other hand tangled in your hair. 

"Don't you dare fucking cum" he would growl when you got close 

When you thought that you couldn't take anymore Sebastian checked his watch again before he sat up and laid your panties to the side, causing the head of the Hitachi wand to press directly against your ready clit, still on low. 

"Its 11:58 and some odd seconds. At 11:59, I'm going to turn it all the way on high. If you cum before midnight, January won't be a fun month, mă înțelegi?"

"I..I understand" you panted, fingers gripping the headboard tightly as you prepared yourself 

"Fata buna" Good girl

Sebastian watched his clock count the seconds and then right on the minute mark, turned the vibrator on high,  causing you to shriek. It was too much, too high against your overly sensitive clit and it almost burned. There was no way you would be able to cum not like this. Sebastian waited until there was thirty seconds left in the year and wrapped his hand around your throats applying pressure. He hovered over you, his face inches from yours as he began to speak again. 

"Tine-l copil" That's it, baby

"nu cum încă" don't cum yet

"asta este fata mea bună" that's my good girl 

"dracu 'ești atât de frumoasă" you're so fucking beautiful

"curva mea murdară" my dirty little whore 

"ai face orice pentru mine nu-i așa?" You would do anything for me, wouldnt you?

"da, ai vrea." yes, you would

"esti gata, draga mea?" Are you ready, darling? 

"zece" ten

"nouă" nine

"opt" eight

"asta este fata mea bună" that's my good girl

"Șapte" seven

"şase" six

"poți să o faci" you can do it 

"cinci" five

"haide, suntem aproape acolo" come on baby, were almost there

"patru" four

"Trei" three

"Două" two

"unu" one

"cum pentru mine!" Cum for me

Sebastian inserted two of his fingers inside of you and began to thrust them in and out hard as you came, soaking the entire bed and his arm with your cum. Everything went white and you felt as if you had flown off the bed and was floating in space as your orgasm ripped through you, the vibrations from the sky unrelenting as it took what Sebastian wanted. Your pussy gripped his fingers tight as he pressed them against your gspot, more of your juices flowing from you. Your stomach muscles seized, your breath hitched mid orgasm and you didn't breathe again until he had removed his hand from you and switched off the vibrator. You collapsed against the bed in a heap of sweat and exhaustion, your calf muscles twitching and your eyes still seeing sparks. 

"F-f-fuck me, Sebastian!"  You managed to gasp out "I need you" 

Sebastian needed not be told twice, within seconds he had the vibrstir and tape removed and he pushed his cock inside of you with a low groan, burying his face in your neck as he rocked against you, for how long you didn't know, all you knew is that you couldn't stop cumming. 

He kissed you as you rode the wave of your third, maybe fourth orgasm, clenching around his cock and milking him of his own. Holding you close. Sebastian stilled his movements and remained inside of you, continuing to plant soft kisses on your lips as you drifted off to sleep in his arms with a murmur. 

"I love you too, Prinţesă. Happy New Year."

[kristannafever-fics]

A Trip to IKEA

Kristanna Modern au

Rated: T (swears)

WC: 2162

~My Mom and I went to IKEA today, and well this was thought up on the way home :D

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

Anna felt better than she had in so very long, that she decided to treat herself.  What better way to start a new chapter in her life, than re-decorating her relatively new and very small apartment.

The place had been so sparse for so long.  It was her frame of mind, she knew, that allowed it to stay that way for way too long. It was just that her breakup had been so hard after she discovered that the man she thought had loved her, was banging three other women behind her back.

What a rat-bastard.

And so, she had moved her few belongings into a new place as far across town from him as possible and wallowed in self pity for a long time until she woke up one day and decided she missed the person she used to be.  

She missed the simple things, like jogging in the park on nice days, going to the farmers markets on the weekends, walking down to the bakery by her house every Monday to grab a fresh pastry before she headed to work.

She missed going out with friends.  She missed the silly painting party nights they used to have – sipping on wine and eating delicious appetizers while they attempted to follow what the painting instructor was doing.

She missed living her life.

Feeling her old self again, she took stock her things to see what she was going to need.  Her bedroom was fine, she had dressers, nightstands and a good comfy queen bed.  But her living room needed a lot of work.  She had a single loveseat, a tv with a stand, and not much else.  Not to mention her kitchen table was only good enough to sit two people but at the moment she only possessed one chair.  

The superintendent in her building, a short and stocky balding old man, was very kind to her and helped her move in.  He also mentioned that if she ever needed to borrow a truck, to come see him and he would happily give her the keys.

She had taken him up on his offer and driven herself to IKEA, ready to shop.

It was so fun going through the store and looking at all the displays – most of which Anna wished she could just move into – that by the time she reached the market hall downstairs, it was two hours later.  It didn’t bother her in the slightest.  She was finally happy again and nothing was going to bring her down.

Another hour later, and after putting a bunch of fun new kitchen items and a small lamp in her big blue bag, she reached the fun part where she would get the boxes that held all her new furniture.

She went to get the bookcase first since it was the largest item.  She looked at all the labels, looking for the bin number until she found it, along with a description and picture of the bookcase she had picked out. Excited, she reached down to grab the long box.

Oh my God!  

Anna knew the box was going to be heavy, but she didn`t think it was going to be this heavy.  She thought she`d be able to muscle it onto the edge of the low cart and then shove it the rest of the way, but the thing was so heavy she could barely get a good grip to move it without smashing her fingers.

Anna straightened and let out a long breath.  What was she going to do now?   She looked up the aisle towards the open thoroughfare between, but there was no one working there in sight.  She looked back down towards where the aisle ended against the wall only to see one lone man.

Who was lifting a box.

A huge box.  

Without any discernible effort whatsoever.

The big blond dude settled the box on the cart easily and went to grab another.  Again, looking like it was nothing more than lifting a five-pound bag of flour.

“Holy shit.”

The man suddenly looked over at her and Anna realized she had said that out loud.  Embarrassed, she turned back to the low shelf which held the bookcase she wanted so badly and mulled over trying to lift it again.

It was so damn hard, Anna felt her good mood slipping right through her fingers just like this fucking box was.  

“Do you, need a hand?”

Anna stopped trying and straightened, turning around slowly.  Unsurprisingly, it was the blond man.  Anna looked up at him, pinching a lip in her teeth.  He was so tall and built it was no wonder those boxes weren’t giving him any shit.

“Um, actually, yes. If you don’t mind?  I didn’t think it was going to be this heavy.”

The blond gave her a small lopsided smirk, but said nothing.  

“This one?” he asked, leaning down.

Anna nodded when he looked at her, then he picked up the box and put it on her cart.  There was no sliding it on and pushing it into place, the man picked it up and placed it exactly where it needed to be.  Not to mention he looked fabulous doing it.

Wait…

“There you are.”

“Oh, thank you.  Thank you so much.  I didn’t know what I was going to do.  I was going to look for someone to help me,”

“They don’t do that here.”

“What do you mean?”

The blond cleared his throat.  “I just mean that it’s against policy for any employee to assist a customer with lifting and loading furniture.  It defeats the whole self serve thing they have going on.  If you need help, you have to pay for home delivery.”

“Oh,” Anna said. “Oh!”

The blond smiled wider this time.  “You just realized you are going to need help loading this into your vehicle, didn’t you?”

Anna’s cheeks burst into flames.  She didn’t think this through at all.  She just wasn’t used to doing things like this on her own.  She nodded after a moment, hesitantly.

“Well I’ve got all I need, so I can go through the till with you and I’ll help you load your stuff.” He paused a moment like he just thought of something.  “You didn’t drive like, a compact car or something, did you?”

Anna’s cheeks somehow got hotter.  “I’m not that dumb,” she said, exasperated.  “I borrowed a truck to come here.”

The big man smiled and held up his hands, acting innocent.  “Hey, I apologize.  I meant no offence.  Just making sure before we get through the till.”

Anna let out a breath and smiled back at him.  She suddenly felt that he was being genuine.  And he was nice enough to help her load the bookcase.

“Come on,” he said at her silence with a little chuckle.  “Show me what else you need and I’ll give you a hand.”

