aureusssssssss

[quaranmine]

i need to pick up backpacking as a hobby <- is watching adventurearchives on youtube again

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Infected/Undead Boyfriend (Ryan Chen) 3 (FINALE)

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Part 1  -  Part 2

Warning: some language. Long chapter ahead!

When It Rains, It Pours Part 3 (FINALE)

It was always raining in November-– or was it now December?

It was hard to tell: the rain had turned harder and harsher, solid ice and snow fell across what was desolate and overgrown lands, where the city life grew smaller, a distant reminder that they still hung in an area. The coating of snow grew harsher the more the days passed, and bitter was its storms and winds to you and your surroundings.

How you managed to get out before losing yourself was an amazement to you and those of your rescuers.

"Hey, five minutes before we depart—you good?"

You blinked lazily, back to the surrounding sounds that were not of the dead crawling and walking on the grounds, of laughter and joy that you had missed and forgotten the sounds of. You remembered where you were: the warmth of the fire spreading across your limbs as you looked up from the floor, a hand in reach for you to take.

Justin was the first and the only one you had really spoken and befriended who wasn't a relative to you, a friend you shared rum and morbid chats with when the two of you were on night duties, staring up at nothing by the sky. He was cute: brown hair and eyes, pretty smile, but he was just another hole filled.

'Okay, okay, humour me with this,' He asked you when the blizzard was raging outside of your camp, the howling winds rattling against the iron doors. 'If you could take anyone with you, in the world, where would you go and with who?'

There was only one name that came to mind that night, the lines of your face creasing as you smiled sadly. 'You'll have to let me think about that one.'

"You good, tiger?" You took his hand as he hauled you up to your feet, dusting away the snow from your worn jeans. "You seem... out of it. You can tell me, I can get someone else to do this if you're not feeling up to it."

"No, it's fine, I'll be out in five." There was a haunting, dreadful pause from Justin, observing you silently when time didn't seem to go any faster, before he nodded, heading out of the hall, his distant figure fading through the groups of crowds waiting.

You gathered your things slowly, fumbling with the leather jacket, dipping your fingers into the deep pockets, fumbling with the smooth edge of the card still occupying it. Never did it seem to lose its feel, thankfully. Get a grip on yourself. You sighed, securing your knife into your boot. Three years... three fucking years and you still mourn.

The snow had settled once you had been brave to face it, crunching satisfyingly under your boots each step you took to the stables, waiting there was Justin and a few others you didn't take time in memorising their names.

"You ready?" Justin asked, strapping more ammo into his backpack. "Help yourself to some more. Heard there's infected up north from here roaming. Potentially they could come down."

"Yeah, thanks." You grabbed a large bar, stuffing it away before paying attention to the black stead you had named Diamond. "Hey, girl. Ready to stretch those legs?"

The beauty snorted almost in reply, a genuine smile gracing your features when you had clamoured up, mentally and physically preparing yourself for the arduous journey that would take place. An hour away from the Jackson base was the Crow's Nest: the barren hub used to scout the area, to keep eye on roaming hordes.  

"The snow has settled, but with it, the dead grow. Watch out for yourselves, keep close to the path and don't stray." Justin gave final warnings before you all set off, the large electric gates of the once well-known powerplant creaked open, a vast, vicious cold greeted you the moment you stepped out.

The journey left you frozen and missing the heat from indoors, reminding yourself why you had gone out in the first place was to get away from everyone, but now you had dearly missed the sweet sight of civilisation creeping back to normal. I can be back and everything will be fine. You told yourself, and you foolishly believed it.

When you finally arrived, there were little dead who had managed to get through the other side of the pen, and taking them out was no issue. The base on top was all but a cosy place: desolate, reeking of decay and too cold. When you finally reached the windows that showcased the cast white outside, did you finally breathe out in somewhat respite.

"See that out there, that's the city you came from, right?" Justin pointed out to what looked like nowhere, but even where the sky and snow met with vast starkness, there was still an outline of a desolate and barren city, broken and crumbling skyscrapers still reaching to the chilling sky.

It was miles out, you realised, but the routes out were like a maze on its own.

"Don't tell me you're thinking of going in there for fun?" You asked, the man beside you rolling his eyes exasperatedly. "You would have to be fucking insane to want to go back in there."

"Even so, what kept you sane?"

The name you so missed to say was on the tip of your tongue, memories that swept through your mind nearly brought you to tears. Maybe, in some reality, the two of you could've been that couple, living out your days in a decaying city, filled with dead, going down as the world would never miss you. But in some ways, it was for the good. You blinked the tears away before any could fall.

"Faith, a hell of a lot of it." The winter sun was dead as well as the last of those memories. "I'm done with it, done for good."

In the distance, when the snow settled quietly, a dull, thunderous cry, followed with the faint sounds of bangs going off, a chorus that never seemed to quieten, only did its cries grow louder and louder, until-

"Infected have made their way into the bunker!"

You turned with Justin in surprise, the thuds of gunshots and its chambers thudded in time with your heartbeat, rousing the adrenaline as you moved like clockwork to make your way back down, back into the darkened, gloomy hallways so narrow it barely fitted enough, but now stood with both humans and dead.

Even war has never looked like this. There were bodies already, a mixture of dead taken down and those who had fallen, bleeding to the ground in puddles, eyes frozen and bodies stiff. "Come with me down to the east wing." Justin guided you away from the onslaught, away from the crowded corridors as the two of you run further away from the noises.

"You know how many they'll be?" You rasped, trying to steady your breathing, the grip on your knife straining your fingers.

"I don't know," Justin answered. "But whatever you do, don't think recklessly. You're a strong fighter, so don't think about dying."

"I could say the same with you." You stopped when you stopped outside the double doors, slightly ajar and smeared blood wiped across the handles and door. "You ready?"

No. You thought. I don't even want to be here. "Yes."

The door was opening wider before you could realise: the noise loud and shrilled, as were the following, inhumane cries and shrieks that followed. Through the darkness of the room: the boiler room, you could see, maybe four or five dead, twitching and grotesque.

And two of them charging towards you both.

Justin made light work of the largest one, leaving you to deal with the other, all snarling and baring its mangled, blackened teeth. You reared back as it did too, causing you to collapse into the wall but not fall, supporting yourself and keeping its head from coming any closer to the flesh of your face or neck.

You struggled for what felt like forever, until you kicked it as far away from you, shoving it into Justin's grip as you charged, using your knife to lodge it into the jellied head, one final cry came before its head slumped, black blood seeping through.

"Good job," Justin let it drop against the wall. "A bit quieter would've been better though."

"Yeah, thanks though." You caught your breath, iron in your throat when you exhaled, feeling like knives stabbing you a thousand times, not helping with the cold of the room. "Shall we continue onwards?"

"We could take down the rest of these- Hey, watch out!"

You turned in time to hear the raucous grunt of something collide into the side of you, causing you to stumble, crashing into the boiler behind you, the wind knocked from you with such force, your vision dotted. "Shit!" Justin shouted from the darkness, and you could hear the struggle, gunshots and more animalistic roars. "Justin! Are you okay?"

"Go! I'll distract it!" You heard his retreating voice, the heavy footsteps follow before you had time to catch the large creature leave, a dreadful smell of mildew and rotting flesh filled your nostrils, almost making you gag.

"Fuck." You grunted to stand, head dizzy, aware that the noises and clicks were coming from the rest of the dead in the surrounding area you shared with them. "Shit!" Quickly, you picked up the blade fallen, dodging the remaining dead as you continued in a haze through to the back of the room, hopping over the wall to get through to the bunker. The sounds of the dead never faltered, sounding all around you and nowhere at all, limbs shaking, clothes drenched not with water.

I'm going to die, I'm going to die—I'm fucked, I'm fucked. You tried to keep moving, but you kept running into dead ends and parts cornered off, leading you to believe that there would be no way of escaping.

Something scampered in your peripheral, large and skinny, you braced for the worst when its shadowed body crawled around in the dark, closer and closer. You pulled your gun out, trying to steady your breathing and keep an eye on it. It didn't move like any of the other dead—perhaps a new one you weren't aware of.

You decided to try and take a shot, the bullet ricocheting off a pipe and exploding with gas, letting out and creating a thick, never-ending mist that you found hard in trying to see through. There was the sound of shoes scraping against the floor, someone running towards you and grabbing you, and you screamed, their face guarded as you tried fighting them off you, away from the floor so they wouldn't have full control over you.

Your fingers gripped the gun, reminding yourself to not let go of it, and you finally- after some struggle- kicked the creature in the stomach, letting it stumble back as you finally tried to take another shot.

In the mist that was fading slowly as you tried to focus, the legs of the figure finally appeared, a full body appearing like someone of a horror film, head turned from you as you squinted to whatever was standing in front of you, your time to take the shot faltering.

"Ryan?"

The lithe humanoid figure was as dishevelled as you could recall once he twisted his torso to look back on you. A distant memory that floated in your mind, of peace and tranquillity, it now stood in front of you as some bitter, warped illusion. He was everything you remembered of him, the same clothes but now wearing a different jacket to the one you still wore in honour, his hair seemed longer, more messy and unkempt, strands pulled out from the bun, guarding his soft, unsteady dark eyes. He looked thinner from the last, a walking apparition whose skin was washed pale and bruised black and blue, his cheeks hollowed and eyebags darkened.

"Oh, god," the grip on the trigger loosened shakily, eyes dotting with sudden tears. "It's you, isn't it? I'm not fucking dream, am I?"

The man didn't seem responsive at first, playing into the belief he was some sort of hallucination after all, but his mouth opened, a quiet voice answering. "Yes, it's me."

The noise that left your parted lips was shaky and warbled, a string of tears flowing down your cheeks when everything slowly fell apart. "Why," your words were twisted and you fumbled clumsily. "Why... why did you leave?"

He was silent, the hard struggle in understanding what he was thinking. He seems… ashamed. You thought, watching his shifting eyes. You watched the pain that didn’t seem to be hidden beyond his eyes, even when he spoke. “… You belonged with them, not me.”

“How would you know that? I—you could’ve come with me, Ryan. We’re an open community, we can help you-”

“No,” his voice was strained, his eyes more red than usual. “I can’t be fixed.” He lifted his black t-shirt, the skin bruised as his face had been, inflamed and almost maimed. “I was bitten.”

“But you didn’t turn.”

“No,” his smile was soft, downturned. “Perhaps turning would’ve been the better option. But I live with these decisions. You need people, not me.”

“Ryan,” you took a hesitant step towards him, still, the tears fell. “Do you know I still think about you? Even after all these years.”

“No,” he laughed silently, his eyes glassy and cold. “I did too. A lot.”

“Please, please come with me. I promise you, we can help you—we could fix you.”

Ryan watched, not showing signs of moving away from you as you slowly made your way to him, outreaching your hand for him to hold. Just… just to hold once more, to feel him again. How you craved it like it was a lifeline.

