#but despite her being the most fair boss i’ve ever had and genuinely wanting to pay employees the highest wage she can

[lesbegays]

working for a very small company with a boss and job i like has in some ways made me a worse socialist and in other ways made me even more firm in my socialist beliefs

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (ii)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: fem!oc, alcohol consumption, cursing

series masterpost: here

a/n: part two baby! thanks for all the love on part one, it means the absolute world. i have so much love for this story and i hope people are enjoying it :))

Life is settling into a comfortable rhythm.

After spending a good chunk of her young adult life being incredibly studious, Magdalene can finally have the social life of someone in their mid-twenties. Though she’s still spending a fair amount of time by herself in the basements of the University of Denver’s library, Bette convinces her to go out more. Magdalene tries to fight, citing extra work or a good book as an excuse to stay home, but it doesn’t work very often. The pleas of her friend are how Magdalene finds herself currently lounging poolside at Erik Johnson’s house on a Sunday afternoon.

“How’s the new career treating you?” Tyson asks. “I feel like we haven’t seen you in a while.”

Magdalene laughs. “I’ve seen Bette plenty,” she says, “She thinks I won’t take a lunch break unless she shows up.”

“Would you?” the blonde girl questions with a quirked brow.

“Probably not.”

“I rest my case.”

A small crowd gathers around as Magdalene begins to detail the specifics of her job, but she doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as she once would have. In the month or so since graduating school she’s found herself slowly being incorporated into the Avalanche family. It’s almost certainly because Bette and Tyson championed her case, explaining that she doesn’t have much of a support system beyond the two of them, but she doesn’t mind. A few of the guys ask her questions about her work, curious as to why someone would want to spend their life combing through piles of old things. Everyone stays engaged in the conversation until there’s a shout from the kitchen that dinner is ready.

Magdalene shuffles in line behind André, filling her plate with various pasta salads and a hamburger. Once situated with enough food for two meals she returns to the pool deck, sitting on the edge and dipping her toes into the cool water. Bette comes and finds her a minute later and the two of them begin to eat.

She’s still relatively new to the group’s dynamic, but Magdalene can’t help but notice that Ryan is never around. In fact, Magdalene hasn’t seen him since her graduation party. Taking a casual sip of her wine cooler, she asks her friend about the man’s absence.

“Why is Ryan never at these sorts of things?”

Bette shrugs. “Isn’t a huge one for parties. He was supposed to come today, but I guess something came up.”

“I’m not huge on parties,” Magdalene huffs, “But that doesn’t stop you from dragging me to every single one.”

“Unlike you, Gravy gets enough regular social interaction that his absence is permissible. If Tyson and I didn’t take you out you’d talk to your cat more than normal.”

She wants to fight back, but knows it’s pointless. Bette has a point – if it weren’t for her the only people Magdalene would interact with are her boss and her cat. Instead, she grumbles under her breath and changes the subject to the trip Bette is in the middle of planning. It’s coming up in a few weeks, and Magdalene wants to hear a bit more about it before she commits. Despite what she thought about taking time off so close to starting work, it was encouraged by June, but she's refraining from telling Bette that. If it doesn’t sound like she'll enjoy it, Magdalene is banking on being able to use the excuse.

Bette explains that she’s renting a large lake house that is perfect for a relaxing week away from adult responsibilities. The property has kayaks and a hot tub, which pretty much ensures that Magdalene will want to be in attendance. She’ll hold onto that information for a little while longer though, if for no other reason to make Bette squirm a little. At some point Tyson comes to sweep his girlfriend away and leaves Magdalene at the party alone. She makes polite conversation with some other players for a while before heading home herself. Ryan never shows up, despite how much Magdalene hopes he will. At the very least she wants to properly thank him for doing her a favour, though her hoping to see him is much more selfish. He intrigues her and she wants to know more about the tall man with the dazzling smile and a proclivity for wearing all black.

☼☼☼☼

Barn Owl Book Company is filled to the brim when Magdalene approaches the store from the side street it annexes. She should’ve expected it – it’s the first of the month and their newest books are hitting the shelves. However, Magdalene doesn’t exactly have time to wait in line. June gave her only fifteen minutes to run and grab them coffee before they continue the massive task of digitizing a private collection that has just been donated to the university. She estimates it will take almost a month of extended hours to get everything done, and Magdalene believes it. There’s so much to wade through but she knows the end result will be satisfying.

Luckily the café line is fairly short, and Magdalene reaches the counter in a timely manner. “Hey,” she greets the barista warmly, “Could I just grab two medium iced cappuccinos?”

“Anything else?”

“No, that's everything. It’ll be on debit,” she smiles. Magdalene reaches into her backpack to grab her wallet only to find that it’s missing. Shit. The barista has already left to make the drinks, completely unaware that her customer is unable to pay.

Magdalene hears a voice from behind her say, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.” She turns around to find Ryan Graves standing there with a book tucked under his right arm.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she mumbles appreciatively. “I don’t know how my boss would take it if I showed up empty handed.”

Ryan laughs shyly as he pulls his card away from the machine. “I get it, everyone needs a little caffeine this time of year.” The barista comes back with Magdalene’s drinks, which she takes with a smile and a wish for a good day. The two of them head towards the exit, and Ryan pauses once they’re on the sidewalk. “Which way are you headed?”

“Back to work,” Magdalene says, nodding her head in the direction of campus. “I’ve got approximately five minutes to get there before June rips me a new one.”

“June?”

“She’s my boss,” she explains.

Ryan nods in understanding. “I’ll see you around Magdalene,” he smiles, turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction.

In a moment of bravery, Magdalene yells at his retreating figure. “Will you? We never seem to cross paths.”

“I’ll be at Bette and Tyson’s this weekend, and I’m counting on your company.”

Magdalene finds it incredibly hard to focus the rest of the afternoon. She keeps thinking about what Ryan said, which makes her a rather lousy archivist. June sends her home just after seven even though they had plans to stay until ten, citing the fact that she’s scanned the same photo three times before noticing. Caligula’s meowing for pets when she gets home isn’t even enough to distract her from the comment. The absentmindedness continues for another day or so, and it’s becoming so bad Magdalene is worried that June is going to fire her for incompetence.

It’s only when Bette calls to invite her over for dinner and drinks that her mind levels out. “I was wondering when I was going to get the call,” she chuckles absentmindedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” is the response Magdalene receives.

“Well,” she explains, “I ran into Ryan at Barn Owl the other day and he paid for my drinks because I left my wallet on the table at work, and he said he expected to see me at your place this weekend. So if you never invited me I was just going to show up.”

Bette is smiling, that much Magdalene can infer by the lull in conversation. “I haven’t got the time to call you yet,” she concedes, “But consider this the official invitation to our house for a small party.”

“Anything we’re celebrating?”

“Nope. Have you ever needed a reason to party?”

Magdalene laughs. “Yes. Need one almost every time actually.”

The rest of the week passes fairly quickly. To make up for her blundering earlier in the week Magdalene offers to work a full day on Saturday, by herself, to get the project back on track. June accepts the proposition eagerly, and Magdalene lets Bette know she’ll be coming directly from work. Saturday rolls around and she spends most of her time getting lost in the past lives of the artefacts she’s dealing with. If someone were to ask Magdalene what her favourite part of archiving is, that’s the answer she’d give. There’s nothing more satisfying to her than holding a piece of history in her hands and imagining all the stories it would be able to tell if it could speak.

By the time she’s put in a full work day and finishes locking up the basement floor her department occupies, Magdalene is pretty sure they’re ahead of schedule on the project. She genuinely feels terrible about her misperformance and hopes June will be able to forgive her. On the way to Bette and Tyson’s Magdalene listens to the Leonard Cohen greatest hits cd that came with her car. The previous owner was presumably a big fan, and over the years Magdalene has come to appreciate the folk singer. She never got to see him in concert before his death but turns to his music when she needs to relax. Right now is the perfect time to listen to ‘Hallelujah’ on repeat because she’s seriously freaking out about the idea of spending the night talking to Ryan. Though she still wants to properly thank him and possibly become friends, something about him makes Magdalene nervous.

There’s no way for her to tell if Ryan is there when she parks in front of the house. She doesn’t know what kind of car he drives, or if he caught a ride with someone. Magdalene debates texting Bette to see if he’s there already but decides against it, knowing she’s an adult who is more than capable of pushing down nerves.

She doesn’t bother knocking and just steps into the respectably sized home. The music is loud enough that no one would have heard her anyways. It’s much more of a party than Magdalene was expecting – Bette invited her for dinner and drinks, not a gathering that could pass as a frat party. There are bodies everywhere, and she isn’t sure if she’ll ever catch a glimpse of her friend.

“You seem to be dressed for the wrong kind of party,” a voice chuckles from behind her.

Magdalene turns to see Ryan leaning against the wall, eyeing her business casual attire. “I came from work,” she explains, “And didn’t know it was this kind of party to begin with. I would’ve at least brought a change of clothes.”

“You look terribly out of place,” he agrees. “Can I grab you a drink? The hosts are too busy playing beer pong to, you know, be hosts.”

A giggle escapes Magdalene’s lips at the comment. Ryan seems to have a similar sense of humor to her, which will be beneficial for passing the time if Bette is already on her way to being wasted. “A glass of red wine would be nice.”

Ryan pushes off from his perch and heads towards the kitchen. The crowd parts for the six-foot-five hockey player, and Magdalene follows in his wake quite easily. Knowing the space as well as her, Ryan grabs a wine glass from the cupboard Bette keeps them in and pours the dark red liquid into it. He waits until Magdalene has situated herself on the island before handing her the cup. She takes it with an appreciative hum and waits until he’s grabbed a beer for himself before raising her glass in toast. Ryan does the same, and their glasses clink before each of them take a sip.

“What exactly is it that you do? I bet it’s something super cool and studious, but I seriously don’t know what the hell being an archivist means.”

Magdalene explains her job to Ryan, who is extremely interested. He asks nearly a hundred follow-up questions that she answers sincerely, throwing in a few jokes that luckily crack him up. Conversation moves to his career and then life. Magdalene learns that he’s from Nova Scotia, though he stays around Denver these days, and that if he wasn’t playing professional hockey he’d like to have a career in publishing. Ryan doesn’t press too hard when Magdalene refuses to open up about her family, which she appreciates. It’s a delicate subject that she keeps guarded close to her chest, and a friend’s kitchen in the middle of a party isn’t the place for her to divulge her deepest secrets.

The two of them get refills before exiting the room. Even more people seemed to arrive since Magdalene walked through the door, and the kitchen is no longer an empty safe haven. The music is so loud she can feel the bass thumping in her chest, giving the living room a club-like atmosphere, and it’s too much. Magdalene tugs at the hem of Ryan’s sweater to catch his attention. “Want to go somewhere quiet?”

“I doubt there is such a place,” he yells over the crowd going crazy over some early 2000s hip-hop track.

“Follow me,” she says with a smile, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of the staircase to the second floor.

It takes a minute for them to wade through the throngs of people, but it goes much faster once Ryan takes Magdalene’s hand and splits the crowd. A few boys, who don’t look older than twenty-one and almost certainly snuck into the party, notice where the pair are going and shout congratulations. Ryan shoots them a glare so sharp it could cut stone but doesn’t drop Magdalene’s hand. Once safely on the much quieter second floor, Magdalene makes a beeline for the bathroom.

“Are you coming or what?” she asks when there doesn’t seem to be footsteps following her.

Ryan hesitates. “I, uh, can just wait out here while you’re in there,” he stammers.

Magdalene’s laugh rings out through the empty hallway. “I’m not going to the bathroom. We’re going out the window.”

He isn’t sure how that’s any better, but Ryan follows the brown-haired girl into the room. It takes considerably more work for him to fit through the frame, but after some directions from Magdalene he makes it onto the roof. She sits down and pats the space beside her, encouraging Ryan to do the same. They stay out there, discussing anything that comes to their heads, until the party’s numbers dwindle drastically. Magdalene makes sure to properly thank him for both attending her graduation and spotting her coffee money, and she thinks Ryan might blush a little when she offers to get the next round. He asks about her love of The West Wing, and they launch into a long conversation about the show and cast. The sun fades to black and the cold sets in, and Magdalene finds herself wrapped in Ryan’s sweater without asking. It’s only when she notices it’s approaching midnight that Magdalene clues into how tired she is.

“I think I’m going to head out,” she yawns. Ryan nods in agreement and holds the window open for her to slip in through. Once downstairs, Magdalene goes to lift the sweater from her frame but Ryan stops her.

“Keep it for drive home. I’ll get it back next time we see each other.”

Still feeling bold from the alcohol that left her system hours ago, she reaches out to poke him in the chest. “And when will that be, hm? You seem to enjoy leaving our meetings up to chance.”

It’s Ryan’s turn to laugh. “Think you can swing an extended lunch break on Wednesday? I’ll be at Barn Owl all afternoon. Maybe you can join me for a coffee.”

Magdalene likes the sound of that and agrees. She leaves without seeing Bette or Tyson once, but she doesn’t mind. They’d be happy for her blooming friendship – or at least she’s pretty sure they will be once she calls to fill them in on the details.

☼☼☼☼

Wednesday rolls around without incident, and Magdalene is given a full hour to eat instead of thirty minutes. Walking time has to be accounted for, of course, but she should have nearly forty-five minutes to spend with Ryan if she plays her cards right. There’s no crowd this time, and it’s incredibly easy to spot Ryan sitting in the window she loves to claim as her own.

“Hey,” Magdalene greets, “Did Bette tell you to sit here?”

He shakes his head, perplexed at the question. “No, why?”

“It’s just my favourite seat in the store, that’s all. I thought she told you how to gain some extra brownie points.”

“Should I be concerned about the amount of points I have?” Ryan teases, sliding a cup and pastry bag across the table and into her hands.

Magdalene shakes her head, smiling widely. “You’re doing alright so far. Keep up the good work.”

They eat at a comfortable pace, taking breaks to engage in interesting topics of conversation or take sips of their drinks. Ryan insists his life is boring, but Magdalene is enthralled by the stories he tells. It’s completely different from hers and she feels as though she can live vicariously through the tales of walking through the historic downs of the east coast and swimming in the Pacific Ocean on days off in California. After squeezing every story possible from the man Magdalene shifts gears slightly.

“So, are you going on the trip in a couple of weeks?”

“It’s looking that way,” Ryan shrugs with relative indifference, “Nate doesn’t think he’ll be able to come back, something about a development camp he’s running having the dates switched. He’s asked me to take his spot.”

His neutral mood confuses her. When Bette mentioned his probable attendance months ago, it sounded like he was enthusiastic about spending a week with friends doing nothing to swimming and drinking. “You don’t want to go?” Magdalene probes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but sometimes the group parties a little harder than I like to,” he sighs, raising a hand and running it through his hair. That’s something she understands completely, having spent a few too many nights being the sober one out.

“I’ll be there.” It’s Magdalene’s turn to shrug, but the comment holds an incredible amount of hope.

“Well then, that changes everything.”

Was Ryan flirting with her? She spends the rest of lunch thinking about the possibility, and truthfully, it occupies her brain for the rest of the day. However, she keeps her focus and June is none the wiser to the butterflies in her stomach. Work finishes without much fanfare, and her dinner is silent save for the few meows of conversation Caligula offers. It’s late by the time Magdalene falls into bed, cat snuggled into the pillow beside her. On a whim she decides to check Instagram and sees a message request from none other than the man who’s smile has been replaying in her mind. A follow request accompanies it.

Thought that maybe we could quit leaving our meetings to chance and plan something next time :)

He has to be flirting. There’s no other explanation for the witty banter they’ve shared this week, or why he’s reaching out to her on social media. The butterflies in her stomach multiply tenfold as Magdalene types out a reply.

I don’t know, it’s kind of fun being shrouded in mystery. However, I now have the opportunity to stalk your profile ;)

Before she can overthink her use of the emoji, Magdalene shoves her phone in the drawer of her nightstand and rolls over. A slight smile can’t help but appear on her features as she falls asleep, already curious about what his reply will be.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds (add yourself to the taglist!)

[all1e23]

Honey & Whiskey [Pt.1]

Pairings: Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

Summary:   Falling was sweeter than honey and warm as whiskey.

Warnings: None for this chapter. Typical A/B/O dynamics.

A/N:  I know I am your dealer for soft Bucky but I’m trying out some new product. Soft Billy Russo. Just take a little taste. I promise It’s worth it. This is largely a self-indulgent fic and also for my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

You heard his car in the driveway before you caught the sound of the front door. This probably wasn’t the way to handle something like this. Prominent families didn’t behave like this. They didn’t cause a scene, and they certainly didn’t question a match this good. It was hard enough to find an Alpha that came from a good family, but one who wasn’t a complete knothead and genuinely cared for you? That was next to impossible. You managed to find that one in a million, and here you were pulling a stunt like this.

When you were a little girl, you read stories about the princess finding her prince, being saved from the tower, and living happily ever after in a big castle. So, you waited for your very own to come. You waited and waited by your window, but your prince never showed. You stayed locked in your tower with no sign of a savior. As you became older, you realized you didn’t want to be rescued, taken from one dungeon, and moved to another. You could take care of yourself without an Alpha there to defend your heart and fight the evil queen on your behalf.

Turned out you could handle her on all on your own.

Then you met James one evening at a friend’s wedding. He was sweet. Dark hair, blue eyes, and a charming crooked smile. He offered to buy you a drink and didn’t flinch when you reciprocated with the second. It was easy with James right from the start, and your parents were thrilled. They were simply over the moon. He came from a long line of senators, and his family were members at the club where your father plays golf. Everything was perfect. It was all working out the way it was supposed to, and in one short week, you would be married and bonded to James.

In the two years you’ve spent together, James has done everything he could to make you happy, not once has he abused his authority over you or made you feel as if you were less than him as his Omega. James has never given you a reason to fear him. Everything on the surface was perfect, but if you looked close, the cracks were easy to spot. Your heart had never had cause to race when he was near, and you never did learn what it would feel like to go weak from his touch.

It was doubtful you would ever know what it would be like to tremble from the brush of your Alpha’s fingertips. The odds you would find that love in this lifetime were slim, but if you stayed where you were, there would be no chance.

“Uh, Y/n…’ James stopped in the doorway to your shared bedroom and looked fairly amused, albeit confused by your attire. “What’s going on? Isn’t this bad luck?”

You glanced down at your wedding dress and grimaced. It wasn’t that the dress wasn’t beautiful, it was. It wasn’t you, though. It was huge for starters. Your mother had insisted this was the one from the moment it graced your frame. The skirt was so large you weren’t sure you would make it into the limo Saturday morning, and the bodice and lace sleeves were covered in so many crystals it felt like you were carrying an extra thirty pounds of glitter. This wasn’t the dress you pictured when you spent your days playing princesses in your bedroom, and all of this felt wrong.

You looked back up at your fiance, who was by your side in an instant when he saw fresh tears falling down your cheeks. James quickly wiped them away with only his thumbs. No tender kisses brushed them away, his touch was gentle but not in a way that soothed the restlessness in your soul.

“Do you feel something seeing me in this? I mean, really feel something? Because I don’t feel anything when I put it on. I’ve been trying so hard to feel something, anything but... I don't."

James tossed his keys on the dresser and stuffed his hands in his pockets now that he realized what this was. It wasn’t a simple case of cold feet or some cute moment you were going to bring up at the rehearsal for a quick laugh during toasts. He didn’t look mad, he was disconcerted, and you couldn’t blame him for that.

You didn’t fully understand why yourself, so you couldn’t expect him to.

“Okay. What is this, baby? What’s going on?”

As good and kind as James was, it wasn’t there.

“I’m not in love, and I don’t think you are either.”

The confirmation you needed flashed in his eyes. He didn’t feel it either. You stepped forward and held your hands out for his. James placed his hands in your hands without any hesitation, his fingers tightened around yours the longer the silence stretched between you. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when his eyes opened again, there was something different about them. They were filled with acceptance and a little bit of relief you knew he wouldn’t want you to see.

“I do love you, and I would take care of you,” James offered as if he was giving you one last opportunity to change your mind. One more chance to do the right thing.

You kissed his cheek and pulled your hand back from his hold, leaving the three-carat oval cut diamond resting in his palm. People lived that lie every day. Your parents, James’s parents, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was the foundation on which most of the marriages you knew were born. Its prevalence among your social status was hefty and typical, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of you.

It wasn't a lie you could spend the rest of your life telling.

“I know, but I want more than that. I want to feel it.”

-----------

“Okay, May. I am out of here,” You chirped. It had been a long, exhausting day. You worked a double shift after one of the other waitresses, an Omega, called out claiming she was in heat, but this was her third heat in four months. It was entirely possible that she was being truthful and not using her designation to get extra days off so she could play house with that Beta she’s been dating since Halloween. Maybe she was a medical marvel, and her heats really did come three times as often as every other Omega on the planet.

All you knew for certain? Your bed was calling your name, and you could not wait to get out of this diner.

“The rush seems to have died down, and I am dead on my feet, so I’m leaving before we get the late dinner crowd, and you beg me to stay.”

“Yeah, yeah. Always complaining,” May teased with a grin and a motherly gleam in her eye. “Take your cut from the tips, and then I want you to eat and get some sleep. You can come in for the dinner shift tomorrow.”

“You gonna clear that with Roger?”

May rolled her eyes at the mention of your boss; Alpha and every bit the knothead prick.

“I’ll deal with him. Don’t you worry about it.”

"Hey, Y/n.” You glanced at Karen, who had a taunting smirk making her pale cheeks flush, she was pointing to the far back of the diner with her order pad, and she mocked with a teasing grin, “Look who it is! Your boy arrived just in time to see you off."

Your eyes followed her bright purple pen, and your knees went weak the moment you laid eyes on him. You didn’t know he was coming tonight. It’s been four days since you last saw his pretty face (not that you were counting or anything!), and you hadn’t realized how much you missed him until that moment. The handsome, dark-haired Alpha was sitting at one of your usual tables and looked uneasy, his leg was bouncing up and down at a vigorous pace, his dark blue hoodie pulled up over his head, and he was wringing his hands together as he scanned the small diner for you -- what you hoped was for you anyway.

"Don't get any ideas about that, Alpha." May Parker huffed.

The older Omega was a little cynical from the cards life had dealt her, and from the second you showed up looking for a job, she took it upon herself to look after you the way a mother would. It wasn't as if your mother had any interest in your life at the moment, not after you embarrassed her and left a black smear on your family’s name. A mark didn’t suffice for the choices you made. Your actions affected everyone in the family, bled onto the very fabric your ancestors stitched together, and made a tear that thread and needle could never mend. Apparently, you should have married even though you weren’t in love and simply found a way to fall in love with James after vows and rings were exchanged.

At least May understood your choice, and you couldn’t blame her for the fire in her eyes and the ice in her touch when it comes to Alphas; life had not been kind to her. Despite losing her true mate at a young age, only to end up with a sad stand-in for the man she lost. He abused his designation and using it to control her and her son. It took years to rid herself of him, but she built a nice life without him. She obtained assistance from an Omega Shelter, went through therapy to break their bond, and even bought a place of her own. Even after all the good that has come over the last seven years, the clouded memories have left her jaded and wary.

"You need to find someone that will take care of you, and he's not it. You stay away from Billy Russo, you hear me? He's not a good Alpha. I’ve known him longer than you have.”

That was true. You’ve only been in the city for eight months and working at Sunrise Diner for seven. Billy was a customer long before you came around, but according to Karen, he would pick up an order to go, barely spoke to anyone, and never tried to get a table. May didn’t know him any better than you did. It wasn’t as if they had some long-standing relationship or history. You were grateful for the advice, but you could make your own judgments.

You’ve let someone else be your eyes and voice for far too long, and you weren’t about to allow yourself to repeat past mistakes.

Billy finally found you standing behind the counter, and the second your eyes locked his own lit up, his legs settled, and the smile on his face just about knocked you over. Your smile widened as you stared at each other for what felt like ages.

"Y/n, are you listening to me?” May snapped her fingers in front of your face, forcing your eyes to focus on her.  “He's trouble. Ex-marine with more issues than one person can handle."

You tossed your apron under the register in the black bin that held all the dirty smocks for the night. You glanced at your reflection in the silver napkin holder, resting in the order window and swore under your breath. Your hair’s frayed and sticking out every which way, and your lip gloss faded the first hour into your shift. It was too late to do anything about that now. Not with May watching your every move and Billy sitting so close, his eyes trained on you now that he found you.

Having Billy watch you fix your lipstick because he came in would be an embarrassment you wouldn’t survive.

"That's why he should have someone he can lean on. We are friends. I have a feeling he needs someone that won’t judge him for a past he can’t change.”

"Trouble,” May huffed. “You're asking for trouble."

You practically skipped over to the table Billy sat at. Same one as always. The booth at the far back of the bright restaurant where he had a view of the bathrooms and the front door. He always sat with his back against the wall, and every few minutes, his eyes wandered over to the exit door on his right. You didn’t know what happened, but you knew it was enough to keep him on edge at all times.

"Hey, Stranger."

Billy's near-black eyes looked brighter now that you’re near, and he gave you that toothy grin that made your stomach flip.

"Hey, sunshine.”

Sunshine.

Billy has called you that from the moment you met, you weren’t sure why, but it made your heart race every time it rolled off his tongue. You have to admit you didn’t hate the feeling.

"You haven't been in for a few days. I was starting to think the mac and cheese scared you off."

That wasn’t really true. Though, you did question the state of the mac and cheese on a regular basis. The way the noodles all stuck together in that round ball wasn’t natural. This was more about you than sticky elbow pasta goop. You were slightly worried that he may have started seeing an Omega and would no longer be coming by for these late-night visits. Not that it was any of your business. It’s not as if you’re bonded or even potential mates. You haven’t spent a moment with  Billy outside this diner. You had not an ounce of claim on him, and you certainly didn’t have a say in who he spent his days with -- or his nights.

Billy let his hood fall back, and he ran a hand over his buzzed hair. His scars were no longer as angry and red as they were when he first came in on that rainy Tuesday afternoon seven months ago. You can still recite every word he said to you that day like some silly school girl daydreaming about the cute boy in study hall. Some nights you did just that, on evenings when he didn’t come by or stayed far too late and left your heart aching for another ten minutes.

Scars or no, he was still the most handsome Alpha you had ever seen.  

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I, uh, it's been a tough few days is all, and I haven't had a second to come in."

You eyed him for a long minute, and you realized what he meant by a tough few days. More like it smacked you right in the face -- rut.

Did he share his rut with someone?

No. No, probably not.

Billy didn’t seem to give his trust freely, so you doubted he called a Service Center to help him through his rut. That didn't mean he didn't have an Omega in his life, one he trusted enough to share it with. It shouldn’t matter if he did, so why did you want to know so badly? It would be easier if you could simply scent him to find out. That’s what you wanted to do. You were aching to scent him right there in the middle of the damn diner in front of Karen, May, and anyone else that wanted to stare. You wanted to be sure there wasn’t a hint of another Omega anywhere near him, maybe leave a little bit of you on him.

What the hell was wrong with you?

You’ve never been this possessive before. Even with James, you never cared if he came home smelling like another Omega. Hell, you never gave it a thought. Billy wasn’t yours, and you needed to remember that.

"I’m glad you’re back. I missed you."

Billy tried to fight off his grin. He tried hard, but it still showed up brightly enough to make you simper. He must have liked that because his scent sweetened, and it was so thick it had your knees shaking. You stood up as straight as you could and locked your knees. Letting your legs give out over some handsome Alpha like a stereotypical Omega would be a shame you could never come back from.

"Is that right?" Billy drawled, smirking as he took in the tremble in your knees and the honey sugaring your scent.

"Yeah, you're my favorite customer,” you answered with a slight shrug. Billy chuckled and ducked his head to hide the pink spreading from his cheeks down his neck, but you caught the rosy hue regardless.

"Favorite." He recited the word as if he didn't like the way it tasted on his tongue like he was confused as to why you would use that word in association with him.

"Without question,” you assured him.

The hesitation in his eyes and confusion had your heart breaking. Someone along the way, recently or long ago, made him feel as though he wasn’t worthy of being someone’s favorite, of being that important to someone. The thought made your gut clench in the worst way. Billy was more than deserving of that title.

"So, I'm about to get off. My shift actually ended about ten minutes ago. Well, technically, my shift ended at two, not eight, but one of the girls is out making medical history, so here I am."

"Oh,” Billy murmured. He was disappointed, that was plain to see. The light in Billy’s eyes instantly faded, and he began to slide out of the booth. You had a feeling if he left now, he would end up picking tacos off the dollar menu at some fast-food chain, eating all alone back at his place. You couldn’t have that now, could you? Besides, friends have dinner together all the time. Isn’t that what Karen told you every time she had dinner with Frank?

Yes, friends could have dinner together, and it didn’t have to mean more than noodles and cheese.

”I can- I'll go eat somewhere else. I don’t want to keep you if you’re going home.”  

You rested your hand on his shoulder to keep him from sliding out past you and shook your head, still smiling down at him. "Oh, no, you don’t. Unless you want to leave, of course. Food here isn't great."