What… the fuck, he is cute as hell!

“Okay, thank you…”

He paused then his eyes widened slightly when he realized what she had imposed the statement like a question.

“Kristoff.”

“Thank you, Kristoff. I’m Anna.”

He nodded at her. “It’s very nice to meet you, Anna.”

*****

“You are a life-saver,” Anna exclaimed, as Kristoff was finished tying down the long boxes that poked slightly over the closed tailgate.  It was a good thing that there was tie straps in the back seat – Anna wouldn’t have thought to tie them down at all.

Good thing she had met Kristoff.

“There you are,” he said, wrapping the loose end of the strap up so it wouldn’t fly around as she drove, then stepped back up on the curb.  “You’re all set.”

“Thank you so much, again. I don’t know how I could have done this on my own.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said quietly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck when he suddenly froze in place a second as if he realized something, then pulled in a slow breath and put his arm back at his side.  “Do you, um, have someone to help you with this when you get home?”

Anna’s face fell.  She hadn’t though of that either.

“I… I’m sorry,” Kristoff stammered.  “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no it’s okay,” Anna said quickly.  She didn’t like how awkward this had suddenly become.  “I just, well I live alone and I just didn’t think that far ahead. Actually, I thought this would be easy. I guess I just assumed that these things were manageable?  For someone like me, I mean.  I guess I should have thought about it.  They are made of wood and wood isn’t exactly light, is it?  Good thing I didn’t decide to get a new couch today.  Of course if I did then I would have found someone to help me because those are big and impossible to carry alone.  I just… I’m still getting used to this whole living alone thing. Had a nasty break-up a while back. Nothing that you would want to hear about of course.” Anna laughed nervously, realizing she was rambling.

Kristoff gave her a polite and kind smile.  “No worries. I just wanted to know if you might need my help to get your stuff into your place.”

“That…. That offer is on the table?”

Now it was his turn for his cheeks to redden.  “Well yeah, if you need help, I am not going to strand you.  Just give me your address and I’ll come by after I drop my stuff at my place.”

“That’s too kind of you, really.”

“Not a big deal.”

“I’m sure you have other stuff you need to do than help me.”

“No, today is totally wide open.”

Anna nodded after a moment then suddenly realized they were grinning at each other.  This was certainly interesting.  Dating someone new was back on her radar, but she didn’t think she’d meet someone so soon.

Unless he was taken?

“Your… girlfriend won’t mind you helping me out.”

The blond laughed.  “Nice.  Very subtle.”

Anna waited a moment and then he widened his eyes, finally realizing he didn’t answer her question.

“No, there is no girlfriend or anyone.  I live alone too.”

“Well, alright then,” Anna said, getting back to business.  It sure was hard not to keep staring at him.  She reached into her purse and found an old receipt and a pen, then scribbled her address on the back and handed it to Kristoff.

He looked at the paper and laughed again.  “No shit! We live in the same building.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.  I’m three floors above you but on the West facing side.”

“Huh,” Anna said, feeling a warm tingle spread through her whole body.  “What a coincidence.”

*****

After Kristoff took his own two large bookcases that he had purchased for himself, he helped Anna with her smaller one.  Then her new kitchen table, two chairs, wall standing mirror, coffee table with matching end-tables, lamp, shower rack, and her bag full of kitchen items.

She helped him where she could, but he just seemed not to struggle with the larger items so Anna stayed out of his way.  With everything on the floor in her apartment, he went to the door to bid her goodbye.

She was hoping that he would give her his number, or ask her out or something, but he didn’t.  He told her to have a good evening and to knock on his door if she needed help with anything.  Anna thanked him again before she shut the door as he disappeared down the hallway.

She turned and looked into her little apartment.  Had she been reading him wrong?  She thought there was something there.  Maybe he got one look at her place and figured she’d be too much trouble.  Then again, he offered to help her with things if she needed.

The why the f-

The knock was quiet, but it startled Anna all the same.  She took a deep breath and opened the door, expecting the sup, wanting his keys back.

She was delighted to see Kristoff in her doorway instead.

“Sorry, I just realized, well, I should have offered to help you build everything.  That is, if you want help?  I know you can handle it on your own, but if you want help moving things around.  When you’ve built them, I mean? Unless you weren’t going to do that today.  Um…”

Anna smiled at him.  “I would love some help, Kristoff. Afterwards, I can help you with yours, if you’d like?”  She knew he didn’t need any help, but she understood where he was going by coming back to her door.

He smiled.  “Sure.  Then… if you’re not busy tonight, we could grab dinner?”

“That sounds great.”

“Great.”

Anna chuckled.  “Come on in, smooth operator.”

He smirked at her as he passed by to walk into her place.  Anna turned to close the door, a huge grin spreading on her face.

[fanficcreator]

Naively in Love (Bucky x Reader) Part 3

//Word count: 2,999

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: None

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy! Sorry for the wait!

Tags: @fuckthatfeeling @iheartsebastianstan @super-marvel-dale @secondstartotheright-imagines @wtfholland @delicatecapnerd...

...

When Bucky awoke to his blaring alarm the next morning, his drowsiness blanketed over his guilt from the past night, causing the whole situation to leave his mind for a few blissful moments. In those moments, he stretched his limbs from the head to the foot of his bed, his eyes were squeezed tight and his hands balled into fists. A small smile stretched across his lips as he let his body settle; his mind content and clear as the morning.

When his guilt returned, it hit the front of his skull like a freight train.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he ran his hands over his face and through his hair, trying anything to get his mind off of the horrible game he had decided to participate in. He stared blankly at his cream colored ceiling, as if he was watching the events of the past night unfold before him. He really couldn’t believe that he would drop so low.

He let his hands drop as he shifted under his blankets, turning to rest on his side with his forearm resting under his head. His eyes fell on an old Polaroid of him and Steve hung up on his mirror, causing him to cringe as he caught Steve’s smiling eyes.

A hint of sorrow shadowed over his face as he bit his lip. He was already hearing the words of disapproval from his friend. “I know buddy, I know…this is so wrong.” He muttered, as if Steve could hear him, “But you would understand, right?” He paused with his brows furrowed and his eyes still locked on the polaroid, as if it could answer him. He needed some kind of justification for his actions. A ball of wet nerves sat at the pit of Bucky’s stomach as he let his mind loose on a whirlwind of worries and doubts. He had no idea how long he would be able to keep this up. His guilt was already making its way up his throat, and he had only spoken to (y/n) for the one day.

As if on cue, his phone chimed with a notification, causing him to jump a bit as it fully ejected him out of his own mind. With a sigh, he stretched his arm over to the nightstand beside his bed, and plucked his phone off of its charger. He scanned over the name, and let a small smile creep onto his face. It was an instagram video sent from (y/n).

(y/n): I thought you would find this funny :)

He opened the video out of pure curiosity. The video only deserved a pity chuckle, but it warmed his heart that he thought of her.

bbarnes: That was cute. Thanks for thinking of my me ;)

He then locked his phone threw it on the covers beside him, and turned onto his back with his forearm over his eyes. He was dreading seeing her at school for the day, he felt like he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eyes.

“It’s just another day, buddy, c’mon…” he muttered to himself as he pushed his body up and out of his covers. And on he went to get ready for the day.

…

Bucky’s hands were gripped on his steering wheel as he drove into the school’s parking lot. His mind’s worries were quelled as he went on getting ready in the morning; he took upon himself to play some calming music throughout his routine. He had no other means of comfort. His friends would all call him a wimp, his mother would shake her head in disdain, same with his father, and Steve would...well, he’s not sure what Steve would do. But he wouldn’t approve. His own brain couldn’t even help him out of the hole that he dug. Music was passive enough to at the very least take him out of his own reality for a few minutes.

Once he pulled into his designated spot, he cut the engine, and let out a heavy sigh that fanned across his hands still gripped to his wheel. He unlatched them, and pushed back his hair, a nervous tick that he picked up from one of his friends, and scanned the hoard of students funneling into the school.