“I—I can’t describe how I’m feeling right now.” His words were hushed when you were close to him, feeling his breath fan against your wet cheeks. “You don’t have to describe anything,” you murmured. “Just… let it happen.”

He leant into you first, his lips were warm and memories swarmed in your mind like you were drowning. His being, his smell: so sweet and inviting, your memories were swelling and rising, bringing a feeling of levitating, back to a time when you felt loved and needed. Back in his arms in an excluded room, forgotten altogether but in each other’s arms.

When you pulled away, he leant his forehead against yours, warm and damp from cold. “I missed you so.” He muttered softly. You had so many thoughts, too many emotions that everyone argued with things they wanted to say before the other. But the same thing was in your mind, replaying over and over again.

It plagued you, as you took his hand into your own, squeezing as if your life depended on it. “Ryan, I-”

Your words were there, masked and clipped from the noise that came from in front of you, a large reverberating noise that was sharp and rung, smoke appearing as Ryan stumbled forward, allowing you to catch him. He was limp, colder than usual and not from the cold. He was shaking, muttering something in a quiet, weak voice, but you couldn’t hear him, even when you flipped him carefully, seeing his mouth open and close, you looked up in time to witness the devastated eyes of someone you wanted to forget.

“Get away from it,” Justin’s words were followed by him stepping closer between the two of you, gripping your shoulder. “You’re lucky I came in time. I heard gunshots, I got worried-”

“You shot him.” You weakly said, frozen and still holding Ryan, the grip on him still tight and there for him to know you were still holding onto him, keeping him safe.

Justin seemed as confused as he tried lifting you off the ground, “I’m trying to help you, that thing-”

“Stop it. Stop it!” You swatted his hand away sharply, reaching around to hold and stabilise Ryan, the shot to his stomach was bleeding profusely, soaking through your fingertips. “He’s dying, he’s fucking dying.”

“Hey, hey, what—” he said your name, shaking you out of the breakdown. “It’s infected—look at me, what do you mean?”

“I love him, Justin! I know him, I know him! Ryan Chen, he’s not one of them!” You were blubbering and muttering constantly before your eyes landed on Justin’s, wild and red and sore. “Help me, please, I can’t lose him again.”

Justin hesitated once more, before he urged himself forward, peeling the heavy bag from his back to bring out the gauze and wrappings, whilst you sat and remained rigid, and you wished you could’ve stayed where you had been, to begin with.

-

You noticed now, how quiet things could be when you were left with just your thoughts, alone in the world when you pushed so many away. Your fingers were knotted together tightly, wrung together in a tangle when you fidgeted, nothing to distract you from the unknown time ticking.

“Hey, you’re the girlfriend of “Ryan”?”

You looked up to the woman who had come through to greet you in the small waiting room, blinking away your thoughts to be back with the present. “Yeah, yes… how is he doing?”

“He just came out of surgery and is in a stable condition.” Relief was one of the emotions you were feeling, but it was hard to explain anything else at that moment. “You can go in to see him shortly.”

“Thank you.” A gentle hand pressed into your shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. “Hey, he’s gonna be okay. He seems strong.”

“He is,” you uttered sadly. “He’s a fighter.”

-

“Ryan! Take it easy! We’ve got all night!”

Your laughter was bubbling, easy and light, as you were led down the long path, where the trees grew in size and foliage, grew thickest, hiding your bodies as you ran beneath the moonlight. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“We’re almost there.” He was not as out of breath as you had been, but his smile was bright and blooming, skin radiant as if he was reborn. “I’m not dragging you back to get more stitches.” The two of you stopped eventually, continuing at a brisk pace until you reached the end of the hill, watching over the once city the two of you had resided in, distant yet glooming.

“It… it still looks like shit as I remember it to be.” You exhaled, looking over Ryan from your right side. “That place still holds a lot to remember, don’t you think? The outbreak, the deaths, the burning of bodies.”

“I got to meet you.”

“You did,” you squeezed his hand encouragingly. “After I fell through the ceiling. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You shared a laugh, all thoughts aside when you stared across the distance. That city did hold some darkness and pain to you, but you knew that you would get out of there, not as one, but as two.

[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part two.   here and under the cut, you can find over 130 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes four to six, edited for roleplay purposes. some of these focus heavily on survival, war, science, and spooky stuff, but a lot can be used by anyone.  tw:  war, unreality, a mention of cannibalism, implications of manic behaviour.

❝  god, i hate snowstorms like this. not just getting caught in them, but the storms themselves. it feels like the earth’s trying to bury me alive every time it locks in like this. like nature’s rightly pissed off at all of us and doing its level best to crush us to death.  ❞

❝  that’s what yom kippur means:  the day of atonement.  ❞

❝  that wasn’t the first time i’ve caught him in my office, going through my stuff.  ❞

❝  normally i’d be annoyed at someone calling me young lady.  ❞

❝  thank you… you are so warm… thank you for letting me in.  ❞

❝  suddenly, everything fell into place. i made more progress than i had in about half a year.  ❞

❝  the thing i remember most was catching disapproving glances from my father every time i went to the library.  ❞

❝  why does time only run forward?  why does cause need to precede effect?  ❞

❝  no one knows if they can trust me with casework or not.  ❞

❝  i didn’t say i was interested.  ❞

❝  [he/i] was taken off duty and sent for psychiatric evaluation the next day.  ❞

❝  coffee. i was making coffee.  ❞

❝  i didn't mean to get stuck out here.  ❞

❝  that just goes to show how small humans really are in the grand scheme of things:  take away our tools and our toys and our technology, and we’re still just as vulnerable as we ever were.  ❞

❝  she was good at that:  making you feel like you were safe, like you could open up to her.  ❞

❝  i’m just going to cover that one up. no harm in keeping it out of sight for the moment.  ❞

❝  maybe there was someone in the stairs.  ❞

❝  i think i did the lion’s share of the talking, which almost never happens.  ❞

❝  i couldn’t get to sleep... i figured i’d get a head start today.  ❞

❝  i’m afraid i don’t have all of the details of your involvement with the… tragic events in [place]. and i don’t think i’m the only one.  ❞

❝  i’m still not sure i understand the whole tradition.  ❞

❝  whatever it is, it’s chasing me. i can hear it’s footsteps in the snow, i can hear it—  ❞

❝  when you work nights here, the less you really think about them, the better.  ❞

❝  honestly, i just can’t get it out of my head.  ❞

❝  snow is one of nature’s simplest and most effective ways of killing you dead if you aren’t prepared for it.  ❞

❝  i wish you’d tell me what you’re doing here. i could lose my job if anything gets broken or if you end up getting hurt in there…  ❞

❝  would you say you… considered her a friend?  ❞

❝  would you mind saying your name again?  for the recording?  ❞

❝  if that was true, then there was something—and as a scientist, i hate to say this—supernatural going on in that lab.  ❞

❝  most of them didn’t make it. a lot of them died afraid and alone, too.  ❞

❝  i know you don’t like listening to these things, so i just wanted to help you out with…  ❞

❝  if i could sleep, then trust me, i would.  ❞

❝  i’m guessing the new owners are trying to make this place seem less creepy than it already is.  ❞

❝  my schooling was expensive and unremarkable.  ❞

❝  a lot of them died afraid and alone, too:  ideal conditions for the making of poltergeists, in my experience.  ❞

❝  look, i’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time for anything, so if you wouldn’t mind…  ❞

❝  basically, i was picturing a slightly creepier morticia addams. i couldn’t have been more wrong.  ❞

❝  now i have to deal with [name]’s aspirations to write drama..  ❞

❝  i promise i won’t get you sacked.  ❞

❝  i’ve never been very religious, but for some reason… it made me think of hell.  ❞

❝  i think it may have been a thank you.  ❞

❝  i’m working the graveyard shift and i noticed the lights were on.  ❞

❝  i shouldn’t be here. no one asked me to come in this early.  ❞

❝  everyone around here looks at me like i’m some kind of leper.  ❞

❝  i had to go home for a few hours. i’m already on thin ice around here, and i didn’t want to get in more trouble for screaming obscenities up and down the wall.  ❞

❝  it was… darkness. no, that doesn’t do it credit, the whole place was dark. this was just... void.  ❞

❝  if i’d seen her anywhere else, i’d think she was an athlete or a backpacker.  ❞

❝  better scientists than me have been bashing their heads into that particular wall since 1927.  ❞

❝  i just want you to know that… whatever you really are... you’re safe here.  ❞

❝  goats being goats, it would just come back the next day looking for food.  ❞

❝  i would like you to leave my office now… and i’ll ask you not to tamper with evidence in the future, understood?  ❞

❝  no, of course, i don’t have signal out here, so i can’t just call triple-a.  ❞

❝  what are you doing in my office—at four goddamn thirty in the morning?  ❞

❝  you ever wonder where the line is?  you know, between human and not?  ❞

❝  the funny thing i’ve noticed about war:  no matter how terrible the fighting is, there always seems to be too much waiting. too much quiet. too much sitting around, bored to tears between fits of chaos and violence, lost in routine while waiting for the other shoe to drop.  ❞

❝  a lot of people condemn them for that. we’re so sure we’d never resort to that—that we’d rather die than cross that unspoken boundary.  ❞

❝  i’ve been at the [workplace/institution] for ten years now. that’s long enough to know that the ones who ask questions are the ones who can’t cut it.  ❞

❝  the program blew every fuse in the lab. including the lights.  ❞

❝  it was soon after they left that i began to have trouble sleeping.  ❞

❝  perhaps we never knew each other as well as most friends do, but… we cared for one another.  ❞

❝  most of her questions are a bit above my pay grade.  ❞

❝  i’m trying, i’m trying! i can’t get the door open!  ❞

❝  i don’t know why she needed my help:  i think she had a better grasp of it than most science fiction writers.  ❞

❝  we both had places to be afterwards, so we kind of rushed. i really wish i’d taken the time to say goodbye.  ❞

❝  i guess some things just… don’t want to stay buried.  ❞

❝  it was completely against orders of course, but no one really noticed or cared that far from the front.  ❞

❝  i offered to buy him a cup of coffee.  ❞

❝  newspapers praised them at the time:  saw them as heroes of exploration and paragons of pioneer courage.  ❞

❝  i signed a lot of big, scary nda’s during my time there.  ❞

❝  i did the only thing that came to mind:  i took a grenade from my belt, removed the pin, and threw it.  ❞

❝  i doubt this storm will last more than a couple of days, and once it lets up we can sneak out of here and get going again. very, very carefully.  ❞

❝  given enough time, everything will rot away to its elementary components, and that, you can’t reverse.  ❞

❝  i really can’t see anything from inside the van.  ❞

❝  i knew there were a few experiments that dealt with some pretty high-level theoretical concepts, but i wasn’t directly involved with any of them.  ❞