Billy looked up at you, and his eyes have gone dark again, but it wasn’t in the way you liked. He was struggling to figure out what he wanted to say. You could see the moment Billy gave in to whatever it was, he was wrestling with and confessed, “I don't come here for the food.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you swore you could hear it in your ears. No doubt, Billy could pick it up in your scent. You never considered buying suppressants until you met Billy Russo. Then again, there were a lot of things you never considered until you met him. You blew out a shaky breath, and your words came out in as a stuttering mess, "Then… w-why do you come h-here?"

Billy held your gaze but didn’t elaborate further. It was probably for the best. If he had said what you thought could be the reason you might have melted right there at his feet and would have been forced to quit your job citing irremediable humiliation.

"Okay, um, well, I maybe thought I could eat with you? I haven't eaten since this morning, and I've been working all day, so I’m starving."

Billy frowned at that, and he quickly pressed for more, "You haven't eaten all day? So, that means you worked all day without taking a break?”

"Yeah, it happens. Some days it's really busy, and I don't get a second. Roger, our boss, he’s not great at following labor laws. If things get busy like they were today, there is no way he’s letting me take a break.”

If it was possible, Billy’s eyes blackened, and his normal candied scent turned sour. It was a subtle change to the whiskey and brown sugar scent you’ve come to know. He wasn’t on blockers, nor were you, it made his feelings easy to read. You weren’t sure he liked that fact at the moment. The scrunch of his nose and the wrinkle in his brow said he was trying to control his feelings to keep them hidden from you, or maybe he was attempting to understand whatever feeling was jumbled in his head.

“I don’t-- I don’t like that. You should be getting breaks so you can eat. You have to eat.”

You didn’t like it either, but there was little you could do. You had no way to prove that Roger refused to let you take breaks, and it wasn’t like he said he would fire you if you went on break. It only was heavily implied, and he knew when to use an Alpha command, with the tiniest drop in his voice, he had Omegas scampering to do as he wished. Thankfully, you have yet to be on the receiving end, and you had no intention of experiencing it. You needed this job whether or not Billy approved of your break schedule. You couldn’t do anything about Roger or your schedule, but you might be able to fix Billy’s spoiled mood and catch another glimpse of his pretty smile.

"How about you feed me then?" You suggested with a grin.

Billy’s frown quickly faded into a crooked smirk, a gentle chuckle followed, and everything turned sweeter. Whenever Billy was smiling, there was a little more sugar and a little less whiskey floating nearby, and it often left your head spinning for days after. You’ve never been one to fall for a sugar rush over a whiskey high -- until now.

"Okay, Sunshine. I can do that. Do you want to eat here or somewhere else?"

"Where are you most comfortable?"

"Where am I most comfortable…” Billy repeated the question, brows furrowed in thought, and he responded without thinking, “I’m most comfortable when I’m with you."

Billy quickly realized that was not what you meant when he looked up to see your eyes widen.  He cleared his throat and sat up straighter as he tacked on an addendum, hoping you would ignore his first admission. "Nowhere that’s loud. Or, um, crowded. I’m not great in large rowdy groups. I need a place I can sit like this. My back against the wall and know my exits."

You knew that already and now you were mad at yourself for making him admit it out loud, but you had to confess not all of his revelation sounded so bad.

"I'll tell you what I live right around the corner. How about you come over, and I'll make you dinner?"

Inviting an Alpha you barely knew back to your place wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve done. Everyone knows, Omegas at least, you never tell an Alpha your address until you’re courting, and you know what kind you’re dealing with. You couldn’t explain why but your heart and your head were telling you to trust him and when they agree on something you listen.

“You want me to come back to your apartment?”

Billy seemed to be questioning your judgment, but nothing felt wrong about having Billy in your home.

“Only if it will make you feel more comfortable. If not, I know a pizza place a few blocks away, but we will have to catch a cab.”

You truly didn’t mind either way as long as Billy was comfortable. He took a few thoughtful seconds before he nodded. “Your place is okay. If you’re sure, you want me to know where you live.”

You grinned and stepped back so he could stand. “Let me grab my purse, and I’ll meet you by the door, okay?”

Billy didn’t have a chance to answer because you were bounding off towards the counter and the group of nosy Omegas watching you both with interest. Billy stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, watching you share a few hushed whispers with the older woman behind the register.

“You’re leaving together? Y/n, this is not a good idea. Why can’t you stay here together where we keep an eye on you? It would be safer that way.”

“I said I’m fine. I don’t need you to look after me just because I’m an Omega. I can handle myself, and I can handle Billy.”

“He’s not what you think. I only want you to be careful.”  

You jerked your jacket out from under the counter and slipped your arms into the black puffy arms. You were already done with this. She didn’t know Billy any better than you did. Maybe she saw some things, or he came off like a typical asshole Alpha once when they first met, but the only conversation they have had revolved around grilled cheese sandwiches and you. You stopped in front of May, and you couldn’t keep the ice out of your voice even if you had wanted to. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he’s not what you think? I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, May.”

Billy glanced over your shoulder and back at you as you approached. “Everything alright over there?”

“Oh, you know.” You shrugged as you stepped out the door Billy was holding open for you. “Co-worker drama.”

There were tiny bits of moonlight shining down on the sidewalk next to you. It was awkward at first. This wasn’t your normal dynamic. Billy came in and ordered the same grilled cheese and fries every night; not that you could blame him for that, it was probably the only edible thing on the menu. You would make some cute comment about melted cheese and Billy would give you that smile that set skin on fire, he left a tip that was always triple the cost of the tiny sandwich and promised to see you real soon. You knew the risks that came with what you were doing. You are breaking the first rule they teach you in Orientation class, but you didn’t care, and it didn’t scare you.

Billy didn’t scare you.

“You know you really shouldn’t invite Alphas you don’t know back to your apartment. It’s not safe. I could be anyone. I could be some asshole Alpha using that sweetness in your heart to take advantage of you.”

Maybe that was the thing that should scare you -- your blind trust for an Alpha you barely knew.

“No, you’re not, Billy.”

“Yeah? How do you know that, Sunshine?”

Billy was teasing you, the mile-wide grin on his face told you so. You shook your head and matched his smile. The answer was pretty simple, really. It was the one thing missing with James. You felt the tension in your shoulders lift, and you told him the only thing about tonight that mattered.  

“I can feel it.”

Masterlist // Part 2

[anika-ann]

For a Smile

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert               Word count: 5400

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, OC x reader (brief)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader, OFC, OC

Summary: You see him run past every morning. So you smile, because he looks like a nice person. How could he not be when he smiles back and the world stops for a while to pay respect to such beauty?

And sometimes… sometimes this incredibly handsome man smiles first.

Warnings: mentions and hints of (psychically) abusive relaionship, suggestive themes, swearing, all the fluff in the world

A/N: I used to pass this guy near a café playing music every morning when I went to school and at some point, our eyes kinda met and we smiled at each other; then we did that every day. I kid you not, he’s got the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. It’s not a Hollywood-star smile, no – it’s a guy-next-door smile, heart-warming, with his eyes simply shining. He’s like a kid on Christmas Day… I could ramble on. Anyway, just so you knew what brought this on.

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○  

A smile costs less than electricity, and gives more light. (Scottish proverb)

Warm honey, sandstone and apricot orange melting into indigo, cerulean blue and stone-grey sky. Merigold playing with salmon and rose pink, teasing each other and making space to the warmer shades of orange.

You watched the beautiful colours of sunrise as you shifted your legs for a bit, causing the simple plank hanging on two tattered ropes sway, a smile tugging on your lips.

It was a little childish really, or it may appear so to anyone who would be passing by; but given what an early riser you were, just so you could watch this breath-taking game of colours, the little miracle of nature, no person could question you as you were dangling your feet off the old swing.

On your way to work, if the time allowed it, you would always make a stop on your favourite spot; a no-name park in upstate New York you were walking through every day, rather calm and drunks-free at the early hour.

Once upon a time, someone had placed a simple swing on one of the trees farther from the path. You sent a silent thank you every time you parked your behind there. You weren’t a monster; if a kid wanted to sit here, you would have gladly (...reluctantly) made space for them, but they seemed to always be more mesmerized by the playground with the actual swings, the chutes, the monkey bars and the sandpit. You couldn’t say you complained though, having the old-fashioned swing for yourself.

It was childish, perhaps; though your mother had once chosen that you should be going into accounting and so you had. Numbers and bills were things even adults hated, but that was what being old enough meant. You didn’t mind it too often, plunging into them for living, but… you needed to compensate, so you felt entitled.

Plus, the motion of the swing was soothing, as if magically transporting you back to your childhood indeed, with less worries, more ease and pure mind.

Yeah, sitting on the swing was your favouri-

Rapid staccato of feet hitting the ground in the distance, no doubt scaring off the birds chiming their morning songs, reached your ears and you had to admit you wouldn’t be completely honest with yourself if you said this was the favourite moment of your day only because of the aforementioned reasons.

There was one more.

It had strong long sweatpants-clad legs, broad shoulders in a sports t-shirt with seams crying for help, blond hair and-

Your heart melted along with your brain as your lips curled up in a genuine smile you sent in return.

-and the most beautiful smile in the whole universe.

You never spoke. Didn’t say hello. You never even nodded in mutual acknowledgement.

You just… smiled at each other.

And that was your favourite moment of the day crafted to perfection. A breath-taking sunrise, almost eclipsed by a mesmerizing display of the row of perfect white teeth framed by plush coral red lips and the twinkle in beautiful inviting eyes of a stranger.

You knew his name despite never exchanging a single word. Everyone knew his name. But Captain Rogers – Steven Grant Rogers – was a name that held no meaning. He didn’t know yours and probably never would; so strangers was who you were. A couple of strangers exchanging a smile every morning and lightening up (hopefully) each other’s day.

It always felt nice when you glanced at someone on the street, then just… somehow smiled and they smiled back, didn’t it? So what if you were an adult woman dealing with numbers for Stark Industries sitting on a swing and he was a deservedly treasured national icon?

It made no difference.

Just two people sharing a tiny piece of their day for a smile.

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○  

“You’re insane,” your colleague stated dryly as she walked into the office at seven thirty, already finding you with an empty coffee cup, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Huh?” you raised your eyes from the screen on autopilot, not really paying attention.

You still noticed Harry rolling her eyes; it was just that distinctive.

“I said that you’re insane, you crazy-ass lark. My brain isn’t even awake yet. To be fair, I’m ninety percent sure I met Captain Handsome in the hall along with our boss, so it’s hard to tell if I’m dreaming or not, having a vision like that.”

“Captain Handsome?” you frowned, your mind racing, desperately trying to remember who was Harriet’s newest crush. ‘Captain Handsome’ could be literally anyone.

“Our resident Star-Spangled Man, you dummy. You’re low on caffeine. Or sleep. That’s what you get, getting up in such an ungodly hour…” she hummed, crossing her arms on her chest as she looked at you sceptically, a drop of disappointment in her eyes.

Oh. Oh! That made sense; if the man was with Tony Stark, the range of options narrowed significantly, especially since your friend had called him a captain. Except it didn’t make any sense at all.

“What was he doing here? I mean… since when is he wandering in our department? It’s all across the compound here from the training area.”

“Well, look who’s actually awake and bright-minded…” It was your turn to roll your eyes at your friend. “My point exactly. No clue, but lemme tell you – seeing that ass? Definitely made my day,” she threw over her shoulder as she stalked to the coffee machine and you couldn’t but chuckle at her bluntness.

Your stranger had an amazing smile, that was true. But your gaze did slide elsewhere on occasion too; which was why you would never try to disprove Harry’s claim.

“We might have the Ironman for a boss, but, girl… I’d like to know what Rogers’ ass is made of then,” she added and you burst into another fit of giggles, your face feeling hot all of sudden when your mind unhelpfully supplied with ‘vibranium’.

What would it feel like?

Yeah, you definitely needed to go back to your numbers before your impure thoughts got the best of you.

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○  

The first time you two met outside the park, you were in a bar.

You hadn’t seen him for almost a month, assuming he went on a long-drawn mission; one that had ended well, clearly, since he was out drinking. Just eyeing his companions and instantly noting his body language, you could tell he was suffering. Like, not literally suffering, but it was very much obvious he was not feeling comfortable.

His eyes were drifting all over the place, as Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes laughed loudly, patting his shoulders while a hint or red dusted his cheeks, and then they fell on you.

His face was screaming ‘save me!’; yet, his smile was still as warm and kind as ever, an impossible spark within his irises, visible even from the distance. That twinkle was always the biggest mystery to you, because logically, no person could have eyes so bright, but here he was, proving your claim wrong.

Your lips spread in a smile automatically and encouraged by your second drink, you considered adding a small silly wave.

Before you could execute the decision, the result of your two last braincells arguing whether it would be more silly or sweet, an arm sneaked around your shoulders and your smile widened on instinct at the sensation. You turned your head to Cade and met his lips halfway to yours.

You had been dating for almost a month now and this inconspicuous guy from logistic of a giant company that was surprisingly not Stark Industries was a dream coming true. He was showering you with so much attention you weren’t sure he was real. Late-night conversations via phonecalls or texts, good morning, good night, kisses that lasted long enough for you to forget that you in fact needed oxygen, touches that set you on fire. He was easy to fall in love with.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout that got you smilin’ so wide, babe?” he whispered to your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth.

Gosh, you wanted him. The first sex hadn’t been so great, Cade chasing his own release, but hey, first times were always hard in a new relationship. The more were you excited about your second time and you were confident the second time would happen tonight.

“Nah, just smiling at strangers. You know that feeling, so nice, when you just toss a smile and they smile back?” your eyes found his, only to see him frown.

“I like it better when you smile for me, babe. What did some stranger do for you to deserve that?” he hummed discontentedly, pouting adorably as his hand slid lower to squeeze your hip possessively. It sent a spark through your body, a lightning striking right into your core.

“Just teasing you, Cade. I was thinking about how I lucked out,” you batted your eyelashes and a slow delicious smirk played with the corner of his mouth all of sudden, intensifying the heat inside of you.

“Wanna get out of here, pretty thing? Lemme show you how lucky you are?” he whispered, the pad of his thumb grazing your lower lip, pulling it down a fraction. “Or maybe… show me how much you think you lucked out, huh? How much you appreciate being mine?”

God, yes.

Judging by the glint in his eyes and the hungry kiss that lasted too short – but too long for such a public place – he didn’t need a verbal confirmation. He swung by the bar to pay for your drink and practically dragged you out of the rather crowded space. Your head was spinning a bit and you couldn’t tell whether it was excitement or alcohol. Either way, you really, really liked it.

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○  

“You know that Cade was a dick right?” Harry noted nonchalantly while she handed you a cup of coffee and assessed (correctly) that you were sulking again, thinking back to that one particular night when you had noticed the first sign – or you would have if you hadn’t been such a goddamn idiotic goose of a woman, drunk on top of that.

You sighed and sipped your punishingly bitter dose of caffeine.

You were positively brooding and you didn’t care if it affected anyone else. The world apparently hated you and you couldn’t quite blame it.

Not even your precious strangers-exchanging-smile moments felt the same anymore. First, your stranger had started smiling less brightly after your encounter at the bar and then, even if it had changed, you wouldn’t be able to tell, because you were too wrapped in your own misery. Even the curve of his lips looked sad, which was a stupid thing to say, because he had no way of knowing about either Cade turning out to be an abuser-in-making or about you breaking things off with him and cracking your fragile heart in the process, while yelling at yourself mentally every morning and still longing for Cade’s arms around you since it always felt oh, oh so good to be held…

You recognized the signs early, but not soon enough. You let it escalate into him trying to control when you went out and with whom, him lashing out when you wouldn’t respond to his text in longer than five-minutes time, letting him yell at you when you missed his call… he loved you, after all, he just missed you and was afraid you were with someone else, and oh babe, come here, you can make it up to me…

Your sister had gone through something similar, for god’s sake. You should have noticed sooner. You should have known better. But no, you had allowed your body, your twat to be precise, to rule your brain and that had been stupid.

Cade had tried to get in touch several times after your break-up, even waiting in front of your apartment until you would go out once; you might have threatened him with a restraining order after that particular day and he had stopped quickly after that, only two of three attempts with a new e-mail address and number to get pass you blocking his previous ones.

Still. It made you miserable. And perhaps a bit self-hateful.

You deserved every bitter drop of Harry’s horrible coffee and more.

“I was being blind and stupid,” you opposed and returned to your figures, deciding your exchange was over. Figures were clear enough; they were easy to read and didn’t make your brain drunk on endorphins and other very specific hormones allowing you to act like a teenage girl, excited at her first boyfriend groping her. “Thanks for the coffee.”

A huff sounded above your head and suddenly your swivel chair was being yanked back and turned around, a pair of strict chocolate eyes boring into your soul with startling clarity. Harry’s fingers were wrapped around the armrests as she was leaning into your space.

You backed into your chair instinctively. She looked menacing.

“He was a charming bastard from what I heard and his type always knows how to manipulate people, letting them see what he wants them to see. It’s not your fault. You’re one badass of a woman, smart as hell for noticing before it escalated. You’re my hero. Mine and every other person’s who has ever been in or even heard of an abusive relationship. You can do better than him. It’s a funny coincidence they spelled his name wrong anyway.”

You blinked away your sudden tears, immensely grateful for her words that somehow wormed their way inside your very core (you blamed the intense stare that reminded of your mother’s when she was giving you the kind of talk that was too serious for you to handle) and yet you tilted your head in confusion, not understanding the meaning of her last statement.

“Huh? His… his name?” you stuttered, baffled.

Harry positioned your chair back to its place with a grin and went back to her own business.

“Clearly, they added an ‘E’ at the end. What a stupid typo…” she threw over her shoulder cheekily and when you caught up, understanding her point, you released the first honest laughter in what felt like a year.

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○  

Your life had been set off to better course after that short conversation. You felt like you were healing every day, finding yourself lighter. Happier. Freer of the baggage Cade had tried to left you with. The sensation was indescribable and it radiated from you; some days more noticeably than others.

You found yourself indulging the blond stranger’s smiles once more, finally seeing the spark in his eyes again, the genuine curve of his lips warming your heart and starting off your day in the best way imaginable.

Naturally, life had a reliable means of showing you it could suck.

Right when you thought that you were fine, it delivered another blow; your favourite place in the world… ceased to exist.

Someone put the swing in the park down.

They just… erased it from existence.

Maybe they considered it dangerous. Maybe they were being dicks. Maybe they thought it was old and ugly. It didn’t quite matter.

You could weep, mourning your intimate inanimate friend.

You didn’t cry. But it was a damn close call as you shuffled towards the playground and eyed it sceptically. You knew it wouldn’t be the same and not just because the swings were in a plain sight, but they also looked too fancy, to actually child-like and— they weren’t your swing. Your sanctuary. Your private space. Your secret place you never told anyone about, not Cade or your previous boyfriends, not your family, not Harry or other friends, not to anyone.

You watched the sun rise on the horizon, ridiculously heavy feeling in your chest, ignorant to the rest of the world.

God, you hated Mondays. You already knew this week was about to be a disaster.

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○  

“There’s a swing outside in the green area.”

“Huh?” you hummed distractedly, too deep into figures to register more than the sound of your friend’s voice. What was her name again? What was yours? What day was today? What was the time? Had you already had lunch? Had the lunch-time already passed…?

A chuckle followed by a to-be offended tone responded to your intelligent way of communicating.

“I’m starting to think ‘Huh’ is my name with how often you call me that,” Harry (aha!) remarked with a hint of sass, but repeated herself, because she knew she shouldn’t take it personal that you didn’t quite payed her any attention. You were a person who would get sucked into their own world, too focused on one task to acknowledge anything else. “A swing. In our compound park. It’s kinda cute, hidden from a plain sight though, a simple wooden thing.”

You slowly raised your eyes to hers, your pupils widening with surprise. Your pulse was roaring in your ears, your heartbeat no doubt shaking your whole frame.

Harry was telling you that there was… a swing. In the compound area. Hidden from everyone’s prying eyes, at least partly.

Why?

How?

You could only come up with one ridiculous theory which involved you, but that idea alone was laughable. Why would anyone do that for you? More importantly, how did anyone know-

“You think it’s an invitation for children? Like, is ‘bring your kids to work’ day happening any time soon? ‘cause, not to be rude and greedy, but one swing doesn’t seem like— hey!” Harry called after you, but you could barely hear her as you jumped to your feet, your heels be damned, and strode through the halls with zero regards to anyone in your way.

Not that there was a soul; people actually worked around here, too busy to wander the halls.

The thing was, that one theory about the swing didn’t just involve you. It involved one more person, but that person was a stranger to you and had no reason to even… acknowledge you. Besides the obvious part of your day that no longer existed – not in the way it used to. But the thought was simply laughable.

A different part of your brain raised a figurative sceptical eyebrow, argumenting that you had no better explanation for the phenomenon.

Because… you loved Harry. She knew about your traditional early morning watching the sunrise, but not about the swing. The swing was always a secret, no one knew, except… except one particular guy who always passed you on his morning run and exchanged a smile with you and just happened to work at the very same compound you did and technically had the power to pull the strings to make this happen.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you gasped for fresh air when you finally made it out of the building, your eyes searching for a calm spot, a tree in whose shades you could possibly find a prove of Harry not pulling your leg.

Your heart positively stopped when your eyes fell on the simple plank hanging on two ropes, indeed offering a safe space for anyone who decided to sit there in search for serenity.

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, your feet moving of their own will despite semi-high heels digging into the ground an inch with each step, bringing you closer to that little, yet breath-taking miracle. A chuckle escaped your lips when your trembling fingers brushed the grey ropes, more of your senses acknowledging that this was in fact happening.

Your hand followed the line of the rope, sliding to the plank, only to notice a rough sensation on your fingertips in the corner. A carving, you realized.

Tears of surprise actually welled up when you recognized they were initials. Your initials.

How-- how was that possible?

‘Sit down, you dummy!’ your consciousness cried out exasperatedly. ‘It’s clearly for you!’

“But why?” you asked it under your breath incredulously, thousands of questions ruminating, no answers on the horizon.

Regardless, you reluctantly lowered yourself, shocked when your feet dangled above the ground in precisely the same way they used to-- they used to in the park. It was even installed in the same height.

Reverently, you gave the swing a test-drive, just tiny motions of your feet to try it out.

It was perfect.

Your gaze fell on a sign on the tree trunk, small, subtle and harmonizing with the place without a fault.

Sanctuary of the kind ones. Do not disturb, it read.

You giggled breathlessly, lightheaded and with no care in the world.

That naturally changed when you spotted your very much expectant colleague in the distance, her arms crossed on her chest, figuratively tapping her foot and screaming questions without saying a single word.

The thing is, you thought, I have no idea how to answer.

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○  

Perhaps it was naïve, a child-like trust and excitement, but the next day, you went to your new spot expecting to enjoy the sunrise there and not to be disturbed indeed.

You weren’t.

What you couldn’t quite prepare yourself for was the single daisy lying on the wood, starling you to no end. Hesitating all of sudden, you searched your surroundings, wondering if you interrupted someone else’s plan. Perhaps someone had the same initials as you and whoever made this happen had a different person in mind, doing it for them and the swing was just a funny coincidence.

But then in the middle of your mussing – on the swing, because, screw it, you might as well enjoy this since no one had kicked you out yet – a familiar figure ran past, gracing you with a beautiful smile, once again without a word and with a shy gaze falling to the ground after you met their eyes. With that, it… actually started to settle.

He had done this for you. For some incredible inexplicable reason… your smiling ‘stranger’ offered you a kindness of unseen measures.

And as if it wasn’t enough, you would find a different flower on the wood every day for the whole week. They weren’t even fancy flowers, which made it absolutely magical. Daisy. Tulip. Lilly. No red roses, only cute blossoms, matching the simplicity of the swing.

Harry was nearing the verge of insanity due to your goofy smiles and flowers in your hands; but you remained tight-lipped like an international spy during an interrogation, too afraid that if you said it out loud, sharing that ridiculous impression you were getting these days with anyone, your bubble would burst.

And surely enough, as if you jinxed it mentally, the next Wednesday, no flower waited for you.

It was ridiculous how your mood died instantly. It could have had hundreds of explanations including the one that he went for a mission, because he was Captain Freaking America, in case your stupid heart forgot, but nope, you would still feel the corners of your lips turn down.

You watched the shades of orange bleeding into blue and grey, lost in thought and with unsettling longing in your heart.

You suspected his steps sounded purposely loud when they came from behind you, where you wouldn’t expect them. You didn’t need to see the familiar Nikes on his feet to know it was him; you doubted anyone else would approach you, let alone at such early hour.

Yet you would lie saying your heart didn’t skip a beat when he stopped in his slow tracks by your side, steady feet next to your dangling ones, and you had his identity confirmed.

Your throat went dry and stiff, your voice dying before it could form.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered reverently, not disturbing the peace of the indeed lovely scenery in front of you.

You didn’t dare to look away from the sunrise as your voice came out unfairly scratchy, a stark contrast to his deep and smooth one that felt like a caress on your skin.

“It is.”

Silence fell on your pair again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The birds sung their morning songs, waking up the world and you didn’t think words were needed. Except you owed him something, and you wanted to say it.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from the painting by the most amazing artist, the nature itself, you casted a glance at him.

You didn’t realize you had never seen him still; duh, you did know that, but what didn’t quite click in your brain was that you would be able to see him in all his glory, soft smile and an absent gaze framed by long eyelashes, shadows casted all over his face and body, playing games which gave him a surprisingly ethereal aura for a man of his built.  

Your stomach tied itself into a knot at the sight and the ‘thank you’ got once again stuck in your throat when his eyes turned to you as well, you breath stolen from your lungs, your lips parting uselessly and curling into a smile on instinct when his did.

Despite seeing the too startling sparkle up close, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the deep blue with a hint of green of his irises. It was just too captivating, locking you in a sweet cage you didn’t feel trapped in, but free and suddenly able to breathe in again.

“Thank you,” slipped from your lips unwittingly, shocking to your own ears.

The very same hint of scarlet you remembered from the infamous bar encounter dusted his cheeks, his smile softening as he turned a bashful gaze away, now fixated on the ground.

“Just wanted to see you smile again. Best part of my day,” he admitted, peeking at you from the insanely long and thick eyelashes and you could melt on spot, dizzying vertigo overcoming you at the sweet words. Good thing you were sitting.

You had no idea how to respond, your heartbeat thumping in your temples, your face feeling too hot and chest pleasantly warm at such admission. Your teeth went to chew on your lip and you abruptly stopped yourself. Bad, bad habit.

“Was… was that the only thing? Because the swing would be more than enough, let alone with my initials, and the flowers-“

“Maybe-“ he softly interrupted your lame attempt at flirting which had turned into a babble, but with same nerves coursing his voice unless your senses were playing tricks on you. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization that he might be as nervous as you were-- the strangest thing in the world, wouldn’t it be? “Maybe I could tell you… over a coffee?”

A daffodil entered your field of vision, happy, bright and yet somehow shy in his big hand and you didn’t think twice before accepting it, your fingers brushing his skin in the process only half-accidentally. Passing you the flower, he offered you a hand so he could assist you in standing up.

Ah, as if he knew your knees felt wobbly and uncooperating with the overwhelming turn of events.

You didn’t hesitate to accept that either. You had a hunch that the manners of a forties’ man would be offended if you didn’t anyway.

“Thank you. Again.”

The twinkle in his eyes shone brighter at your words, his smile widening.

“My pleasure.”

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○  

“If I trip over something, I’ll bully you into carrying me everywhere for the next month,” you threatened in a joking manner as your boyfriend of one year led you through his apartment with his huge palm sprawled over your eyes, while his other gently rested on your lower back, making sure you maintained some balance.

“I wouldn’t complain about that. Are you serious? Because I just might let you trip then…” he teased back and you could hear the grin in his voice, mesmerized by the happy note in it. You would roll your eyes at him fondly, but he wouldn’t see it, so there was no point.

“Don’t you dare…”

“Okay, let’s stop now,” he whispered in your ear, his hand shifting to your hip to squeeze lightly, causing you to shiver. You and Steve had taken your time when it came to physical aspect of your relationship (past certain bases anyway), so a touch like that still sent a delicious electrifying feeling through your whole body.

As if you weren’t excited enough ever since the moment he had told you he had had a surprise for you.

Chewing on your lower lip, you followed his gentle instruction and stopped in your tracks.

“Should I be afraid?” you asked for the fourth time in the past five minutes.

“Terrified,” he confirmed in a joking manner. “You ready?”

Not waiting for your answer, he uncovered your eyes and with a deep inhale, you snapped them open.

Only for your breath to hitch at the sight in front of you.

“Oh my god... it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, a surprised chuckle escaping past your lips.

In the corner of the living room, soft marigold pillows laid in a circular hammock chair coloured in the indigo of an early sunrise, practically begging for you to jump in and nestle there with a book and relax.

Instantly reminded of how you met Steve in the first place, you couldn’t but spun on your heels and threw your arms around him, strong arms eagerly welcoming you as his chest shook with hushed chuckle.