He really did not want to get out of his car. He knew that only more lies were ahead of him once he stepped out of his seat. But his academics were waiting for him, and the muffled sound of the warning bell told him that he barely had the time to get to them. So, steeling his nerves, he fixed his hair a bit in his rearview mirror, grabbed a hold of his bag in the passenger seat, and opened his door. The cold rush of air that hit him barely fazed him as his legs poured out of the side.

He threw his bag onto his shoulder, and kept his grip tight on the strap as he began his strides towards the doors of the building, waving at some of the students that he made eye contact with. The love-sick sighs of the girls around him faded into the background, he no longer paid them any mind seeing as they happened every day for him. They treated him like a celebrity.

“Hey, Buck!” A sturdy hand clapped on his shoulder, and Bucky merely raised a brow, already knowing who it was, “You ready to go hunting today?”

“To go what?” He asked, his face twisted into confusion.

“Eli and I had planned to walk around after school, you know, feel around for some contestants. You in?”

“No.” Bucky said definitively, “I’ve already got my girl.”

“After one day? You work fast, man.” Jason said, nodding his head appreciatively.

“I just want to get this thing over with.” He said, “I already feel bad enough, Jase.”

“You haven’t done anything, yet, have you?”

“No, but-”

“Then you have no reason to feel bad.” He said nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.

“‘You really don’t see what’s wrong with what we’re doing?” Bucky said, holding the door open for his friend.

“It’s not that I don’t see it, I just don’t care.” Jason said, diving under his arm and striding down the hallway, “Honestly , buddy, you need to grow some thicker skin.”

“Grow some thicker skin? Jase, I’m not weak, you’re just being an asshole. Sorry to break it to you, man.” Bucky said, walking after him and chuckling at his jab.

“Say what you want, man, you can’t make me feel guilty about this.” He was smug, with his hands in his pockets and his chest puffed out.

Bucky just sighed as he reached his locker, shaking his head as he rolled in his combination, “You’re hopeless.”

Once he gathered his book and slammed his locker closed, he noticed (y/n) across the hall from him. She was standing on the tips of her toes, trying to reach something in the top of her locker. Her arm was bent over the top shelf, and she was scrambling around trying to elongate her body to reach that item. Bucky found himself smiling as he watched her struggle. He took it upon himself to saunter over to her, stealing Jason’s smug gait and leaning against the locker beside hers. He chuckled to himself as he heard her disgruntled mumbling.

“Need some help there, doll?” He asked after a moment.

She jumped and turned to him with wide eyes before registering who he was, “Uh, yeah, help would be nice…” She chuckled and settled back down onto her feet, “My friend thought it would be funny to throw my phone into the top corner of the locker.”

“Doesn’t sound like a very friendly thing to do.” He said, easily reaching the phone and displaying it by his head, “Here you go.”

“Thank you, I would’ve been here for hours trying to reach it.” She replied as she took it back and shoved it into her pocket.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he started, a smirk resting on his lips, “it was highly entertaining to see you scrambling around like you were.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes as she turned on her heel, and began making her way to her class, “I wish there was a way to bully tall people.”

“Oh trust me, I’ve been through plenty of that.” He said, following after her, “I couldn’t count how many times I’ve been called a tree by my friends, it’s really very frustrating.”

“I didn’t ask for your sarcasm.” She replied, chuckling through her words, “You’ll never know the pain of being taunted over something you can’t control. My sisters have placed so many of my things on high shelves, and they knew that I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“You’ve got sisters?”

“Yeah, two of them. And they’re both giants.” She had a fond smile on her face, “I wouldn’t trade their taunting for the world though. I’m numb to it now.”

“That doesn’t sound too fun to me.” He said, “Seems like it’s made its mark on you.”

“I didn’t say that it didn’t, I just said I don’t pay attention to it anymore.” She slows down as she arrives at her classroom door, “And between you and me, they’ve called me a lot worse.” She chuckled, “See you later!”

He waved at her as she dove into the classroom, then turned on his heel to head to his own class. As he began on his way, which he’d just realized was in the opposite direction than he was walking with (y/n), he let his mind wander back to the reason he’d begun talking with her in the first place. His spirits dropped as soon as the thought crossed his mind, leaving him with a weight throughout the rest of the way there.

Once he settled into his seat, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and he rolled his eyes upon seeing who it was that texted him.

Eli: Plans changed. We’re doing this this weekend.

Bucky: Why so early?

Eli: If you win, I want you to have all spring break to visit your buddy. I’ll cover you for the pot. You can give me your money when you get paid next week

Bucky smiled as he read over the message. Eli has a heart, he just doesn’t show it often. When he does, it’s something special.

Bucky: Did Jase agree to this too? It seems a little short notice

Eli: We found our girls during lunch

Bucky: Alright. I’m down. Where is this happening?

Eli: This little fifties themed diner place about half an hour away. My aunt told me about it a while ago

Bucky: so are we renting this place out, or…

Eli: My dad rented the floor out for us

“Barnes,” His teacher waited for him to look up at her, “Phone away.” She stood in the front of the class looking at him over her glasses as she waited for him to put his phone away. He merely flicked his eyes up at her, sighed, then pushed his phone back into his coat pocket.

“Sorry, ma’am” He said apathetically. As the class continued, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and hoped that it wasn’t anything important. His eyes were glued to the clock throughout the rest of class, and he sat with his chin in his hand as he observed the incessant ticking.

…

When he finally got out of that class, he whipped out his phone on the way to the next one. He had received two messages, both from people that he would rather not have on his conscience. They were both so oblivious.

(y/n): Are you free after school today? There’s this new greek place down the street and I really wanna try it!

How could she possibly have known that his favorite food was gyros? A fond smile found its way to his lips; it would be a fun little distraction for the time being.

Bucky: Yeah I could eat

As soon as he sent that message on its way, he steeled himself to prepare for whatever Eli had to say to him. Good lord, he didn’t know what else he could possibly need from him. He hesitated going into their message thread, but pushed himself to click on it.

Eli: Jase and I are gonna rent out a little jukebox that that greek place is selling. We���re gonna find a song to dance with our ‘dates’. You should too.  It’ll add to the feel of it. See you during lunch man

Of course it would have something to do with his plans for the afternoon. Even their hangout is gonna be fake-

“Hey! Did you get my message?” (y/n)’s hand clapped onto his shoulder causing him to jump and quick lock his phone before she could see anything.

“I responded to it a little bit ago, did you not see that?” He said challengingly, turning towards her, “You need to check yourself before you start checking other people, doll.”

She sighed through a cheeky smile and uttered a small, “Shut up…” Her cheeks were warm, and she revelled in that wonderous feeling.

“It’s a fair warning, I don’t want you getting knocked on your ass one day for something that could’ve been avoided.”

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” She said, her nose turned up in the air and her arms crossed across her chest. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

He put his arms up in surrender, a playful grin spread across his lips, “Whatever you say.”

“Shut up, You’re treating me like one my sisters!” She exclaimed, shoving him with her elbow, biting her lip as she tried to shrug off her cheeky smile, “I’m not a baby.”

Bucky just chuckled as he spotted his next class up ahead, “Where are you headed to next?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” She asked, looking at him slightly offended.

Bucky’s brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“Unbelievable...” She muttered under her breath, “Honors anatomy?”

Bucky just raised his brow and shook his head, completely dumbfounded, “That’s where I’m headed-”

“Jesus Christ, we’re in the same class, Bucky.” She said, slightly amused at how flustered he was.

Oh. he's never really noticed her before. Obviously he can’t tell her that, but he can’t think of any way around that fact. He could feel the color drain from his face; he felt terrible. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Relax,” She stopped him from spewing apologies at her, “it’s no big deal. We weren’t friends before yesterday. It makes sense that you paid me no mind.”

“You definitely made it seem like it was a big deal.” He replied, a smile over-taking his features, “I was ready to apologize the rest of the way to class.”

She chuckled, “You have a big heart, Bucky, but I was just messing around wtih you.” As she finished her statement, she squinted down the hallway, and saw that the door to their Bio class was slowly being closed. “We’ve gotta hurry or we’re gonna be late.”