❝  it’s a strange choice, but then again, he’s a strange man.  ❞

❝  i know, it sounds ridiculous. trust me, i’ve done everything i can think of to make that conclusion go away.  ❞

❝  scared the bejeezus out of a bunch of skiers, but they were nice enough to let me in after deciding i probably wasn’t a ghost.  ❞

❝  please… it burns my skin… please…  ❞

❝  i forgot how fast storms blow in up here.  ❞

❝  it’s not like i felt out of control:  it felt more natural than breathing.  ❞

❝  i didn’t know what i was doing, not at any conscious level. but one step seemed to lead to another, then the next, and then the next.  ❞

❝  it’s called a butcher’s shop in some places, but a mortuary in others. as much as i’d love to imply there was some sweeney todd style recycling going on here, i think the place has just been a lot of things over the years.  ❞

❝  god, these things are creepy as hell.  ❞

❝  if you wouldn’t mind, please, tell us what happened? in your own time, of course.  ❞

❝  it took a few long, nerve-wracking days to work up my courage and visit the section again.  ❞

❝  it’s not that odd to think that people ate each other out there.  ❞

❝  i didn’t think there was a ghost in my room or anything like that, i just kept hearing noises whenever i was about to fall asleep.  ❞

❝  i downed half a dozen energy drinks at 6 and called it dinner—i know, i know, it’s a nasty habit i picked up in grad school.  ❞

❝  they told me that the cpu and motherboard had somehow been melted into a solid lump of plastic and silicon.  ❞

❝  i mean, [name] was a pain in the ass, but at least he didn’t…  ❞

❝  my schedule was full, but i had something else fall through at the last minute. i had your number on my desk, so i thought i may as well call.  ❞

❝  i wonder if it was afraid, or if it even realized what was going to happen. it probably didn’t.  ❞

❝  i need to get more coffee. or punch someone. whichever’s more convenient.  ❞

❝  god, if that’s really how i sound…  ❞

❝  people think i write horror, but i don’t really think that’s true. i just write fiction with all of the comfortable little lies taken out of it.  ❞

❝  i have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.  ❞

❝  i think he felt something about this place… some influence or power that needed to be destroyed, so he tried to do it the only way he knew how.  ❞

❝  well, it’s a tricky thing. the more realistic you make them, the more… unreal they start to look. i think it’s something about the eyes.  ❞

❝  i offered to stay late, just to smooth things over.  ❞

❝  maybe i can get some writing done while i’m stuck here…  ❞

❝  no child could grow up in a jewish home surrounded by books and not read at least one story about golems.  ❞

❝  i just wasn’t a good student, despite my love of reading.  ❞

❝  i have to say, i like your jane doe.  ❞

❝  she was a scientist herself.  maybe not formally, but her way of thinking, her insight, her methods... they were scientist’s qualities.  ❞

❝  seriously, what do i need to do to get a little privacy around here, a little dignity?  hang a  ‘ do not disturb ’  sign on the door?  change all my locks?  ❞

❝  maybe it was stupid, but i figured, ‘ hey, early december, not a cloud in the sky—should still be fine, right? ’  ❞

❝  jesus, [name], i wasn’t born yesterday.  ❞

❝  maybe doing this while it’s still dark outside isn’t the best idea.  ❞

❝  more than a century and a half have passed, and this place is still just as dangerous as it was then.  ❞

❝  now, [mr./ms./mx. name], i’m sure you know why you’re here.  ❞

❝  the [event] was a bust—only about a dozen people showed up all afternoon.  ❞

❝  i never put much stock in the idea of inspiration, but for the first time in my life, it felt like i wasn’t pushing myself through the muck of miscalculation and guesswork towards a solution. i was being pulled towards an answer that already existed.  ❞

❝  it felt like i was a few steps from finding out something fundamental. some truth about our universe that no other scientist had ever dared to dream of.  ❞

❝  huh. that’s… that’s weird. i could’ve sworn there wasn’t a sculpture back there before.  ❞

❝  apparently, no one had told them what i was doing, and i wasn’t actually cleared to leave.  ❞

❝  maybe he’s trying to make amends. keeping watch over these half-living things to make sure no harm comes to them.  ❞

❝  i expected the building to be wreathed in shadow and overgrown with cobwebs, but it's actually really nice.  ❞

❝  sorry, i was trying to get my recorder working, but it froze up on me so i had to find a tape for this old…  ❞

❝  okay. just… don’t get me sacked, alright?  can’t exactly retire on this salary.  ❞

❝  but if it was real—i don’t know if i somehow created it, or if it was feeding me information about itself before it appeared.  ❞

❝  i’ve never had a manic episode before, and i was well below the level of caffeine needed to cause intoxication. as far as i can tell, there isn’t a medical explanation for what happened.  ❞

❝  i don’t get the appeal of meeting real celebrities. it’s just a cheap shock of recognition, and nothing more.  ❞

❝  whatever this… thing was, it sounds pretty dangerous.  ❞

❝  are you familiar with temporal asymmetry?  ❞

❝  i just want to make that abundantly clear:  this /wasn’t/ the plan.  ❞

❝  right then, now let’s get started. please state your name and rank for the record.  ❞

❝  though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light.  ❞

❝  a cracker of a book, young lady.  ❞

❝  no wonder they’re keeping them in storage. they’d give anyone nightmares.  ❞

❝  i was just going to finish out my shift unless… you want me to stick around?  ❞

❝  i went to the university, but don’t remember much of the years i spent there.  ❞

❝  having to study textbooks and essays day in and day out took all of the joy out of reading for a long time.  ❞

❝  we call paradoxes paradoxes for a reason:  no matter how plausible they seem, they can never really happen.  ❞

❝  i don’t know what happened to me that night. i still don’t even know if what i saw was real.  ❞

❝  when we look into the void for too long, we find the monsters instead.  ❞

[legomydoggos]

First backpacking trip!

Jyn accompanied me and several friends on a weekend overnight trip! It was a first for us. We had planned back in December to do an overnighter at a state forest, but due to weather had to make a last minute change. So we ended up hiking one of the most rugged and difficult sections of the Mason Dixon Trail! We'd all been looking forward to it for a long time and had plenty of time to prepare thankfully. And with Jyn turning 2 this month, she was able to wear her backpack and carry her own food, treats, coat, and dog first aid kit. All of this was well under her max carrying weight. I managed to buy used and borrow equipment for myself.

Jyn was an absolute superstar and I really saw how our hours of work on the trail has paid off. With spring starting, there are more birds to tempt her, but she didn't take off after them at all. I also got her a bell for her harness, so that may have helped, too. Most of the hike was along ridgelines with a steep drop off on one side and I only had to leash Jyn once or twice due to her wanting to go down to investigate tantalizing scents.

One of the coolest spots we hiked through on the first day was going through a corridor of sheer rock wall on both sides! It was quite narrow, I had to wedge myself and my pack through after lifting Jyn up. When my friends followed, they found a container in a cutout in the middle of the wall and it held a box with a trail register!

There were 2 other times that I had to give Jyn a boost and she allowed me to help her without getting nervous. The handle on her harness made this super easy for us both!

We also found a tiny little "beach" at the edge of the river and I marked the nearest road coordinates so hopefully I can take Jennie and Rogue there one day. 💕

Whenever we stopped for a snack/meal break and when she stopped to set up camp, Jyn did not wander off or whine. She stayed close by, within my sight, and puttered around chewing on sticks and such. She did try her best to beg and sneak into unattended food, including the other dog's food/treats, so that's something I'll need to keep a closer eye on with her since she doesn't get the chance to practice that sort of temptation at home. I don't want her to accidentally burn herself on a camp stove either! I do think I need to pack some extra food and chews for her next time. When I was filling her water bowl at the creek, she drank from the bowl instead of the creek even though we were both standing in the water lol I guess she just really likes her bowl!

When my friends occasionally split off, she stayed with me and didn't try to follow them. When we passed other hikers, she recalled to be leashed up or stayed in a cued position until released. Someone with a dirt bike and 4 wheeler illegally came through one of the county parks we were passing through and the loud noise alarmed Jyn, but she listened to me when I moved her well off the trail out of their path. When we were finished with the hike and waiting to be picked up, someone approached who had seen us earlier on the trail and Jyn lightly boofed at her, but the woman didn't try to come closer or pet her and chatted at a distance with me. I reassured Jyn and she laid down and relaxed beside me very quickly.

Jyn was very good in the tent. She only annoyed Kacey once (trying to get in her quilt and licking her face) lol and stayed inside of my sleeping bag with me, rotating when I did to be my small spoon. ❤️ She heard dogs/coyotes? howling once and popped her head out to listen but settled easily. I had to go out to relieve myself a few times and she accompanied me each time, again sticking close the entire time. Unfortunately my clothes/gear were not warm enough for the temps dipping below freezing and I had to use my emergency blanket to attempt to stay warm enough. The sleeping pad I was borrowing ended up being a very bad style for the way I sleep. So I ended up being in pain and cold for most of the night. Thankfully Jyn seemed to sleep pretty well and only shivered when it was right before dawn.

On the second day, Jyn's backpack was empty except for the first aid kit, so I carried her harness/pack for her. She was definitely cold and tired, but she didn't get snippy like she did last summer. She did however refuse to jump up on a rock for a photo when I asked, and I figured if she was achey like I was, that was okay and I didn't press her to. The day warmed up very quickly and we both enjoyed sitting in the sunshine with the whole family once we were reunited and headed to a nearby park before going home.

I'm definitely feeling up for more backpacking trips in the future... As long as I upgrade my sleeping set up and/or plan to wait for sightly warmer weather. And now I know to pack more snacks for myself and Jyn!

She's been asleep since arriving home, getting up from her favorite couch spot only to potty and eat dinner. I feel so grateful to have a little adventure companion at my side. ❤️ The trail would have been much too strenuous for Rogue to enjoy (and the tent far too small!) so we are going somewhere special tomorrow for him.

[mildkatfics]

small talk  rating: m  word count: 6316 summary: Simon and Baz come to the family estate for Christmas, for the first time as an official couple. read on ao3

I did it with an email. Not even with my personal account. My fucking LSE address:  basilton.pitch@lse.ac.uk. 

Dear All, 

Hope you’re well. I’m sending this message this way because it would be too crude to do it on my mobile, and I didn’t want to wait to be back at Hampshire to tell you. I hope you don’t mind. 

I’m gay. Simon Snow and I have been in a romantic relationship this whole time, and we are happy. 

I suspect none of you are surprised, but it was getting ridiculous to pretend like none of us knew the situation. I am, however, happy to carry on as always. I just figured it’s time for us to get through this bit. 

Regards, 

Basil 

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch 

MA Candidate, Teaching Assistant 

Department of Political Science | London School of Economics 

“Merlin, don’t use your email signature.” Snow peers next to me on the sofa. “Using this account is bad enough.” 

“I kind of like it,” I admit. “It reminds them to be proud of me.” 