“Glad you like it,” he murmured, hiding his face in your hair, raising you from the floor effortlessly. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Happy anniversary, Steve. This truly is amazing. I love it!”

“But not more than me?”

It was your turn to chuckle as you retreated, placing a kiss on his nose and earning a pout that simply had to be kissed away.

“No, Steve, not even this amazing hammock compares to you. I’ll show you exactly how much I love you in a sec, I just have to test it out,” you promised.

He released you with no protest and watched with a fond smile as you climbed in with a child-like excitement, the corners of his eyes twinkling. He slowly made his way to you as the hammock swung gently with your weight and you sent him a delighted grin as he sat on his heels in front of you, his hands landing on the edges so he had the control over the movements.

“What’s the verdict?” he pried softly and you opened your mouth to respond with enough enthusiasm to power the state of New York for a year; but he continued. ”Is it comfy enough for you to… make you consider- that maybe-- you could… stay here more often?”

Your breath hitched, your throat swelling when you got a pretty good idea of what he was asking from his serious gaze. Yet, you needed to make sure, butterflies in your stomach flipping their wings wildly as you leaned forward, invisible magnets pulling you towards him.

“And by ‘more often’ you mean-“

“All the time,” he whispered, his eyes roaming your face nervously, trying to spy a reaction, read the answer in your expression alone.

You chuckled incredulously, ecstatic at such proposition, and placed your palms to both sides of Steve’s face, grateful for his grip on the hammock and trusting him not to let you faceplant on him with how hazardous the kiss you gave him was.

Your eyelids fluttered close, but you felt his smile as his lips engaged in a tender dance with yours, one of his hands sneaking to the side of your neck to pull you closer, tilting your head as his tongue teased your lips to part.

How could you deny him anything even when you felt like you were about to fall face-down any second? He would be under you when you landed anyway. What more could you wish for-

“I love you,” he breathed to your mouth as he broke the kiss for one damned second that felt like eternity; one second in which you forgot to suck more air in even when given the opportunity. Who needed oxygen anyway? You could breathe Steve in and live blissfully, it was what you were trying to do for the past minute and it was glorious- “That’s a yes, right?”

A chuckle escaped you as you dodged another kiss, his lips landing in your hair instead, the hammock swaying hazardously. Mm, seemed like your supersoldier was too distracted to watch your balance.

“Yes. The hammock totally convinced me,” you teased him lightly, an idea striking you when you said those words. Climbing down as he was still sitting in front of you on his heels, you lowered yourself on him, nestling in his lap and leaning to his ear and sharing your not necessarily filthy thought in a breathless whisper. “But I think I still like sitting right here much better.”

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○   

S.R. masterlist

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○

Thank you for reading :-*

P.S. - Keep smiling; at the people you love whenever you can, at strangers and at the person you see in the mirror :))

[1dsource]

Author Spotlight: lovelarry10

Don’t forget to show the author to leave kudos and comments to show the author love!

You Were Made To Be Mine

Words: 605k

Louis Tomlinson takes his 6 year old son Jacob to see Harry Styles in concert. Jacob has been a huge fan of Harry's for as long as he can remember, so it's a dream come true when Harry notices him in the pit. But Jacob isn't all that Harry has his eye on...

Louis is a bit embarrassed when Harry picks on him from the stage, but when he's invited backstage after the show, he wonders what Harry Styles could possibly want with a single dad and his kid from Manchester...

(Last update: 16/13-19)

Let Me Be Your Star

Words: 252k

Harry Styles has always been a singer, but he’s never had much confidence in himself. When his idol is brought on as the new judge on The X-Factor, he figures, what the hell? He’d get to sing and meet his idol. What could go wrong?

Louis Tomlinson has always wanted to mentor young musicians. When he’s asked to be a judge on The X-Factor, it’s a dream come true, everything he ever wanted. What he didn’t expect was to meet a curly-headed stranger that would turn his life upside down

We Both Got Nothing to Hide

Words: 43k

Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”   

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”   

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.   

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”   

“Kind of…”

//Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

Tell Me What You Want Tonight

Words: 18k

Louis Tomlinson loved his job. His boss Harry was great too. He often wondered why a CEO hotshot like him was still single. When a hotel mixup causes them to room together while in The Big Apple, will Louis’ crush turn from fantasy to reality? 

Listen To Your Heart

Words: 35k

Are you kidding me right now?    

I… No? Louis frowned, feeling angry now. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but at the same time, he couldn’t help his feelings. It felt like this had been brewing for weeks, and this was it. Give it a rest, Harry.  

Why are you such a brat? Why can’t you just be happy for me for once?

You think I want to hear about you kissing James? Really, H? There’s things I just don’t need to know, okay? I’m your best mate, not your fucking relationship advisor…

*****

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

Beautiful Stranger

Words: 66k

“Did you want to- oh. Uh, sorry, I-” Harry stuttered, licking his lips as he looked over Louis’ bare torso, not focusing on the ocean ahead of him. “You’re very distracting, Lou.” 

“Trying to tell me you haven’t seen a topless Omega before?” Louis asked, walking back to his rucksack and grabbing a bottle of suncream out of it before returning to stand by Harry.  

“Not one as stunning as you,” he thought he heard Harry mutter as he started to rub the cream into his shoulders.

*****

When Alpha Harry Styles attends the Gucci Cruise 2020 show, he knows what to expect: clothes, clutch bags, and a few too many pretentious people. What he doesn’t expect, however, is to run into an Omega who is more beautiful than anything on the runway.

Take Me As I Am

Words: 117k

“Suppressant? But… why would I need a suppressant? Alphas don’t take suppressants.”

“You’re right, they don’t.

”****

Secrets. Lies. Deception. Betrayal. Self-discovery.Alpha. Omega. How far will they go to hide the truth?

Lucky Ones

Words: 188k

Harry doesn’t believe love is on the cards for him. Louis just wants someone to love him for him and not what he can do for them. Together they learn what love and trust is all about while having a little (or rather, a lot) of fun along the way. 

I Drove All Night (To Get To You)

Words: 23k

“Sorry mate, but I think you’re my ride?”  

Harry just stared, not blinking at the man in front of him, wondering what he’d done in a past life to deserve this.

“You’re Louis Tomlinson.”  

“I was last time I checked,” Louis chuckled, still leaning in through the passenger window. Harry knew he was staring and not in a polite way, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn away in case this was all a dream, and he most definitely didn't want to wake up if that was the case. “Can I get in, then? Would kind of like to avoid more photos of my arse in the paper if it’s alright with you...”

*****

Harry’s job as a chauffeur for the rich and famous was not as flashy as he’d thought. Late nights having to listen to the ridiculous demands and whims of these high profile clients leaves him disheartened with the world he thought was all glitz and glamour.

One night his boss asks him a favour. To collect one last client before he clocks off. Only problem is when that client gets into the car it’s Louis Tomlinson. As in Harry’s all time crush. As in future husband and father of all his children Louis Tomlinson.

He can be cool and professional, right?

Kiss From A Rose

Words: 15k

Harry is the quiet one in the office no one ever notices. Until Louis does, that is. When notes start appearing on Harry’s desk, he ponders who is behind the kind words, oblivious to Louis’ attempts to get his attention....

Just Let Me Adore You

Words: 26k

When Louis’ daughter presents him with a Christmas gift far beyond the price range of a four year old, he jumps to the worst of conclusions.   He’s pleasantly surprised when he finds out how she isn’t as naughty as he thought she was, and who came to her rescue..

Part 1 of The Millie Verse

Always You

Words: 15k

“You think he’ll want to come?” Millie asked the question that had been clearly troubling her, and Louis just grinned, nodding. He knew it was right up Harry’s street, and that his husband would near-collapse from the emotion of being asked to something so important to Millie. “Really really?”

“I really really think he will,” Louis grinned, cuddling his daughter tightly again.

*****

Valentine’s Day is one of Millie's favourite holidays. It’s all about love, and boy does she love to love. She loves her daddies, she loves her auntie's and her grandparents. She even loves her new best friend, much to her Daddy’s worry. But this year is going to be extra special if her Papa accepts her question! Harry also wants to make this holiday special for his two loves, while Louis has his own surprise up his sleeve...

Part 2 of The Millie Verse

(Last update: 28/02-20)

Piece by Piece

Words: 168k

Now that his best friend Liam is getting married Louis Tomlinson needs help, and he’s finally admitted it. He can’t work and be the best dad to his disabled son Mason without it. That’s where Harry Styles comes in.

And so begins the love story of a lifetime.

Part 1 of The Mason-Verse

To Carry Love

Words: 21k

Picking up a few years after Piece by Piece, we catch up with the Tomlinson-Styles as they celebrate the arrival of Liam's first child, and make a few choices of their own...

Part 2 of The Mason-Verse

I Get To Love You

Words: 83k

A one night stand leaves Harry with a permanent reminder of the night he spent with a stranger.

Louis has no idea who the handsome stranger he took to bed is... until his friends make a shocking discovery.

A baby is on the way, and Louis and Harry have nine months to get to know each other before they become a family...

There You Are

Words: 82k

 “How do you know I’ve got problems?” Harry asked, cocking his eyebrows at the man next to him, suddenly full of a deep desire to confess everything if it kept Louis’ eyes on him for the rest of eternity. 

“Your eyes,” Louis said with a shrug. “They look a bit sad. I don’t like that. So go on, unburden yourself to your friendly neighbourhood stripper.”  

“You’re not just a stripper,” Harry mumbled as he took another sip of his drink, mentally debating with himself over how to word what he was about to say before he figured he’d just say it in the simplest way possible. “I found my husband in bed fucking another man.”

****

*Harry’s entire life has fallen apart - in one night, his carefully planned future is suddenly uncertain.

Then he meets Louis.

You Are My Sunshine

Words: 17k

“Hi!” Charlie said, stopping at the end of the driveway of a small house and waving at the man. “Mornin’!”  

“Well, you just made my day,” the man said, walking towards Charlie and Louis with a big smile on his face. “Thank you so much!”  

“Bye!” was all Charlie returned with, and the man laughed, looking straight at Louis for a moment.  

“Bye, have fun!”   “

We will, thanks,” Louis replied with a smile, still a bit mesmerised by the stranger. 

*****

Charlie is a happy little boy, he smiles and waves at everyone around him, making Louis the proudest dad. Charlie’s spark of personality and a well timed hello brings a stranger into his and Louis’ lives when they least expect it...

The Little Dog Whisperer

Words: 28k

Louis lives alone with his dog Clifford. When he spots a sign in the neighbourhood advertising dog walking services, along come Harry and his son Alfie into his life… 

All I Do is Want You

Words: 31k

“Lou, if he knew how you felt, he might change how he feels?” 

“And that’s the last thing I want!” Louis threw up his hands as he spoke, exasperated as he always was when it came to this particular topic of conversation. “I don’t want him to feel like he owes me something, or that he has to reciprocate my feelings, Zayn. He doesn’t feel that way towards me and I’ve come to terms with that, okay? You need to as well.” 

“I would if you actually meant it,” Zayn mumbled in reply, barely ducking in time as Louis lobbed a cushion at him. “You know this isn’t healthy, right? That you can’t just keep fucking him because you’re scared you’re gonna lose him?”

Harry loves his best mate Louis. He especially loves the casual sex they indulge in. Trouble is, Louis’ in love with Harry. Surely it’s destined to end in heartbreak...

The Daddiest Place on Earth

Words: 23k

dilfs_atdisneyworld: Ooh he's popular. Is it me or has it got hot in here? #dilf #hothothot #gimme

louist91: What the hell? Why the fuck am I on a DILFs page again?"

dilfs_atdisneyworld: louist91, Hello! You're on here because you're a DILF. A dad I'd like to f...😜  

Louist91: dilfs_atdisneyworld Oh my god. Fuck off mate.

***

Louis. Harry. Instagram. A whole lot of confusion and a whole lot of laughs...

I Knew You Were Waiting For Me

Words: 26k

Harry has been hearing his soulmates voice for years now, and he's just desperate to meet the person he knows he's meant to be with.

Louis has come to think that he's destined to never meet his soulmate.

A chance camping holiday with their best friends just might end in all of their dreams coming true.

How It Would Feel To Be Free

Words: 90k

"When's she due?” 

“She said next month,” Harry replied quickly, ignoring the look of shock on Louis’ face. “How the hell am I going to tell my parents that I’m going to be a father, and to a baby born out of wedlock? It’s going to be some whole-ass scandal, Lou, and I can’t ... I can’t-”

“I’ll help you. Whatever it takes, Harry, I’ll be there for you.”

When Prince Harry unexpectedly becomes a father, his best friend Louis steps in. The masses believe the baby is Louis’, but all Harry wants is to tell the world the truth - about the baby and his feelings for Louis.

Waited All Year To Be Near

Words: 27k

“Your kids are so fuckin’ great, Lou, seriously. Like, Leo reminds me so much of you, and Molly is just bloody beautiful, that kid loves me, I swear to God.”

“Oi, not as much as she’s gonna love her Papa,” Louis chided, jokingly smacking Niall on the arm. “And Haz? He’s coping okay?”

“You know him, course he is. He’s wonder Dad, dunno how he does it. Misses you, though. He thinks we don’t catch the little touches of his wedding ring, or the way he glances at your photos whenever he walks by. But we do. He’s like… he’s strong for everyone else, but he needs you, Louis. He needs someone to be strong for him, too.”

****

Harry’s preparing for the holidays at home with his four children while Louis is deployed. All he wants is his husband home for Christmas. But Louis’ half a world away...

With The Strength To Carry On

Words: 113k

The American British Doctoral Exchange Program was the best thing that ever happened to Louis. It gave him a chance to start over and make a real difference in the world. He could focus on work and not be distracted by anything or anyone. When Harry Styles shows up as the new intern, he turns Louis' world upside down.

Harry Styles had one passion in life, and that was helping sick children feel better. Putting smiles on their faces made Harry feel like he was making up for past mistakes and losses. When he gets accepted to the American British Doctoral Exchange Program, he treats it as the chance of a lifetime to make a difference internationally. He didn't expect to fall for his mentor along the way....

or the one where Louis and Harry are doctors, and things happen.

Made From Love

Words: 14k

It's almost Christmas, and amongst the preparations, Louis' realised something about his husband Harry.

Harry, however, seems to be oblivious.

Louis' determined to open Harry's eyes and make him realise the real magic that's happening this Christmas...

I Don’t Wanna Hide Us Away

Words: 3k

It's the X Factor final, and Louis' excited to see Little Mix perform. As he sits back to watch, he's blissfully unaware of how his life is about to change... 

The Pain Is For Pleasure

Words: 67k

“Louis, please. I promise you, you are so attractive to me. I love you, and I think you are the sexiest man I’ve ever been with-”  

“But Harry, that’s the fucking problem! You haven’t been with me, have you?! You don’t want me in that way, it’s pretty clear…” He cut him off, feeling that he was about to say something he would later regret. “If there’s a problem, I wish that you felt you could have told me, rather than, well, this.” 

“Louis, I-” 

“Just leave it, Haz. I get it, okay?” 

“No! You don’t, you have no fucking idea, Louis!”

Louis and Harry have been together for a few months. Everything is great, but there’s one question burning in the back of Louis' mind - why won’t Harry have sex with him?

Baby We Could Be Enough

Words: 74k

Harry Styles has always wanted a family, but his boyfriend doesn’t. When an unexpected pregnancy leaves Harry feeling alone and terrified, he feels he has no choice but to give up his baby. He finds a family with the adoptive parents, and maybe something more.

Louis Tomlinson and his wife, Jess, have been trying for a baby for years. Their hasty marriage after they first got pregnant has only led to a series of miscarriages that have put a strain on their already precarious relationship. When they meet a young man desperate for a home and someone to raise his child, Louis realizes that he may have been moving in the wrong direction all along.

Step Into The Light

Words: 13k

Harry’s filming his music video for his new song in the humid heat of Cancun, Mexico after dark.

Louis watches him with hooded eyes from behind the visor of his motorcycle helmet watching it all go down.

How far can Harry push his desire?

It’s Coming Home

Words: 14k

Harry hates football and is reluctantly dragged to Hyde Park to watch the semi-final. It’s not the football that catches his eye though, it’s the cute blue-eyed boy at the next VIP balcony...

Or the one where Harry and Louis are strangers who meet at the England vs Croatia semi-final match being screened in London and maybe find what it is they've been searching for.

It’s My Party (And I’ll Cry If I Want To)

Words: 32k

“Sorry, who are you?”  

“Oh. Yes. I’m Harry, from Fabulous Frog? I did ring the bell a few times, but there was no answer, and I heard laughter so I thought I’d pop my head round…”   

“Oh! You’re the party person! Wow, of course. I’m sorry, lost track of time playing with these monsters,” Louis said, hurrying over and shaking Harry’s outstretched hand. “Lovely to meet you. Did you want to sit out here rather than indoors? Seems too nice a day to waste inside, and I can watch the children.” 

“Sounds fine to me. I hope I didn’t scare you, or them? Some people don’t expect a guy to turn up when they ask to speak to me...”

*****

Louis needs help planning the party of the year for his siblings. Party planner Harry Styles is the last thing he expects.

Look How Far We’ve Come My Baby

Words: 5k

Harry’s finishing up his tour in LA, and has a surprise planned for his boyfriend. He’s devastated when Louis can’t make it to the show, but little does he know, Louis has a little something up his sleeve... 

Could You?

Words: 2.9k

It's Louis' final night on tour, and he has one more thing to do, the moment he's been waiting for.

It's finally here.

Clumsy

Words: 12k

Louis loves taking Clifford to the market every weekend. It’s their thing. But when Cliff manages to trip over a handsome stranger, on Valentine’s Day of all days, it might just be the start of something new and exciting... 

Love Will Tear Us Apart

Words: 103k

“You ruined my fucking life, Harry. You stopped me living my dream because you’re a selfish bastard who couldn’t keep himself clean for five fucking minutes. You took away my independence, my freedom, my choices, Harry. And I hate you for that, I hate you!” 

As he spat out the final words, Louis felt all of the fight go out of him. He slumped back into the chair, his heart racing his chest, his head beginning to swim. It was a familiar feeling, and one Louis didn't like. He looked up, finally meeting Harry’s gaze for the first time in a while.  

“Out of everyone in my life, Harry, I never thought you’d be the one to hurt me. Not like this.”

A story of two halves.

Louis and Harry had it all - a career, friendship, and some of the best sex either of them had ever had.

But Harry ruins it all with one life-changing mistake ... and Louis is left to pay the price.

Spellbound

Words: 22k

Louis’ a shifter. Harry’s a witch. The only problem is, they’re hiding those things from each other.

Will they be able to keep their secrets hidden at the most spooky time of year?

Baby, Honey

Words: 7.3k

Harry's been talking about sex and babies on stage too much for Louis' liking, so he decides to give him what he wants...

Or the one with the aftermath of Harry's Detroit concert...

Strip That Down

Words: 7.5k

“You’re doing well,” came Louis’ voice, and Harry’s eyes flew open, craning his head to see Louis sat on the sofa across the room, legs crossed, hands resting in his lap as he sat there, an amused smile on his lips. “A bit of a wimp, but I guess it must hurt-”

“You guess? My legs are on fucking fire, Louis,” Harry retorted, his voice a little shaky still. The alcohol he’d been consuming all night was doing nothing to numb the pain, and the thought Louis thought he was a wimp wasn’t helping. “You have literally no idea how much this hurts.”

“No pain kink, then. I’ll bear that in mind,” Louis said smugly as Jesy walked back into the room, a fresh pot of wax in her hands. “Oh goody, here we go again.”

“Please don’t do my thighs, please-”

“Them’s the rules…” Jesy muttered as she started swiping wax over Harry’s left thigh.

*****

Offering to wax his legs as part of a bet wasn’t one of Harry's finer ideas, but if it has Louis ogling his thighs, who is he to complain?

I’m A Buff Baby, But I Dance Like A Man

Words: 10k

“Do not call me a ‘tiktokker’, Louis, I'm a dancer,” Harry said, using air quotes around Louis’ made up word with his fingers. “So have you changed your mind about TikTok?” 

Louis gave Harry a wicked smile, their eyes fixed on each others. “No. It’s still shit.”  

“Wanker.”

~*~

Louis despises the mere existence of TikTok. Unfortunately, his boyfriend Harry has decided that during quarantine, he’s going to become the latest TikTok dancing sensation...

Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy

Words: 10k

Harry whimpered as Louis pushed himself up onto his tiptoes, grazing his ear lobe with his lips. His breath tickled Harry’s ears, and Harry swallowed, already anticipating what Louis was about to say.

“I’d like to ride you, cowboy…”

**

Harry's a barman at Flaming Saddles, a country and western themed gay bar.

Louis’ a customer who’d like to see if the tall barman is as good on the ropes as everyone says he is...

(I Can Show You How To) Slow Dance

Words: 15k

Louis feels nervous about asking his boyfriend Harry to his dance. Harry is quick to dismiss his worries and is determined to make it a night Louis will never forget... 

A Lot of Fight Left in Me

Words: 139k

A few years after One Direction, Louis and Harry Tomlinson are happily married, have 5 year old twins and life seems pretty perfect. Their children have started school, and they're still in regular contact with their bandmates and best friends, Niall and Liam.

However, when their daughter receives some news they could have never expected, their whole world gets turned upside down. With a little help from friends and family and their love keeping them afloat they’re determined to take back their happiness, believing in the fact that love really is all you need.

You’re My Only Hope

Words: 12k

Harry and Louis have been hoping to start a family for a while, but it hasn't happened for them just yet. With the surprise arrival of a newborn baby on the doorstep at work, are their family dreams about to become reality? 

Part 1 of A Life That’s Good

Tiny Dancer

Words: 8.9k

“Why are you awake at-” Harry craned his head to see the clock on his bedside table, cringing when he saw it was just six in the morning. “Six? Too early, love!”

“I’m too excited to sleep,” Hope confessed, giggling softly to herself. “My show is today and I want to get up and get into my leotard and my tutu and my ballet slippers."

*****

It's Hope's first ballet recital, and Harry and Louis are more than excited to watch their four year old daughter perform for the first time.

Part 2 of A Life That’s Good

Who You Are

Words: 10k

“Lou? What is it?”

“No idea, Haz. It’s addressed to us, lemme read it.”

Harry nodded and Louis’ tired eyes skimmed the words, eyes widening when he realised who it was from.

“Shit, it’s been forwarded by Social Services.”

Harry hurried to sit up at that, and the pair of them leaned in, trying to read everything, to work out what was going on.

“Louis… we can’t lose them…”

“They’re ours, Harry. Have been for years, darling. But this is about Oscar..."

~*~

Things are going wonderfully for Harry and Louis. Their family has never been stronger. When a connection to their son’s past appears out of nowhere, it makes them wonder what lies ahead for the future of their family.

Part 3 of A Life That’s Good

We Got Love

Words: 12k

Harry and Louis thought their family was complete. They were wrong. 

Part 4 of A Life That’s Good

Follow Your Arrow

Words: 10k

“Come on, you can talk to me, you know. I won’t judge sweetheart. Or we can wait til your other dad’s home and we can-”

“No!”

Harry blinked, a little startled at the ferocity with which Hope had answered him then.

“No? Is it… has Papa said something to you?”

Hope’s hair dropped in front of her face as she shook her head again, biting nervously on her lip now. “It’s not him. I love both of you. I just… I don’t want him to be disappointed in me. I can’t tell him.”

*****

Hope has a crush, but she’s scared to tell her parents, especially Louis. Harry helps her figure out how to break the news to her other dad, who is ultimately nothing but wonderful.

Part 5 of A Life That’s Good

Summer Love

Words: 11k

"Papa! PAPA!”

"What, love?”

"You coming in?”

"Go on Lou,” Harry encouraged, knowing Grace had been waiting ages for her dad to come in the pool with her. “I’ll wait here. Might go and chat to Hope for a bit.”

"Okay,” Louis said, pecking Harry as he stood up. “No eating all my fruit salad, alright?”

"Can’t promise anything,” Harry said before he walked off, leaving Louis to walk over to the pool. He sat down on the poolside, letting his feet dip into the cool blue water, smiling at the sight of children splashing around, having fun with their family members. His daughter soon swam up to him, wet hands and arms resting on his warm thighs as she smiled up at him, her blonde hair plastered to her head.

*****

The Tomlinsons are off on a summer holiday before it’s time for everything to change...

Part 6 of A Life That’s Good

Right Here Waiting

Words: 5.1k

Louis and Harry are expecting a baby. Harry's heavily pregnant and nesting madly, determined to make their home ready for their baby. 

The Boy With The Pearl Earring

Words: 14k

 “I just… I loved it tonight. Being myself, wearing all this in front of the cameras. I know there’ll be people who hate it but I don’t care. I was me, Lou. I was Harry Styles for the first real time.”