“I’m not running to a class that I don’t care about.”

“Well, that sounds like a you problem.” (y/n) replied as she quickened her pace.

He chuckled as he watched her scamper down the hallway, her bookbag bouncing behind her.

He’d only known her for twenty four hours, and he could already tell that she was a good person. A great person...a delight to be around, honestly. Their chemistry together was unable to be ignored, and Bucky knew was he was feeling deep down wasn’t just a friendship type of affection. It wasn’t anything serious, just the very beginnings of a crush, but if he was already there after having known her for only one day, he has no idea where he’ll be by the end of that week. With every moment he spent with her, his plan was getting harder and harder to follow through on. He was gonna get so much karma after he was done with her.

When he sauntered into the classroom, he noticed (y/n) waving and big smile, and her bag plopped in the seat beside her. He smiled back at her, feeling it reach his eyes, and crossed the room to sit beside his new found friend.

Throughout the class, he would let his eyes flit over to her as she diligently took notes; the smile was gone from her face, and she had completely focused her attention in front of her. She was entirely in her zone. She genuinely enjoyed learning, or at the very least note taking. He wasn’t gonna find another girl like her.

‘Is it even worth it at this point?’ he thought to himself. He knew that doing what he was planning to do to her would absolutely tear her down, as it would with anybody, but will she be able to take it as well as anyone else?  

[ap93mcu]

Delicate

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: implied smut (not detailed), alcohol consumption, mild language and terrible 1st timers writing. 

Word Count: 2,960

Thanks to my girl @notimeforthemessenger for totally talking me through this!! I obviously do not own any rights to the song but your girl has some killer lyrics and I couldn’t get this plot out of my head :) I hope ya’ll enjoy!

This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink

 You took a deep breath as you sat down at the busy bar. Looking around the room at your fellow cast mates you tried to feel proud. You finally did it, your first movie had released and you knew by the end of the week it would smash the box office. So why we’re anything but happy? Probably because you spent your week answering more questions about the scandal that surrounded your previous relationship than you did about the upcoming movie. You weren’t happy, your co-stars weren’t happy, your producers weren’t happy and Disney certainly was not happy with you. Anything that clouded the release of the movie was a negative and you were worried that they were going to write off your character in the upcoming movie. Your success would only peak at the single Marvel movie you completed because you were certain to be blacklisted from any other companies if Disney dropped you.

Smoothing the beautiful green dress along your stomach you found yourself feeling more alone than when you first read the TMZ headline accusing you of cheating on your long-term boyfriend. This week was anything but blissful and busy like you expected it. You found yourself wrapped in this love triangle. Taking another breath in, you plastered on a fake smile at the incoming bartender.

“Vodka soda, top shelf and double the lime, please.”

“Make that two, please.” The familiar voice brought a genuine smile to your face. You looked over your shoulder and you were met with dark brown eyes. His smile made your stomach do a tiny flip and you mentally started cursing yourself. Now is not the time.

“I didn’t see you as a vodka soda type of guy. I thought you liked beer.”

“I figured that if a beautiful girl like you drank them then they can’t be half bad.” Tom smirked and you never noticed just how cute it was that his eyes wrinkled at the corner. No, stop. Your agent said to steer clear until this mess passed. The bartender sat the drinks in front of you two and before you could say anything next Tom handed him cash for them. You lowered your head and shook it back and forth.

“You really shouldn’t be over here with me Tom. I don’t want you mixed up in all of this.” You whispered and his face softened a bit. Tom raised his eyebrow up at you and let out scoff.

“Is that why you are over here alone? Your worried about any of us being mixed into this? You were just in a fucking Avengers movie. Nothing that is going on out there should be bothering you tonight. This is your moment. Do not let them ruin it for you.” He smiled and stood up. Quickly he pulled you off the barstool and started to pull you towards the crowd.

‘Wh….What are you doing?” You could barely get out all while grabbing your drink off the bar with your free hand. Tom turned around towards you and motioned his head towards the dance floor.

“We are going to go dance with Sebastian and Chris because this is our night and we are going to enjoy it.” The blush instantly creeped to your cheeks and you were certain that he could see it even in the dim lighting. Biting at your bottom lip you nodded and smiled up at him letting him pull you onto the dance floor.

For the first time that week you weren’t thinking about the tabloids and the media. All you could think about was the cheeky brit dancing beside you.

 Dive bar on the East Side, where you at? Phone lights up my nightstand in the black Come here, you can meet me in the back Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you Oh damn, never seen that color blue Just think of the fun things we could do 'Cause I like you

 Eight long weeks went by and the tabloids started to mention your name less and less. You moved out and you were starting to get use to your new norm. You loved absolutely every aspect of your new apartment, your new life, and the new consistency of a particular boy. With your shooting schedules and your new low-key lifestyle, it had been about three weeks since you had last seen him in person. After a long day of table readings for your new movie, you changed into sweats and a t-shirt and then let your bed consume you. You were halfway through your 3rd episode of Gossip Girl for the night when your phone lit up on your night stand. Confused you reached for your phone and quickly smiled when you saw the name that lit up your screen. Thomas.

I thought I’d surprise you but the guys are telling me you’re a homebody now and that you turn them down every time they ask you to come out. So, my plan failed. Come out with us pretty girl.

You sighed and replied before even realizing what was happening.

I don’t know…

Laying low was something you had grown comfortable with. The thought of going out in public with friends made your anxiety spike. Wanting to see him outweighed all of that though. You had a big smile plastered on your face. Something that only happened when you talked to Tom or someone brought him up.  He wanted to surprise you bitch, YOU, go. Ping

Get your ass here 😉

Where are you at?

East Side. The Know Where Bar. You can meet me in the back and I’ll sneak you in.

Ah, low key. A boy after my heart. I’ll be there in 20.

 ***

One hour and three quick drinks in you were feeling pretty good. The bar was dead except for Tom, Haz, Jacob, Seb and you. Jacob and Seb were in a pretty heated game of darts so that left you, Haz and Tom to talk among yourselves.

“So, Spiderman, are you going to give us details about this new movie you’re shooting. Marvel barely gives me my own script so they pretty much laugh in my face if I ask about anything else.” I giggled as Tom threw his hands up.

“Don’t ask me these type of things. You know I can’t keep secrets, especially from you.” Tom made direct eye contact with you as he spoke the last three words and took a sip of his beer. You winked at him and pulled at the wrapper of your beer. No one could make you blush like he did.

“Fuck me, yeah? I’m sitting right here you two. I’ll go get another round and let you love birds have your moment.” Haz flipped you both off as he walked away which made you a Tom laugh. You finally had your happy place although you knew it was still too soon after the chaos you created. Everything was so fresh and this would for sure light a fire in the media. Any sight of just the two of you together could end whatever this was before it even started.

You felt Tom’s index finger wrap around your pinky and your eyes shot up to him. You hadn’t realized that you guys were sitting in silence as you were just stuck in your own thoughts. He half smiled and squeezed your pinky. The alcohol was taking over and you were starting to feel braver than normal.

“What’s on your mind, love?” He asked and he was genuinely interested. You bit your bottom lip and internally battled about what your next words were going to be.

“You know I did it right?” You weren’t sure if he could even hear you because you said it so softly. Half of you was hoping he didn’t. This wasn’t something you really planned on discussing tonight. You just wanted to be with him and your friends. Tom furrowed his eyebrows confused at first but once he saw the look of regret on your face he knew instantly what you were talking about.

“When saw your face the night of the premier I knew it was true. It’s not my place to judge what you did and it was never a deal breaker for me. I wanted you to come out with it on your own when you were ready.” It sounded like he was trying to pick the right words to say as his beer bottle suddenly became the most interesting thing in the room. Tom wasn’t being pushy but you knew he wanted to know more. It might not have been a deal breaker but it was something that would be in the back of his mind.