“Remove it. And shut up, they’re proud of you.” He rests his chin on my shoulder. I can smell the coffee on him, though he’s showered after work. I wonder if he’ll ever stop smelling of Starbucks. He glares up at me through his eyelashes. “Say it.” 

I narrow my eyes. “No.” 

“Baz. Say it.” He rolls his eyes and shoves his body against mine, slightly toppling me over. He hasn’t gotten any gentler over the years. I love it. “Say that your family is proud of you.” 

I sigh, but give in. “My family is proud of me.” 

“So is your boyfriend.” 

I indulge in a sneer, and he throws it right back at me. I say it. “So is my boyfriend.” 

He grins, and sits back up. “Right. Now remove the email signature and send it. And remove my last name. You’re talking to your family, not applying for a mortgage.” 

I snort. “I’m pretty sure my father doesn’t know what a mortgage is.” 

“Here,” Snow takes my laptop from me and removes the signature and his last name from the email. I watch his brow furrow and his lips move slightly as he focuses on re-reading the text. He starts to tug on his hair, and I almost laugh. I didn’t bother spending too much time on the message, but here he is, reading and re-reading every word because he cares. I press my lips against his cheek. I let myself linger, inhaling his scent. Dark Roast. Probably the Christmas Blend. “Don’t give yourself a hemorrhage,” I murmur. 

He ignores me for a while before speaking again. “I’m gonna hit send, yeah?” 

I don’t take my eyes off him, not even bothering to read it over. “Yeah.” 

I watch his finger hesitate for a second on the trackpad, then clicks it. He blinks and takes a deep breath, and I laugh. “Are you going to be alright?” I joke. 

His eyes slide over to me. “You just came out to your family. I can’t tell if I’m overreacting, or if you’re...underreacting.” He cards his fingers through my hair. “I also can’t tell if you’re hiding your feelings from me, or if you’re a complete fucking sociopath.” 

I laugh again, and I consider his question seriously. “I’m happy,” I think out loud. I make sure to look in his eyes when I finish my sentence. “But that’s par for the course nowadays, isn’t it?” 

Snow tries to trap his grin into a smirk. “Sap.” He leans in and brushes his lips against mine. I lean hard and deepen the kiss, and I feel him grin for real and bite my bottom lip. I give an indignant grunt, but don’t bother pretending how much that gets me on. He pushes back until he braces himself against the arm of the sofa, trapping me. I grip his shirt in my fist, only because I would never let him do that to me. And I do it to him, because I get off on that kind of thing. And so does he. 

My laptop pings from the coffee table, and Snow breaks away. “What are you doing?” I hiss, and capture his mouth back in mine. 

“That’s probably your family.” He crawls back and opens my laptop. 

I slump back, keeping my eyes closed. “Is it my father?” 

I can feel him roll his eyes at me. “Baz. You read it.” I feel the sleek metal on my chest. I sigh, and I open it. 

Dear Basil, 

Thank you for your email, and for your candor. We look forward to seeing you both this Christmas. We’ve actually just invited loads of your aunts and uncles for this year. Wonderful timing, isn’t it? All my love to you and Simon. 

Also, please remember to bring my mixing bowl. 

Sincerely, 

Daphne 

Snow is peering over my shoulder. “I’ve always liked Daphne.” 

I have, too. 

— 

“I’m not asking you to memorize a family tree here, love.” I’m leaning against the condiment stand, now plastered with plastic snowflakes, a few feet from where Snow is working. The fairy lights around the place sparkle against his skin, complimenting his freckles. I watch the way his arms flex as he pulls chairs back, handles cups and saucers, and carries our conversation with a kind of effortless rhythm that I find really hot. “And you’ve done this before. You’ve spent, what, four other Christmasses with my family?”

“Oh, don’t even try pretending this is the same. This is the first Christmas since your email, not to mention all these people.” He replies without looking at me. He looks up and smiles towards the door when a patron enters, and turns his head back to an empty table. “You have, like, five uncles with loads of kids a piece, who all speak Latin—” 

“They speak English too.” 

“Not the French ones.” 

I purse my lips. “So you have been listening. Don’t worry about them. They stick amongst themselves, anyway.” 

“I’ll be right with you, mate.” Simon calls out to the guy. He throws his cloth onto his shoulder and starts walking backwards towards the bar. He redirects his attention to me. “Busy now, I need you to go away. We’ll talk about this at home.” 

I give him a pout. I’m six foot two, wearing a Tom Ford coat, and pouting at my boyfriend at a Starbucks. I’m shameless. 

His eyes, still locked on mine, sparkle for a second before he turns all his attention on his customer. “Sorry about that. What can I get started for you?” 

I let the smile stay on my face even as I exit the shop and head to class. 

— 

I lay my suitcase and my folded clothes on the bed. I almost ruined a white cashmere on my last trip by putting my toiletries on the same side, so I place it at the very top this time. Then I decide it’s actually better to put it at the bottom of the stack, to keep it safe. So I pull everything out to rearrange. I place my socks in between the empty spaces. “You should focus on your own packing instead of watching me do mine.” I turn to raise an eyebrow at Snow, watching me from the door. 

Snow mirrors the gesture, opens his dresser, and dumps a bunch of clothes into a black backpack that he picked up from the floor. “Done.” 

I wrinkle my nose. “Will you please let me pack for you next time?” 

Amusement lights up his face. “I think I should pack for you.” He sits on our bed, looks at my full suitcase, and looks up at me. “It’s two days, darling. Or is this one of your anxiety-packings?” 

“Aren’t you the one nervous to meet my family?” 

He groans and flops down on his back. “I’m trying not to panic, but the closer we get, the more I think about it.” He lifts his head to look at me. “Please tell me I’m not the only one. There has to be another cousin’s weird boyfriend or someone who flunked out of uni or whatever your family gossips about.” 

I consider it. “Elvira voted Labour in the last election and told everyone.” 

“Rookie mistake.” 

“I know. Don’t even utter anything remotely political in that house.” 

“Great. So don’t mention your school, career, or passions, and we should be good to go.” He sighs before muttering, so low that I can barely hear it, “Bloody hell.”

A beat of silence passes, and I can hear his brain spinning into overdrive. “Snow,” I start. 

“They’re gonna eat me alive.” 

“They won’t.” 

“They will.” 

“They won’t.” I look him in the eyes when I say it. “Do you trust me?” 

He snorts and rolls his eyes at my low blow. He looks at me for a moment, hesitates, then nods. 

“Good,” I say. “Just stay close to me and look pretty.” 

He shoves me, hard, and laughs. 

— 

The drive up to the country is still one of my favourites. Fiona would usually drive me each year in December for the holidays, and I loved watching London slowly disappear. The buildings and adverts fade away. The last minute Christmas Eve shoppers nowhere in sight. The snow on the roads thicker, whiter. Trees replacing lamp posts. The thrill is multiplied now that I’m behind the wheel, with Snow on the passenger seat, his fingers massaging my nape and pulling slightly on my hair. The road is deserted, and I accelerate. The engine purrs with the effort underneath us, and I can’t help but grin. I feel electric. 

Snow looks at me. “Are you smiling because you’re endangering my life?” 

I raise my eyebrow at him. I can make this drive with my eyes closed. I go faster, and his eyes light up. His finger travels up my nape, and starts scratching my scalp. Gooseflesh erupts across my arms. “You keep this up, and this car will spin off the path.”

“Anything to delay getting there, right?” 

My eyes slide towards him. Just as I try to gauge how serious he’s being, he retracts his hand to run it down his face. 

“Simon,” I start to say. 

“No, s’alright. S’alright, I promise. I think I just need to get through the first bit, then I’ll get in the zone.” I can hear his heartbeat pick up. I slow the car to a halt. 

He keeps his eyes closed when he mutters, “I may seem like I’m mental, but I’m fine. I’m great.” 

“I’m sure.” I keep my hands on the wheel when I turn to him. “We don’t have to do this, you know.” 

“‘Course we do.” 

“I’ll turn the car around right now if you’d like. I’m serious.” 

“And I’m serious when I say I can do this. I can. Besides,” he drops his hands and looks at me. “I want the roast beef.” 

I laugh, but my face settles into a frown. “Are you sure?” 

His lip quirks upward. “Start the car, Baz.” As we accelerate, he adds, “Though if Daphne decides to suddenly go vegetarian or something, I swear to Merlin and Morgana we are leaving.” 

I smile, and I let my right hand drop down to loosely lock with his left. The rest of the drive is as beautiful as I remember it. 

— 

When we pull in and step out, there are already cars lined along the path. Snow stretches his arms above his head, his green jumper riding slightly above his waist. I pop open the boot and grab my suitcase, but Snow touches my wrist. “Let me,” he says. I stare at him as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, take my suitcase and the paper bag in his right hand, and shuts the boot with his left. 

He takes my hand and starts walking. I roll my eyes. “Are you doing this to impress my father?” 

“I’m trying to impress my boyfriend.” 

He’s a git, and I love him. “At least let me carry the bloody mixing bowl,” I say, grabbing the bag. I think about how inappropriate it would be to snog him ten feet from my family home. We never did when we’d come for the holidays, but would we start, now that everyone knows we’re a couple? I spot a lamborghini parked near ours, and the possibility dissolves. Fat chance Snow would feel at ease enough to do anything like that.  

We approach the door, and I feel the heat and energy radiating off of him. His feet shuffle in place, and he rubs the back of his head. My finger hesitates before ringing the bell. I should say something. Some final words of affirmation, to make sure he’s feeling better— 

My eyes widen when Simon shoves me into the wall, and they flutter shut when he kisses me. Deeply. He looks sheepish when he breaks away, stil inches away from my face. “Sorry. Don’t know when I’ll get to do this again.” 

I kiss him another time before letting him go. “Idiot.” I let my smile stretch wide across my face as I ring the doorbell. 

— 

The parlour is already half-full of people, but the staircase is blessedly tucked away when we enter the house. I can see a few of my relatives from where we stand. Most I recognize, and others I don’t. Cousins whose faces ring a bell but have changed since they’ve grown. New wives and husbands. Little toddlers using their magic like firecrackers, sending sparkles and clouds of smoke in the air as they chase each other up and down the stairs. 

Daphne shoos them away as she leads us to my room—our room. “How was the drive, darling?” 

“Lovely, thank you. The snow’s being kind to us this year, isn’t it?” I can already feel my tongue change inside my mouth. My years with Simon has morphed my vocabulary and made my words looser. More relaxed. Simon’s chuffed, of course; my slurring speech and clipped words are entirely his fault. Here at home, though, it’s like my whole body automatically straightens. 

“Oh, yes.” Daphne replies. She swiftly spells the stray toys and wrinkled carpets tidy. The mixing bowl has long floated to the kitchen. “Nothing can be as ghastly as last year. Your Uncle Edgar’s tires had a tough time, remember? He’s got a new car now.” 