 “And you fucking smashed it, baby,” Louis grinned back, his hands around the small of Harry’s back now as he pressed in firmly, yanking them together as Harry stumbled, falling against Louis’ body.

~~~~~~

Harry heads home after the Met Gala to get ready for the After Party, but there's a surprise waiting for him...

We’ve Already Won

Words: 7.4k

Harry settles down at home with Clifford and Evie to support Louis on the X Factor, and waits for Louis to return home to his family. 

Bigger Ain’t Always Better!

Words: 10k

Harry buys Louis a rather naughty birthday present, and they eagerly hurry back to Harry's flat, eager to try it out. Neither of them expect what happens next....

Don’t You Remember?

Words: 7.6k

Louis nearly broke everything - himself, his relationship, everything that meant anything to him.

But Harry never gave up on him.

Part 1 of Who Do I Run To?

Remedy

Words: 9.9k

"Are you coming back? I mean, are we done? Please don’t say we’re done Lou, you’re my everything, please-“ Harry held his breath as Louis stepped closer, taking Harry’s shaking hands in his own, running his thumbs over Harry’s soft skin. Harry felt calmer immediately at Louis’ touch, and longed for more, fingers itching to touch back. Harry inhaled as Louis stepped forwards and pressed a kiss to his cheek, the familiar scent filling his nose, surrounding him with love.

"I’m so sorry.” Harry’s heart fell at that, and he could do nothing but watch as Louis walked away.

Harry has to come to terms with Louis disappearing as he heads off on his first world tour, but he’s hopeful his boy will find his way home.

Part 2 of Who Do I Run To?

Wonder How I Ever Made It Through

Words: 9.6k

Louis loved his home and his neighbourhood. It made jogging more enjoyable. But when a boy with curly hair moves into a home down the street, neither of these men realise what changes are coming their way.

Or Harry and Louis realise that all they need to be strong is love.

Moments Stay When People Leave...

Words: 13k

Louis just shrugged then, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he looked back up at Harry, pain etched into his face.

“You could’ve just talked to me, told me how you were feeling? I just… I deserved more than you gave me, Harry.”

*****

Harry gets lost in the memories of the best relationship he'd ever had, and then threw away, breaking two hearts. He makes a decision just before Christmas, and can only hope Louis feels the same...

Feels Like Christmas

Words: 49k

Harry Styles has always loved Christmas - it’s his favourite holiday, but there’s always been something missing.

Louis Tomlinson has been running from his pain, and is determined to ignore the holidays once more, choosing to spend them in solitude.

When they meet - entirely by chance - it could be just what they both need this Christmas...

Part 1 of Make My Wish Come True

Fairytale of New York

Words: 9.3k

Harry and Louis fly to New York for their holiday. Harry has a few surprises in store for an unsuspecting Louis...

Part 2 of Make My Wish Come True

You’ve Got This Spell On Me

Words: 20k

Louis has been living in Florida for 3 years now, and loves his job working at Universal Orlando Resort, particularly in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. He's on a countdown to finally head home to Doncaster, but the arrival of a curly-haired boy from Holmes Chapel throws Louis' last few weeks in the Sunshine State into complete disarray...

After All This Time

Words: 36k

"Look, I’m sorry. I just… we reckon you and Harry would be so good together. You just, I dunno, complete each other somehow? In a way that we all don’t. Sometimes, we watch the two of you and it’s like Harry and Louis against the world, like we could all disappear and you’d both be just fine as long you have each other.”

"Shit. God, I’m sorry, Li, we don’t mean to-”

"No! No, Lou, I’m not looking for an apology or whatever. I just… I wish you’d both see how good you’d be together. It’s nice, to watch you both actually, how easy things are between you. You cuddle, and touch each other, but at the same time, you can just sit in silence with each other, and it’s enough. I’d like to find that, someday, that’s all.”

Louis and Harry have been best friends since a fateful meeting on the Hogwarts Express seven years ago. With their time at Hogwarts coming to an end, their friends are determined to make them see that perhaps they've always destined to be more than just friends.

Prompted into reliving some of their most vivid moments at Hogwarts, Louis and Harry come to a startling realisation... that just maybe, after all this time, they're meant to be each others. Always.

Lost Without You

Words: 9.2k

Louis wants to see the world. Harry tells him to go. 

Wasn’t Expecting That

Words: 3.8k

It's three days before Christmas, and Harry's nervously waiting for news. Surely it can't be bad, not again.

As always, Louis' right by his side.

You Bring Me Home

Words: 12k

After forgetting to do his homework,  Louis Tomlinson was in a bind. He had to submit something but knew whatever he was going to write in the next hour was gonna be awful. By a stroke of luck, he finds a essay in the printer and submits it as his own. Little did he know it was written by his former best friend Harry Styles. After the essay wins in a competition will this push them further apart or bring them back together? 

For You Are Mine

Words: 24k

“This is the most wonderful news. Congratulations. I had fifty wonderful years with my Lily before she passed, and every day I spent by her side was a joy. I wish you and Louis the very best, Harry.”

“He hasn’t said yes yet,” Harry said, laughing as Leon rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, but I don’t want to get too ahead of myself.” “You love him? And he loves you?”

“I do, and he does.”

“Then there are no worries to be had. Be secure in your love for each other. Go, go home and propose, begin the first day of the rest of your life.”

******

As Harry embarks on making one of the biggest decisions in his life thus far, he takes Louis on a journey of memories through his love of drawing.

I Will Answer All Yiur Wishes

Words: 11k

Harry has been begging Louis to let him get a cat for a while now, but Louis' always said no because they work, and it wouldn't be fair to leave a pet all alone all day.

But when their sixth anniversary comes around, he just might have a surprise for his boyfriend...

Mama

Words: 7.9k

"This is it, you know?” Harry said after a moment, filling the silence once more. “This is what happiness feels like. Real happiness. Like, I’m so content I could just stay here with you two forever. I’m a husband, and a Mummy. This, right here, is everything I ever wanted. I love you, and I love Amelie more than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

*****

Harry and Louis bring their newborn daughter home from the hospital, and experience the first twenty four hours of parenthood.

Hallelujah, You’re Home

Words: 2.1k

Harry takes his Louis to watch a final sunset on the beach together, one last time. 

I Got Me An Appetite

Words: 4.9k

In the midst of planning their wedding, Louis and Harry spend the day in the countryside hungry for some much needed time together... 

Strictly In Love

Words: 7.5k

Harry Styles is doing something he never thought he would do... taking part in another reality show, this time as a contestant in the 14th series of Strictly Come Dancing.

With a talented professional partner, a supportive boyfriend and fun songs to dance to, will the most uncoordinated member of One Direction be able to pull off the impossible and dance his way to the trophy?

[cheeriecherry]

Birds Of A Feather [2/7]

Hawks x Fem!Reader

Warnings: like, one swear

Part 2/7

It’s been a week since you started your new position at Hawks’ hero agency. It’s a nice workplace, very accommodating for the staff, and the sidekicks and interns you work with are friendly and sociable. But there’s still a little piece of you that’s bitter.

You appreciated the job, especially when you discovered what your monthly paycheck would be, but the whole place was just so damn...busy. If you’d known that you’d maintain your hectic lifestyle after moving to Japan, you never would’ve come in the first place.

On top of that, despite your presence being requested by the man himself, you’d yet to actually meet your new boss. Not a conversation, a text, a simple hello, or even a red feather. At this point, you were wondering if the guy even existed.

You decide to mull it over some more on your afternoon lunch hour. You find your usual seat in the staff lounge, and pull out a container of chicken curry.

“Hey Y/N! Hawks says he wants to see you in his office!”

You pause with a forkful of food halfway to your mouth, glancing over at the young sidekick who’d just bounced in. “Can it wait until after lunch?” you ask, hoping to at least finish your meal before dealing with whatever you were wanted for.

The sidekick looks sympathetic. “Sorry,” she says, “but I don’t think so. He asked me to tell you to bring your food…”

You sigh deeply, but thank her for passing the information on. Don’t shoot the messenger, and all that. You begrudgingly pack your things back up and bid farewell to the few people in the room, all of which are ominously quiet.

That didn’t bode well.

----

A few minutes later finds you outside Hawks’ office, balancing your lunch container in one hand while you knock on his doorframe with the other.

His door is wide open, and you can see him sitting at his desk, facing the window and the view of the city. He probably knew you were there before you knocked, but there was no harm in being polite… though he might appreciate the humour of you walking in like you owned the place.

“You wanted to see me, Boss?”

He spins around in his chair, a charming smile gracing his features. You wonder idly if he’d planned that little spiel, and if so, how long he’d been sitting like that for.

“That I did, chickadee! Pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable, eat with me.”

You do as you’re asked.

“Sorry for not seeing to you sooner. It’s been such a busy week, villains and disasters all over the place. I swear, I’ve been to every end of the country.”

You sit tidily on the chair, legs crossed and wings tucked up neatly behind you.

“I understand,” you tell him, “you’re number two, after all. You’re in high demand.”

Hawks smiles wider, but you get the feeling it’s lacking some genuity. You don’t call him out on it, though.

“That’s a relief,” he sighs, slouching back a little. “I looked into you a bit before I hired you, y’know? Gotta make sure you had a good track record, blah blah, PR crap, blah, anyways. The reports said you were a pretty easygoing person. I’m glad they were right!”

You pray he doesn’t notice the slight ruffle of your feathers. Easygoing? Is that what people thought of you? You supposed there were worse things to be known for, but you? Easygoing? Maybe you’d become an actress if the whole hero gig didn’t work out for you, if you’d fooled that many people.

Easygoing. Yeah right. Burnt out, exhausted, apathetic, those were all accurate descriptors. But fucking easygoing?! Hah.

“Hey, you alright, kid?”

You’re about to ask him what he means, to tell him you’re fine and completely unbothered, but your stomach has other plans. Right when you open your mouth to speak, a loud growl interrupts you, aggressively sounding in the quiet of the room.

His grin softens a bit, a touch more kindness apparent on his face. He’s concerned.

“I didn’t mean to take your lunch hour away,” he apologizes, “I had actually wanted to catch you earlier today, but you were on patrol. I figured it wouldn’t be very cool of me to approach you and get swarmed by fans. Not productive for conversation, that.”

You shrug. “I haven’t taken it personally.” In fact, you hadn’t taken it at all. He could have never spoken to you ever, and it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. You were here to do your job, and anything else was an unguaranteed bonus.

“Anyways,” he pulls out a paper bucket of what looks like KFC, and pops the lid off, “eat up. Don’t need my favourite employee dropping out of the sky from exhaustion.”

He digs into his own food, and you take yours out.

“If exhaustion could do me in, I would have fallen out of the sky a long time ago,” you mumble, immediately afterwards spooning food into your face.

Hawks bites off a small piece of chicken. “Whadya mean?” And you curse yourself for forgetting he’s sensitive to sound.

You chew your food pensively, making sure to swallow before you speak (unlike him…). “It’s like. Okay. Wing quirks are pretty rare where I’m from, yeah? In my old job, I was the only airborne hero for five hundred kilometers. I got called all over the place, back and forth, never in one place for very long, almost never at home in my own bed. I was sort of...uh…”

“Spread thing?” he supplies.

You nod. “Spread thin. It wasn’t healthy for me. Anywhere that makes you grow to hate your own quirk can’t possibly be good for you.”

“Now hold up, chickadee,” he interrupts, leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on the desk. His eyes are wide and surprised, like he’s unable to fathom your words. “How could you possibly hate your own quirk?”

You think for a moment. “Hate is maybe a strong word,” you admit, “but there’s definitely some contempt there. Flying used to be my favourite passtime, y’know? The views, the wind, the sun, the silence. And then one day I woke up and thought ‘god, I hope they don’t make me fly today’.”

Hawks picks a little at his lunch, but is far to engrossed in your tale to pay much attention to it.

“Yikes,” he says.

“Yeah.”

You’re both quiet for a moment before you start speaking again.

“Two weeks after that happened, I moved here. Figured a change might be nice, good for my head, or whatever.”

“And how’s that working out?”

“I still hate flying.”

The conversation ebbs and flows after that, with Hawks not supplying much personal insight on the matter, despite you just spilling your guts to him. You don’t mind, though, and he doesn’t strike you as the kind of person to open up very easily. You probably would have been more disgruntled if he’d offered you some kind of similar story.

The two of you talk a little about work, what your old agency was like, where you went to school, and the questions centered around your life, and none prying into his. You make note of that, and file it away for later.

By the end of the hour, you’re sufficiently full of chicken curry, and your boss looks like he’s fairing the same (you’re not sure how he managed to pack away an entire bucket for fried chicken by himself).

“Thanks for lunch, Boss,” you tell him with a smile, an unspoken ‘it was kind of weird’ in your tone. If he picks up on it, he doesn’t say anything.

He does, however, stop you at the door, tugging you back into the room by your collar with a single red feather.

“Say, chickadee,” his voice is coy, “how’s about we make the afternoon more fun?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Come patrolling with me,” he clarifies.

“Why?”

“Flying’s more fun when you’re not alone!” he says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You doubt him, thinking back to all the times you’d ever flown with someone else (re: none). You relent, deciding to entertain his plan.

“Fine. But don’t fall behind, okay? I take my patrols seriously.”

The strange smile returns to his face.

----

After packing up your dishes and throwing away your trash, you follow Hawks to the stairwell. He said it was best to take off from the roof, if you didn’t want to get bombarded by fans.

“Ah, but I’m sure your fans would love to see you!” you tease, marching carefully up the steps. “It wouldn’t take too long, surely?”

He glances over his shoulder at you, pausing so suddenly that you almost get a faceful of his feathers.

“Well sure, if they were just my fans. Most people have seen me before, though, flying around, fighting crime. But you? You’re new. Your fans in Japan haven’t gotten to meet you yet.”

You tilt your head. “I...don’t have fans, boss.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He swivels around on the step, wings brushing quietly against the cramped cement walls. His expression is one of exasperation, and a hint of disbelief. Once he sees your genuine confusion, however, he sighs. “You really have no idea, do you?”

You shake your head. “I’ve only been here like two weeks. How could I have any significant following?”

He looks at you with a fondness reserved for naive children, or puppies. It’s a little patronizing, in your opinion.

“International heroes are pretty big here, you know?” he explains, “and you, little chickadee, were voted number four on the overseas popularity poll this year. Your fanbase here is rivaled only by a handful of heroes, most of which are in Japan’s top ten.”

You’re shocked, to say the least, and Hawks takes your silence as cue to continue walking.

You dodge his wings again, and resume following him.

“How could I be popular and not know it?” you ask. “Surely someone would have approached me by now-”

“Chickadee, when was the last time you were on the ground-”

“This morning-”

“-in the daytime?”

“Oh.”

You think back a little. You’ve patrolled in the skies since you started working at the agency, and your shifts started before sunrise. Plus, you usually flew home, well after sunset. It was just easier than trying to fit into a car and deal with traffic.

“I guess...not since the day I arrived.”

“Exactly! No one knew you were here, then. But now?” He pushes hard against the heavy metal door to the roof, taking a deep breath when it opens and a breeze blows through. “Now, all of Japan knows we work together!”

You saunter out into the sunlight, basking for a few seconds in the warmth. But the thought of your fans quickly overtakes your mind again, and the relaxation is lost.

“Are you sure it’s not fame by affiliation,” you wonder, “because seriously, I didn’t have fans back home. I’ve never been stopped for an autograph, or asked for a photo. I’m cool with that. I just don’t want people to like me because I’m near you sometimes.”

Hawks steps up on the lip of the roof, wings spread wide and overlooking the city.

He stays like that for a few seconds, and you note the deep tiredness in his posture, behind his eyes. You’ve seen it in your mirror too many times.

He’s just as exhausted as you are.

“Thus is the way of the world,” he mumbles, and you’re not sure you’re meant to hear it.

But then he perks up, as quickly as a light switch. He turns on his heel to face you, mischief and playfulness glinting in his smile. “I’ll race you to the bank tower? If I win, you gotta go on patrol with me tomorrow, too.”

You shrug, and take off into the sky. It’s not much of a fight, though. He has agility and familiarity on his side, and he’s waiting for you by the time you finally arrive at your destination.

You don’t mind.

[youngdumbamericanteen]

Mabel bad?

Oof sorry for never answering you nonnie! I’ve been pretty busy lately haha. But the post you’re responding to is a bit...old. I now understand Mabel a bit more now as a person, however I do still dislike her as a character because her flaws I was talking about in that post are never meaningfully addressed. 

This might get a wee bit long, oops. Click for a big Gravity Falls writing analysis/essay/thingy.

It’s good for characters to have flaws. Flaws that actually affect them and have consequences. Otherwise you have something of a Mary Sue that isn’t relatable and has a story that’s too easy and boring for the audience. The narrative punishes or addresses those flaws and they present a challenge for the character.

But at the opposite end, you have characters who have flaws that the narrative never addresses, which means the characters never have to grow. There’s two reasons this is bad. One, that you can have the same issue where they don’t face any struggle or grow as characters and it’s a boring story, or two, people don’t generally like to root for characters who they’d want to punch if they ever met them irl. You can have a story with main characters who are bad people, but you have to either make the character likable in other ways, present the situation so that the audience can gather that they’re in the wrong and either be rooting for their downfall or their growth, or have their actual story be compelling enough that the need to know what happens next outweighs dislike for the character. (And all of these things often require the story to be told from said bad character’s point of view.) Gravity Falls doesn't really do any of these things. Or rather, it tries but is ineffective for around 50% of the viewers.

Mabel is often presented as a pure soul, good of heart and just overall a good person. But she’s got flaws. She’s selfish and a bit inconsiderate, which is normal and not an unforgivably terrible thing, especially for a 13 year old girl figuring out her place in the world. All the Pines are a bit selfish, I think it runs in their genes. But the thing is, the show will treat her selfishness as perfectly fair and normal, with anyone her selfishness affects being shown as in the wrong. She often guilts people, mainly Dipper, into sacrificing things for her while rarely making any sacrifices of her own. She does it to other characters as well, but here’s a brief list of times Dipper has sacrificed something for Mabel (which I compiled with the help of this post on Quora):

 Tourist Trapped: Dipper spends almost the entire time worried about Mabel’s safety and trying to protect her, while she just brushes him off and laughs at him.

The Hand that Rocks the Mabel: Dipper agrees to break up with Gideon for her.

Time Traveler’s Pig: Mabel insists that Dipper give up the reality that doesn't break his heart so that she can adopt Waddles, and when he initially refuses she purposely endangers the space-time continuum as retaliation. 

Little Dipper: Mabel is very angry about Dipper making himself taller, even though Dipper would not have resorted to it if now for her teasing. She immediately demands and fights for the magic flashlight, causing it to fall into Gideon’s hands.

Summerween: Mabel drags Dipper out to go trick-or-treating in a costume he dislikes because she’d planned on them having a duo costume.

Boss Mabel: I shouldn’t even really have to explain this one, the whole episode is about her going on a power trip.

The Deep End: Mabel embarks on a rescue mission for Mermando, doing and using things that would lead to Dipper being fired from the pool job he loves, without consulting him at all. She hears his concerns and instead of just explaining she’s saving Mermando the first time, she completely ignores him and speeds off, destroying more pool property and ensuring he’ll be fired.

Carpet Diem: Dipper informs her of the the issues he has with her roommate habits, and she completely denies any fault, even though she and her friends had legitimately destroyed the room and the mini-golf course the twins had built. The two of them both overreact, and act selfishly throughout the entire episode, but she absolutely refuses to listen to him.

Boyz Crazy: This one isn’t Dipper but I still wanted to mention it because she is so ridiculously selfish throughout the whole episode, to the point where it’s to her and the people she loves’ detriment.

Dreamscapers: Again not Dipper or a sacrifice, but her worst nightmare is apparently losing her cuteness and becoming ugly. I dunno if that’s exactly selfish or anything but God did it make me wrinkle my nose in distaste.

Sock Opera: After promising to help Dipper with the laptop, she almost immediately abandons him for her crush of the week, then proceeds to ignore him for, and inconvenience him with, her puppet show, taking his things without asking and expecting him to be completely cool with all her actions. Bill literally mentions her selfishness to manipulate Dipper and it completely works.

The Love God: Dipper leaves Wendy and her friends in chaos to help fix Mabel’s mess.

Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons: Mabel, her friends, and Stan all make fun of Dipper and Ford and insist they should have full use of the living room.

Dipper and Mable vs the Future: This is one of the big ones that people talk about. Mable finds out that Dipper might want to stay as Ford’s apprentice and becomes incredibly upset because she dreamed of the two of them having fun in high school together. She sees Dipper and immediately makes it about her and her feelings, treating something he’d been dreaming of all summer (being The Author’s apprentice) as some direct attack on her happiness. She proceeds to literally give Bill the ability to start the apocalypse to avoid being separated from Dipper, all without having any sort of meaningful conversation with Dipper or considering his feelings.

Weirdmageddon Part 2: Escape From Reality: Out of all of these, this might be the one that gets to me the most. Mabel, seemingly knowing full well that she’s trapped by Bill, creates an imaginary fantasy land and refuses to leave just to spite Dipper for considering taking the apprenticeship. And despite doing all this, and attempting to convince him to stay with her, she creates an alternate “better” version of Dipper who’s “cool” and supportive and very, very, different from the real Dipper.

And this isn’t even mentioning all the times she just assumed she was completely in the right about something or had the moral high ground. Mabel frequently makes rush decisions because she thinks everything should be her way or how she thinks is right. 

And I want to say again, none of these things are unforgivable. Honestly, a lot of the things on the list are pretty standard sibling things, and like she isn’t even always in the wrong. The issue is that I’m naming at least 15 times where Mabel has been selfish or forced someone to give something up for her, and she almost never learns her lesson or is punished by the narrative. There are also only 2 or 3 times I can think of where Mabel sacrificed anything for Dipper, and they were all times he was in actual danger or someone had to talk to her and say she messed up and needed to fix her mistake. 

Dipper, on the other hand, sacrifices things for Mabel, faces consequences for his mistakes and his flaws, learns substantial lessons, apologizes, and rarely, if ever, repeats said mistakes. Now, this doesn’t mean that Mabel is awful and Dipper isn’t. I mean, Dipper does some pretty crumby things and has to be told he’s in the wrong or to apologize. And Mabel isn’t a bad person. Like legitimately, that is not what I want anyone to take away from this. She does genuinely love her brother and care about his wellbeing. She’s just a little selfish and unthinking sometimes, like anyone else.

Like I said, my issue is that it goes unpunished, and she repeats the same type of offense wayyy more than any other character. She’ll disappoint Dipper enough that he’d make a deal with Bill and then everyone will still say she’s the best and most caring person ever. That’s just annoying, honestly, or it is to me at least.

This isn’t dunking on her, this is dunking on the writers. And they aren’t unforgivable either, I mean Gravity Falls was a masterful web of foreshadowing, character building, lore, plot work, and incredibly intelligent humor mixed with jokes kids would love too. I don’t blame them for dropping the ball on Mabel, and I don’t hate her or the show or anything because of it. I just want us to acknowledge this flaw of the show, and also have people get it when Mabel gets on my nerves a little bit.

[western-writer]

Betrayal Beyond Forgiveness

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Warnings: cussing, descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood and death

Summary: The Whitetails conspire against Rook out of fear but things don't go the way they expected them to go.

A/n: Finally! I've been trying to produce content for the longest time but I couldn't finish anything to save my life. But here this is and I'm very happy with it. I also didn't proof read this but will be going back through as time goes on to edit things. Enjoy!

Betrayal is a funny thing. The stinging, burning sensation that pools and spreads like electricity throughout your chest and settles into a pit in your stomach. How it feels when that first jolt of Earth shattering realization leaves you reeling. Questions racing in your mind, yet somehow you’re unable to think or choke out the words caught in your throat. It’s funny because betrayal always comes from those you would least expect. That's what betrayal is. You enemies... you expect that much from them. You expect them to try to hurt you. You expect them you screw you over. But when it comes from those closest to you... it cuts deeper than you could imagine. 

Rook would’ve expected something like this from Jacob - a set up. But the Whitetails? Eli? Rook couldn’t wrap her head around it. 

It was just supposed to be a simple extraction of supplies the cult had taken. Stealth is her specialty, after all. Rook dropped the Peggies quick - almost too quick. To Eli’s dismay, this only drove his point forward and confirmed a suspicion he had for quite some time. Jacob’s trails had changed her and, the cult having been mostly under control, it was time to put her down. 

Eli and Tammy watched her on his cameras as she worked. Tammy wore a “I told you so" look as Eli ignored it. With a heavy sigh, he raised his walkie talkie to his mouth and spoke. “We proceed as planned. I’m sorry, Dep.”

Having no idea of this so-called plan, Dep went through the plan as she was told. The area is secure, now she needs to check to see if the supplies are there. 

This part felt a bit strange to Rook. Why should she check to make sure the supplies are there? If they sent her out on his mission, wouldn’t they already be sure they’re here?

Rook ignored her warnings going off in her head and she opened each container. Her heart dropped as she heard the familiar click and she knew what was coming. She had just triggered a count down to a bomb explosion. 

Thinking quickly, Rook turned and sprinted away as fast as she could, but she wasn’t quite fast enough. The explosion went off behind her, sending Rook flying through the air. 

Eli thought the plan had gone off without a hitch as a Whitetail checked her pulse and found no sighs of it. “I think she’s gone, boss. I think the plan worked.” Eli could only hope that she died a quick death. Tammy breathed a sigh of relief. 

“It’s better this way, Eli. She would’ve been a danger to us all. I’ve seen what happens to people after they go through those trails. Now it’ll look like she went down a hero. No one will know.” 

Eli sighs, getting ready to announce her death, but there’s one problem. 

Rook didn’t die in the explosion. She was knocked unconscious and came to just in time to hear about the conspiracy to kill her. She laid there for who knows how long just letting it sink in. Her head throbbed, probably due to the conclusion and she’s pretty sure she has a few broken ribs. Rook was pelted with shrapnel and is bleeding from multiple wounds all over her body. Multiple bones are horribly damaged.

Jacob, she would’ve expected to do something like this. Not the people she called family. Not after all that she’s done for them. The Whitetails are playing with fire and if she lives through these injuries, they’re gonna get burned. 

“Deputy, Deputy, Deputy...” Jacob’s disapproving voice rings in her ears. “Bet you wish you listened to me now, huh?”

Rook opens her eyes a little bit, fighting off the drowsiness threatening to take over. Her vision is blurry and her ears still ring intensely from the explosion. She'll be surprised if she doesn't have some sort of hearing loss, even despite the ear plugs she wears.

It was sad seeing the fearsome Deputy laying here in a pool of her own blood. Having been betrayed by none other than the Whitetail Militia. Pathetic, really. 

Rook, being the stubborn woman she is, struggles to sit up, only to have Jacob slowly push her back down. He cracks a smile, finding a bit of amusement in this. 

“What do you want, Jacob?” she tries to hiss, but it comes out weak. 

Jacob sighs. “I tried to warn ya. You didn’t wanna listen. Now look where you are. Alone. Dying. How does betrayal feel?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rook manages to growl. 

Jacob laughs. “I’ll hand it to ya, kid. You’ve got some real nerve. I can respect that."

Rook coughs, blood ozing from between her lips and she rolls over. Jacob watches her, almost like he's studying her as she spits out the blood. There's not a lot, but it's enough for Rook to be concerned.

"You have blood in your lungs," he tells her.

"No shit," she rasps. "Why... are you here?"

Jacob chuckles, wiping some blood from her mouth. "I hear everything, Deputy. These are my mountains, after all. I heard the whisperings. I'm honestly surprised they followed through. Their plan would've worked perfectly had someone bothered to confirm that you were dead. They just screwed themselves, didn't they?"

Rook nods slowly, beginning to wheeze. Jacob sighs.

"I guess I've screwed with you enough. C'mon." He extends his hand down and slide it under her back, lifting carefully.

"W-what're you doing?"

"I can't let them go and kill my best weapon, now can I?" He puts his other hand under her back and lifts her up. Rook doesn't bother with trying to struggle or fight him. She doesn't want to die. Not yet and certainly not because of people she would've given her life for.

Jacob picks her up, carrying her as gently as possible as to not injure her further. She rests her head on his shoulder, feeling oddly comforted.

Jacob felt oddly bad for the Deputy. It was never a feeling he expected to feel toward the young rookie. He felt her breathing against him, slow and raspy, pained. Anger burned inside him. Maybe he had a soft spot for her. He has to admit he holds a fair amount of respect for her. She's doing what most people couldn't, wouldn't, or would die trying to do. If he's being honest, he feels responsible for putting her in this situation, but at the same time, this is exactly what he wanted so why does he feel so guilty?

News of Rook's death shook the county. Everyone felt the sting of the loss all while she laid at the Vet's Center recovering and healing. Deputy Pratt stayed by her side the whole time in utter disbelief that the Resistance would do that to her. It took months for her to be well enough to stand and walk around but once she crossed that threshold when healed quickly, though, her loyalties had shifted just a bit and she would never be the same again.

Jacob tried to persuade her to forget about the Resistance. "After everything they've done to you," he said.

"It wasn't the whole Resistance, Jake," Rook defended them. "Just the Whitetails. And that still doesn't change the fact that what you and your siblings are doing is wrong."

Jacob just rolls his eyes. "If one part of the Resistance did this, the rest could easily too."

"The actions of the Whitetails don't speak for everyone, Jake. There's still parts of the Resistance that have fought beside me and some people have given their lives for me. I can't just forget that."

"Sometimes I think you're too loyal, Rook. I really do."

Now it's Rook's turn to roll her eyes. "Whatever you say, Jacob. I need answers and I intend to get them, whether you like it or not."

As Rook made her way out of the room, Jacob felt compelled to call after her, so he did. "Hey!"

Rook stop, turning to face him, seemingly annoyed. "What?"

"I just don't want them to burn you again. I don't want you to waste your energy on people that would literally murder you after all you've done for them. What if when you show up, they freak out and actually do kill you? I didn't save you just to have you be killed."

Rook would've be irritated with him if it weren't for the shock overriding her senses. This kind of vulnerability was incredibly uncharacteristic for Jacob, yet here he was. He showed her a side not many people had ever seen. His caring side. A side to him many people would argue is nonexistent.