“That’s not me. Well, I guess it was me. I missed him at the time. I felt so alone and we didn’t really work well with distance. We weren’t good at communicating and I found out he was texting his ex and I just snapped. Things were bad before I left to film and they just got worse. There is really no excuse and I feel so guilty about it still. It’s almost ruined every part of my life and if I could change it I would. I am just working on how to move forward,” He nodded, knowing about the issues in your relationship prior. Sebastian and you were good friends and you knew that Tom was also good friends with Seb. There were many times where they would find you on the side of the set wiping your eyes and trying to hide from them that you were crying.  None of that justified what you did but you were hoping he could work through it. You took a deep breath and let the alcohol take complete control, “I really, really like you Tom.”

“Sebastian is a cheater and I want my money back.” Jacob came back to the table pouting and you heard Sebastian behind him howl.

“He’s just a big baby and he sucks at darts. Whose next?” Sebastian looked back and forth between you and Tom and the look on his face instantly changed. He knew you wanted to talk to Tom about what happened but he didn’t think you would do it here. Your stomach flipped and you started to feel sick. You said too much. Why did you do that?

“I’ll be back soon you guys. I need some fresh air.” You slid out of the booth and went straight for the back door. Feeling the cold air hit your body was refreshing but it didn’t help your nausea. You leaned up against the smooth stone of the building and put your head in your hands.

 Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate

It felt like eternity had passed when you heard the door creak open. You peaked through your fingers and groaned loudly when you saw Tom smiling at you.

“Quit looking at me like that. Can we just pretend I didn’t say any of that? I take it all back.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” He removed your hands from your face and replaced them with his own, forcing you to look at up him, “I was really hoping you meant it.”

“Yeah?” You bit your bottom lip and it was his turn to let out a groan. He used his thumb to pull your lip away from your teeth. He leaned in and the thick air of Los Angeles was taken over by his aftershave. You couldn’t help but let it consume you and the overwhelming feeling of alcohol buzzed in your head.

“I really, really like you too.” Tom mumbled against your lips before he fully engulfed them with his. The kiss felt like it lasted forever and if you were being honest you wouldn’t have been mad if it did. He pulled away and you felt your throat let out a whine but before you could interject fully he continued, “I think we have a lot to work through but I want to do this if you want to. We should probably keep it under wraps for a bit though, even though I don’t want to.” You nodded. There was nothing to argue about because you felt the same way. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulled you against him and kissed your forehead.

“How long are you in town?”

“Not long enough,” Tom said dejectedly, “Buuuuut, we start filming in London the beginning of July. I have a break at the end of the month and you should fly in. I know a place at the edge of the city.”

“Hmm, I do like the sound of that. I think I can clear my schedule for you but, until then, we should head back inside. I believe Mr. Osterfield has a fresh drink waiting on me.” You winked and kissed him quickly before walking back to the boys. Your ears were met with the whistles and excited yells from Jacob, Haz and Sebastian. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried.

 Third floor on the West Side, me and you Handsome, your mansion with a view Do the girls back home touch you like I do? Long night, with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share 'Cause I like you

 The sunlight hit your face and you rolled over not ready for last night to end. When Tom said he knew of a place you didn’t know he meant his place. You were taken aback because it was nothing like your apartment but yet it still had the same comfortable feeling. It didn’t take long for you to get settled or for him to make you feel at home. Craving his touch again you reached across the bed and were met with a cold sheet. You opened one eye, still not wanting to let the feel of the previous night go, and confirmed he was missing. Sitting up, you looked over and noticed he was on his balcony shirtless, pacing, and talking on the phone. Wrapping the white sheet around your body you glided across the room to the glass door.

“No, this is my weekend off. I can’t do it today.” He was angry. You had never heard him use that tone before and you were thankful it wasn’t directed towards you. Tom was so caught up in his conversation he hadn’t heard you open the door. You were thankful for this because you couldn’t help but admire the definition of his shoulders and back. Slowly, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist making sure you feel every curve and indentions of his muscles along the way. Leaving a few scarce kisses along his spine, you leaned your head against his bare back. He relaxed at your touch and wrapped his open hand around yours. You caressed the sensitive skin just below his belly button with the hand he left free and you started to feel him tense again. You smiled before realizing it wasn’t because of you and you grimaced when you heard his harsh tone return, “I heard you. Give me an hour and I will be there.” Tom angrily sat down his phone and took a deep breath. After a moment of just enjoying your embrace he twisted around in your arms. Your hands found their new home on his lower back and he found his once again entangled in your hair. Except this time his hands were filled with comfort and not need, massaging the back of your scalp. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

“I take it you’re gonna have to leave me?” You opened your eyes to see his frown and unfortunately that answered your question.

“Just for a bit, love. They want to rewrite a part of the script so they need my input. I told them it could wait until we are back filming next week but what Disney wants Disney gets.” He leaned down and rubbed his nose slowly against yours before placing a lingering kiss on your lips.

“…And what if I don’t want to share you?” You whispered against his lips. He let out a dark laugh and you quickly found his lips on your neck. Small nips giving you déjà vu of the night before. A moan escaped your lips and you felt his hands grip the back of your thighs. You quickly recognized his command and jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He traced his lips from your neck, up your jaw, and then once again to your swollen lips.

“It’s only an hour and then I am all yours again for the next two days. When I get back we can have a rerun of last night, yeah?” You hummed in agreement as he carried you over to the bed and laid you down. Hovering over you, his eyes couldn’t help but wander. Tom threw his head back and let out a whine, “Fuck it. I told them to give me an hour. I can be late.”

This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me Yeah, I want you

[therobincastle]

Go Mad For a Couple Grams || Self-Para

TW: Drug Use

ur comin tonight right?

havent seen u in forever

where r u ???

dont bitch out on me dude

Robin chewed his lip, staring down at his phone and all the incoming messages. Some of his old “friends” who worked on the same studio lot as Daemon Above were having a get-together and word got out that he was back in town. They had all been texting him nonstop all night and even though Robin was yet to reply, he hadn’t completely ruled it out. Maybe this would be a good thing. He was back in the real world finally, and what was wrong with going out with the people he used to go out with? Other than the probability of him falling back into his old habits...

Deciding to just throw away any leftover inhibitions he had, Robin grabbed his dagger from underneath his pillow and strapped it into his belt, throwing on a long shirt and jacket to cover it. He texted their family driver to meet him at the end of the drive and grabbed his wallet and keys before slipping out of his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. The lights were all dimmed in their unneccessary-because-there’s-literally-two-people-living-there-three-story house on the beach, Robin’s steps slow and careful so he could sneak out without getting caught.

“Robiiiiin,” Dove’s slow drawl rang out from the hallway behind him. Shit. He turned to see his mother exit from the kitchen, frowning at him with a glass of almost-finished wine in her hand. “Sweetie, where are you going? It’s late.”

Robin resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and he refused to look guilty, even knowing that his mom could always tell when he was acting. “I’m going out. Is that a problem?”

She sighed heavily, leaning against the wall as she sipped at her glass. “Who with?”

“Just some friends,” Robin shrugged.

“Which. Friends?” Dove asked slowly, her usually pretty features screwing into something more pained. “Robin, we talked about this.”

“Bullshit,” Robin sighed. “I need to go out, Mom. How else are people going to think nothing’s going on with me if they know I’m back in town but not even allowed outside of the house?” It was sound logic, more to a manager than a mother. Robin hoped she was swaying more to the former tonight. “Come on, I’ve wrapped on Buddy Holly, can’t I enjoy my time back in LA?”

“Baby...” Dove pouted, walking over to him. She ran her fingers through his curls, tugging worriedly at his ears. “I want to trust you... If I let you go, you have to promise me you’re going to make good decisions, and that you’ll be home before your new curfew.”

Robin flashed a cheeky grin. “Three a.m.?”

She gently smacked the side of his head. “Two. I want you back before two. And you leave your cell phone here and off. You have Drachma, so Iris Message me as soon as there’s an emergency,” she kissed Robin all over his face until he managed to wriggle free, crying out in embarrassment. He jogged down the long driveway, entering the code to their gate so he could slip out into the neighborhood. His driver was smoking a cigarette in front of the SUV.

“Hey, Maurice,” Robin greeted as the man opened the back door for him. “Why don’t we sit up front together?”