Ah, yes. The lamborghini. 

“Have you got new flowers, Daphne?” Snow asks. This catches me by surprise. 

That makes her smile. “Yes, actually. I thought orchids might brighten the place up for the children. You’ll see the poinsettias in the kitchen.” She clasps her hands when we reach our room. “Right. I’ll let you two get settled. Don’t wait too long to come down, everyone’s excited to meet you.” She squeezes Simon’s hand and walks back to the party. 

Simon opens the door, drops the bags, and walks back out. “Right, let’s do this.” I look at him. I was planning on showering, at the very least changing clothes. He speaks again before I can ask. “If I go in there, I’m not gonna want to come back out. Let’s get on with it, yeah?” 

I hesitate, then I nod. I rub his back while we go down the stairs, as the party sounds get louder. Well, calling it ‘party sounds’ would be misleading. It’s murmurs, conversation, and the occasional clinking of dishware. 

Snow grips my elbow before we step into the parlour. “Stay close to me,” he whispers. 

There was a time when I wouldn’t say my reply out loud. That was a long time ago. “Always.” I say, firmly. 

— 

It’s fine. It’s only been two hours, but it’s been fine. 

Snow and I entered the parlour, and I don’t know what dark curse is after us, but my cousin Emille approaches us first. Of the French Pitches. 

“Basil! Bonsoir, comment ça va?" She had smiled warmly. We always got on well during these events. 

“Bien, bien. Et tu?”  

We kept up this back and forth for a few minutes, and it became clear that she had no intention of speaking to Simon. “Sorry, I don’t believe you’ve met Simon. My partner,” I say in English. I place my hand at the small of his back and smile at him. 

He smiles at her and holds out his hand, right when she goes in for a kiss on the cheek. 

The conversation didn't last very long. 

As I was steering us away from Emille, I caught my father’s eye from across the room. His smile almost reached his eyes when he called us over. Almost. 

“Basil,” He said, gripping my shoulder. “Welcome home.” I nod, and he turned to Simon. “All right, Simon?” 

Simon holds out his hand. “Good evening, sir.” He smiles, but I can see his jaw pulled taut. I can feel his pulse picking up. He’s called my father that every year. 

I waited for him to correct Simon, to call him literally anything else, but he shook Simon’s hand and replied, “Did the snow give you any trouble on the drive?” 

“Not at all. Made it in record time,” Simon replied, while I grit my teeth in annoyance. 

“Very good. Your aunts and uncles are thrilled to see you...” 

Thankfully, since then, we’ve stayed off to the side as each uncle and aunt exchanged pleasantries and tried their best to casually mention their child being brilliant or athletic or powerful. Each is playing their own game, and they’re all losing. I see Simon intently listening, his eyes darting back and forth to keep up with this pathetic six-person tennis match. I want to rub his back again. To tell him not to waste so much energy for this. That he’s too good for any of them. 

Instead, I sip my wine and look around the house. Fiona hasn’t arrived yet—typical. She’d probably bust in at half-nine, after dinner and when the children are about to sleep. I watch Mordelia sit in the far corner near the dining room, her nose in a book, with one of the toddlers curl up next to her. Softie. She’s gotten so tall since I last saw her... 

My attention whips back when I hear my Aunt Ariadne says my name. “Are you at uni, then, Basil?” 

I uncross my legs and straighten my spine. “Yes, doing my Master’s at LSE.” 

I pray she’ll let me leave it at that, and she replies with, “Oh, lovely. Your cousin Rainn is thinking of pursuing one as well. She’s almost done her undergrad. Over at Cambridge.” Good old Aunt Ariadne. 

I nod and smile, about to prompt her about her precious Rainn and Cambridge, when my father speaks up. “Have you decided on your dissertation, Basil?” 

I try not to sigh when I say my practiced reply. “I have. I’m doing it on democratic theory and fiscal austerity in the EU.” I leave it as vague as possible, and hope the conversation simmers away. 

I see Edgar sit up, and I brace for impact. “Good lad. More people your age ought to learn about personal responsibility and the free market.” 

I think about my work, the research I’ve poured over, that argues just the opposite. How the time for austerity has long gone. How democratic theory must be at the forefront of economic policy. But nothing can be worse than a roundtable discussion with my dear Uncle Edgar and half the Pitch extended family, so I swerve. “Yes, the school work can be a pain, but I’m grateful for the opportunity.” 

“Public discourse has thrown what really matters out the window,” he presses, and I can see his face begin to liven up. “It has corrupted our society. Having Labour in power now, of course, is a bloody nightmare. Giveaways here and there. Iced lollies, penny sweets, thousands of pounds a month?  What difference does that make? Throw it all to the wind! There’s a ‘public program’ for anything nowadays.” He makes air quotes with his hand. 

“Edgar,” Daphne starts. 

He ignores her and starts to speak with his hands. Clearly, he’s enjoying being a world-class twat. “And what will that do with my taxes, hm? Wasting and throwing it to bums and lunatics.”

Edgar’s points are so dogmatic, so cartoonishly cookie-cutter, that I almost laugh, but I feel Simon tense beside me. I gently nudge my thigh against his. Steady, love, I want to tell him. 

“Well, dinner’s just about ready. Let’s all wash up and get the children, shall we?” Daphne suggests. Bless her heart. The others heave off the sofa, chairs, and loveseats handsomely positioned all around the parlour, and disperses to different corners of the house. 

I start to get up, relieved to eat, when I see Snow stay put. His jaw is set, and his eyes are fixed on a spot at the wall. The parlour has cleared, so I take my hand loosely in his. “All right?” I ask. 

His fingers absently toy with mine, but it takes a minute for him to look at me. I’m an expert in reading Snow’s transparent face, but right now, I’m at a loss. He nods, stands up, and drops my hand. 

— 

Dinner, so far, is hardly better. At least Daphne didn’t go vegetarian. 

The table is spelled longer to accommodate all the guests, and it stretches from the dining table, past the archway, and into the parlour. 

Next to me, Snow is quiet. He’s aced the table manners over the years, and I smile at the lumps of food on his plate. Underneath the table, I tap his foot with mine, and he taps me back. 

This is good. We can do this. 

Aunt Willow—A Danish Pitch—takes a sip from her wine and turns to us. “So what do you study, Simon?” 

I feel Simon straighten up. “Oh, I don’t, actually. I’m working right now.” 

“Like for a gap year?”

“Er, I’m not sure yet.” He chuckles, and he hides his discomfort well. But not to me. “Just reckon I’d spend my time saving up if I’m not sure what I’d like to study.” 

“Of course, I think that’s wonderful.” I take another bite, and try my best to look nonchalant. But I already start to dread my family’s behaviour. My body feels like I’m about to enter a duel. “Where do you work, darling?” 

Simon hesitates before he replies, “Central London.” I watch his fork swirl around the mash. Willow smiles and nods, and just when I can see her about to turn to someone else, he abruptly adds, “I work at a Starbucks. In Central London. Just by LSE, actually.”

“Lovely,” she says, and I can tell she’s at a loss with what to say next, but that won’t stop her from carrying a conversation. “I tried a scone from there one morning when I was running late to a conference. It was quite good.” 

Simon laughs, and I can feel an edge to it. I decide to jump in. “I’ve had all their scones, Aunt Willow. Almost comparable to Watford, if you ask me.”

Daphne smiles. “Maybe someone can give Cook Pritchard a run for her money.” 

“Baz, you interned at the Home Secretary’s office, didn’t you? When you finished your undergrad?” I hear my father suddenly add.

“Yes, father.” I reply without a beat, though my brow raises slightly at the question. What is he on about? 

“Well, maybe you can connect Simon. He ought to have a better gap year than a cafe, eh?” He’s smiling, but when we make eye contact, I can feel a bucket of cold water splash through me. I clench my fist and I feel a loud clunk on the floor. Simon ducks down to fish his knife from beneath the table. I’m so taken aback from my father’s words that I’ve stopped keeping tabs on him. 

I stare at him from across the table. It’s completely quiet now. 

“Mummy, will you pass the gravy, please?” An even voice says from three seats down. I look over at Mordelia, with her plate almost empty. 

Daphne clears her throat. “Sure, darling.” When Mordelia gets the boat, she sets it down and doesn’t pour it on her plate. 

I clear my throat. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t think they’d even remember me.”

He nods once, and goes back to his roast beef. 

— 

Thankfully, the rest of dinner is quieter. Snow is quieter. 

He barely finishes dessert before he excuses himself and steps away from the table. I smile, excuse myself, and follow him through the parlour. 

I can tell Snow is trying not to stomp and barrel up the stairs. I can tell his jaw is clenched, so tightly that I can hear his teeth scrape together. He opens the door, and we go inside. 

My walls have been permanently spelled sound-proof since I was fifteen. I can still feel the magic I left behind, permeating the wallpaper and the tapestries. A part of my brain appreciates the irony of that; I spell them on the summer I tried to wank my feelings away, and now the spell still stands, concealing the clenching jaw and heavy footsteps of Simon Snow himself. I think I would have been thrilled, had I knew. 

Now, though, I feel my stomach constrict, like cold water sizzling against my heated insides. I sit down on the trunk at the foot of my bed. I want to ask him to sit with me, but I know better. I  watch him five feet away from me, running a hand through his hair. “You’re angry,” I say. 

“‘Yeah. I am.” He’s not saying anything else, but he’s anything but quiet. He takes a deep breath and exhales out his nose. His heart is thumping, and I can hear his blood rush across his veins. He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. Like I have countless times before. 

When he speaks, it’s barely above a whisper. “I wanted this visit to work. So badly. But those things he was saying. And you listening and taking it, and...and...” He huffs in frustration. It’s demeaning, Baz.” 

“Is it Edgar? My father?” I ask. “They’re old dickheads, Simon. They humiliate themselves. Can’t even go through small talk without—” 

“That’s the thing,” he interrupts me. His eyes flit to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but me. “It’s not just </i>small talk.</i> That rubbish he spouts? You think it’s jest?”

“Why do you care what he thinks?” Seeing him so upset is sending a ripple of panic fluttering from my chest. I scramble, and I grasp, and apparently, I break. 

“It’s not just Edgar, isn’t it? It’s that whole lot. What would they say when they find out their darling Basil is dating a bloody chav from a foster home? Leeching away his money ‘cause I serve coffee eight hours a day.” He laughs a bitter, joyles sound. He’s still not looking at me. “This is real life, Baz. It’s not small talk. It’s not a chat during a fucking garden promenade at your family’s club. I guess I’d know if I picked up a few shifts there, wouldn’t I?” 

Irritation swells in my throat. I think about the Easters, Christmases, summers at the club where I kept my mouth shut when my family makes gay jokes about lads and queers and faeries. He has never thrown my privilege in my face. “You know I don’t mean it like that.” 