Rook was confused at where the sudden concern came from but decided to brush it off - for now.

"It'll be okay, Jake," Rook responds, using her nickname for him to ease the tension. "They'll be too shocked to do anything."

Jacob watched her leave and sighs. At this point he feels a sort of obligation toward her and keeping her safe. The feelings confuse him greatly and he's unsure what to make of them. All he knows is that he hates it.

Rook stands in the doorway behind Eli, waiting for the perfect moment to make her presence known. She fights the angry trying to explode in her and reminds herself: you're here for answers, not to start a fight.

"Hey, Eli..." Rook says softly, making the man stop dead in his tracks and turn slowly.

"Deputy...?"

"Hey..."

With just a few strides Eli had closed to distance between them and hugged her tight. He was genuinely relieved to see her and know that he hadn't killed her. Guilt thumped in his chest like a drum as he held onto her.

"I thought you died..."

Rook had to admit, his embrace felt good. She wished she could forget the deception.

Eli pulls back and looks Rook in the eye. He notices that one has obvious damage to the cornea. Rook catches onto what he's looking at.

"Some, uh, some metal shaving managed to find their way into my eye during the explosion. Don't worry, it only took about 30% of my sight in that eye. My hearing though... I have about half of what I had."

"Dep - I am - I am so sorry."

"I also lost about 25% of my breathing capacity. Major concussion that will effect my cognitive function for the rest if my life. Broken skull and major brain bleeding. My left knee cap basically had to be rebuilt because of how shattered it was when I landed on it after the explosion threw me. My right ankle was broken, both wrists, my left femur, and both my radius and ulnar were pretty well mangled. Did I tell you that not only were multiple organs bruised, but my kidney had ruptured just a little bit? Oh and I had a ton of tissue damage, but I pulled through."

"If anyone could've done it, Dep, it was you."

"Yeah, it was me," Rook chuckles humorlessly. "After being left for dead on the ground... left to bleed out or die of organ failure... you'd never guess who found me but that doesn't matter right now." Rook takes a few steps into the Wolf's Den and looked around. The place was seemingly empty. "What matters is..." she trails off, turning to face Eli. "why'd you do it, Eli?"

A look of shock is plastered of Eli's face as he takes a step back. "D-do what?"

"Set me up, Eli. Why did you set me up? Why did you try to kill me? After everything I've done for you and this fucking county."

"I-I'm sorry, Dep. I really am. You were dangerous, or at least that's what they told me."

"You're smarter than that, Eli. Or at least I thought you were. Letting someone manipulate your thoughts like that... Who was it, hm? Was it Tammy? You know she never liked me."

"After the trials Jacob put you through-! She was terrified that he would use you against us. And I saw it Dep. How you took all those cultists down... it was unnatural."

"Are you fucking kidding me!? Seriously!? I have been fighting for my life, Eli! I've had to change to adapt my methods to fucking survive and you wanna say I'm dangerous because I had to get better? You really don't understand what I was up against. While you got to sit in here I was out there doing anything and everything you wanted me to do." She points to the door. "I was being kidnapped and shot and beaten. I killed for you and I wpildve DIED for you but THIS is how you repay me!? Fuck you, Eli. I thought you were family. I THOUGHT I could FUCKING TRUST YOU."

Rook steps forward, shoving Eli hard and he stumbles, falling to the ground. Rook stalks over, kneeling down next to him.

"You thought I was dangerous before? Get a load of this. Jacob saved me. That's right. Jacob. You know how much damage I could do if I wanted to? All I'd have to do is tell him where this precious hideout is and he'd come down on all of you so fast and so hard that you would never know what hit. You all would be dead before you could get your radio out. The Whitetails would be extinct and all it'd take is just a few words."

"You wouldn't dare," Eli hisses, glaring at her.

"Wouldn't I, though?" Rook answers dangerously. "All it'd take is a few words and your life would be snuffed out much like you tried to do to me. You involuntarily gave me so much power, Eli. Guess next time you'll check my pulse yourself, huh?"

"Dep... please."

Rook sighs, standing up and turning away from him. "And even though you'd fucking deserve it, I won't do that. But I will tell the rest of the Resistance what all of you did and let them decide what to do with you."

A crushing weight falls onto Eli. "I'm sorry, Dep. I really am. I never wanted any of this to happen."

Rook sighs and places her hands on the table in the main room. "You know I can never forgive you or any of the Whitetails for this, right Eli? I would've given my life for you guys... How am I supposed to forgive this? No. I can't. I just can't."

"I understand, Dep... I don't blame you."

Rook takes a deep breath and turns to him again, seeing that he has gotten to his feet. "I've been doing some talking and I've managed to talk Joseph down. They're not leaving but they'll stop targeting and recruiting unwilling participants as long as the Resistance leaves them alone."

"What does that mean for you, Dep?"

She smiles a bit. "I don't know... I mean I just experienced life altering trauma, both physical and mental. I have permanent brain damage. Another bad hit to the head could kill me. So I guess... early retirement. I'm partially blind, can't bear for shit anymore and get winded by walking for extended amounts of time so it's really my only option."

He wanted to say it again. He wanted to apologize until he lost his voice. He couldn't believe he had been so dumb. She will never forgive the Whitetails and neither will he. He will never forgive himself.

"Goodbye, Eli," Rook muttered as she left the bunker. All Eli could do is watch her leave and prepare for the chaos that is about to erupt. The Resistance will be furious with them. They'll be luckily if the rest of them don't kill them.

Rook found herself back at the Vet's Center and questioned herself for a moment before going inside. She could've gone anywhere but she chose here. She chose to come back.

Jacob is waiting for her as she enters his office.

"They thought I was a danger to them..." she mutters.

"Why?"

"Your trials... they thought you'd use me against them."

Just as Jacob feared, they had caught onto his plan. But she would never know that.

Surprisingly, Jacob walked over to Rook and hugged her.

She was stunned and almsot pushed him away before accepting the affection. God knows she needed it after the last few months she had. She never thought she'd find comfort in Jacob Seed but here she is.

And as for Jacob, feeling the younger woman in his arms did something to him. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want her to go. And he would do anything to make sure she didn't.

Some things are better left unsaid and Jacob is sure that this is one of them.

[katsukis-sad-angel]

Hari Kurono as a Boyfriend

Pairing: Hari Kurono (Chronostasis) x Reader

Summary: t   i   t   l   e

Warnings: fluff overload, Chrono being hot

BF Scenarios Tag LIst:

@thedreadthreadanomaly​

A/N: Hello, this is what my brain vomited during quarantine-themed writers block. I hope anyone who reads this enjoys!!

I want to giVE HIM A KISS. KISSES FOR CHrONO *shakes can* KISSES

--

You and Hari have been together since you were children, abandoned by your parents and taken in by the Yakuza boss, raised to be crafty, heartless killers

As we’ve seen, Hari is basically Kai’s babysitter so empathy still resides in his heart

Hari is a little older if not the same age as Kai, but they’re both cute. Change my mind

At first, he is dedicated to Kai and only Kai and his goals, but little by little your sweetness gets him to soften up

When he realized he was in love with his childhood best friend, Hari pushed his feelings away and tried to focus

It didn’t work

You were just so cute and sweet when you played with Eri! 

Plus, you were very very lovely

Kai notices first

You walked into Overhaul’s office to drop off several files he had requested. After being dismissed by a curt nod, Kai Chisaki turned to his colleague; at the moment, Hari was entranced by the way your round behind moved as you exited the room and shut the door behind you.

“Chrono, what the hell are you looking at?”

The hooded man blinked, rousing from his trance and looking around. “E-Excuse me? Did you say something Overhaul?”

“Why were you staring at Y/n’s ass?” 

Hari choked, “I-I wasn’t! Where did you get that from? I don’t like her!” He crossed his arms in a pout, turning away.

Kai smirked at his friend, “You think she’s cute?”

“... Maybe.”

For awhile he denies it, telling himself that you’re not the prettiest thing he’s ever seen

But when you smile at him sweetly when you cross paths in the hallways, all resolve he’d built up immediately disappears

Then, Rappa noticed

He and Hari were talking for some reason when you happened to walk by

You gave them a little wave and continued walking

“Oi… Oi, Stacey! Wake up!” A loud voice pulled Hari from his trance once again. 

Hari cleared his throat, blinked a few times and turned his attention from your receding form to the huge figure in front of him.

“Oooh, I know what’s goin’ on. You like Y/n!” Rappa grinned, looking behind him to see what had his higher-ups attention.

“No, I-I don’t! She’s just an old friend, that’s all!” 

“Well if ya don’t like her, ya sure do like dat ass-”

“Rappa!”

Rappa gave a bark of laughter while an embarrassed Hari tried to push your addictive smile and scent out of his mind. It was near impossible, despite his efforts. 

Were they right?

Rappa and Kai (separately) tease him about it until he finally musters up the courage to tell you his feelings

Honestly, you had never heard sweeter words come out of his mouth:

“Y/n, I, uh…” *clears throat* 

“Chrono? Is something wrong?”

“Ah, no I just… um wanted to tell you something.”

You nodded gently, folding your hands behind your back as you waited for him to speak. When he pulled the mask from his face and looked you directly in the eye, his breathtaking features took you by surprise. 

When his hood pooled around his shoulders, revealing long silvery locks of pointed hair, he finally spoke; “Y/n, we’ve been together since we were children. I remember, that same day we sat outside and watched the orphanage burn down and you cried into my chest for hours, I made a promise. A promise that I would protect you no matter the risk to my own life. You’re like a sister to me, but as of late, I’ve been wishing we were more. This job doesn’t exactly allow us what would be called ‘a normal relationship,’ but I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

You stood there for several long moments waiting for the cameras and confetti and someone shouting “YOU GOT PUNKED”

But they never came

You couldn’t believe your long-time crush was confessing to you when all you could do was give a wave and a smile

“Chrono, I-”

“I-I’m not trying to force you into anything, I had to get that off my chest or Overhaul and Rappa would never shut up. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, I-”

You took a step forward and placed a hand on his flushed cheek, brushing your thumb across the expanse of heated skin. “Hari, I feel the same… I have for a long time actually.”

“Really?”

You nod, a goofy grin threatening to spread your lips. “Since forever now that I think about it.” The smile breaks past your defences and Hari finally feels at ease, gently resting gloved hands on your hips and bringing you close.

“Can I do something?” He breathes, nose gently brushing against your own.

“How… how long did you practice that confession?” You whisper as he closes the painful gap and steals your breath with a kiss. After a few blissful seconds, the kiss breaks and you look up at him from under your lashes. “Well?”

“Too long,” He murmurs, diving in for another.

AH

Some poor Hisaikai member probably walks by a few minutes later and catches the second-in-command kissing Overhaul’s secretary

Poor Hari was teased so much by the the rest of the Yakuza for the rest of the week for “snagging” one of the few female members

They’re not above teasing you either, but they don’t wanna mess with Chrono

As a boyfriend, Hari would be more on the quiet side

You can talk his ear off and he wouldn’t care, his philosophy is “you have two ears and one mouth for a reason”

If you had a bad day, there’s a new anime you’re really into, you need a strong, warm shoulder to cry on, or just a simple hug, Hari is there to lend an ear and/or hold you close

He’s got to deal with Chisaki’s tantrums so he’s got god-level patience

That being said, he doesn’t particularly enjoy being disobeyed or teased. You can get away with it most of the time, but sometimes you go a little too far and punishment is fair game

Your relationship is far from being normal

You can’t exactly go on dates

The only time you have together are on your breaks and late, late evenings

Being part of a gang, there is a male around every corner of every corridor and on every side in a lecture hall

Hari is aware of this

Thanks to gossip, the whole gang knows to keep their hands and eyes off unless they want to be dealt with by Chronostasis himself

He’s a very cuddly boi and craves your attention and affection

Hari is a muscular man (if you couldn’t tell) and a great masseur when he has time

Hari is very ticklish

He and Kai trade memes like baseball cards

He’s one of those guys who draws on his skin when he’s bored. Hari is actually pretty embarrassed about this habit, but you think it’s pretty cute

He is not a germaphobe, Hari wears the mask, gloves, and coat to please his nut-job of a boss

His favorite thing about you is your laugh

Laughter isn’t common in the Yakuza hideout and drunken guffaws at the bar don’t exactly count

Real, genuine laughter 

That’s what Hari heard when he showed you the image on his phone his boss had just sent

He had to sit up and make sure you were still breathing; you were dying, tears rolling down your cheeks, hands clutching your cramping stomach, and peals of hearty laughter rolling from your chest as you struggled to breathe

He didn’t get what was so funny, but he couldn’t help but crack a smile when you choked on the water he’d brought to help you calm down

In other words, when you’re happy, so is he. And he doesn’t regret the day he confessed one bit

[overheardatthecontinental]

Talk Chapter 11

AO3 Link

Marcus had faced armies. Had gone head-to-head with mob bosses and mafiaso assholes. He’d been shot, stabbed, tortured and looked death straight in the eyes on more than one occasion. Every encounter had only made him wiser. Each scar had only made him stronger.

And despite all his prowess, his strength, his wisdom, Marcus was fairly certain he wasn’t going to survive Helen Kingston.

John had warned him.

Hell, Helen had warned him.

He’d taken it as a joke. Just because John had fallen victim to sharing his feelings certainly didn’t mean that Marcus would.

After John had left, they made small talk. They watched a movie, and then another. Helen would read until her eyes hurt and then they’d watch another movie.

It started with a simple question, asked over chopping vegetables to have with dinner.

“How’d you get involved in the Underworld?”

“I saved a man’s life in Vietnam. The son of a prominent member of the mob. When we came back to the States, he recruited me."

And Helen had seemed genuinely interested. She asked questions so casually, he hadn’t even realized that they were delving into his past. Not until their plates were in the sink and Helen was curled up on the couch, facing him in his chair and nodding along to a story from his early days as a New York City mobster.

Before he knew it, he was lost in his own past, searching to understand things he thought he had left behind.

“It just seemed like the right course to take. My father did it, his father did it. I think a part of me thought if I followed in their footsteps and joined the army, things would start to make sense. Like I would understand how my father viewed the world.”

“How he viewed the world or how he viewed you?”

The question stabs at him and Marcus looks away, “My mother used to defend him all the time. He never loved us the way he was supposed to. She said that the war had damaged him—that when they were younger, he was caring and loving. But when he came back, he had a hard time adjusting.

“I wanted to understand why he couldn’t get over it. Why he couldn’t leave the war behind. Why—” He stops himself.

“Why you couldn’t be enough.” Her voice is soft, almost hypnotic, lulling him in further.

He nods, despite himself. “He had a great job, a good house, a family… and it was never enough.”

Helen nods along, “You know, every generation has its experiences, it’s rights of passages, it’s issues, it’s stories. Your generation was built in that post-war haze that focused on going back to what had been normal before the war. Except there is no going back from that sort of cultural upheaval. Time changes, and values with it.

“And in that day and age, we didn’t really understand the consequences of war on individuals. So, your father came back, as your grandfather had a generation before, and tried to make sense of peace after having lived in a warzone.”

Marcus nods, “And I get that it must have been tough for him. I do. But then why get married? Why bring another person into your fucked-up life? Why bring children into the picture?”

“I can’t answer to your father’s motives.” Helen says softly, “At best, I can guess that he probably felt like it was his duty to rebuild America. To have a family and try to put the past behind him. But the past always has a way of catch up with us. And it wasn’t fair to the rest of your family and your father’s trauma is not an excuse for the pain that he put you through.

“In therapy, we use a term called ‘intergenerational trauma’ to explain this. It’s the idea that severe trauma, severe distress can follow each generation. Your grandfather probably brought his experiences from the Great War into your father’s life. And your father brought those experiences, combined with his own from the second World War into yours.”

“Didn’t know there was a term for it. But it’s why I don’t ever want children.” Marcus admits, jarring himself with the fact that he admitted out loud how much his father had affected him. “I couldn’t bare to pass that down again.”

“Which is entirely within your right.” Helen’s calming voice eases his anxiety. “A lot of people, particularly from the baby boomer generation and before, believe that we have some sort of duty to procreate. The remnants of generations’ past, I suppose. But the reality of the matter is we don’t owe anybody.”

He shivers at her words and wonders if she notices.

He’d laughed at John for being tricked into revealing his life to a pretty face, but it was so good to say the things out loud that haunted him at two in the morning when he was unable to sleep.

“I always thought I had moved on from all this.” Marcus shakes his head, “That I left my father back in Idaho. Thoughts creep in every now and then but when I work, I can forget about it.”

Helen nods, “We forget how broken we are when we start to fixate on something else. But, eventually, we’re forced to look back at ourselves and face the truth: distracted is not the same as healed.”

And that cuts deep, but not as deep as the thoughts simmering beneath the surface. The knowledge that he had spent decades hiding behind jobs and contracts to ignore the rejection and isolation that seemed to follow him.

“So, there is no moving on, no healing.”

Helen offers him a small, empathetic smile, “I had this conversation with John just yesterday. We tend to think of healing as linear. Something happens to us, we give it time, and it heals. But that’s not always the case. You should know as well as anybody—not every scar heals. Sometimes a bone doesn’t set right.”

She lets out a soft sigh as she tries to find a way to explain, “Try to think of it in terms of a broken leg. If your broken bone is tended to right away, if it’s splinted properly, if you’re cared for during your recovery, it will heal. Sometimes even stronger than it was before.

“On the other hand, maybe you’re alone. You splint your own bone the best you can, but there is no one with you to share the burden. No one to help you heal. The bone may mend but, oftentimes, it won’t heal correctly. Maybe you walk with a limp. Or maybe you walk fine, except on days when it rains. The trauma comes back, haunting you.

“Then, of course, your bone breaks and you ignore it. You try to stand but your leg can’t support you anymore. You pretend that nothing has happened, but all you do is injure yourself the more. So, what happens, then?”

“If you can’t heal, you’re dead.”

“In the animal kingdom, you would be.” Helen says, “But we are human. We are resilient and we can adapt and, even when we feel like we are, we are not alone. So, what happens if your bone doesn’t heal correctly?”

Marcus feels a shiver travel through his body, “We re-break the bone.”

“Very good.” Helen rewards him with a real smile this time, “We re-break the bone and we try again. And, most of the time, trauma isn’t quite so severe. Most of the time, we’re stuck somewhere in the middle. Our wounds heal, but they still come back, aching on days when it rains.”

He sighs, “But what does that mean? That even if I make peace with my father’s memory, I’ll still feel him haunting me now and again?”

“There are no guarantees, but it’s likely. We all experience trauma differently but it seldom disappears all together.”

Idly, Marcus hears the sound of a car on gravel but he shakes his head, still lost in his own thoughts, “And what, there’s no way to make it disappear?”

“Not permanently. There are skills you can learn to help cope with the memories or to restructure your experiences. But trauma engrains itself within us.”

“It’s stupid.” Marcus spits out, “I came out of ‘Nam without feeling a thing. I’ve killed more people than I can count, and I don’t think about it. But the thought of my father’s voice makes me want to scream.”

“The events that happen in our formative years leave far deeper scars than what comes later. You spent your childhood seeking the approval of a man who probably lost sight of who he was long before you were born.”

The door opens and Marcus catches sight of John, carrying a couple grocery bags and a suitcase.

“And you can’t hold yourself responsible for that.” Helen adds softly, checking over her shoulder. Her eyes scan John, assessing for injury before she asks, “Is that your blood?”

“No.”

Marcus swallows, forcing the heaviness weight on him back down his throat and motioning to the bags John is carrying. Still, his voice is gruff as he asks, “You go shopping?”

“Just picked up a few things. Soap, a toothbrush. Better coffee.” John reaches in the bag and pulls out a pint of ice cream, reveling in the way her eyes light up as he hands it to her.

“Oh, fuck yes.” She takes it and undoes the plastic wrap locking the lid on, looking at Marcus as she does, “Do you need some. too?”

“Marcus won’t eat that much sugar.”

“What I need is Cognac.” Marcus mutters.

Helen hums, “Was Cognac also your father’s drink?”

Marcus looks up sharply, “Pass me the damn ice cream.”

Helen tosses the pint to him and John sighs, “Hels, I thought I said not to break him.”

“I didn’t! We were just having a discussion.”

“Uh huh.” John watches as Marcus slips into the kitchen for a spoon, “I’ve never seen Marcus eat refined sugars. Ever.”

“Physical health is only one facet of being. Ice cream tends to the mind and the soul.” She says knowingly.

Marcus plops down on the couch next to Helen and hands her a spoon.

John raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Fuck off.” Marcus says, digging the spoon into the ice cream, “I have unprocessed trauma.”

He looks from Marcus to Helen, the latter of whom just shrugs.

“Couldn’t last one day without breaking somebody’s psyche?” John teases.

Helen swallows a mouthful of ice cream, “I can’t turn it off any more than you can stop counting exits, looking for weapons.”

Marcus nods, “I say next time we have a tough case, we just send her in.”

Not a chance in hell, John thinks even knowing that Marcus is largely joking. Still, he couldn’t deny that it would be hilarious to drop Helen in the middle of the Continental and just watch.

She leans to the side on the couch, looking up at him with her warm brown eyes. “Did you have dinner?” He shakes his head and Helen sighs, “We saved you a plate, just in case. Go shower, I’ll heat it up.”

“It’s okay—”

“Go shower.” She says again, leaving no room for argument as she stands, “And change in the bathroom! I don’t want you getting blood on our bed.”

Our bed. He tries not to read to much into that but holy fuck the way that sounded… The casual way that she said it felt so fucking right even if he knew he was reading far too much into the innocent statement. He pushes it out of his head as he acquiesces with a soft, “Yes, ma’am.”

She swats at his side the best she can from her seat on the couch to prompt him forward. John sets the grocery bags with actual food on the counter and heads to the back. He tosses the suitcase on the bed and finds his own sleepwear from the night before.

Grabbing the bag with the hygiene products, he disappears into the bathroom.

He showers quickly, watching the tub stain red then wash clear as he cleans the blood from his body. It had been a long day, as he had known it would be. And while John had hoped that DeLuca would change his demands, he had been correct in assuming that he wouldn’t.

Already, a clock was moving against him.

Three days until Senor D’Antonio and Gianna returned to Rome. Three days in which to kill him and his heirs.

Marcus had said they would find a way out of it, but John wasn’t so sure.

He’s run every scenario he can think of in his head on the drive home. For four hours, he contemplated possible courses of actions that he could take. They all resulted in either Helen’s death, which was unacceptable, or his own, which was unfortunate.

He cut the shower short, anxious to see Helen after spending a day dealing with people who wanted to do her harm. See for himself that she was safe and uninjured. Let himself feel a glimmer of joy at the sound of her voice, the energy of her presence.

Cloak himself in her scent and sound and sight. Memorize it all just in case he was unable to make it through this week with his life.

He changes into his sleepwear and quickly towels his hair.

There’s food sitting in front of the armchair when he returns to the living room. A plate with vegetables, potatoes, and chicken. Helen and Marcus share the couch and are passing the ice cream back and forth to one another.

John idly wishes he could use his phone to snap a quick picture for Sofia. Marcus with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in his hand, a spoonful of chocolate ice cream aimed for his mouth…

Sof would have a field day with that.

Helen’s eyes meet his and he wonders, for the millionth time, what it would be like to kiss her.

He’s probably going to die anyway, already set for Hell. Would it be so wrong to steal a kiss before going to his death?

“Did you meet with DeLuca?” Marcus asks, snapping John out of his thoughts as he sits down with them.

He nods once, his eyes flitting to Helen. Not wanting to discuss it in front of her, John adds, “We’ll chat later.”

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say he realizes as her eyes flash.

“Oh, no. We’re not doing this.” She bemoans, “You don’t get to shut me out of this.”

John shakes his head, “Helen...”

“I have every right to know what’s going on.”

“You don’t need to be worrying about this!” He insists and watches as her entire body tenses.

“Marcus,” She says, and her voice is just a little too sweet for John, “Would you mind stepping out for a moment?”

Marcus, ice cream in hand, looks between them, “I mean, I’d rather stay and watch you demolish him but—”

“Marcus!” Helen and John say together and the older assassin laughs, sliding to his feet.

“Guess I’ll just go downstairs and see if anything new has magically appeared since yesterday.” He pats John on the shoulder on the way to the basement, “Good luck.”

Helen waits for the door to close before she speaks, “We are not doing this, John.”

“Doing what?” He asks, resigned.

“You’re not leaving me out of the loop! I know that you think you’re protecting me by keeping me in the dark from what is happening, but I can handle this.”

Again, he shakes his head, “It’s not about what you can handle, I know you can handle this, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to be worrying—”

“You don’t get to decide what I’m allowed to worry about.” She snaps, not unkindly. Helen pauses, sighing to herself. She moves down the couch so that she’s closer to where he sits and, gently, tries again, “John, I am doing what you ask. I’ve cut off contact from the world, I’m staying hidden. Meet me halfway here.”

His leg is shaking, she notes. His face is tense.

She reaches out across the space to where his hand sits on the armrest and lays her own atop. “I know things are going to get worse before they get better. But you trying to deal with this all on your own, without support, isn’t helping.”

He hesitates again, gathering his thoughts together before he admits, “I don’t want to let you know how bad it’s gotten. And not because I don’t think you can handle it,” He adds before she can say anything, “But because I don’t want to expose you to that. You might not like some of the things I might have to do.”

“We got to this point together.” Helen argues, “Hell, I’m more accountable than you are for this fiasco.”

John snorts, “No, you’re not.”

“I’m a licensed professional. I was the one in the position of power. I had a moral obligation to ensure the boundaries between us stayed clear. I knowingly violated that, okay? I got us to this point, too. So, please, let me help fix it.”

John lets out a breath, his shoulders settling. “I don’t like it. I don’t like involving you in this world more than you already are.”

“You don’t have to like it.” She reminds him, “But you’re going to deal with it, because I’m not going to let you carry the weight by yourself.”

There’s such force behind her words. And Christ, she would be pissed if he laid it all out. She would demand that he ignore DeLuca, even at the cost of her own life. And they would argue and fight about it, but ultimately, he would do whatever it takes.

But she’s not backing down and, while John has never been good at compromising, he is more than capable of recognizing when an opponent is going to fight until their last breath. She has that same look in her eye now.

“Okay.” He agrees. “Okay. But tomorrow? I… I don’t think I can handle that tonight.”

She nods and her hand tightens on his, squeezing momentarily, “Thank you.”

For a moment, she stays in place, looking at him. A small smile of thanks graces her face. He forces himself to look away from her lips.

“Marcus!” She calls, letting go of his hand and sitting back in her corner of the couch, “You can come back in.”

Marcus comes back up and makes a show of checking his watch, “Not even five minutes? Come on, John. That’s just sad.”

John smirks at his friend, “You think you can win an argument against her? Be my guest.”

Marcus winks at Helen and holds up the ice cream, “You want more?”

“Not now, thanks.” She replies and he puts the ice cream back into the freezer.

John takes a bite of his leftover, noting that this might be the first time anybody had ever thought to save dinner for him. It’s a little bit better knowing that Helen had thought of him when putting it away, certain it was not Marcus’s doing. Not that Marcus didn’t care, but he was more from the school of everybody fend for themselves.

Marcus settles on the couch and looks to Helen, “What did I miss?”

John finds himself smirking despite himself, “What, is she in charge now?”

“Have been since the beginning, but glad you’re catching on.” She says with a heart-stopping smile before looking back at Marcus, “Discussion is tabled until tomorrow.”

Marcus nods, “Fine by me. My head still fucking hurts.”

John smirks as he raises his fork, “Welcome to the club.”

Marcus shakes his head, “And you do this with her every week? Willingly?”

“It gets easier once you know what to expect.”

The older assassin looks to Helen, “We’re not making a habit of those discussions.”

“We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

John recognizes the look in her eyes. She’s an expert at subtle manipulation—letting you think you’re in control right up until the moment she snatches the rug out from under you. And by then, you’re too addicted to her kind words and soft stares to leave.

She’s magnificent.

Marcus sighs and glances at John, “How screwed am I?”

“Very.” Helen shoots him an amused glance and he feels his own gaze soften as he looks at her, “You know I wouldn’t change a thing.”

At least, about her.

Their circumstances on the other hand…

Her lips twitch slightly and yeah, John thinks, he’s going to do it. Not now. But before he goes off to face death, he’s going to kiss those soft, pink lips. He’s going to carry the taste of her with him to the next world.

Let that be how she remembers him—not as a broken man or as a murderer. But as someone who loved her completely.

That wouldn’t be so bad.

“Me, either.” She says and it takes everything inside of him not to fly across the room to her now.

“Yup!” Marcus says, very loudly, interrupting the moment that passes between them, “Therapy is not for me.”

Helen looks away, her cheeks tinged with pink. He watches her swallow before looking up at Marcus, “It’s not for everyone.” She admits, then teases, “Some people just can’t handle the weight and strength needed to address their inner battles.”

“Listen, Kingston…” Marcus says but there is humor in his voice, “If assassins actually started addressing the issues we all have with our parents, we wouldn't have the time kill anybody.”

She laughs at that, “God forbid.”

Marcus looks over her head, “Don’t you just want to set her on Winston? I want to know what’s going on in his head.”

“That’s the guy who operates New York, right?” Helen asks and John nods.

“That’s him. And, frankly, Marcus. I’d rather not know what’s going on in Winston’s head. Or anybody’s.” Looking back to Helen he adds, “I don’t know how you deal with knowing so many people’s thoughts.”

She shrugs a shoulder, “We all have our stories, but the same themes come up again and again.”

“Jung?” John asks.

“Very good.” Helen says, “Did you ever end up reading The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious?”

John nods, “I did.”

“Nerd alert!” Marcus coughs into his hand.

Helen and John both glare at him before she looks back to John, “I mean, you know my feelings on listening to anyone labeled an ‘expert’ but, at the very least, I agree that if you look close enough at peoples stories, you’ll find the same themes prevailing over nearly all of it.”

“And what are your thoughts on listening to experts?” Marcus asks.

John smirks, already knowing the answer, “Helen believes very strongly in subjective truth. Nothing can be taken at face value.”

Helen nods, “And people in the psych community tend to stick to their niches. The psychoanalytics stick to Freud, the REBT people stick to Ellis, Cognitive Behavioralists stick to Skinner. The reality is, they all work in their own ways. But to put all your stock in one school of thought, you’re going to miss out on a lot of relevant shit.”

Marcus smirks, “You talk with that mouth in your office?”

Helen inclines her head, “Only with John. But he’s got a thick skull. Sometimes you need to do things to catch his attention.”