The man looked slightly surprised but smiled and shut the door, now offering him shotgun. “Good to have you back, kid.”

They pulled up to the apartment complex, Robin promising he’d be back out front by 1:45 so they could get home and that he’d have his mother call him if he ended up needing to go home earlier than that. He could already hear music blasting from the loft as the elevator doors opened on the correct floor, the door unlocked. There were about fifty people all hanging around the apartment. Robin’s appearance had a ripple effect, people too high, drunk, or both to notice his arrival right away. Slow yells of recognition rang out, varying jeers and rough hands giving him a greeting. He recognized some of the people but didn’t know them by name, looking around for the kids he did know. There was a pile of them all sitting on a king-sized bed on the floor in the corner of the room.

“Rob, man, you made it!” Flynn, cried out, jumping off the bed to grab him. “Holy shit, you got tall! You’re looking skinny too,” he grabbed at Robin’s arms and gave them a shake.

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin brushed him off, kind of annoyed because he thought he was starting to build a little muscle thanks to camp.

Flynn flung an arm around Robin’s shoulders, dragging him over to sit on the bed. “You remember Arissa, Vic, Marnie, Jules?” he pointed out all the people and Robin nodded despite not really remembering them at all. They were all in their early twenties, none of them actors like Flynn, just friends he made through the scene. “Dude, Jules got the nastiest shit bro, you gotta try it, it’s life changing,” He leaned over the nightstand and grabbed a razor blade to make a line of whatever mix of cocaine and probably Adderall on the table for him. Robin felt ill just looking at it.

“Ah, actually man, I’m not really down for that tonight,” he scratched the back of his neck.

Flynn scoffed. “Don’t be stupid, Robin. This isn’t like last time when that shit messed you up for two days. We got this from a way better guy, not shady at all,” he finished up the line and pushed a straw into Robin’s hand. He tossed it aside on the bed, Flynn flashing him an annoyed look. “What the fuck, man? Next you’re going to tell me you don’t what a shot of top-shelf tequila next.”

“I don’t,” Robin said stiffly, standing up now. “Listen, man, I just came here to hang out, I don’t... I don’t want anything.”

“They allllll say that,” one of the girls, Arissa or Marnie, he wasn’t sure since these Instagram models all started to look the same to him. “You’ll change your mind after you try it.”

The other either Arissa or Marnie sat up now where she had been draped over the edge of the bed. She wasn’t wearing a top and her make up was smeared. Robin decided to focus his attention on the false eyelash clinging onto the corner of her lid for dear life. “Didn’t you guys hear? Lil birdie here has been locked up,” she slurred.

“What, like house arrest?” Flynn scoffed before snorting the line he had just insisted Robin take. He started making another two immediately.

“Rehab,” the girl corrected before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“No shit,” Flynn said with wide eyes, looking at Robin. “That true?”

“Of course not,” Robin scoffed immediately, crossing his arms. “Just been working on personal projects right now.”

“That why you get kicked off that dinky zombie show?” the other guy on the bed snickered. A few other party-goers had wandered over, all vying for more of whatever these drug-mongers had holed up in the corner. More of their attention was starting to shift to Robin, as blurry and incoherent as it was.

“I wasn’t kicked off,” Robin denied with a clenched jaw. “I left. It was a mutual decision.”

“Lay off him, guys,” Flynn crowed in annoyance before looking back at Robin. “Listen, kid, I believe you!” He starts prepping a needle now, one of the girls climbing over and sitting next to him like a patient lining up for her flu shot. “If you’re not one of those bitches who gets sucked into that rehabilitation bullshit, then take a hit.”

Robin shook his head. “I’m just gonna leave if this is how you’re gonna be, you dick.”

Flynn stared at him coldly, looking him over again. “This ain’t a good look for you, Baby Boy.” He turned to everyone else on the bed as he injected the girl sitting next to him. Robin watched the way the needle sank into the skin, wondering how many collapsed veins the girl already had. He watched the plunger sink down, hardly hearing what Flynn was saying until he came back to himself. “...what happens when you go to rehab, folks.”

“I wasn’t in rehab!” Robin shouted over the music. “What the fuck is wrong with me just trying to get clean?” He crossed his arms uncomfortably over his chest. His faded track marks were starting to itch just watching the administration in front of him. People were staring now, the interaction sobering them up somewhat. Robin could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his ears going red. “Whatever. Just get me a fucking blunt if that will get you guys to lay the fuck off,” he groaned. He had cut himself off cold turkey, and the strong stench of marijuana hanging in the air was like a secondhand high that his body craved more of.

It’s not that bad. A puff or two isn’t that bad. You’re not backsliding. No one at camp will have to know and these people will keep their mouths shut.

“No,” Flynn chuckled, reaching out to stop one of his friends who was holding a roach out to Robin. “No, no, no. You wanna prove you weren’t in rehab?” He scraped together another line. “Bump this shit.”

“I already said--”

“I know what you fuckin’ said,” Flynn interrupted. “But I know it’s a fuckin’ lie if you’re gonna stay up there on your high horse now that you’re too good for a little fun.” He held out the straw again. “Now shut up and snort the damn coke, pussy.”

Robin angrily snatched the straw from him and bent over the table, immediate drunken cheers of approval coming from the onlookers. Robin hesitated, looking at the dusty little line of coke. He thought about what happened when he was angry and frustrated with someone. How easy it would be to turn one deadly look on Flynn and make him wish he hadn’t tried to threaten Robin’s life, his career. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to make him pay-- teach him a lesson. Use his powers to drive Flynn to be locked up in a place much worse than rehab. He deserved to have his mind turned inside out, that dark impulse sneaking up on Robin’s clear and sober mind.

Then he thought about his mother’s face, covered in tears as he shook him awake, a needle still poking out of his arm. Melody’s kind smiles every time she helped him work through the withdrawal symptoms. Penny screaming at him almost two years ago that he needed to quit. Dean and Aaron’s endless support no matter how frustrating or annoying he was.

The burn felt great.

“Atta boy,” he heard Flynn mutter under his breath as Robin stood back up, wiping his sleeve across his nose.

“Yeah, whatever,” Robin dropped the straw to the table and walked away. It would be a matter of time before the reality of his situation sank in on him, but Robin didn’t mind. The high was supposed to be fun, right? It was the calm before the storm, and Robin did feel calm. Sated enough to forget how close he was to using his powers on Flynn.

There wasn’t really anywhere to go in the studio apartment, but he managed to slip outside where another group sat on the balcony, all smoking weed. They greeted Robin with lazy waves and grunts, not paying him any mind as he sank down. He stared out blankly at the city below, a beautiful and ugly place. His hands were trembling now, Robin lowering his head between his knees. “Fuck, I can’t believe I just did that,” he breathed softly. “Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit!” He kicked his foot out angrily, his sneaker colliding with the railing with a metallic shudder.

The group glanced over at him at he turned his face away, embarrassed by his outburst. “Yo, kid,” one of them called over to him. “You look like you could use some of this.” Robin didn’t need to look over to see that he was being offered some pot. 

“I’ll pass,” Robin said, swallowing back the bile in his throat. He didn’t like how hard it was to say no.

“You sure?” someone else asked. “It’ll help. I’ve got, like, a vape if that’s-- Shit, kid, your face.”

Robin looked fully at them now, brow wrinkling in confusion. He suddenly felt a warmth pooling against his shirt collar and turned to look at his reflection in the glass sliding door. Blood was gushing from his nose and he hadn’t even felt it. “Shit--” An irony tang sat on his lips as he scrambled to his feet, holding his sleeve over his nose and mouth. He stumbled back into the apartment, looking around for a bathroom. There were people milling around outside of it, a couple of girls doing more lines on the bathroom sink when he burst in. There were cries of annoyance asking him to knock, their irritation going ignored as Robin yanked on a toilet paper roll to get enough to mop up his bloody nose. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he said as a soft mantra, clutching it to his face. The girls quickly hurried out of the bathroom, leaving the sink open. Robin clutched the stained surface to hold himself up, slowly lifting his head to look at his reflection.