“Actually, I haven’t the faintest idea what you do mean. Not when you sit there and say nothing.” He breathes again. “It’s not just everyone else.” He repeats. “It’s...it’s you.” 

Fights aren’t the same from when we were twenty. Now, at twenty-three, they don’t feel like we’re one shout from breaking up. They don’t feel like Simon will slip from my fingertips unless I hold on so tightly that my knuckles are white with the effort. They don’t feel like the love I had for him was an overflowing static, buzzing through the air and hurting anyone who dares come close. Now, they’re just fights. 

But they still fucking hurt. 

“Simon, love—” 

“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. He stares at a far wall when he talks to me. “Don’t call me that when I’m upset with you. Please.” 

I stand there, at a complete loss. He turns around, unzips his backpack, and starts shoving his clothes out on the bed. I can see his hands trembling. His heart is still thumping, blood still rushing. I shut my eyes and start to feel the tears well up. Long before I learned to retract my fangs, I’ve mastered retracting my tears first. But I don’t want to hold them back. Not here. Not with him. 

He keeps his back to me, and I stare at it—at the thick ridge, strained and tense. I know he can feel me looking. I want him to keep talking. I want him to yell at me, tell me what to do. Because I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. 

I turn around and open the door. 

“Your toothbrush is in mine,” I mutter. “You almost forgot it this morning.” I close the door shut, and I go down the stairs. 

I blink, but the tears don’t come. Like I said; my body knows when I’m home. 

— 

When you hang a left by the garage, there’s a brick wall on the side of the house. It’s completely dark at night, and dead quiet. At half-eleven, it would be tricky for any visitor to end up there, and I easily make my way down there without being spotted.  It was my favourite spot to sneak a fag. Not that I have one on me. I’d kill for one now. 

I stop when I see Mordelia standing near the bins, one leg folded to prop herself up. I see her blow smoke up to the sky, with the soft ember at her fingertips the only light between us. I had no idea she smoked. 

I walk up to her and join her against the wall. She looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. “Have you got a spare?” I ask her. I can’t remember the last time we spoke. Surely, not last Christmas? 

She flicks open her pack and holds it out to me. I put one between my lips, light it with my wand, take a deep drag, and exhale. I close my eyes and relish the way my head starts to spin. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me off?” Standing next to her, I realize that she’s almost past my shoulder. 

I shrug. “I was about your age when I started.” 

She narrows her eyes and bites her lip, and I think about my life at sixteen. Fifth year. I hope to Merlin and Morgana that she’s not going through even a portion of what I did. I think about saying something to her, or asking about Watford, when she says something that throws me off. “Is Simon never coming back here? After spending a night with the family?” 

I laugh, almost bitterly. I never give her enough credit. “That Edgar is a real wanker, isn’t he?” I deflect. She chuckles, and I take another drag. I follow her line of sight and look at the stars. They’re so much prettier here, away from London. I continue talking. “He’ll be alright; he’s always been stronger than me. It’s me who can’t stand it.” I look back at her and give a half-smile. “Do you want him to? Come back?” 

I was meaning to take the piss, but she slowly nods. “When he spent that first Christmas with us, I didn’t like it. Not cause he was the Chosen One, or whatever. Crowley, that seems like a lifetime ago.” She takes a drag and exhales. I wonder if our father would blame her smoking on me. “I didn’t like it because you were different with him. Where he goes, you go. And neither of you have any clue. It’s like someone cast ‘Shall we dance?’ on you. And it freaked me out to see you so different. It never changed with every December, you see. Didn’t waver or dampen. And Simon never stopped looking bloody terrified every year.” She pauses when I laugh, and then looks at me when she speaks again. “I can barely remember what you were like before him now. I’ve never seen you so happy.” 

I look at her with wide eyes. In the moonlight, I can see how her eyelashes flutter. How her cheeks redden in the cold. I wonder how much she’s absorbed, how much she’s grown up, right under my nose. She puts out her cigarette and stomps on it. Without another word, she turns to head back inside. 

“Mordelia,” I call after her. She turns back to me and raises her eyebrow. “Happy Christmas.” 

She rolls her eyes, but I can see a smile start to form. “Go back inside. Don’t cock it up.” 

— 

I don’t know what to expect when I carefully open our door. Part of me hopes he’d be asleep; he tossed and turned all night last night. 

Instead, I find him sitting on the floor cross-legged, facing the fireplace. He doesn’t say anything when I shut the door behind me. 

I pad across the room and join him, leaving a few feet of space when when I sit. I watch him for a moment in my periphery. He’s hunched over his knees, resting his chin at the top of his knees. I indulge in inhaling his scent. “I’m sorry,” I say. 

He’s silent for a long time. In the quiet, if I concentrate, I can still hear the party below us, louder now that they’ve brought out the brandy. I remember the drill, and I hate it. 

Instead, I listen to the crackling of the flames. Simon’s even heartbeat. 

“I’m not angry anymore,” Snow mutters. He keeps his gaze on the fire. 

“I fucked up tonight,” I say. 

Simon shakes his head, and I spot a small smile on his lips. “You don’t fuck up, darling. You’re too perfect for that. You miscalculated, maybe.” 

He’s trying to lighten the mood, because he knows how. He’s bloody brilliant with that. With me. But I won’t take it. “Simon...”

“We save that phrase for actual fuck-ups, like me.” 

“Simon. No.” I shift to properly face him. He keeps his eyes forward, but that’s alright. “You’re right. Those things are important, and they matter, and they were unacceptable. And I didn’t understand that. And I hurt you.” 

He hesitates before replying. “Don’t you think they have a point?” 

Anger rises in my chest. “No,” I almost growl. “They don’t.” My hands ball into fists, and I force them to open again. I breathe. “Please look at me, love.” 

He does. I scoot forward and lean in, pushing his curls back. “You are not a fuck-up, SiImon Snow. I will make a spreadsheet, I’ll write you a speech. I’ll do a dissertation, and I’ll pass with distinction. Because I’ll prove it. Crowley, I will prove it.” Nothing would be easier to do. Would make me happier to accomplish. 

He looks down and smiles. He takes my hand from his face, kisses my palm, and laces our fingers together. 

“Will you forgive me?” I whisper. 

He leans forward and kisses me. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he answers against my lips. He moves to my ear. “I know I’ll never be a fuck-up as long as I’m your boyfriend.” 

“Because Basil Pitch doesn’t date losers,” I answer breathlessly. 

“Indeed,” he whispers. He moves to my neck, kissing me there. “Merlin, I’ll live up to it. I could be buried with that title, and I’ll be the happiest ghost around.” 

I close my eyes and breathe him in. His pulse is so loud, so close to me, that it rings in my ears. I pretend that it’s mine, that we’re sharing a heartbeat. If I had to stay this close to keep my heart pumping for the rest of my life, I’ll accept it. Gladly. Gratefully. 

“Do you want to go home?” I murmur against his hair. 

He pulls back and looks at me. “Really?”

I can see in his eyes that he wants to. I nod. 

“What about your family?” 

My lip quirks upward. “I think they’ll manage.” 

He keeps looking at me, searching my eyes for hesitation. When he finds nothing, he smiles slowly. “Will you let me drive?” 

I purse my lips. “Then we’ll be even?” 

His eyes sparkle, lips twisting in wicked amusement. “Deal.” 

It’s almost one o’clock in the morning when we step out of the house with our luggage, so I wasn’t expecting anyone to notice. We almost make it past the gate when I hear a voice behind us. “Leaving so soon?” 

I turn around. Fiona. 

I look at her, unsure of what to say. Of whether or not she’d stop us. She drops her cigarette on the ground and stomps it out with her boot. She rolls her eyes and says, “Just give me a hug before you go.” 

I walk forward and wrap my arms around her. When we pull away, she nods at Simon behind me. “Drive safely, yeah?” She jerks her head towards me. “He’d cry if you wreck that Jag.”

I hear Simon chuckle. “I will.” 

She nods. “Go on, then. Before anyone sees you.” 

I kiss her cheek. “I’ll ring you when we get home.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Go.” 

— 

Turns out, the drive is even better in total darkness. 

— 

We woke up on Christmas morning at eleven o’clock. 

I can’t remember the last Christmas where I slept in so late.

[kissjane]

AFRAID OF THE DARK / Short(ish) fic

#50 from this prompt list.

I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand

It doesn’t matter how often he denies it, Lucas is afraid of the dark. And as if winter isn’t bad enough – cold, snow, ice, and happy families celebrating the holidays, reminding him he doesn’t have a happy family to celebrate with – it also comes with darkness. It is dark when he leaves his flat in the morning, and dark when he comes home again in the evening. Even if he leaves a small lamp on in the living room, he hates arriving at a dark house. He hates walking through the murky alleys. He hates climbing the dark stairway in which the lightbulbs are broken by kids playing soccer faster than the janitor can replace them. He hates everything about it.

And so when, after a particularly gruesome day at work – okay, he’ll be the first to admit he did make a small mistake, but it had in no way been bad enough to warrant the insults his boss had thrown his way –, he opens his front door and clicks the light switch, only to be met with a spark, a hiss, and the telltale click of all electrical appliances shutting off, he nearly sinks down against the door and cries.

He has candles somewhere, and flashlights, and his phone, but it is not enough. The December dark is too big to be chased away with some tiny flames and a flickering flashlight. This calls for drastic measures.

And so Lucas turns around, locks the door again, and braves the cold and the dark again to go over to Eliott’s – whose flat, when Lucas gets there, is brightly lit and toasty warm. Not that Lucas is surprised, because Eliott is the sun personified.

But Lucas’ luck has well and truly run out, it seems, because when Eliott opens the door for him, he is bundled up in a coat and a scarf and a hat, ready to go out.

“Hey, Lucas,” he says, surprise evident on his pretty face, “did I forget you were coming by?”

And suddenly Lucas is painfully aware that he should have called first. They are friends, Eliott and he, but they’re not at the ‘coming-by-whenever-unannounced’ level. And here Lucas is, standing on the doorstep, with this vague plan of asking Eliott if he can stay, because his electricity is not working. Stupid, he scolds himself silently.

“Uh, no, sorry,” he stammers out loud, “I just thought we could hang out, but you obviously have plans, so…”

He lets his sentence trail off. He always feels a bit intimidated by Eliott, who is so confident and charming. He wonders why Eliott would even want to be friends with Lucas, who is – well, just Lucas.

“Or you could just come with!”, Eliott exclaims, full of exuberance and enthusiasm. “I was gonna take a walk to check out the Christmas lights everywhere.”

Ugh. Lucas doesn’t really think voluntarily going out into the cold and the dark sounds like fun, and Christmas is just a commercial thing anyway, right? But Eliott is bouncing with hardly contained joy, and the alternative is a dark flat which may be warmer than the Paris streets, but has no Eliott. Lucas quickly balances his options against each other, and with a last look at Eliott, who has stars in his eyes and a wide grin on his face, he gives in.