“That thick skull is necessary to protect the small brain inside.”

John flips him off.

“He’s had a lot of undiagnosed concussions.” Marcus adds, ignoring the gesture.

“I’d smack you,” John comments, humor in his voice, “But I wouldn’t want to damage your hearing aids.”

Marcus smirks in response, glancing to Helen, “You don’t get to be my age in the Underworld without some wear and tear. You spend enough time around munitions and guns, your hearing is the first thing to go.” He looks over at John, “This one laughs now, but he’ll be exactly where I am in fifteen years. If he lives that long.”

Helen rolls her eyes, “Well, on that note, I’m going to get ready for bed.” Helen stands up, her hand brushing along John’s arm as she walks by. “Come to bed soon, okay?”

He nods, forcing himself to remember to breathe when she talks to him like that, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Good. Night, Marcus.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

She disappears down the hall, watching her long after she disappears. There’s the sound of a door closing and a sink running. He can still feel where her fingers grazed his arm.

“Henry.”

John looks up at Marcus, blinking in confusion.

“Henry.” Marcus repeats, “It’s my middle name. Good strong name, you know, if you’re starting think of what you’ll name your children.”

“Fuck off.”

Marcus laughs, “Jesus, John, you’re fucking gone.”

John glares slightly, “Really? Calling her sweetheart?”

The older assassin rolls his eyes, “Calm down, Romeo. I prefer my women not have the ability to psychoanalyze me. I meant exactly what I said—she’s a sweetheart.”

He nods, relaxing slightly. He’s well aware of Helen’s allure, even platonically he understands the way she manages to pull people in. A kind word from her is enough to hook anyone and, before you can remember to think, you’ve bared your soul. A search for absolution that can only be found in the quiet of her eyes.

“She is.” John agrees.

Marcus nods, “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about the marker.”

John raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t need it. Not for doing this.”

“You’re doing me the favor of a lifetime.” John states the obvious. This was no small thing that Marcus was doing for him.

Marcus nods, “I was. But, truth is, I’m happy just to do this for her.”

John huffs a small laugh, “I get it. She pulls you in, doesn’t she? So fast you don’t even know you’re sinking.”

“She does that.” Marcus pauses, thoughtfully. He looks to John and asks, “How long the two of you going to keep playing this game?”

He looks away, “Marcus…”

“You are both way too smart to be playing stupid to the looks, the touches. If I didn’t know the two of you and we just met, I’d assume you were married with the way you act around each other.”

Shaking his head, John looks to his friend, “Let it go.”

“John—”

“Let it go.” John says again, “I promised her we wouldn’t talk about it without her but… things aren’t looking good. And, if by some miracle, I’m still alive at the end of all this, what can I offer her?”

“She knows exactly what you are and she doesn’t care. She still adores you.”

John can’t even begin to address that so he ignores it, “She’ll never be safe so long as her name is associated with mine.”

Marcus stares at him incredulously, “I think that particular ship already sailed.”

John pushes his hair back, frustrated, because Marcus is right on that note. Everything was already fucked. But there was still something looming over John that forced him to add, “She deserves better.”

“Definitely. But she still wants you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“My ears may be shot to hell, but I’m not blind.”

John takes his plate, shaking his head as he stands up, “Goodnight, Marcus.”

“Night, dumbass.”

[queerchoicesblog]

New Beginnings

Folks, here’s a new update of the wlw story set in the Sixties, my third  miniseries of the wlw writing project. New beginnings have quite a lot in store for our stewardess MC!

The final Sixties miniseries update will be out either later this week or next week.

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

Previous Chapters: Living The Dream, The Girl Next Door

_____________________________

The following day I got my long awaited promotion: a generous rise and from now on only international routes for me. I made it to the big league. My world was crumbling underneath my feet but I made it. I received the news as a blessing. I followed the advice Nancy gave me when she called back to check in on me. A few days later I packed my stuff and crashed at a colleague's place: thank God, I made good friends among my former crew members and Joanna kindly agreed to host me while I looked for a new place to stay. Neither Nancy nor Jo know the full truth about the photographer who broke my heart, her sex: ironically, 'bastard' and other epithets are wonderfully neutral. Their sympathy and support helped me healing a little. It took time but, as Mom said when I accidentally let it slip during a call, I had my new beginning to focus on. I was the Pan Am stewardess every girl dreams to be one day.

I still remember the thrill that coursed through my veins as I boarded my first gigantic Boeing 712, destination Tahiti. I don't know how my voice kept appealing and steady as I explained the route and thanked the passengers for choosing Pan American Airways. I had to squeeze my colleague's hand when we took off as my heart was hammering out of the purest joy. Well, that's my life now. My parents and Nancy must have a collection of the postcards I send them from Rio, Honolulu, London, Rome, Berlin, Tokyo...you name a place on the map, I've probably been there at least once. I always send one to the address Noah gave us: I hope he receives them even if his letter are rare these days. I also sent him an autograph by Sandra Dee: last time I checked he had a big crush on her so I couldn't refrain myself when I bumped into her at a celebrity party our crew was invited to. She even pressed a lipstick kiss on the napkin when I told her my brother was a marine serving in Vietnam. I hope the war ends soon: despite what censorship cuts off from his letters, I know him and I know he's not happy there. I want my Noah back, his silly jokes and Rock Hudson look. I wish I would have spotted him waiting in line to check in for a flight to sunny Los Angeles instead of that photographer who "cared for me". I would have run at him full speed and he, turning at the right moment just like in the movies, would have waved at me and pulled me in a long swaying hug. "Long time no see, sister!" he would have laughed and we would have cried tears of joy uncaring of the people watching us. Then I would have ruffled his hair - how he hated that! - and guided him home, where he belonged, not sunny California nor Vietnam. I wasn't so lucky, I got the photographer instead. Despite a couple of years has now passed since that morning I walked out of her messy flat, she looks the same. For a moment I wondered if she'd succeeded in winning that girl's heart back. She's travelling solo as far as I can tell: either she's embarking on a new adventure or running towards someone she loves...or so she thinks. I find hard to believe she knows the difference. I kept walking towards my destination. I'm grateful she didn't see me: we don't have anything else to say to each other. We're strangers now. "Excuse me, ma'am, do you have a lighter?" My train of thoughts derails with the voice of another stranger. I turn my head to find a waitress leaning down on me with a cigarette in her hand. "Oh yes, sure" I pick up my lighter and light her cigarette. She takes a blow and exhales, thanking me. But to my surprise she doesn't walk away. After a moment, during which she probably debated whether to go for it or not, she speaks again. "Actually...do you mind if I join you...?" Her question lingers until I realize she's waiting for me to say my name. "Sadie" I say. "And please, suit yourself" As she takes a seat, I shake my head. "Forgive me, it's been a long day and usually people just read my name on the tag" "Well, Mom taught me not to stare at women's breasts because it's rude: 'look right in the eye and ask, my dear girl, right in the eye', she says" she jokes, shrugging. "How thoughtful!" I laugh and I don't do that just out of curtesy: she's genuinely funny. I take a look at her, I haven't noticed her before: how long she's been working here? To be honest, I hardly pay attention to airport clerks and waiters, I'm always on the go. "So, on a break....?" I add, letting my question lingers just as she did. "Oh yes, my shift started an hour ago but since there's no one here the boss gave us a little extra break-" "Nice but I was hoping to get your name too without looking disrespectfully at your breast, mademoiselle" We look at each other for a while then she burst into laughter and I follow. "Learning from the best, I see" she comments jokingly, catching her breath. "It's Kelsey" I bow my head lightly and we exchange a quick smile. "Pan Am, huh?" she nudges at my uniform as she inhales the smoke. "It shows?" I smile, striking a magazine cover pose that makes her laugh again. "Where did you fly to today? Or yesterday, I should probably say" "Paris" I say, in my best French accent. By the look of wonder that crosses her eyes I can tell she's never been there. Only heard of it. "Wow, romantic" she notes. I chuckle, finishing off my cigarette. "Paris is romantic only if you have a lover to stroll down the Seine with. I'm just a stewardess" I claim and well, it's true: the City of Love is not as romantic without a plus one, even if the girls and I had fun during our land off there, shopping, exploring and dining in lovely bistrot. "I thought you had a companion for your dreamy walk down the river" she shrugs, gesturing to the conspicuous teddybear in beret and striped shirt quietly sitting on a chair at my side. "Oh no, Monsieur Ted and I met in Montmarte. It was a...coup de foudre!" I comment, keeping my face straight long enough to make us both burst into another round of laughters. "It's a gift." I explain. "My best friend has a little girl, it's a gift for her. It's her birthday soon and I promised to be there, I'm sort of an aunt to her. I can't go empty handed and this guy looked nice" Nicole's face softens imperceptibly. "I'm sure she'll love it. I mean, I would have given everything to get a French teddy from my fancy aunt who flies around the world every day" I smile at the compliment. Was it a compliment? I like to think so. "How long have you been working here? I've been based here for a while but I'm afraid I don't remember you" I inquiry, hoping not to offend her. She exhales smoke and gestures it's nothing. "You flight crews are always in a hurry, we don't take it personally" Her lips quickly curl into a shy smile. "It's been a year. Well, it will be a year in a month" she explains. "It's not much but it's an honest job and just what I was looking for. The boss is fair enough and it helps paying the nurse school tuition" "Wanna be a nurse?" "Yeah, I've spent too much time with grandma during my childhood" she chuckles but the hint of a smile suggests she remembers that time quite fondly. "She worked as a nurse during the war and she used to tell me stories of back then...I'm not sure I was supposed to hear all of them but she kept talking. So I ended up being of those weird little girls who had a doll hospital in her bedroom and sew broken teddy bears to cure them. Nurse school sounded like the most logical choice" "That's sweet" I consider. "Why not a doctor though?" "Ah, I'm not sure about it...maybe in the future but I will be happy enough as a nurse, I think" I smile at her earnest answer as she continues nonchalantly. "Just like I'm quite happy now to see flight crews come and go and memorise their order-" "Oh, what's my usual order then?" I tease her. She takes a pause as if I caught her cheating then she guesses right: long black, no sugar, just a drop of milk. I tell her I wish I had her memory when I serve on board. "I'm sure you're doing just fine up there" she smiles encouragely. "And even when I'm not, a nice pair of legs and a charming smile will do the trick, won't they?" I sigh: I might not be too fond of certain looks I receive but that's how things go, I guess. At least, they saved me from getting complaints; on the contrary, on my first flight my supervisor was pleasantly impressed by my "impeccable manners and overall look" as she wrote down on my report. Kelsey opens the mouth to speak again - by the look on her face probably that she didn't mean it like that - but I anticipate her. It's how things go, she must know it too. When I worked at the diner, the costumers refrained from assessing me those looks or pinch me because they had too much respect for my parents. Most of them were long time friends as far as I can remember. So I was quite safe...I hope cute Kelsey is too. A silence falls between us. I immediately wondered if I said something wrong, I'm so used to uncomfortable silence filled with unsaid accusations and complaints that I tense up. But I soon realize that...it's okay. I did nothing wrong, she's silently agreeing with me and maybe pondering what to say next. A look filled with shy curiosity is on her face when she finally speaks again. "Can I ask you something?" "Shoot" She takes a pause as if she's still translating her own thought into words or wondering if she's not crossing a line with her curiosity. "Do you ever get homesick travelling all the time?" That's...not what I was expecting but after all, what was I expecting? Not sure how I can answer that. "Odd question to ask a stewardess" I note, rising my eyebrow and taking time. "I mean, you're always somewhere else, in between places and time zones...one might feels a bit homesick, lost maybe..." Then she shakes her head and falling back to her chair. "I'm sorry I'm just being nosey, that was a silly-" "No, it's an interesting question. I've never given that much thought... I don't know, I've never felt that way, I felt free when I boarded my first plane. I still do when I'm up there in the sky. I think most of us feel that thrill but it's just my point of view. My best friend once argued that mine is not real freedom just a - how did she call it? - oh yes, a strategic retreat so..." I chuckle, reminiscing the conversation Nancy and I had in the kitchen as I helped her with the dishes. The 'concerned sister' look she gave me, handing me a wet dish to dry. 'I'm not saying it's wrong or judging you, Sadie...I have no doubt you're living the exciting life you've always dreamed, God that every girl now dream. But you can't run away forever...' "Maybe it is different if you have something to come back to. That changes things, I suppose. Some miss family, their kids..." I continue. "And you? Do you have something to go back to?" Her question leaves me speechless and gaping. Sure, I have my parents, my friends, Nancy but she has a family of her own now as many others. My brother is far away and out of reach fighting in a war he never fully endorsed. "I don't know" I admit after a moment. Voices come from the main counter urging Kelsey to go back to work. She gives me an apologetic look before searching her pockets. "Well, while you keep looking and flying around the world, at least know that you're always welcome here" She lays a couple of cafe vouchers on the table; then she takes her leave with a gracious smile. "Sadie, Monsieur Ted...it's been a pleasure" "Likewise, Kelsey" I say, waving the teddybear arm. I should probably go home and get some rest: I wasn't joking when I said it's been a long day. I collect my vouchers, pay leaving a generous tip and head to the parking lot. When I wake up in my bed, it's getting dark outside. I brew the third coffee of the day and unpack my bag. As I collect my uniform for the laundry, the vouchers slip off the pocket I secured them into. I make to pick them up when I notice something handwritten behind one of them. I look carefully and it's a phone number with a little airplane doddle to the side. Call me ~ Kelsey

[lastoneout]

Comfort Food

Fandom: Persona 5

Rating: PG

Summary: 

Akechi has a food blog, Futaba thinks that's hilarious, Akira is a good friend, and Sojiro needs a drink.

Notes:

This was supposed to just be me projecting my issues on to Akechi because he's my emotional support bastard boi but somehow it turned into nearly 2500 words of tooth-rotting slice of life fluff. Whoops.

A03

Goro learned the hard way that hiding things from Futaba was impossible.

To be fair it wasn’t like he was trying to hide his food blog, he mentioned it in passing a few times and he knew that most of his followers were his fans, but he never really expected any of the Thieves to actually read it, let alone read it out loud, in front of him...while laughing at it.

“What are you, a high school girl?” Futaba said with a snicker after she finished reading his latest post aloud, “I’ve seen little girl’s diaries with more class.”

“Oh my god.” Akira choked out from beside Futaba behind Leblanc’s bar, desperately trying to muffle his laughs as Goro floundered.

He knew he shouldn’t care. The Thieves always poked fun at each other. ‘It’s what friends do,’ Akira had said. If anything he figured he should be grateful that Futaba considered him enough of a friend to playfully mock his hobby. But Goro was never good at regulating his inner emotions, and so as much as he tried to not let it get to him, it did.

Truthfully, he never meant to get into food. For the longest time, he considered it a pointless expense. In the various foster homes that he was tossed between food was almost a luxury. And to someone who often wondered where his next meal would come from it was hard to justify the cost of a fancy dinner when the same money could get him a month's worth of instant ramen and convenience store bento lunches.

But when he got into high school and wormed his way into the police force he suddenly was financially stable enough to justify luxury spending. Nijima-san was kind enough to pull some strings to get the agency to act as a guarantor so he could move out of the foster home and into a small apartment, and after he paid his bills and rent he was left staring at the remaining sum in his bank app, trying to wrap his head around how that money was his, and he could do whatever he wanted with it.

He tried to keep a level head and decided to go to a nearby department store to pick up things to furnish his new home, but on the way there he passed a diner and was stopped dead by the incredible smells drifting out the door. His stomach growled, and he found himself trying to remember the last time he had eaten something that hadn’t come wrapped in plastic and styrofoam.

His stomach growled again, and before he had time to think about it, knowing that if he did he would decide against it, he hurried into the restaurant. He was seated quickly, and despite feeling weirdly giddy and anxious he smiled at the kind waitress who took his order. The simple latte and plate of pancakes were probably the most delicious things he had ever tasted, and he couldn’t help how his eyes watered after the first bite, the food filling some empty part of himself he hadn’t even known existed.

Looking back on that day he’s grateful that he wasn’t famous yet, as no one cared to pay attention to the skinny teenager in the booth by the wall trying not to get tears in his dinner.

After that, he ate out at least once a week. He spent little on necessities, picking up most of the things he needed at the ¥100 store and buying used clothes, saving every extra bit that didn’t go into bills for food. Eventually, he started looking up new places to eat, and after finding a few food blogs he decided on a whim to start his own. It didn’t take off until after his big break, but he didn’t mind. The simple pictures and reviews he posted weren’t really for anyone else, and on days when he felt empty and angry, he would scroll back through them and feel a little bit better. Almost happy at the little niche he had carved out for himself.

Shortly after that Akechi’s entire life quickly became a delicate web of lies. He was a double, even triple agent, under so many layers of falsehoods even he struggled to keep it straight sometimes. If anyone ever bothered to break him down to his bare parts there really wasn’t much he actually did for himself. Every single facet of his life and personality had been carefully crafted to ensure he would be able to get the revenge he so desperately craved. He hardly ever did anything just for himself. Every interest he shared in interviews or mentioned around his ‘friends’ was for show, not something he honestly cared all that much about. It was annoying sometimes, having to pretend to care for things he felt apathetic towards, but it was necessary.

But food? Food stayed safe. It helped his Detective Prince facade once he got popular, after all the only thing teenage girls seemed to like more than cute boys was trendy food. And cute boys who love trendy food? That’s a check that writes itself. It made him look soft, approachable, and normal. So he indulged. Actually enjoying sharing the one part of himself that wasn’t fake.

Maybe that’s why Futaba’s mockery stung so much. He wouldn’t care if people made fun of his fake interests, but when it was the real him? It hurt.

He tried to laugh it off, blushing and begging her to stop. He insisted it’s just for his fans, he’s not really that immature or girly, it’s just for show! But each plea seemed to only make the situation worse, so he gave up and silently begged for her to get bored soon, his face an unnatural shade of red.

Akira, ever perceptive, seemed to notice something change in his demeanor, and without a second thought, the teen reached forward and plucked Futaba's phone right out of her hands.

"Hey!" She shouted, grabbing for it.

"Alright, alright, that's enough." He chided, holding the phone just out of Futaba's reach, "We all have our hobbies. But since we're in a sharing mood how about I tell Akechi-kun all about your Featherman shipping blog?"

A chill came over the room. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would." He turned to Goro with a devilish smirk, "See she loves the red and blue rangers together-"

"Akira I'll end you!" Futaba yelled, diving forward and attempting to tackle him. Akira, however, was taller, and easily deflected her blows.

"She was telling me about this doujinshi she read the other day-"

"I'll spread rumors about you on websites you've never even heard of!"

"It was so romantic-"

"I'll leak your bank info on the dark web!”

"It's by her favorite author too, she buys everything they release-"

"I'll destroy you with malware, you won't be able to BREATHE near a circuit board without getting a virus!"

"Tell me, Akechi-kun, do you know what smut is?"

"AKIRA!!!" Futaba shrieked, and it was quickly followed by the sound of clanging pots and Sojiro swearing loudly from the kitchen.

“Would you two cut it out?” He shouted, poking his head around the corner.

“Sorry Boss, just giving Futaba a lesson on being a good friend,” Akira replied with an apologetic smile.

“Well next time can you do it outside? You’re lucky I don’t have any customers in here right now.”

“You never have any customers...” Futaba mumbled.

“I heard that. And Futaba, I thought I asked you to tie up your hair when you’re behind the counter.”

“On it...” She grumbled, pulling her hair back into a lazy bun with the scrunchie on her wrist.

“We’ll keep the noise and health code violations to a minimum, Boss,” Akira said, shooting a lazy salute Sojiro’s way. The older man eyed them for another second before sighing and mumbling something about herding cats as he turned back to the curry.

With the situation defused, Akira and Futaba stared at each other, having a silent yet very animated conversation, but eventually, Akira seemed to win and Futaba sighed heavily, "Okay, okay,” She turned to Goro and gave him a bow, “I'm sorry for making fun of your blog Akechi-kun."

Goro hardly knew what to make of the display, let alone her apology, but it made him feel a bit better, so he relaxed and gave her a genuine smile, “It’s alright, Futaba-chan, I forgive you.”

“Can I have my phone back now, please?”

“You may,” Akira replied amicably, handing the hostage technology back to Futaba.

She smiled triumphantly before another dark look crossed her face. She eyed Goro, suspiciously, before blushing and tapping her fingers together “A-and Akechi-kun...you won’t tell anyone else about the...shipping thing, right?”

“To be honest...I’m not sure I fully understand what you were talking about,” He replied, “But your secret is safe with me.”

“I’m so proud of both of you,” Akira said with a fake teary-eyed sniff, “My two little introverts, making friends.”

Goro and Futaba broke out in protests, but a quick glare from Sojiro shut them both up.

“Wow, you’ve really got that ‘disappointed dad’ look down, Sojiro.” Akira quipped.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than raise hell in my cafe?”

“As much as it breaks my heart, yes.” Akira said, untying his apron and heading around the counter, “I’ve got a date with a pile of dirty dishes in Shinjuku.”

“You’re not taking Morgana?” Futaba asked as he grabbed his bag and jacket.

“Nah, he hates The Crossroads, says the alcohol smell makes his nose itch. When he wakes up from his nap just let him know where I went.”

“Roger that.”

“Thanks,” He said, “See you guys later! Oh, and try not to get into too much trouble while I’m away.”

Futaba rolled her eyes dramatically, and Goro, still feeling a bit lost, simply shrugged.

“Akira, text me when you get there! You know I don’t like you going to that part of town so late.” Sojiro called, and Goro had to suppress a smirk. Akira had faced down far worse threats than the red light district at night. But it must be nice, he figured, to have someone worry about you.

“Got it!” Akira replied, the bell jingling as the door closed behind him.

Futaba seemed to deflate in his absence, looking anxious. She had explained once that Akira was something called a ‘key item’ that gave her ‘a plus ten confidence boost’, and he assumed that just meant she was shy when he wasn’t around. Goro turned back to his discarded coffee, grimacing a bit when a sip revealed it to be lukewarm.

“Uh, I can make you another cup...it’s my fault that one went cold anyway.” She said, clearly trying to make things up to him, “Sojiro’s been teaching me. It probably won’t be as good as his though. I’m still totally stuck on tutorial mode.”

“Oh, um, that would be lovely.” He replied, “Thank you.”

She started the process, carefully measuring grounds as the kettle heated, “You know, you should write about Leblanc on your blog. You like the food here, right?”

“I-”

“Absolutely not.” Sojiro interrupted, joining Futaba behind the bar to supervise the brewing.

“But Sojirooo! Akechi-kun is popular, you might actually get some business for once!”

“I don’t want that kind of business. Sorry Akechi-kun, but hundreds of fangirls in here every day ordering fancy drinks and asking when their beloved Detective Prince is coming back? I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing just thinking about it.” He replied with a chuckle, “A man my age can only handle so many loud teenagers at once, and Akira’s band of hooligans already pushes the limit.”

“Don’t worry, Saku...uh, sorry, Boss. I understand.” Goro clarified, “There have actually been several cases of popular food writers unwittingly causing small restaurants to close due to their articles increasing interest to an unmanageable level. I wouldn’t dream of doing that to Leblanc.”

“Glad we’re on the same page then.”

Futaba finished making the coffee, grinning when Sojiro complimented her technique. She eagerly pushed a fresh cup to him, practically vibrating while she watched him take a sip. It was true that it wasn’t as amazing as her father’s, but it was still good and had its own charm.

“You did well.” He said, and he couldn’t help chuckle when she broke out in a wide smile, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest at the sight.

“Yes! I leveled up! Plus five coffee making exp!”

“We’ll make a barista of you yet.” Sojiro said fondly, “Now, it’s getting late. Akechi-kun, do you have dinner plans? I’ve got enough curry back here to feed an army, you’re welcome to stay.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Just say yes.” Futaba whispered to him with a smirk, “Sojiro put all of his stat points into feeding wayward teens.”

“Then...yes, I’d be honored.” Akechi said, too confused to be offended by being called ‘wayward’.

“The honor is ours,” Futaba replied solemnly, giving an overly formal bow before breaking out laughing.

Sojiro wasted no time serving up three plates of curry, chatting idly with Futaba as she went to flip the open sign to closed. The two of them managed to herd Goro into a booth just as Morgana trotted downstairs, asking about Akira and demanding food. Futaba poked the poor not-cat a few times while Sojiro retrieved Morgana’s food bowl and popped open a fresh can of cat food.

“Sorry,” Sojiro said, pulling up a chair and making room on the table for Morgana’s dish, “He throws a tantrum if he doesn’t get to eat with us.”

“I do not!” Morgana shouted indignantly, “I’m just too civilized to eat on the floor.”

“Chatty cat,” Sojiro replied, giving Morgana a few chin scritches.

“Morgana is family,” Futaba said sagely, “And a family that eats together, stays together.”

‘...Family, huh...’ Goro thought to himself.

“What’s up Akechi-kun?” Futaba asked, and he blushed lightly as he realized he was staring off into space.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s nothing,” He deflected, “The food looks delicious, Boss. Thank you.”

“Thank you for the food!” Futaba yelled before digging into her plate, and the rest of them quickly followed suit.

As the four of them shared the meal, Goro felt the warm feeling from before grow and spread through his chest. Futaba was using her fork to flick small bits of meat at Morgana despite Sojiro’s half-hearted complaints, cheering as Morgana somehow managed to catch every single one. The smell of curry and coffee and cat food mingled in the air with laughter and shouts, giving the whole room a feeling not unlike a comforting hug.

Goro allowed himself a small smile, sure that the only reason he felt so happy was the food.

[disneydreamlights]

Cendrillon

FFN | AO3

Summary:  Gula's job as a mercenary for hire means he never turns down a job, even if that job is killing the heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Vulpes. [GulAva]

A/N: Inspired by this. Originally this was written for the 2019 rarepairs zine but the tight deadlines combined with my busy work and class schedule did not work out, so I had to drop the zine and left this on the back burner for a while. Cue a sudden burst of creative energy this month and some determination and I returned to this fic to finally finish it almost a year later. 

Gula pulled down on the mask once more, giving it a firm tug to make sure his face couldn’t be seen underneath the leopard styled mask. The masquerade ball tonight was important after all, Lady Ava of the Vulpes kingdom was going to be making her grand debut, and it would be best to make a good impression.

Or at least, that would be what most would be thinking as they prepared for tonight, but as Gula straightened out the tie on his golden yellow suit, he had a lot more pressing matters to be thinking about. The knife, hidden in his socks felt cold, just one of many hidden, but hired killers had to be prepared. It really was nothing against his mark, she probably was a fine girl, but this was his job.

“Name?” Gula smiled as the guard looked at him with no more scrutiny than any of the stuffy royals that had entered into ballroom that night. 

“Ventus, of the Kingdom of Leopardus.” The guard nodded, likely assuming he was simply a lower noble. Which was fair, royalty in Leopardus changed often enough that even in the kingdom of its closest allies, it was difficult to keep track. As he officially entered the ballroom, he couldn’t help but reflect on how that had been a part of why he had been brought into the ball in the first place.

The man had entered Gula’s home about two weeks ago, shortly after Gula had returned home from his last mission. He was dressed in a black cloak, with his face fully hidden in its shadows. “Why hello there, it took you long enough to get here.”

“How did you get into my house? What do you want?”

“Easy there Tiger, I’m not here to make any enemies. I just need a favor, heard that you’re willing to do any jobs, legal or illegal, if the pay is high enough.”

“Most of my clients don’t stop by my home.”

“Yeah, well mine is a special task.”

Gula had raised an eyebrow at that. “What did you have in mind.”

A bag was placed on his desk, holding what looked like well over a few hundred thousand munny after a quick investigation of its contents.

“I need you to kill the crown princess of Vulpes, Lady Ava.”

The plan was most definitely simple enough. Sneak into the ball in her honor, find her, stab her, get out. Leave the leopard mask behind to implicate Leopardus. War would allow for whatever his name (X? He was pretty sure that was some part of the name given) to take over the kingdom, reinstate peace. Murder admittedly was not one of Gula’s usual tasks, but money talked, and true to the meaning of his name, he was never satisfied with what he had. Not to mention, there was so much wrong with the nobility anyways, even if an innocent had to die, a new ruler might mean a new chance to fix the world, he couldn’t complain about that. He wandered the floor aimlessly, enjoying the party for what it was, listening in on the conversations of the various nobles and sneaking some of the food while he waited for the princess’s presentation.

“Why aren’t you talking with the rest of the guests?” A girl’s voice rang caught his attention, as a young girl around his age stood in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed her approach. He took in any details about her he could. If he got caught and needed to clear up the loose ends, he would need to remember any details. She had pink hair, and a fox’s mask covering almost as much of her face as his own leopard mask.

“I’m not one for small talk, it doesn’t really have much point.” And it was true, small talk was hard to maintain, and he had no interest in learning about any of the nobles who would be out for his blood before the clock struck midnight.

The girl gave him a confused look. “If you don’t like small talk, then why are you at the party?”

“I like to dance.” It was the first excuse he could come up with, but she seemed amused by the way her mouth threatened to turn into a smile. This was bad, he didn't want to be remembered here. “I understand social niceties, even if they aren’t my favorite thing,” he added on afterwards, hoping she’d buy it.

She did, seeing as she nodded. “Who are you anyways, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a lord with blond hair as messy as yours.” She poked at one of the many spikes coming from his head, it was one of the few things of his natural appearance he’d retained. 

“Ventus.” Gula used the same fake name he’d used for the guard earlier. Best to keep it simple.

“My name’s…” The girl hesitated for a moment, as though holding the knowledge of her name close to her. For the first time, he was actually intrigued by her. Why was this girl holding back her name? Was it possible that she, too, was an uninvited guest to the party.

“Fox.” He supplied the name for her, surprising himself. “You wear a fox mask, if you want to avoid using your name at the ball, why not go by the name of the animal you’re wearing a mask of.”

She nodded, her face brightening. “Fox is good!” She paused for a moment, almost as though she was unsure of what to talk about with him. For a moment, Gula was almost sure she had the intention to find the next sulking partygoer, but she seemed to stay quiet.