Crimson was still smeared across his nose and chin, Robin running some water to try and wipe it away. “You’re a fucking moron, Castle,” he muttered to himself. The anxiety from before was coming back tenfold then, Robin’s eyes welling with tears. “Why did you do that?”

He knew exactly why. It wasn’t the peer pressure. It wasn’t the stupid double-edged threat of having to snort coke just so other people wouldn’t find out about his addiction. It wasn’t even the difficulty of recovery.

He did it because he wanted to.

Robin emerged from the bathroom, grabbing hold of the first guy he saw with a roll of something lit on the end. “Can I?” he asked dryly. The guy just nodded and pass him the joint, letting him take a pull. He coughed on the smoke, feeling his eyes sting as his lungs protested the sensation they hadn’t had to feel in a while.

Getting high won’t fix this.

You’re making it worse.

Stop now, you can still get home and sleep this off.

Mom’s going to hate you.

Robin sat outside of the apartment, back against the wall. No one paid him any mind as they came and went, a few dirty looks from neighbors who weren’t happy about the party inside but weren’t going to call any cops about it. It must’ve been 1:45 because as he sat there in a daze, he could feel a large man pick him up and sling him over a shoulder to carry him downstairs and put him back in the car, letting him lay down in the backseat. “Oh, kid...” he heard Maurice’s voice as a distorted echo, the world around him blurry and confusing even as he was helped into his house.

“Mom?” Robin called out in a weak voice. No answer. He closed the door quietly behind him and shuffled into the kitchen to get some water. There was no comfort food to be found, not in their kitchen. Robin caught his reflection in a hallway mirror as he made his way for the stairs. There was still some blood on his shirt and his eyes were bloodshot, hair messy. “Idiot,” Robin muttered, ascending all the way to the top step before he heard his mother’s voice from below.

“Robin?”

She sounded sleepy. Maybe she had stayed up after all. Robin contemplated rushing to his room. How was he supposed to face her like this? Still coming down off his high, throat raw and face pale. He backed up slowly, peeking into the den to see her lifting her head up from behind the couch, an empty wine glass tipped over on the glass coffee table.

“Robin, sweetie, how was your night?” she asked sleepily, yawning as she rested her cheek on the cushion. “Come here, baby.”

“I... I’m really tired, Mom,” Robin said, lip trembling. Fuck, his voice sounded so shaky.

“Just come here,” she requested again, softly. Robin turned and walked the rest of the way down the stairs, slowly going over to her. She looked at him sleepily, a slight frown clear on her face that would probably look more severe had it not been for the botox. He stood stiffly, feeling dead on his feet as she reached out to hold his hand, her own grip lazy. “I’m so proud of you, darling. I know how hard this has been and I’m glad to have you home.” A warm smile.

He flung himself down into her lap before he could stop himself, immediately bursting into tears. You stupid fuck up. He sobbed against her for what felt like hours, Dove rubbing his back and carding her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he cried into her chest, heaving to catch his breath as he wept. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, baby,” she mumbled, hugging him tightly against her. “You don’t have to be sorry. You got home before curfew,” she pat him on the head before sinking back onto the couch, letting him curl up into her. She doesn’t get it. “I know it’s tough but I knew you could do it. I knew that camp would be good for you,” she yawned and rested her chin on top of his head, quickly falling back asleep. She has no idea what you’ve done. “And I’ve been thinking... I think you’re ready to come stay here for good.”

Robin had been waiting to hear those exact words for months, but now it just put a bad taste in his mouth. He didn’t deserve this.

Robin didn’t sleep well that night, and it wasn’t because he was curled up on an aesthetically pleasing and wholly uncomfortable couch with his mother. He woke up fully and alone sometime around ten. “Mom?” he croaked, looking around their open concept home. There was music playing softly from another room, but that didn’t mean much in their household. Robin eventually made his way upstairs, his poor decisions last night weighing heavy on his heart.

Without really thinking through the motions, he grabbed his largest duffle bag and started packing. He threw his dagger in last before hooking the huge bag over his shoulder. As he trudged down the stairs, he was mumbling to himself, trying to figure out the wording of a note he needed to leave for his mom... Maybe he wouldn’t leave a note at all. Just disappearing would be easier on the pains in his chest. Maybe he could make some bullshit up in a week about how he missed camp or something. 

Maybe she’d even pretend to believe him.

Robin’s hand was on the front door knob when he heard footsteps behind him. “Robin?” his mother inquired softly, rounding the corner from the kitchen. “Where are you off to? I was about to make breakfast-- or maybe we could go out? How about that gluten-free bagel shop you like so much? We should get you nice, well-balanced meal before your photoshoot today--”

“I did coke last night.”

Dove stood there, frozen. Robin almost couldn’t bear to meet her eye and be subjected to the heartbreak written across her face. “Are you joking, sweetie?” she asked softly, her voice breaking delicately over the question.

Robin chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling a tingling prickling at his ears. There was a phantom burn in his nose, a reminder of his transgressions from the night before. He shook his head and turned away from her. “I’m gonna go back to camp for a while.”

She didn’t reply, and her silent disbelief was too much. Robin wrenched the door open and didn’t look back.

[riverofmemoriesft]

. Between the Lines . 201

By the time Lucy got home towards evening, she was covered in sweat and scrapes and bruises. Her body ached from sparring with Jellal and even Cobra when Jellal had wanted a break but Lucy had demanded to keep going. Grimacing at how disgusting she was, she hastily showered and slid on some comfortable shorts and a tank top, swearing at the warmth of her apartment.

She was just coming out, drying her hair when her window flew open. She squealed in alarm only to realize that it was Natsu breaking into her apartment. He froze, staring at her, and then gave a huge grin. "Hey, Lu-"

A massive wind gust buffeted him. He squawked as he toppled inside and then swiftly rose to try and shut the window. Lucy rushed to help him as a lightweight vase and some papers flew from a shelf beside it. Happy had been clinging to his shirt and scrambled for safety beneath the bed. Lucy panted for breath when they'd managed to get it shut, and then gaped at the weather outside.

The beautiful summer day had turned into a messy and dark looking thunderstorm. Lucy frowned as thunder boomed. "Well. The weather's having some fun today, huh?" she rasped. The clouds churned above, and she half-expected a tornado to whip up.

Natsu groaned and dropped onto her bed, arms thrown out. "It came out while I was walking here with Happy. It literally showed up out of nowhere."

Lucy arched a brow and then squinted at his scarf-emptied appearance. She realized a moment later that it was tied safely around his waist. Catching her, he grinned. "I didn't want it to blow away."

Suddenly, Natsu climbed to his hands and knees and peered beneath the bed. The light had changed in her room, turning it dark yet light enough to still see. "You okay down there, little buddy?"

"Aye, sir," Happy reassured, trembling.

Lucy rolled her eyes in amusement and then collected the papers that had flown. A rough draft that she quickly put back together. She grabbed the fountain pen Sabertooth had given her and climbed onto the bed with a stack of paper and a clipboard, setting the scribbled on papers aside. She'd completed it and was editing before running through and adding to it. Thunder rumbled.

After determining that Happy would stay where he was, Natsu crawled across the bed. He situated himself so that Lucy sat between his thighs, leaning back against his chest, and rested his chin on her shoulder to peer down at her work. "New book? I thought you were done."

"I promised Levy," Lucy admitted. "One more. Just for her. I'm not going to publish it. Any book from here on out is mine and mine alone." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Want to read it when I'm done?"

He nodded eagerly, cheek rubbing on hers. "Yeah. I like your books. They're interesting." Natsu yawned and leaned his head happily against hers, falling silent. Before long, he'd dozed off, arms comfortably resting around her waist and Lucy smiled to herself, reaching over to turn on a lamp so she could see better.

She didn't move until her eyes were unable to stay open. By then, Happy had joined them. She set her things on a nightstand and shut the lamp off. She squirmed out of Natsu's grip and he stirred, blinking blearily before yawning and moving the covers aside. She crawled under them and he followed suit before tucking up happily against her. She curled up against him with a yawn.

Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Rain slashed dangerously at the window.