And Lucas has to admit, wandering through the crisp winter air with Eliott, watching the Christmas displays, might not be the worst way to spend a December evening.

But then Eliott suddenly starts fumbling with a small, rusty gate, and he beckons Lucas to follow him. Lucas does so, after only a flash minute of deliberation – because well, it beats staying behind alone, right? But Eliott has moved way ahead, and Lucas doesn’t know where they are, and it is so dark. He hears noises he can’t interpret, and when he feels something against his arm – which, rationally, he knows is probably a branch moving with the wind – he can’t help but let out a high yelp.

Embarrassed, he claps his hand in front of his mouth, but Eliott must have heard anyway, because he retreats his steps hastily.

“Lucas? Everything okay?”

Lucas feels his cheeks burn, but he hopes Eliott won’t be able to see.

“You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”, Eliott says, a teasing lilt in his voice, and shrugs.

“And if I was?”, he retorts with a clear challenge in the words.

“Then I would do this,” Eliott replies after a few beats, softly, and before Lucas realizes what is going on, Eliott has grabbed Lucas’ hand and holds it tightly.

“Come on,” he continues. Lucas wonders if he imagines the slight tremor in his friend’s voice. “It’s not far.”

They continue, and maybe Lucas’ eyes get used to the dark, or maybe it’s Eliott’s fingers intertwining themselves with Lucas’, but it doesn’t seem so frightening anymore. Lucas tries to make out Eliott’s face, but it is too dark to see anything but shadows. He lets his thoughts wander. He thinks about the day he met Eliott in the library, the older boy sitting across Lucas with an apologetic smile, mumbling something about no free tables. About how Eliott had come up to him in the park a few days later, ignored Lucas’ confused smile, and greeted him with a cheery “Hey, study buddy” as if they are long lost friends. About how after the fourth or fifth time Eliott had waved at him from across the hallway, he’d asked Lucas for his name, so he wouldn’t have to call him study buddy any longer. How Eliott had started following Lucas on Instagram a few days after that. He runs their whole short acquaintance through his mind, and then Eliott stops and opens his arms wide, as if to present something awesome to Lucas.

It is an old concrete tunnel, and Lucas shivers. It will be dark and cold and damp and he really doesn’t want to crawl in there, but in the dim light, he can see how excited Eliott is.

And then Eliott crouches down, opens his backpack, and starts placing tealights all over the place, lighting them one by one.

Lucas cannot help but stare, mesmerized, at the sea of light Eliott is creating. It drives away all the eerie shadows and is enough to illuminate even the furthest corners and crevasses. It is beautiful, all these tiny lights coming together in this warm glow. And when Eliott lights the last one and looks up at Lucas from his crouched position, his smile wide and his eyes sparkling, Lucas feels like another lightbulb suddenly flicks on above his head.

Because Eliott is beautiful. Lucas knew this, obviously, but it hits him like a sledgehammer all of a sudden – not just a quick, objective, passing appreciation of conventional beauty, but rather all the unique parts that make up Eliott and that etch themselves onto Lucas’ heart with a wistful ache. The flames reflect in his big eyes, and Lucas realizes that they are the warmest shade of grey he has ever witnessed, with blue swirls and green flacks like some sort of impressionist painting. Lucas closes his eyes for a second, blinded by the intensity of Eliott’s, and when he opens them again, Eliott has stood up, and the moment seems lost – but Lucas knows he will never look at Eliott the same again.

“Let’s sit,” Eliott says, and Lucas cannot refuse, and so they sit, leaning against the wall, surrounded by candlelight, and Lucas’ head swims with sudden realization.

It all makes so much sense now – why he wanted to go to Eliott when he needed light and warmth, when he needed to feel safe. Why he would follow Eliott into the dark without hesitation. Why Eliott’s hand soothes his fears.

And when Eliott looks at him with impossible soft eyes, Lucas feels like his heart might explode, and so he blurts out the first thing he can think of.

“I’ve always hated Christmas.”

Eliott startles, but then settles against the wall again, and his hand creeps closer to Lucas’. They almost touch, and the phantom sensation makes Lucas shiver.

“Are you cold?”, Eliott asks, and without waiting for Lucas’ answer, he pulls Lucas into a hug.

One heart-stopping moment, Lucas freezes, but then he settles into it, moulding his figure to Eliott’s, his head on Eliott’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, and wills himself to be calm. Breathe.

“I love it,” Eliott then says, and Lucas thinks Eliott means their new position, but he continues, “it’s so beautiful, with all the lights everywhere, and the decoration, and people celebrating together. The Christmas songs. The food. People trying to find each other the perfect gifts.”

Lucas shrugs, but doesn’t speak.

“Why do you hate it?”

And maybe it is because Eliott cannot see his face right now, or because of the strange intimacy in the candlelit tunnel, or because of his new-found feelings for Eliott, but either way, Lucas starts speaking, his voice low, but honest.

“It was never a cause for celebration when I was a kid. My family definitely wasn’t trying to find each other the perfect gift. My dad would be off from work, and he would fight with my mom all the time… And when I got older, my mom got worse, and my dad would just leave the house for days on end. And he became more and more disappointed in me – for not being in any sports team, or some other inane reason… He’d yell at me, yell at my mom. And then he left, and my mom was so depressed she couldn’t even leave her bed most of the time. It was so hard, taking care of her. I was just a child myself. And then she had to be hospitalized, and I lived on my own for a while, and things were tough. And at Christmas it just became even harder, watching everybody else be happy and cosy together…”

His voice trails off, and he laughs, small, self-deprecative.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a downer. I promise I’m not so gloomy usually. It’s just, well, I’m probably spending the holidays alone again this year, because Yann is going to celebrate with his family, so I’m not looking forward to it. But enough about that. Let’s talk about something else.”

Eliott is silent for a while, and Lucas regrets opening his mouth. Eliott brought him here to this magical place, and Lucas had to spoil it all by being such a negative Nancy. He is panicking, trying frantically to lighten the mood, to take back what he said, when Eliott’s voice suddenly reverberates through the tunnel.

“You could spend the holidays with me, if you want.”

Lucas lifts his head and stares at Eliott.

“What?”, he asks, certain he misheard. “Why?”

Eliott shrugs. Lucas looks at him, at his expressive face – is that uncertainty he sees in those grey eyes?

“Why not? I want to spend more time with you.”

“But we’ve only known each other for a few months… We’re not even all that close,” Lucas hears himself say, even though he wants to accept so badly. “Isn’t Christmas something to be celebrated with family?”

Eliott looks away, and his voice is low, but it echoes through the tunnel.

“We could become closer. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

Lucas sits very still. Eliott’s arm is still around him, and he feels Eliott still after he speaks.

Lucas’ mind goes back to what he was pondering about earlier, as they walked hand in hand through the dark. About how Eliott had sought out Lucas time after time. About how he smiles at Lucas sometimes, as if Lucas holds all the secrets of the universe. About how he held Lucas’ hand when Lucas was afraid of the dark, and sheltered Lucas from the cold, and now offers to protect Lucas from his own bad memories and a lonely Christmas.

And Lucas forgets about December. Eliott is July – is warmth and sunshine and freshly made lemonade and the smell of cut grass and vanilla ice cream.

And when Eliott finally turns to face Lucas again, Lucas’ smile is wide and open.

“How close?”, he says, moving into Eliott’s space. He can feel Eliott’s breath on his lips, and his smile grows impossibly bigger.

And Eliott’s eyes are full of stars when he leans in, and shows Lucas exactly how close without words.

[murfmontain]

Hey it’s me.

Disclaimer: similar grammatical use as a dyslectic poet. Where to begin. where To begin. where to Begin. Ahh I know a place where I can start. It was a cold day in mid December 1995... No that might be a bit to far. What about. As a kid, I was always getting into trouble at school  or... No, I feel like that's still a bit much.

hmm let's just start with this.

Hey I'm marvin. I've always felt that from a young age I've had this urge to experience and create. Whether it was to experience laughter from my classmates, as I did something silly which often got me in to trouble, or to create something out of thin air, the noise of a sheep for example which I could do be pulling my throat a certain way, or just act out a character that I just made up a few seconds ago. For me going through this unrewindable clock which we refer to as life was more of seeing what life had to offer me instead of the other way around. Sure I tried at school but then would quickly be distracted by that..... hey what is that little fly doing on my screen, shooo shooo little buddy you're distracting me from...... uhhm..... what was I saying again.

Anyway. As I grew older and started to learn that: "hey you're 15 years old now you need to have figured out how you're going to contribute to society" proved to be a lot harder then I thought. There was a sense off jealousy towards people whom already knew that they'd want to be a dentist or go into the financial world and follow whatever their dad has done. Meanwhile I was thinking if I play my cards just right I might get that girl I like to kiss me (which I did manage to do but as everry first kiss goes it didn't go as imagined)

At some point the constant drilling of People telling you: " you need to make something of yourself kid you better start figuring out what you want to do for a living." Would leave its mark on you and you start thinking what you want to do with your life. Well I still really liked creating and exploring, although as a 15 year old there is not much exploring to do travel wise. The luck I had is that my family owned a restaurant on a Greek island which meant that I could fly up and down to Greece every so often and find myself exploring the vast variety of life that existed on the beaches and in the waters of a magical little place called Zakynthos. Like the slightly overweight white man that's eating his third burger that afternoon, or the topless lady that walks around in the shallow waters just enough to make you think that she enjoys the looks she is getting. All jokes aside when finding myself in the sea for hours on end, spending countless days in nature, having this love for creating and making people laugh I finally started to understand what I wanted to do for a living. So I think you will have guessed it by now.

I wanted to join the marines.

Yup.

As the always ever so optimistic and gullible me I wanted to see the world and thought what better way to do so then the marines. Getting payed to go overseas and learn about cultures you otherwise would've never found yourself going to sounded amazing. Only realizing that after spending 2,5 years being trained by Military personnel, graduating the pre army school and passing all my intakes. That on the day of fitting my uniform for the upcoming 2 years of my life, being trained to become a sergeant might actually mean, Travel the world and possibly die for a country that has never really loved you and you gradually lost your love for. So I called up the Sergeant who I enlisted at and told him that this was not the job for me.

After hanging up the phone I felt relieved, confused once again on what to do and felt that the diploma I now had was probably worth as much as the paper I wipe my.

Anyway. Fast forward a few years and having had a few jobs in and out of the country I fell in love for the first time.... take it away john.

John Lennon: "DON'T YOU KNOW ITS GONNA LAST. ITS A LOVE THAT LASTS FOREVER. ITS A LOVE THAT HAS NO PAST."

I found out that trying to make a long distance relationship work money might actually be a thing that is truly useful. Flying up and down every other weekend or so, the flowers I'd get at the local flower shop, the restaurants bills that I would pay for as a true gentleman and the hotels we'd stay at as little holidays came with a price tag. So while trying to keep a job, a long distance relationship, giving it all at an acting school (yes I finally did something with acting) and expressing my deep love for getting absolutely and I mean utterly sh*t faced every second that I would have for myself proved to be somewhat difficult.