“It was a pleasure meeting you Fox, but I can’t stay and talk for--”

“Wait.” Gula stopped, letting the girl talk. “Could I have just one dance?” He was about to answer no, but she continued. “You did say that dancing was the main reason you came, don’t you want to?”

He could tell her no, but placating the girl would better serve his interests better. It would be better if she remembered the unknown lord as a good person, rather than poorly. Then he wouldn’t have to take out any more people than necessary. Fox had been nice enough anyways to him.

“I suppose one dance won’t take too much time out of my night.” And before he knew it, he was pulled out of his corner by Fox, who seemed to take a natural lead as she put her hand on his shoulder, clasping one of his with her second. He settled for a hand on her waist, sharing the dance floor as he chose to let the girl lead. She moved swiftly and gracefully, but she was a noble. It wasn’t a surprise that she knew how to dance. The two fell into a natural silence, following the rhythm of the music, following through each step.

“You know, for a self proclaimed dance lover, I’m surprised you’re letting me lead.” A small smile formed on Fox’s face as she teased him. 

“You’re the noble, I’m just the party crasher who likes a good waltz. Leading’s in your job description.” It was true enough. Besides, he’d rather not risk leading her in the dance on the off chance she saw through his flimsy lie. The fact that she’d bought it so far was a surprise enough. “It gives me a chance to see if you’d be a better one than all the others here so far.”

“Not a fan of the current ruling party?” Fox turned a corner, pulling him with her and keeping them moving in the same pattern as earlier. “I can’t say I blame you, I know a lot of the commoners aren’t very fond of us either.” 

For a moment, Gula couldn’t help but wonder if there was something different about Fox than the rest of the nobility she was a part of. The frown she wore on her face seemed genuinely upset at the thought of not being loved by the people she ruled over, but he dismissed it. Nobility didn't care for everybody else. That’s why he needed to take jobs like this in the first place. “I don’t care for them, no. Life in Leopardus isn’t easy, but I’ve heard life in Vulpes is worse.” 

“Maybe Lady Ava will change that?” Fox spoke in a small voice. 

“Maybe.” Maybe she could’ve, but she wouldn’t get that chance for sure. He raised his arm, allowing Fox underneath it while she spun. “But nobody knows what she’s like. Perhaps she asked for her grand debut to be something as glamorous as this ball, and she’s worse than both her parents.”

Fox’s face scrunched up in disgust at that thought. Despite being a look of disgust, Gula couldn’t help but find it cute in a way. “It’s a terrible way to make a public appearance. All it does it make a show, like some display of power. I can’t imagine anyone liking it.”

“Not a fan of balls I take it?” Gula asked. 

“I’d like them more if they were events for fun for everybody. A party only allowing nobility...like I said, it doesn’t do anybody good.” She shook her head. “I know the commoners don’t like this ball at all. My friend, Ephemer, he said--” She stopped herself the moment she realized the song ended. “I’m sorry, I asked you for a dance and instead I spent the whole song rambling to you about why I don’t even like the ball.”

If Gula was honest, he hadn’t minded the Fox’s rambling. In general, she seemed to dislike the way other nobles ran things. Perhaps he could negotiate with his boss for her to get a higher up position after the fallout, have her help make change. “Ramble away, your opinion is a breath of fresh air compared to most of the others I’ll hear tonight.”

“Oh?” She looked at him, surprised. “Why’s that?”

“I’m not the biggest fan of balls either.” And he wasn’t. “Truth be told, it wasn’t even my choice to come here.” She’d been honest with him, a random stranger at a ball. And she at least seemed to give half a mind about commoners. He owed her a small part of the truth.

“But you said you liked dancing.” She tilted her head, though somehow he got the feeling that it was just for show than not knowing as though urging him to continue. “So if it wasn’t dancing that brought you, what did?”

Gula released her hand for a moment as they continued their dance, and put his finger to his lips. “I’m not allowed to say. That’s going to stay a secret.”

“Hey! I won’t tell!” Fox protested, and the serious girl who’d shared her political views on all of this snobbery was gone. “There’s no reason I can’t know.”

He chuckled, finding her energy endearing. “It’s not a secret if you include somebody else in on it.” Besides, it was better that she didn't know. Forgetting that she would become a liability, it’d put her in real danger. She’d be a conspirator, and somebody like her being involved in a murder plot wasn’t what he wanted. 

“Sure it is. That’s what makes it a secret, when it’s shared between two friends.” Mentally, Gula cursed. He hadn’t wanted to make a friend. He hadn’t wanted to be seen. Somehow, this girl had managed to throw a wrench into all of his plans. She’d be able to point them to Lady Ava’s killer in an instant.

Somehow, none of it bothered him.

“You’ll know before the night is done, don’t worry.” He pet her on the head, watching her pout. “In the meantime, maybe I could learn more about you.” He was searching for any conversation topic. “I have until midnight before I can complete my task, and I’m sure you’ve got a lot of interesting things to say.” 

And so they talked, and in spite of himself, he found himself listening to her every word attentively. About her stubborn and overprotective mother, her overbearing father with no sense of what the world needed, her best friend Ephemer who was a commoner she had befriended while sneaking away unnoticed, who told her all about the world and how hard things were. And in turn, he shared with her what he could about himself. About his older brother Aced and how they didn't talk much anymore since Aced didn't approve of his job (not that he said what that job was), how Aced’s husband would check up on him, make sure he was doing okay, and he even threw in a few tales of his more noble deeds. 

A small voice in his head whispered that Fox was a liability, that she was learning too much about him, but he didn't care. She was by far one of the most genuine nobles he’d ever met, and as they continued to share dance after dance, he couldn’t bring himself to regret this friendship they’d struck up.

“Ventus, do you think we could leave the floor for a bit?” Fox smiled. And for the first time, Gula noticed how tired she looked. They had been dancing for a while.

“Of course, my lady.” The words left his mouth as a part of the character he was playing, but he still couldn’t help but wince at how they sounded. She didn’t seem to mind as she led him out to the balcony, away from the dancing party. In the distance, he could see a clocktower, proclaiming the time as 11:30. A half hour until the mysterious princess would reveal herself, and Gula could finally take out his target.

At first, they sat in silence before Fox walked over to the edge, looking down at the plaza below as she leaned on the railing. “You know, I didn’t think I’d have any fun at tonight’s party.” He was surprised at her honesty, but then again, he shouldn’t have been. The whole night Fox had been nothing but open with him. 

“So why did you come?” As much as it turned out he definitely didn’t hate her, he still wished she hadn’t. He still berated himself for letting himself be so clearly recognizable to her. He walked next to her by the railing. “You could’ve been off, sneaking around with...Ephemera?”

“Ephemer,” Fox corrected him before turning to face him. “I would’ve skipped it if I had a choice, but I’m obligated to be here.” Gula remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate. She chose not to. “I’m glad I got to meet you, if nothing else, it means I get to have at least one more friend.” She reached her hand out tentatively, resting it on his.

He looked at Fox, noticing her smile. “I can’t say I hear that often, but I’m glad we met too.” And it was the truth. There would be problems, but it was nothing he couldn’t try to smooth over with his boss later. They fell into a companionable silence, just enjoying being in the other’s presence.

Finally, Gula spoke once more as the minute hand slowly got closer to the nine. 11:45. He needed to get into position. “Fox I–”

A small gasp sounded from behind them, causing both Gula and Fox to separate. “There you are Lady Ava! Your father’s looking for you!”

Lady Ava!?

If it wasn’t for the fact that the servant had come in, Gula would’ve uttered every curse he could think of. What did she mean Lady Ava? That...no, that could not be right. Ava was his target. And if Fox was Ava…

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Fox...Ava? gave the servant girl a small smile and watched as she left before sighing. “I guess this means our night has come to an end.”

“You’re Lady Ava.” Gula could only repeat those words emptily, as though changing them would somehow allow him to change the fate he would be forced to give her. As though she could go back to being Fox. The worst part was, this was perfect. Ava was his target. Ava was right here. He could complete the crime, leave no loose ends, and nobody would even know. It might not be as showy as his client wanted, but it would do. Ava would be dead and it might stir up more talk about the quiet assassin who managed to kill the princess without anybody having seen her.

But she was also Fox. The girl who had approached him because she’d thought he was lonely and ended up deciding to bug him enough to show him a small piece of her life, and got him to open up about his in return. She was a noble who he was so sure would bring about change in the world, and he was going to have to be the one to end her life. End the spark before it could even begin.

“Ventus?” Evidently Ava had been talking to him while he’d been lost in thought trying to comprehend what that meant. “Ventus!”

Gula shook himself from his thoughts and looked at Ava, still trying to figure out what he was going to do about all this. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I was apologizing.” After a moment of silence, she added, “For lying to you about who I was. I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just there’s so many expectations on me tonight. I’m sure you know why this ball is being held, and you know my distaste for it.” She stopped. “I just wanted to have a normal night before my anonymity is permanently ruined.”

“It’s alright.” It wasn’t alright. He now had an attachment to his target. It was unprofessional and embarrassing. Murder may not have been his field of choice, but that doesn’t make the fact that it happened any less of a problem. But he didn’t want to make any of this worse. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Ava gave him a smile, a genuine one, and he felt his heart skip a beat. “It was nice meeting you, Ventus. I had a wonderful night with you. I know you’re not really here as an invited guest, but I hope I’ll get to see you again anyways.”

Had this been anybody else, Gula would have let her walk out the door and back into her dance. He would’ve gotten into position and waited for her to be presented, and then taken her down and escaped. But this wasn’t anybody else, and in that moment, the conflict he was experiencing came to a resolution. “Gula.”

She paused at the door and turned back to look at Gula. “What?”

“My real name,” he said, “it’s not Ventus. It’s Gula.” Ava turned around and closed the door back into the ballroom, which he took as a sign to continue. “I’m not who I said I was, Fox.”

Rather than flee, Ava walked back over to him and sat on the railing. “I have ten minutes before my father starts the ceremony.” She was willing to hear him out.

He could possibly save her.

“I mentioned my brother doesn’t normally approve of my job. That’s because I don’t just do odds and ends jobs that I can find. I’m a mercenary.” Once the words left his mouth, it wasn’t long before Gula told her everything about tonight. How he’d been hired by somebody to kill her, how at midnight, when she was presented, he was to do his job. She remained silent throughout, wanting to hear him out on what he said.

“I don’t want to kill you, Lady Ava. I’ve enjoyed the night we’ve shared, and I think you might be what this kingdom needs to finally start getting things right. To fix this broken world.” And he did, he believed in Ava as hard as it was to say.

“So don’t. You don’t have to do anything.” He couldn’t say he was surprised. Ava may have had a friend or two, but her lifestyle had been horribly sheltered. It was unlikely that she would understand the choice in front of him. “You may have been hired to kill me, but you can refuse the job.”

“It’s not that simple.” So long as his client knew about him and his brother, so long as Ava breathed, he wouldn’t be safe. “If you’re still able to take the throne come the end of the night, then my client will know I failed. It would cause problems.” Problems he couldn’t afford. Problems Aced couldn’t afford.

“There’s always a third choice Gula, one that doesn’t result in death.” Well he could always kill the person who hired him, but somehow, that option didn’t seem like one Ava would approve of. 

As Gula went to respond, the clocktower’s bell went off, ringing one drawn out bell at a time. They had run out of time. “It’s midnight.”

Ava nodded. The two looked at each other, unable to look away for fear that if they did, then Gula would make the decision to kill Ava. 

“...What if the world thinks I’m dead?” Ava spoke so quietly, it was almost impossible for Gula to hear what she had said at first. But the moment he realized it, he couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on his face. 

“It’s perfect.” If the world thought Ava was dead, then that fulfilled his contract. It would be more difficult for her to change the world if she was no longer the crown princess of Vulpes, but it would save her life. 

But it would also end everything about her life as it is now. Lady Ava of Vulpes would be dead to all but himself. “If we do this, you can’t go back. The world has to think you’re dead.”

“I know.” Her voice was soft as she acknowledged what he said. “But I don’t want you to be in danger either.” She took off her mask and looked up at him. Able to see her whole face, he looked her over for any hint that she wasn’t sincere. That she was lying just for the sake of her own life. Instead he found nothing but sadness for what she would be losing, and determination to save them both.

Gula smiled. “Then let’s get started.”

[qionow]

Status Quo

They had one rule: don’t offend anyone. 

Political get-togethers could easily ruin a nation’s reputation if they expressed an opinion too controversial in the eyes of those attending. Especially if said eyes held a more conservative view of the world. 

So naturally, Italy and Romana decide to bring their girlfriends along with them. 

(also happy pride y’all, enjoy some wlw content in the form of “don’t talk to me or my bottom ever again”: the fic)

There were certainly worse ways to spend a Friday night, but being forced to attend a formal party filled with old politicians and exhausted diplomats wasn’t exactly the best thing in the world for Italy either. 

If it were up to her, then she would have slept right through the evening and let the political disaster that started at seven play out on its own without her. But unfortunately, this was something she didn’t have a choice in, so Italy relegated herself to looking around for any signs of free food and smiling at whoever’s eye she happened to catch as she made her way through the crowd.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” 

Italy paused when she caught Germany’s muttered question, glancing up to see a pair of pale blue eyes scanning the room with no hidden amount of apprehension. 

“Mhm!” Italy replied breezily, squeezing their interlocked hands lightly. “Don’t worry about it!” 

However, Germany did have a fair reason to look so concerned. 

Italy really didn’t draw much attention to herself compared to the rest of the people at the party. Someone like her bouncing around in a dress and heels wasn’t exactly the most threatening thing in the world, after all. 

But a tall German woman in a full suit was about as far on the opposite side of the spectrum you could get from that image. 

“I thought your boss specifically said to be more conservative this time around,” Germany muttered, briefly ducking her head when they passed a small group whose conversation notably silenced as soon as she was within hearing distance.

Still, Italy waved her off with her free hand for that, her relentlessly sunny attitude in full swing. “That’s what he told me to do! You can do whatever you want!” 

She made to start her brisk pace again, but her smile slowly dropped when she caught the persistent hesitation on Germany’s face. Easing Germany’s anxiety was a much more strenuous task compared to tackling her own worries, but there was no way Italy was going to let this loom over her lover’s shoulders for the rest of the night.

That thought was all she needed to change their course in order to usher them both into one of the less populated corners of the room, pulling Germany along with her until they were tucked away from the bulk of the crowd. 

“What’s wrong, cara?” 

Even when Italy tried to catch her gaze, Germany’s eyes still wandered over to the rest of the room every so often with clear caution.

“I’m just worried about you,” she finally answered, voice hushed and nearly drowned out in the chatter of the room.

Italy paused. 

That wasn’t what she had thought would be the problem.

“Me?” She pointed back to herself and received a small nod in confirmation, which did absolutely nothing to explain the situation to her. “Germany, why on earth would you be worried about me?” 

She could tell it was getting harder for Germany to fully verbalize her thoughts as she pursed her lips, visibly tensing up the longer the silence dragged on.

“Well,” she started slowly, pressing her lips together once before she managed to continue. “You’re here with me. And this isn’t a very welcoming crowd.” 

When Italy only stared back at her though, Germany let out a frustrated sigh and crossed her arms. 

“I don’t want someone to try and go after you because of me.” 

The exasperation in her voice was evident, but Italy still caught the undertone of worry that laced that simple sentence together. 

“Monika.” Italy reached out to pull at Germany’s arm, forcing them to uncross enough for her to take her hand and intertwine their fingers together. “That’s not going to happen.” 

“But-” 

“I mean it.” 

Italy made sure to cut off that train of thought as soon as Germany opened her mouth, squeezing her hand in a silent request to let her continue.

“You’re scary enough already. Nobody’s going to bother you or me,” she went on. “And if they do, then you can just beat them up!” 

Germany sighed, but Italy could have sworn she saw a flicker of amusement in her eyes and she knew she was going in the right direction as soon as she did.

“Marzia, I can’t do that here.” 

“That’s ok!” Italy channeled all of the enthusiastic determination she was known for so she could beam up at Germany with the confidence she hoped to instill in her. “I’ll just beat them up for you!” 

Germany only stared at her at first, total shock written all over her face before she dropped her head. It was hard to pick up, but Italy still managed to catch the faint chuckle she let out.

When Germany finally looked up at her, a small smile tugged the corner of her lips up and that sight alone was enough to make Italy melt on the spot. 

“That’s what you’re going to do?” she mused, a teasing curl to her words that Italy rarely heard from her. 

Italy’s cheeks hurt with the force of her grin as she nodded her head fast enough to nearly whip herself in the face with her ponytail.

“Yup! That’s why you don’t have to worry about what you’re wearing!” Italy was sure that her relief was clear as day, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care at the moment. “Besides, you look good!”

She took a moment to eye the way the sharp lines of Germany’s dark black suit jacket framed her broad shoulders ever so nicely, tight sleeves clinging to a set of very strong arms.

“Really good.” 

Germany shook her head, but she was still much more relaxed than when the night first started and Italy was nothing short of thrilled for that accomplishment.

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to see you two here!” 

And that relaxed state was gone in a flash as a man Italy had never seen before clapped a hand on both of their shoulders. “I’m sure it was hard to make it, with all your work nowadays!” 

Italy was quick to smile back in an attempt to draw his attention to her when Germany visibly tensed up under his grip. It would be safe to assume that he was some politician looking to widen his social network and Germany’s less-than-warm response would undoubtedly send the wrong message if that was the case. 

“It’s no problem!” she replied cheerfully. “We’re just glad we get to come!” 

That was certainly the right move when the man let out a loud laugh, briefly shaking them both before he finally let go. “That’s what I like to hear!” 

He reached over to nudge Germany, a friendly curve to his grin as he beamed her with obvious delight despite her stiff posture.

“It���s good to see you out and about too, Ludwig! I’m sure our little Italy here had a hand in that though!” 

Italy's smile dropped. 

When she looked over to Germany, she caught the silent question she was asking her when her eyes flickered over to the politician before they met hers again. Italy didn’t even have to think before she gave her a nod in return.

She had never been so happy to let Germany take the lead before when she saw the way Germany drew herself back into a familiar stoic expression that was much more composed and much more intimidating. 

“My name is Monika.” 

Italy vaguely registered the fact that the man’s smile dropped in record time, especially when there were more pressing issues to concern herself with.

Germany on her own already had a commanding enough presence with her sharp blue eyes and broad stature, about as close to the embodiment of military power that one could get in a person. But now, that power was on full display as she clasped her hands behind her back and glared down at the man in front of her, practically radiating strength from every inch of her body. 

And Italy was absolutely smitten with her. 

The politician who was currently facing Germany’s silent wrath didn’t seem to share the same opinion though. 

“Ah, of course.” He cleared his throat, glancing off to the side when Germany had yet to break eye contact with him. “Right. I mean-I heard that you would be coming, but I thought you would just look a little more, you know-” 

He waved a hand towards Germany, although that hand quickly retracted itself when Germany’s expression didn’t change.

“I don’t.” Germany said slowly, voice lowering dangerously into a tone that was more suitable for addressing a soldier than a guest at a party. “Would you like to elaborate?” 

That was as clear of a challenge as Italy had ever heard from her, which the politician certainly caught onto as well if the way his face paled had anything to say about it.

“Oh no, no, I’ve taken up enough of your time already,” he fumbled out, shaking his head with a faltering attempt at a polite smile. “I’ll just, um, be on my way.” 

He was quick to excuse himself with an awkward attempt at a wave before he retreated back into the safety of the crowd, vanishing from sight in an impressively short amount of time. 

But even after he left, it took a while for the cold look on Germany’s face to completely melt away as she let out a tense sigh, closing her eyes in order to bring a hand up to her temples.

“Do I really look like Ludwig?”  

Italy couldn’t stop the bubbling laughter from escaping her chest at that point, clutching onto Germany’s arm for dear life so she could keep herself steady. 

“What?” 

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing!” 

Germany raised an eyebrow at her giggling fit, which only served to send Italy right back into a barely comprehensible mess.

“Italy.”

“I’m sorry!” Italy wheezed out. “It’s just-you were so worried about us getting hurt! Us!” 

Germany let out a quiet exhale as Italy slowly managed to pull herself back together, the last of her hiccuping laughter forced away to leave behind a broad grin. “I suppose you were right then.” 

“See?” The smile on Italy’s face was probably the most genuine one she had done all night. “There’s nothing to worry about!”

Germany let out a hum, although it wasn’t quite in full agreement. 

Luckily for her, Italy knew exactly how to change that. 

“Hey.” 

Once she had Germany’s attention, Italy pushed herself up onto the balls of her feet in order to press a kiss to her cheek, rocking back down with the hope that all of the fondness in her chest was properly translated. “You’re still my Monika, ok?” 

And oh, she knew that message was sent loud and clear when Germany’s face burst into a fiery red, quickly ducking her head in a hopeless attempt to hide her blush. 

Italy’s smile widened as she reached down to interlace their hands together once more, tugging Germany back through the crowd with pure delight.

After all, the night would only last so long and she still had a very lovely German sweetheart to show off to the rest of the guests. 

~~

Romana didn’t even know why she was here. 

Italy was more than capable of handling social events on her own, so the reason why her boss decided to loop her into this was a complete mystery to her. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she had cursed him out in his own office a few days ago. Maybe it didn’t. 

Like she said, a complete mystery.

“I think that’s another one for ‘close friends.’”

Romana promptly found herself snapped out of her thoughts, glancing over at Spain, who was currently typing away at her phone. “Why the hell are you keeping track?” 

“I just thought it would be funny!” Spain replied easily, shooting a broad grin down at Romana. “Do you want to see what we got so far?” 

“No.” 

Spain’s smile never faltered despite Romana’s curt answer, leaning down to hold her phone out. “Are you sure?” 

Romana's gaze flickered down once, then twice before she snatched Spain’s phone out of her hands with a few muttered insults. She chose to ignore Spain’s light laughter in favor of studying the messy notes on the screen in front of her instead. 

According to the data, three people had mistaken them for waitresses, four people had asked where their husbands were, one poor bastard thought they were sisters, and a whole twelve guests had somehow gotten the impression that they were “close friends.” 

Although, given the fact that Spain was currently decked in a dark crimson dress and a full face of makeup compared to the walking manifestation of butch fashion that was Germany, Romana really couldn’t blame them. 

That didn’t mean that Spain was completely modest with her choice of fashion though. 

“Excuse me, but would you two happen to be Spain and Romana, by any chance?” 

Romana glanced up from Spain’s phone to meet the service-ready smile of some woman in front of them, likely an underpaid and overworked secretary if she had to place her bets. 

“That’s us!” Spain chirped back, plucking her phone from Romana in one fluid motion. “Is there something you needed?”

“Oh no, I just wanted to drop by and say hi.” The woman’s smile softened into something more genuine. “You two look wonderful tonight.” 

Spain’s bubbly enthusiasm riled itself back up in full force at that.

“Thank you!” she replied easily. “You look great too! I love your dress!”

When the secretary looked over to her, Romana jerked her head in a quick nod of agreement, which thankfully seemed to be enough to avoid coming off as a complete brat. 

“It’s not anything special, just something I picked up a while ago,” the woman laughed, waving her off with polite modesty. However, once her eyes trailed down to Spain’s right hand, her smile quickly morphed into a concerned frown. “Oh! Um, I think you broke your nails there.” 

“Hmm?” Spain peered down at her hand with faux curiosity and Romana had to physically resist the urge to groan when she held her fingers up. “Do you mean these?” 

Romana didn’t know when Spain had gotten her nails done or who had even agreed to do them for her with the stunt she pulled off because really, having your index and middle fingers painted and clipped strikingly short compared to the length of the rest of your nails was a bold move for a formal party.

It was stupid and it was embarassing and it was exactly the kind of thing that Spain would try to get away with.

“Don’t worry, these were on purpose! They do come in pretty handy after all!” 

The woman tilted her head to the side with obvious confusion and Romana was tempted to beg for her to leave before the full force of Spain’s dramatics could be unveiled. 

“On purpose?” she repeated, the connection obviously miles away from being formed in her head at that point. “What would you need them that short for?” 

Spain only flipped her hand over so her palm was to the ceiling, curling her index and middle fingers towards her in a come hither motion with a completely innocent and wildly inappropriate smile. 

Romana had seen a wide variety of reactions that night ranging from complete obliviousness to awkward discomfort and some kind of emotion within that range was what she was expecting, especially with how nice the secretary had been thus far.

But seeing her face twist with pure disgust was the one reaction that Romana had yet to see and that was where she was going to draw the line.

“You got a fucking problem with that?” Romana snapped, crossing her arms with a scowl. 

“Do I-” The woman quickly met Romana’s glare with a disapproving frown that made Romana’s blood boil. “Of course not! There’s just no reason for you two to be putting this in everyone’s face is all.”

Romana would swear to this day that her temper had never jumped up so quickly before in her life.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean that this is a formal event and there are certain rules to abide by,” she replied firmly, passive hostility dripping from every word that came out of her mouth. “I assumed you would have a little more modesty. It does bring up questions about your integrity as a nation.”

The secretary’s critical gaze drifted down to where the hem of Romana’s dress rested against her thighs.

“And as a woman.”

Oh, did Romana have some thoughts about that little comment.

“You fucking-”

The only thing that stopped Romana from reaching over and strangling the woman herself was the fact that Spain had shot her arm out to stop her from stepping forward, the friendly look on her face looking decidedly more strained than before.

“Roma, why don’t you go look around for a minute?” Spain’s tone seemed to offer less of an offer and more of a command at that point. “I’ll come find you later.” 

She really just wanted to argue and have at the secretary herself, but her mouth snapped itself shut once she caught the hard glint in Spain’s eyes. 

“Fine,” she spat out, glaring at the woman who seemed to be under the impression that she had somehow won here.

Romana didn’t say a word to correct her as she marched right back off into the crowd, glancing back just in time to see Spain’s smile drop into a cold glare. 

Sure, she wanted to chew that excuse of a guest out herself, but she knew that Spain would have that handled without her and that was enough of a victory in her opinion.

~~

Romana turned when she heard the faint clicking of heels against the floor, looking up just in time to see Spain heading right towards her with a bright smile. 

“I’m back!” Spain called out cheerfully, leaning down to press a messy kiss to the top of her head. “Sorry that took a while!” 

“Whatever.” Romana rolled her eyes when Spain wrapped an arm around her waist. “I can handle that shit on my own, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Spain cooed back. “I just got a little carried away. She shouldn’t have said that about you.”

“Right.” Romana’s attention was already fixed on the hand that was currently pressing her body right next to Spain’s. “Are you going to do this for the rest of the night?” 

“Yup!” 

Romana glanced up, ready to find the familiar sight of a teasing grin on Spain’s face only to find complete determination. 

She let out a groan, slapping her hands up to cover her face. Of course, she had forgotten exactly how hard it was to shake Spain’s protective mood off once she really got into it. “No.” 

Spain frowned, mouth already open to protest. “But-” 

“No.” 

“How about ten minutes?” she finally bartered, already quirking her lip out in a rather impressive attempt at looking like a kicked puppy. “Please?” 

Romana’s first instinct was to give her a hard no, but now that she thought about it, it really wasn’t so bad, being this close to Spain. With her mood, she would definitely be more than safe from anyone else who decided to make a scene. And while she would never admit it out loud, it did feel nice to have Spain dote on her so much. 

But Spain didn’t need to know that.

“Fine.” 

The speed with which Spain brightened up as soon as Romana muttered that word was honestly astonishing to see in person. 

“Yes! Thank you!” Spain chirped, leaning down again to press a messy kiss to her cheek, even if she was grinning too widely in order to do it properly. 

Despite the less than ideal attempt, Romana still didn’t move to push Spain’s head away. “Shut up.”

But now that the hectic moment had died down, Romana found that she still had a question that had remained unanswered.

“What the hell did you even say?”

Spain paused, glancing at Romana quizzically. “To her?” 

When Romana nodded, Spain laughed, but she still caught a glimpse of that lingering irritation behind her smile as her grip tightened ever so slightly.

“You don’t need to worry about that, Roma.” 

[cherryrogers]

bittersweet {3}

pairing: boxer!bucky x rogers!reader

warnings: swearing, things get a bit saucy oop, mostly fluff.

synopsis: The world of boxing wasn’t something you knew much about, but after a certain boxer with blue eyes and an irresistible charm wove his way into your heart, you soon learned that it went far deeper than red gloves and gold medals — you thought that the boxer happening to be your brother’s best friend was bad enough, but darker affairs had only yet to come to light.

a/n: so i was gonna completely leave this until i finished FFY, but this chapter has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for ages and it was bugging me lmao,,, but after this part things are gonna get interesting :)) please enjoy, and any feedback is appreciated!

Series Masterlist

There was something different about Bucky after his match, Steve noticed it slowly but surely. Usually, the guy would get a high for a couple of days after his win, and then he’d be too focused on training for the next match to even crack a smile.

However, it’d been two weeks since his match. Two weeks since he won, and Steve was beginning to get suspicious at how long Bucky’s high had been strung out.

The blond eyed his friend questioningly from the mat on the gym floor across from his, watching as he’d complete a set of bicep curls, take a sip of water, smirk as he checked his phone, tapped away at the screen, and repeated that exact routine again. Training wasn’t a game to Bucky — nothing could ever normally cause him a distraction, but there was something that kept drawing him to his phone, and Steve was curious to know what.

That’s when something popped into Steve’s mind; something he’d completely forgotten about.

“Hey, Buck. I forgot to ask last week — how was your date after the match?”