But Lucy felt safe, tucked under Natsu's arm.

It was nearly dawn and Lucy wasn't entirely sure on what had woken her up. Natsu had stirred beside her and was grunting as he prepared to sit up, too tired to voice confusion. Happy was trembling, his fur bristling. "Happy?" Lucy mumbled.

And then there was another blaring sound that had her eyes widening. She leaped out of bed, Natsu hot on her heels, to look outside, squinting past Magnolia's lights. Her face filled with horror.

"Oh, no," she gasped as she stared at the twister that had descended from the sky, tearing down a street. It was large, and didn't look as if it was stopping soon. Natsu swore and dragged her back from the window.

"C'mon," he told her. "Wendy's probably already booking it outside to help. She can disassemble it by controlling the wind currents. Juvia and Laxus will be out there with her, working on diverting the water and lightning from her."

"Right," Lucy mumbled. They stormed downstairs, to the foyer of the building, where the landlady was huddling. Lucy flashed her a reassuring smile, yanking her phone out as Natsu tucked Happy under his arm. She dialed Erza's number.

"Lucy!" Erza greeted with surprising cheerfulness. "It's nearing your apartment. Are you and Natsu okay?"

"Why are we automatically assuming Natsu's with me?" she demanded and then agreed. "We're fine. We're with the landlady in the foyer. Natsu said Wendy's outside probably?"

"She is. She says that she can't do anything. The winds aren't responding-"

A beep on Lucy's phone caught the blonde's attention as Natsu soothed the landlady, who was usually a fierce woman. She read the message quickly and then reported, "Yukino says that their guildhall is gone."

Silence on Erza's end. "What?" Natsu gasped, voice strangled.

"No details, but something raced through and smashed it to pieces," Lucy murmured sympathetically. “The worst damage was a boken back on Rogue and a sprained paw on lector.  Their team was there doing office work."  Her face paled.

Erza's voice rose above a roar. "I have to go, Lucy. The tornado-"

Static.

Lucy put her phone away and bit her lip, wanting to see what was happening, but not daring to step outside if it was coming close. Suddenly, there was a roaring sound. Lucy flinched and Natsu hissed her name, dragging her further under the staircase that the landlady was taking shelter under. "Natsu," Lucy gasped, but doubted he heard her. Her phone clattered to the floor a short distance away.

Wind suddenly blasted them. The landlady shrieked and Natsu swore, tightening his grip on Happy when the cat wailed. Lucy cried out in fear as the building suddenly began to groan. She spared a look over her shoulder - and stared in horror.

The front of her apartment's building had been torn away. Pain flashed over her cheek when wood splintered, and she shrieked as she looked up to discovering another portion of the building collapsing. Natsu pushed her head down with a shout, protecting she and the landlady as best as he could and Lucy gripped the pendant at her throat with a shiver, praying that Igneel's magic could help.

And then the wind was gone and Lucy pried her eyes open.

Natsu slowly let go of her, asking politely if the landlady was okay after checking to make sure Lucy was. Happy crawled safely into her arms and Lucy bit her lip as she stared at the debris around them.

They were stuck, wood and plaster and even some of Lucy's furniture keeping them where they were. The landlady, usually fierce and biting in attitude, shook like a leaf. Natsu couldn't find a way out of their tight space beneath the stairs and clenched his jaw. "If we try to get out, we'll be crushed. Could Virgo dig us out, Luce?"

Lucy shook her head. "They're still being...crabby. Here, look." She pointed to a hole in the mess. "Happy, why don't you squeeze through and go tell whoever you can find that we're stuck here? My phone is gone."

"Mine is, too," Natsu admitted, scratching his head. "Was on your nightstand."

Happy shivered, staring at them with wide eyes. Natsu was wide-awake now, bouncing on the balls of his heels. He was ready to do something, to get them out, but even he knew better. To move even one beam wrong would result in what was left of the building crushing them to death.

"Please, Happy," Lucy said gently, stroking his head. "We'll be okay and so will you. Do you hear how the wind's stopped roaring like it is? The tornado should be gone. Why don't we let you check before you do though," she added, suddenly worried. "Just to be safe."

"Kay." Happy's wings snapped out and he flew up to peer outside. After a moment, he slipped the entire way out and was gone.

"Will he get help?" the landlady said sharply, glancing at Lucy.

"Of course. Happy won't rest until he's bringing someone to help." Lucy gave her a reassuring smile as Natsu paced their small space, cautiously looking for a way out. His eyes were flashing with panic, much to her surprise and she grabbed his wrist. "Natsu? Are you okay?"

"No," he muttered. "You died again."

She grimaced at the way it was put and said nothing, only wound her fingers through his and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The landlady said nothing.

It seemed like hours before Happy suddenly squeezed back in. "I got Gray," he announced. "It wrecked the whole street. Some people were hurt, so Fairy Tail's helping them first."

"That's fine," Lucy sighed. Her voice was sleepy, her eyes bleary. She'd settled beside Natsu, dozing with him as the landlady anxiously bit at her nails and waited.

"Hey!" Gray shouted a few moments later. His voice was barely audible, muffled by the wall of wood between them. "Everything okay in there?"

"We're fine!" Natsu called back with a yawn. He'd unwrapped his scarf and draped it happily around Lucy's neck, feeling happier to see it there. "Landlady's fine, too! No one got hurt. Lucy's place is gone though, I think."

"I'm sorry, Lucy," Happy said honestly. "It's bad. I don't think there's much of anything left. But look!" As if hoping to make her feel better about suddenly finding herself homeless, he brandished a pair of golden hoops and a fountain pen. "I found your magic stuff!"

"Thanks Happy," Lucy said softly, taking them from her blue-furred friend. He purred and then soared out again to help where he could. Lucy could distantly hear Gray talking to himself, trying to figure out how to get through without hurting them.

It was Natsu who came up with the idea. "Hey! Gray!" he shouted. "Can you bust through the wall under the stairs?"

There was a long moment and then Gray's muffled voice responded. "Maybe. Gotta be careful though. I'll build up some supports. The walls empty on my side, but I don't know how much of this holds up the main structure."

Lucy thought of the building and frowned, uncertain herself. She glanced at her landlady, but the woman was too nervous to be of much help. They ushered her away from the wall as plaster was splintered on one side. A moment later, Gray was peeking through a massive hole he'd made, grinning. "Hey, you guys. Hiding while we do real work?"

"I'm going to turn you into a fried stripper," Natsu told him.

They got the landlady out first, and she sobbed gratefully. Gray instructed her to go to the guildhall and seek Mirajane, who'd help her, and she left. It was while Gray was standing beneath the stairs, offering a hand to help Lucy over the debris, that Happy suddenly screeched.

"Look out!"

Gray's head snapped up. "Lucy-" he shouted, suddenly jumping on her. Lucy shrieked as he shoved her down, keeping her head low as he created some sort of icy dome. A moment later, wood shoved down atop of it, the rest of the building giving way. Lucy threw her arms over her head, feeling Gray strain to keep the poorly crafted walls around them.

She frowned. "How much magic have you used?!"

"Not much, but I panicked and used one hand." Gray grunted, sweating from the effort. "One hand isn't nearly as powerful. I'm going to work on it after this. It's like one support beam instead of two in this kind of situation."

"Natsu!" Lucy suddenly gasped, looking over.

To her relief, she could see him through the ice. He was being tugged free by Happy through a new opening, flinching when splintered wood raked at his skin. The second he was on the ground, he tore off, determined to get them some more help.

Lucy flinched when she saw the ice crack. "Can you create another layer?"

"Working on it," he grunted. He lifted another hand, cautiously letting ice creep up and create a second wall. A third worked its way up when he had both hands in place. He relaxed afterwards, slumping beside her. "There we go. Should hold until someone gets over here to remove the wood. You good?"

"Yep. Just pissed that I'm stuck again." Lucy scowled.

He playfully tugged on a lock of her golden hair. "Sorry. I should have been more careful and set up some more supports." Lucy smiled a fraction and leaned away from the chilling ice, wrapping her arms around her knees.

And then the wait began.