Of course it was the date, right? His friend must’ve really taken a liking to the girl he went out with.

Bucky kept his gaze locked in front of him, pulling the heavy weights towards and away from his chest. “Good.”

“Just good?” Steve pressed, laying against the mat and beginning a set of sit-ups. “You haven’t stopped checkin’ your phone since you got in here.”

The boxer knew his date was better than good, but he wasn’t sure how much he should tell Steve. He was his best friend, Bucky was supposed to tell him everything about the date - he didn’t waste any time persuading Steve to tell him about Peggy when they first started dating.

“I like her, Steve,” He stated. “When we went out after the match, it didn’t feel like a first date with her -- it felt like I’d known her forever.”

It was true. Bucky had been out with his fair share of women, and not once had he felt so comfortable around someone so fast than with you.

“That’s good, Buck,” Steve nodded, smiling genuinely at his best friend. “I’m glad things are goin’ well. It’s about time you found a girl who can put up with your ass.”

Bucky let out a laugh at the joke, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest. Of course he felt bad about persuing you, especially while Steve was completely unaware of it. If he thought you were just another pretty girl, he probably wouldn’t have dragged you into the locker room on the first day you’d met him. But you weren’t just another pretty girl; you were the pretty girl. The pretty girl whose eyes twinkled when you laughed and whose smile could light up a whole boxing stadium.

Maybe you and him were doomed from the start, and you were just waiting for Steve to inevitably find out and disown the both of you. But Bucky didn’t want to think like that. He wouldn’t know where you and him were heading if he didn’t at least try. Bucky wanted to give whatever you and him had a shot, what was so wrong about that?

After finishing his final set, Bucky placed the weights back on the rack, grinning to himself as he saw his phone screen light up again. He’d just asked you if you were free any time soon. It was hard to meet up without Steve knowing, as you assumed he’d get suspicious if the both of you were constantly going out at the same time.

How about you come over to mine later today? I get off work at 5?

Bucky’s breath hitched. He hadn’t been to your apartment before, obviously since you’d only been talking for nearly three weeks, but still.

Sure, sounds good.

Awesome! See you then, James.

See you later, gorgeous.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a smile on your face for so long, Buck.” The blond in front of him joked, earning himself the middle finger from Bucky.

The teasing grin was soon wiped from Steve’s mouth when a figure approached the weight rack, grabbing two weights and placing himself on a mat next to him and Bucky.

Feeling Steve’s eyes piercing into his skull, the man sighed heavily. “Are you gonna be mad at me forever, Steve?”

Lifting himself up from the blue mat, the blond only hardened his look. “What do you think, Quill?”

Picking up his water bottle, Steve mumbled something about ‘going to take a shower’ before heading to the exit of the gym.

“Jesus, what’d you do to piss him off?” Bucky took a seat on the nearest bench before taking a large gulp of his water.

Peter shook his head and chuckled, beginning his own set of bicep curls. “I go to college with his sister, (Y/N), and he found out that I made out with her at a party last year.”

Luckily, Peter was too focused on the strain in his muscles to notice how Bucky’s hand clenched around his water bottle. That wasn’t an image he needed in his mind.

“I mean, I didn’t even know she was his sister. Honestly, even if I did, I probably would’ve still-”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” The boxer warned, causing Peter to furrow his brows. “Just cause Steve ain’t here, doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass for talking about his sister like that.”

Bucky would’ve said that even if you and him weren’t secretly a thing, but he didn’t exactly like that fact the Peter was talking about the girl he liked like that either.

Peter sighed. “Damn, you and Rogers seriously need to chill out. It was once when we were both wasted — doesn’t mean I can’t still be friends with her.”

“Well, it’s your funeral if he catches you near her again.”

Bucky always knew how protective Steve was of you. Even after leaving high school, he still thought of you as his baby sister who needed to be hidden from the outside world. Of course, Steve was aware of when you’d sneak around with boys and out to parties when you were sixteen — he didn’t think you were a little girl who knew nothing about the world around her. But if there was any way he could protect you from getting your heart broken, he’d go to lengths to make sure you didn’t get hurt.

That included keeping you away from dumb, party-animal college boys like Peter Quill. And perhaps that also included older, charming, cocky boxers like Bucky Barnes.

Not that he was ever planning on breaking your heart.

While there was a small part of his mind that thought Steve maybe wouldn’t kill him if he found out about him and you, Bucky soon came to the conclusion that Peter’s funeral wouldn’t be the only one happening if the boxer wasn’t careful.

And that was something Bucky was really hoping to avoid.

* * *

A pleasant smile graced your lips as your eyes landed on the clock on the far side of the room. 4:55pm.

Bucky would be showing up at your place in just over an hour, and you were excited.

Things had been going good between the two of you. You texted back and forth most days, met him after his training sessions at the gym, let him pick you up from college despite trying to tell him you were perfectly capable of getting the bus back. It was still pretty casual, but not in ‘friends with benefits’ way, more in a ‘we like each other and we make out a lot but we’re not anything serious yet’ way.

Steve also hadn’t caught on that you were seeing anyone yet, and you wanted to keep it that way. While everything was well with you and Bucky, you didn’t want your brother to freak out about something which might not even last. Even if he didn’t know it was Bucky you were seeing, he’d definitely be eager to find out. He was still your stupidly protective big brother — he’d only want the reassurance that you were being treated right, which you couldn’t blame him for. You’d never had a proper boyfriend before, but you’d surely had your fair share of experiences with shitty guys who were far from what Steve approved of for you.

Bucky was different, though. If he wasn’t his best friend, you’d actually be confident in thinking that Steve would approve of him. Maybe one day. Maybe he’d be able to understand.

“Is there a reason that you’re grinning from ear to ear?” Your boss stepped out of his office, raising his brow at you.

“That’s for me to know, Sam, and for you to not know.” You pushed yourself away from the desk, standing from your chair.

The man scoffed, crossing his inked arms over his chest. “Hm, alright. Turn over the sign on your way out, will you?”

“Will do, boss.”

“You got someone pickin’ you up? It’s startin’ to get dark out pretty early this time of year.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that you’d just get the bus like always, but the ringing of the bell at the door and a sudden voice breaking the silence interrupted you.

“She sure does.” The redhead that had just entered responded for you, walking up to your desk and leaning her elbows on the light wood. Your brows knitted together in surprise.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” You asked her, picking up your handbag from under the desk and slinging the strap over your shoulder.

“Picking you up?” She answered, as if you were supposed to be aware that she was going to show up randomly. “You’re having your boyfriend over tonight, right? It’ll take too long for you to get home on the bus, and I know for a fact that your apartment needs cleaned up. Plus, you’ll wanna get ready, paint your nails, put on a little makeup—”

“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend,” You confirmed, more to Sam than to Natasha, who only liked to tease. “Second of all, you know me way too well, it’s kinda freaky. And thirdly, thanks for saying all of that in front of Sam, because now I’m never gonna hear the end of it from him.”

Sam scoffed. “I’m a grown ass man, (Y/N). I’m not gonna tease you about havin’ a special someone in your life... but you should get outta here. Wouldn’t wanna keep your boyfriend waiting.”

Making your way around the desk to your friend, you rolled your eyes at your childish boss. Who allowed him to have his own business? “You know, if you weren’t the one giving me my rent money every month, I’d be calling you a pretty mean name for that comment right now.”

“Alright, alright,” The man held up his hands in defence. “But seriously, I’m closing up once you leave, so you should hurry it up.”

With a playful glare, you motioned for Natasha to follow you out of the shop, making sure to turn over the sign on the door. “Thanks, Sam. I’m feeling really appreciated as an employee right now.”

“I’m glad; see you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

“Unfortunately so, Samuel.”

Natasha chuckled once the door clicked shut, walking you over to her car. “I really think you have the most laid back boss in New York. If I told Fury I wanted to call him a mean name, I’d only get a death stare and probably an extra pile of work to do.”

You smiled at the girl’s words. Sam and you had known each other for years, way before he opened up his tattoo shop. Him and Steve used to be friends in high school, but sort of drifted apart when Steve got more into boxing and Sam wanted to focus on his shop. He had told your brother about opening up the shop a year prior, and how he was looking for someone to work at the desk, and as a freshman in college who was in desperate need of cash, you thought you’d be perfect for the job. Since then, you worked there whenever you weren’t in class on weekdays.

Of course, he was your boss, but you didn’t see him as some big, scary authority figure. He was Sam, the dude that used to play video games with your brother in the basement for hours on end. In a way, he was like your second older brother. Not that you needed another big brother, Steve had the protectiveness and stubbornness of about three brothers combined.

“So,” Natasha smirked, climbing into the car at the same time as you. “You have to tell me more about this dude, (Y/N). Did you say he was a boxer? As in a boxer at your brother’s gym?”

Nodding reluctantly, you tugged your seatbelt over your body. You weren’t sure whether it was a good idea to tell Natasha that it was in fact your brother’s best friend you were having over that night. She was friends with Steve, not as close to him as she was to you, but you were sure she’d think it was a bad idea for you to be hiding this from him.

Maybe it’d better to keep Bucky a secret for now.

“Yes, he goes to the gym. Steve knows him, he just doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing him.”

“(Y/N)...” The woman shook her head, beginning to pull the car out of the parking space. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to hide this from Steve?”

“I’m not hiding anything, Nat. It’s only been just under a month since we started seeing each other. He doesn’t need to know anything yet.”

Natasha eyed you cautiously. It didn’t seem right to her that you were completely against telling your brother about the new guy you’d been seeing. Sure, he was protective, but he wasn’t an utter asshole. You and Steve were all each other had for a while; it just seemed odd that you weren’t yet planning on telling him anything, even if the guy went to his gym.

Despite wanting to question you further, the redhead decided to stop for the time being, giving you the pleasure of a stress-free car ride back to your apartment. When you were ready, she was sure you’d tell her more about your mysterious new man.

After dropping you off outside your building, you blew an appreciative kiss to your friend before essentially skipping into the lobby, thinking about how you’d finally be able to see Bucky again properly after the quick meet-ups and short phone calls you’d dealt with all week.

While you and him weren’t serious yet, you always got a warm feeling when you knew you were going to see him. Being around him was just nice, to put it simply. Nice was good.

Since you weren’t going out, you decided to keep your look natural for the night. A light layer of makeup topped off with your signature cherry lip-gloss was applied to your face after you took a quick shower, and soon enough, you were ready to see your man.

Well, he wasn’t technically your man, but the thought of him taking other girls into the locker room at the boxing gym and making out with them wasn’t so appealing to you.

The apartment wasn’t a complete mess, yet you still practically zoomed around the place picking up odd items of clothes and putting away textbooks you’d left in the kitchen. After spending so much of your free time with Bucky, it was becoming to difficult to find time to just sit down and study. Between him hanging out with Steve at the gym and you hanging out with Steve on the weekends and you trying to find the time between work and classes to hang out with Bucky without Steve getting suspicious? You really needed to make a timetable or something.

When a sudden knock sounded against the front door, you felt your heart pang with excitement, and after rushing to open the front door and seeing Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, your heart completely melted.

As always, he looked like a three course meal. Screw that, a five course meal. Hair neatly tucked behind his ears, dark jeans covering his toned thighs, a boyish smirk sat on his lips. A large bouquet of classic red roses were enclasped in his hand, and your eyes were immediately drawn towards them.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He greeted you, his eyes wondering up and down your figure. Not in a way that made you uncomfortable, but like he was taking in your appearance, which he was. How could he not when you always looked so pretty?

“Hi, James,” You smiled, eyes flicking between his face and the roses in his hand. “That’s a lot of roses you’ve got there.”

The man let out a laugh. “I hope you like ‘em, cause they’re all yours.”

You took the flowers from his grasp slowly, tracing your eyes over every petal on every rose, trying to ignore the way your stomach was doing flips at the gesture. You leaned up, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, James. They’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl.” Bucky winked as you pulled away, and you were sure that your face was probably as hot as the cinnamon-scented tea lights you’d lit around the place.

A flattered smile set on your lips. “Did you come up with that line on the way here?”

“Came up with it just now, actually.”

“Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Does that mean I’m allowed inside now?”

“I guess so.” You chuckled, stepping aside so Bucky could walk through the doorway. As you closed the door behind him, his eyes wandered around the area.

It was a pretty small place; the only rooms being your bedroom, the bathroom and the conjoined kitchen and living room. It’s not like you needed anything bigger, though. Not when the majority of your time in the apartment was spent watching Netflix and writing assignments way too close to their deadlines. Natasha stayed over every now and then, making herself at home on the couch or sleeping next to you in your bed if you’d had a night in with a bit too much alcohol. Bucky was the first guy you’d ever taken to your apartment, though. You didn’t like the idea of bringing guys you’d likely never see again into a place you thought of as your safe space, but Bucky wasn’t one of those guys.

“So, you live here by yourself?” He asked, his head turning to you as you placed the bouquet of roses gently on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, I moved here a little while after graduating high school. It’s a lot closer to campus than where I used to live with Steve,” You explained, opening the fridge and picking out a cool bottle of red wine before grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. “Do you want a drink?”

Bucky made his way over to where you were stood at the kitchen counter, already pouring out the wine before he could answer the question. The man thanked you as you slid a glass across the counter to him, bringing the drink to his lips for a small sip. “God, I don’t think I can even remember the last time I had a drink.”

“Seriously?” You raised your brow, tapping your nails against your own glass.

“I spend more time in that damn gym than at my own house,” Bucky let out a laugh, a sound you weren’t sure you’d ever get tired of hearing. “Doesn’t leave a lot of time to sit down and have a drink. I’ve never been much of a drinker, anyway. It’s nice every once in a while, though — with the right company.”

A smirk had unsurprisingly made its way back into his lips, and you shook your head at him. “And what company is that? Women you’ve made out with at the gym?”

He scoffed. “I’ve told you, (Y/N); you’re the only girl that’s ever happened with.”

“It’s okay, James,” You mirrored his teasing expression. “I believe you, and I’m honoured, truly. I mean, being the only girl that James Barnes has made out with in the sweaty guy’s locker room...”

“You say that as if it wasn’t the best makeout of your life.”

“Best makeout of my life?” You almost choked on your wine. Well, that wasn’t exactly untrue. That man was one good kisser, but you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of hearing that from you. “I don’t know about that one.”

“Well, I can’t imagine your one with Peter Quill was any better.” Though he murmured the words into his glass, Bucky could tell you’d heard him by the way your eyes widened in surprise.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the defeated expression on your face. “Oh, god. How do you even know about that?”

“Gossip travels fast at the gym, babydoll.” He shrugged with a smug grin, earning himself an eye roll from you.

“And why are a group of grown men at the gym discussing my personal life? Aren’t you guys meant to be, I don’t know, working out?” You asked playfully, pushing yourself away from the counter and making your way over to the couch, Bucky following you without a second thought.

You plopped yourself in the corner of your couch, crossing your legs underneath you as Bucky sat on the other side, placing his glass on the glass coffee table. “It’s your brother that’s makin’ a big deal out of the whole thing. Can’t even be in the same room as Quill without shooting daggers at the guy.”

“I didn’t think he’d be that pissed off about it,” You shook your head with a chuckle. “Peter’s harmless, everyone knows that. I know that Steve’s only protective because he cares, but losing his shit over Peter Quill? Come on.”

Bucky let a laugh slip through his lips. “I can’t imagine how he’s acted with your actual boyfriends, never mind just a guy you’ve made out with.”

Your gaze dropped to you skirt at the man’s statement, fingers playing with the hem of the material. “Well, I guess I’m lucky that I’ve never had one.”

Nervously flicking your eyes up to the man in front of you, your brows furrowed at his surprised expression. “You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

“Is that weird to you?”

“No, not weird,” Bucky shook his head, shuffling a little closer to you on the couch so that your knees were touching. “Just surprising, since you’re, well... you.”

Your quirked a brow, a smirk forming on your glossy lips, indicating for Bucky to carry on talking.

Catching onto what you were hinting at, Bucky rolled his eyes, but gave you what you wanted. “Well, you’re smart, beautiful, good at carnival games...”

“Ah, yes,” You chuckled. “The quality that makes or breaks a woman. I mean, I am pretty good at carnival games.”

“Not as good as me, though,” He winked, earning himself a playful glare and a nudge to the knee. “But seriously, has no guy ever been lucky enough to call you theirs?”

The phrasing of the question brought heat to your cheeks, but you tried your best to act nonchalant. “I’ve went out with guys from time to time, but never been with them long enough to be, well, dating them. They’ve all been frat boys, though. Each one of them as immature and self-centred as the other. I made a vow to myself after the last one that I’d stop going for college guys. And well... I met you.”

A satisfied grin formed on Bucky’s lips as one of his hands picked up yours, causing your heart rate to pick up. “I’ll admit, you did get pretty lucky with that one.”

“Never mind; I take that back. You’re probably more self-centred than the frat boys,” You squeezed the hand holding yours, as Bucky shot you another eye roll. “I can’t lie, though. I was kinda surprised that you weren’t already spoken for when we met.”

“Like I said, I’m at the gym training more than anywhere else. I don’t have a lot of time on my hands to go out and meet people.”

“Well,” You took your bottom lip between your teeth, untucking your legs from under yourself and shuffling forward to lay them over the boxer’s lap. “That’s where you met me, James. Who said you couldn’t meet a girl at the gym?”

One of his hands went to your exposed calf, gently running his fingers along the soft skin there. “I guess luck was just really on my side that day, gorgeous.”

A quiet hum sounded from your mouth as you leaned in, unable to resist his perfect lips any longer. Both of your arms snakes around his neck as you felt him immediately kiss back, the bittersweet taste of wine evident on his tongue. The hand on your calf was slowly trailing up to reach your thigh as the other gripped your waist tightly. His touch was scarily addictive; every time your lips met his, it was like electricity shooting through your veins, the adrenaline making you only crave more of him.

You forced yourself to pull away for a couple of seconds, allowing you to kneel on the couch before swinging a leg over his clothed thighs to straddle him. His hands instinctively fell to your waist again, pulling your body to press against his as gentle kisses dotted along your jaw. A whimper fell from your swollen lips as Bucky’s mouth latched onto a sensitive spot on your neck, sucking a deep purple mark onto the skin before softly kissing the delicate area.

There was a gentle tug on the hem of your top, making you pull back slightly. Bucky’s voice was deeper than before as he spoke. “You wanna take this off, beautiful?”

Fuck it, you thought to yourself, reaching for the bottom of the cotton and pulling it up and off your body. The boxer’s eyes ran across your exposed chest, your lacy pink bra not leaving much to the imagination. He continued his line of kisses from the crook of your neck across your collarbone, savouring the taste of your skin and your moans of pleasure as he left another pretty mark on your body.

It was just so easy with Bucky. You could laugh with him and talk to him about anything without difficulty, and that would easily flow into a heated makeout session with you straddling his lap or being pressed against the wall. Nothing felt forced or unnatural, everything was just how the two of you wanted it to be. That had been the first time you’d taken your shirt off in front of him, and you’d never gone further than making out in the three weeks you’d been seeing each other. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go any further, because boy, did the thought alone make heat rush to your face. It just didn’t feel like the right time yet, which was fine. As long as everything stayed swell between you and Bucky, you’d happily wait until that time eventually came.

The two of you stayed like that for twenty minutes, hungrily locking lips and running your hands over each other’s bodies until you were both panting for breath. It was you who suggested stopping for the time being, and Bucky agreed, knowing that continuing would only make the two of you crave more, which you weren’t yet ready to carry out. After finding your discarded top from the floor and pulling it back over your torso, you positioned yourself again so that your legs were thrown over his thighs, head resting on his shoulder as his hand fell to your hip. You turned the television on, some old movie playing quietly in the background as you started up another conversation with Bucky about God knows what for another hour or so, only getting up to refill your glasses wine before quickly sitting comfortably against Bucky again and falling right back into conversation.

Laughter occasionally filled the room when Bucky uttered a sarcastic comment, and when you replied with just as much sarcasm as him. The conversation remained completely uninterrupted, until your eyes caught a glimpse of the dark sky scattered with stars through the window. As much as you wanted to stay curled up against Bucky forever, the boxer had training to do early the next morning, and he didn’t want to risk a questioning from Steve if he showed up late to the gym.

After reluctantly swinging your legs off the edge of the couch and downing the remainder of wine in your glass, you were soon seeing Bucky out of your apartment.

He stood in your doorway just as he had done when he’d first arrived, and it amazed you how quickly the night had flown by. It seemed like only minutes prior that the man was handing you a gorgeous bouquet of roses and asking if he was allowed inside.

There was a different look in his eyes, though. The nerves that were evident in his slightly widened eyes were long gone, replaced by a fond, affectionate glint that made your heart swell as he looked down at you.

“Thanks for tonight, babydoll,” Bucky smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair begin your ear, exposing the dark mark he’d left on your neck and letting his eyes linger on it for a few short moments. “We should do this more often.”

“Make out and drink wine? That’s something I could get used to,” You rested your hands on his chest, biting back the grin that threatened to spread from ear to ear. You leaned up to press a final kiss to his cheek, but were satisfied to feel Bucky’s lips on yours instead when he lightly tilted your chin to the side.

The kiss was long, neither of you wanting to be the one to pull away. You just couldn’t get enough of him; his touch, his lips, his sweet pet names and teasing comments. How the hell someone so perfect happened to walk into your life, you weren’t sure.

If Bucky was a stranger to Steve, he might’ve been the only guy that you weren’t afraid of your brother not approving of. Sure, he’d get the stupid lecture and the cold shoulder in the beginning, but you were positive that he’d think that Bucky was good for you. Things unfortunately were that simple, though. Because Bucky was Steve’s best friend, and the two of you were sneaking around behind his back. It bothered you, and it bothered Bucky too. However, things were still relatively new, even when you felt like Bucky was a guy you never wanted to let slip through your fingers, your brother wouldn’t be able to understand that just yet.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from the longing kiss and gently shoved at Bucky’s chest. “If we stand here any longer, there’s no way you’re gonna be up for training tomorrow. Get yourself home, James.”

The boxer sighed, trailing his fingers down your arm to your hand, giving it a final squeeze before stepping out into the hallway. “Drop by the gym some time soon?”

You crinkled your brows. “I would, but what about Ste-”

“Steve doesn’t train on Thursdays.” Bucky reassured you quickly, making a smile crawl onto your lips.

“Thursdays... I’ll see what I can do.” You didn’t have classes on Thursdays, and you only worked the morning shift at the tattoo shop that day, so you knew you’d have time to see Bucky at the gym — you just liked to see the stupid grin on the boxer’s face when you teased him. “Now, seriously; go home. And be safe.”

“I’m always safe, (Y/N).” He affirmed with one last wink before he finally began to walk away from your apartment, and you slowly shut the front door, leaning your back against it once you heard the click of the lock.

Fuck, he was just so perfect. Everything was perfect with him, and if everything stayed that way, then maybe breaking the news to Steve wouldn’t be so far from perfect too.

However, it was probably foolish of you to get so wrapped up in how smooth things with Bucky were going. It was unfortunately never going to last, the ease of it all.

Unknowingly to you, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

Series Taglist:

@littledarlinhavefaithinme

[bluebellhairpin]

No Strings, On Me!

Dick Grayson/Nightwing X Villain!Reader

A/N: Am I shamelessly using a Marvel song for a DC fic? Yes, I am. Fight me! - Nemo

Song: “No Strings on Me (Trailer Soundtrack)’ from Avengers: Age of Ultron

Warning(s): Blood, Violence, Death (of no one too important though) 

Summary: In the beginning, as far as Gotham went, you were just another pickpocket. Your simple pocketing moved to stealing, and eventually you became the most renowned and feared thief in Gotham. Then your gear upgraded too, and with that you donned a proper name; The Operator. 

Masterlist  

Your story, like every story, started small. 

You grew up in one of the worst parts of Gotham, your parents were nobodies, and they did some horrible things to simply get money for rent. Eventually your life and theirs became two parallel lines. All it took was one rainy night in Gotham, and you never saw either of them again.

You were taken into one of Gotham's crime rings, giving their boss a pair of small, nimble fingers to weave in and out of pockets and around the wrists of the wealthy at galas. 

As you grew, as a person and as a pick-pocket, you found your bargain with the leaders of the ring wasn’t very pleasing to you. It was very one-sided, and that made you very upset.

One job gave you an opportunity to correct this bargain. So now as a young adult, your plan was falling into action. 

A gala you were meant to steal from was meant for showing off a companies technology to help combat the Joker, and aid soldiers fighting in wars. The prototype in prime place was your commission, and was worth millions. It was as deadly as it was costly. 

All it took was one fire alarms and a couple codes, and it was all yours. 

I've got no strings To hold me down

You made it back to your boss’s penthouse a couple hours after you stole the weapon. It was a staff, one end tipped like a glaive with a razor sharp blade, the other end looked like a halberd axe. The dual bladed ends wasn’t what caught your attention most, instead the power that surged through you when you first grabbed hold of it. 

Previously you hadn’t known exactly what the weapon was, and now it was yours and you had forever to work out the kinks. 

Still clad in your gala clothes, you stepped through the elevator. Your ‘Boss’ was there in the sunken couch with a couple businessmen, busy chatting them up and dishing out orders for drinks. He didn’t even notice you until the look of horror came across the others faces. He turned to face you standing above him, not being able to move further due to the blade at his neck. 

“(y/n),” he started, his voice going quiet, swallowing hard and flicking his eyes from yours to the staff in your hand, “What are you doing?” 

“Did you know that one sting from a box jellyfish can cause a grown man to go into cardiac arrest?” you said, running the blade slowly from his neck up his throat to his chin. “I wonder what exactly I’d have to do to cause you cardiac failure, instead.” 

To make me fret Or make me frown

Despite having many headlines, one stood out to Dick most. 

‘Long-Time Gotham Crime-Lord found Dead’ 

A picture of the man flashed on the screen, and Dick noted it was a man Bruce had been after for a while. The only way he could be dead is if someone got to him before Bruce.  Not even five minutes later Bruce called and asked if he could come back to Gotham to help figure out who did it.

Who could’ve done it was obvious; either a rival or someone from his ring that got too riled-up. Which definitely helped narrow down the suspects to a smaller group. When the bat-signal went off that night, both he and Bruce went to it. There they found Commissioner Gordon, he gave them a USB, telling them that it was best they watch it back at the cave. And that they did. 

‘I had strings, but now there are no strings on me.’

The last sickly-sweet words of the woman who killed the Crime-Lord rang out in the vast cave.‘I had strings, but now there are no strings on me.’ 

“Looks like we have a new villain, huh?” Dick said, leaning back on the desk with crossed arms. 

“No, only you. I’m too old to deal with anyone new.” Bruce said, mimicking Dick and leaning back in his chair. “I already have one crazy blood-thirsty super villain in the form of Joker. Her? Man, Dick, she’s all yours.” 

I had strings But now I'm free

The first time Dick and You met, you both had blood on your hands. Him from the men he had to fight to get to you, and you from the man you were interrogating before he got to you. 

“So you’re Nightwing.” You said, circling him with your staff in your hand. “Batsy’s original Boy-Wonder.” 

From Intel and research Dick had gathered on you, the staff as what caused you to go off the rails. Despite being mostly human-made, it had a power source that was other-worldly that enhanced emotions of the wielder. If you were striving for justice you’d be a much nicer person now, but instead all you wanted was vengeance. 

“And you’re (y/n) (l/n), it’s not rocket science.” he said, eyeing you and you kept walking. 

“Oh dear Bluebird, I’m sorry, but your sources got that one wrong.” you said, lazily draping yourself over one of the couches nearby, motioning to the bartender nearby to get you a drink. “‘(y/n)’ died the same night old Mr. Lord did. She was the one who did the nasty work of dumping his parts into the closet he was found in.” you said, wiping your knuckles free of the red with the cloth the bartender brought with your drink.

“So ‘Not-(y/n)’, who are you?” Dick said, ‘casually’ making his way to sit on the couch opposite you. 

“You’re funny,” you smiled into your glass, “And I already like you, despite you smashing to pieces some of my men. I’m The Operator.” 

I've got no strings Now, I'm free

Unlike Bruce’s relationship with Joker, you and Dick were much friendlier. 

You had information Dick sometimes needed, and you’d give it to him in exchange for his help. 

One such instance was that of a girl named Ace. She was the daughter of one of your most loyal allies, and had been taken by someone you miraculously didn’t know. What Dick needed was information on Joker for Bruce, and you needed Ace back. To you it was a fair trade, and you did rather like Ace’s piano playing. After all you had a policy of not hurting children. 

A policy Dick scoffed at whenever Damian popped into his head. 

Dick did managed to track her down, and when he organised to get her back with the help of some of your men, he was more than a little shocked when he found you rocked up to help too. When your group found Ace, he was shocked further when you handled her so gently. A far cry from the later ferocity you had when dealing with the handful of men who’d taken her. 

It made Dick think you weren’t so far gone after all. In fact when he thought about it, you only ever hurt someone if they genuinely deserved it. 

He told you if you ever wanted to do the proper thing, the true ‘right thing’, that the Titans were there. You declined with a knowing smile, but told him that if there was ever another girl in Ace’s situation in Gotham that you were ready and waiting to help. 

He knew why you said no, and it all had to do with what he first heard you saying. 

There are no strings on me