Heavy drinking ----> angry girlfriend -----> lot's of flying over and fancy make up dinners -----> more working -----> more drinking -----> angry girlfr.... you get the point.

So I tried to drink less. wasn't getting any happier. Broke up after a toxic year and a half. wasn’t getting any happier. Quit my job. wasn't getting any happier. So i had to figure out a different method. That method basically came down to running away as fast as I could. Being so in love with acting you do spend countless hours watching movies and series yourself and after finishing Californication for I believe the 4th time it felt like I had enough experience to run away as fast as I could to a little state called California. Well my family didn't thought so and said I was better off trying something a little bit closer to home. So we settled on Spain.

Ahhh.... Spain. I packed my backpack which was actually my brother's backpack but since he wasn't using it I figured it be better off in my possession, as it still is up to this day. As probably every person, hiker, traveler, adventurer, dog lover, cat lover, I’m more of a dog person myself...... what was i saying again. Ahh right as probably every person ever I packed my bag up to the brim, made it way to heavy and eventually paid the price for it by injuring my knee up to a point that it still hurts some days. Not that every person destroys their knees on the first hike they do, but they will probably pack their bags a bit to full. With my fully loaded container on my back I set off to Saint jean pied de port and started a trip that would become a life changing experience.

but for now its time I go and have myself some Lunch.

See you in the pages.

Does that qualify for a blog? well... in my world it does.

[atths--twice]

The Second Year

So begins the second year of being parents. They have had a wonderful first year getting to know their little girl and each other once again. A year of tears and happiness, and now it’s time to see what will be in store for them. I hope you enjoy these stories of love and family life. ❤💕

A Remarkable Christmas 1a/8

Chapter One 

Christmas Trees and Declarations of Love 

It’s Christmas time in the Unremarkable House. Time for decorations, memories, friends, happiness and celebrating the holiday.

December 2019

Scully closed the gate, stopping Bella from running off the porch and out into the night, as Mulder set the last bin down, sighing deeply as he did.

“That’s the last of them,” he said, scooping Bella up and holding her to his chest, kissing her head before setting her back down.

“Did they multiply out in the shed? Why don’t I remember having this many last Christmas?” she asked, frowning as she touched the lid of the top bin.

“No, this is how many we had. Six, nearly full to the top.”

“I don’t remember so many.”

“Well, that may be because you didn’t carry each one out to the shed last year,” he quipped and she looked at him.

“Oh that’s right, because I had pushed a baby out of my va…”

“Hup,” he interrupted her, putting up his hand and pointing a finger at her face, giving her a look. “That’s enough of that then, Miss.” She laughed and he shook his head, taking off the lid of the bin.

“Oof,” she said, leaning up to look inside. “That’s… a lot. Most of this stuff goes inside, but I don’t think we need all of it in the house.” She stopped speaking at his scoff and looked at him.

“Her first Christmas, well the first one she won’t mostly sleep through, and you want to skimp on the decorations? For shame, Scully,” he tut tutted at her, shaking his head.

“Mulder, six bins.”

“Scully, first Christmas.”

They stared at each other and she smiled, reaching for a bin and lugging it to the door. He muttered a yes under his breath and she laughed, stepping inside the house, Bella following behind, rising on her hind legs to look inside the bin when it was opened.

“No, Bella!” she laughed, as she grabbed at the golden garland Bella had taken into her teeth, attempting to run away. A game of tug of war ensued, the garland missing some bits as a result. “I know it’s new and exciting, but we don’t eat decorations.” Bella barked and Mulder tossed a ball across the room and she chased after that instead.

They unpacked the bins, exclaiming over the decorations they acquired last year and the ones from years previous. She smiled at the small items that brought such joyous memories. The dishes, ornaments, and candles; it all held happiness within, even if some were bittersweet.

Working together, they cleared spaces and placed the usual home decor into the bin, taking the place of the Christmas items. By the time they had finished, stopping occasionally as he twirled her about the room, singing along to the holiday music that was playing, the house resembled the winter wonderland from last year.  

“We just need the tree,” he said, setting the stand on the floor and looking around. She smiled at him, watching his face as he took in all the beauty. He loved Halloween, she knew that, but truly he was just a kid at heart, and it showed up most during the holidays.

He caught her staring and he walked close to her, his eyes asking questions. She put her hands on his chest and he placed his hands over them, smiling happily at her. She laughed softly and he shrugged, their conversation silent, though each of them heard it.

“Let’s put these bins away and have a cup of tea before we head to bed. We can get the tree tomorrow, yeah?” she asked and he nodded. Closing the lids, they carried out the bins, leaving Bella inside the house.

She shivered as they closed the door and then she gasped. “Bella!” she cried and ran over to her dog bed, taking away the decoration she was chewing on. “Oh, Bella.” She sighed, knowing she did not understand what she had done or why it was wrong.

“What did she do? Oh, Scully, I know you liked that one.” He took the wooden nutcracker from her hands, large bite marks now covering his face and head. “Maybe they have another one at the tree farm.”

“It’s okay, but we could ask tomorrow." She sighed, taking the nutcracker back, as Bella came and sat at her feet. “I know, you don’t understand, but you’ve got a box full of toys, girl, let’s stay away from the decorations, okay?” She knelt down and patted her head, rubbing her ears, and Bella licked her face. “I know, you’re sorry. It was too much of a temptation.” Mulder laughed beside her and she looked up at him with a smile.

They sat on the couch with their cups of tea, candles glowing in lieu of any lights, reminiscing over last year. She set her cup on the coffee table, and laughed as she remembered his struggle with the tree and he huffed, but then laughed a rather evil chuckle.

“What’s that laugh?” she asked, glancing at him.

“Oh, it’s just quite ironic that you’re laughing at my struggles, when this year you’ll get to help. We’re in this together now, baby,” he said and she laughed.

“Should go smoother than, especially if I’m helping,” she teased.

“Ha. With your height?” he teased back and she gasped in mock shock. He laughed and she pounced on him, his words of warning about his cup of tea, falling on deaf ears. Bella barked and ran over to see what all the excitement was about.

She jumped on the couch and wedged herself between them, whining and wiggling as she licked at them excitedly. They both laughed, struggling to stop her, as they disentangled from one another and she moved from atop his lap, Bella still licking at him.

“I’m liking your thinking, Scully, but let’s move this to a more… private location,” he said, as he handed her his cup and lifted Bella off of the couch, grabbing her leash to take her out one last time.

Scully put their cups in the sink and blew out the candles. She smiled as she imagined the wide eyed look of wonder Faith would have when she came downstairs tomorrow. She picked up the snow globe and turned the winder on the bottom, hearing Greensleeves playing as the snow fell on the house and the small woodland animals inside.

Yes, she thought looking around again with a smile, she was going to love it.

_____________

The time it took to put the decorations up was worth it as they watched Faith look around the room, her head swiveling back and forth, trying to stare at everything all at once. They let her toddle around, not guiding her or trying to draw her attention, simply letting her look her fill.

Bella walked beside her, gentle as always when it came to Faith, which was still incredibly spooky every time it happened. Mulder tapped Scully’s hip and nodded with his chin toward Faith. She had walked over to the snow globe and stared at it closely.

“Ha,” she said, touching the glass and looking closer. “Ha.” She looked up at them and smiled, before looking at the snow globe again.

Scully knelt beside her and smiled as she gently moved Faith’s hands. “It looks like a horse, you’re right, my love. But it’s a fawn, a baby deer.” She picked up the snow globe and turned it over, winding it to play the music, and set it back down. “See how the snow falls? It’s falling on the little house and the animals. You don’t understand, but that group of animals symbolizes our little family. The fawn is you, daddy is the fox, mama is the bunny, and Jackson is the bear. He’s hibernating right now and that’s why we don’t see him much, but we might one day. Until then…” She turned the globe over again, letting the snow fall as she looked at Faith, who touched it gently and stared inside. When the snow had stopped, she looked up at Scully and smiled, making the more sign with her hands.

Scully turned it over a few more times and Faith stood in front of it, mesmerized as much the fifth time as the first. Smiling once again, she moved on, looking at the snowmen, santas, the gingerbread house which Scully allowed her to touch and then hold the little boy and girl who stood outside the house. She wandered around, holding them tight as she looked at the angels in white flowing robes, blowing golden trumpets. Turning around, she smiled at them again and they smiled back.

Mulder lifted her up, causing her to squeal with excitement, and brought her to her chair at the kitchen table. She set the gingerbread children down and stared at them as Scully and Mulder worked together to make breakfast, Christmas music playing from her phone on the counter. He kissed the back of her neck as he passed by to grab a plate, pinching her butt as he did.

“See? Six bins,” he said triumphantly.

“Yes, you’re right once again.”

“Oh… I never tire of hearing those words,” he said with a happy sigh. She laughed as she dished up the food and he kissed her softly. “Never tire of it.” Giggling, she sat down to join them, before they went to find their Christmas tree.

__________________

“So, we’ll stop in the house and drop this off and then head out to find the tree,” Scully said and Mulder nodded, sliding on the backpack and then setting Bella down, as she put Faith in the carrier and grabbed a plastic bag from the backseat.

Doors closed, car locked, they walked toward the little gingerbread house inside the Christmas tree farm. Breathing deeply, she smiled as she looked around. Memories of last year hung about like ghosts, coming to meet her as though waiting to say hello; tired but happy with a newborn, relief that everything was healing as it should, being home with the man she loved, Christmas being planned in their little house.

She glanced at Mulder, the leash held loose in his hand as he let Bella explore, her excitement evident in the wiggling of her little body. Reaching for his hand, he turned his head to look at her, happiness in his own eyes.

“Do you feel them too? The memories?” she asked, surprising herself at what she was admitting.

“As if they’ve been held within the trees?” he asked, nodding with a smile.

“It’s weird,” she whispered.

“Spooky. It’s spooky or it’s nothing,” he corrected her, squeezing her hand, and she laughed.

They walked to the house and at the door, he picked Bella up, shrugging as Scully looked at him. “Not sure their policy on dogs and I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

“You? Trouble? Isn’t that one of your middle names?” she teased, as he wrapped the leash around his arm.

“Government facilities, places with no trespassing signs: yes. Little old women who look like Mrs. Claus: no. Can you imagine how long I’d be on the naughty list?” He shuddered as he opened the door and she laughed, squeezing Faith’s legs gently and kissing her head.

It was warm in the little house and smelled as she remembered; of chocolate, spices, cookies, and Christmas. Everything was the same; the large sled for photos, the pot bellied stove, and the extraordinary amount of decorations filling tabletops and shelves, with Christmas music playing softly in the background. Yes, it was the same and it made her smile.

A door opened and Betty walked out, carrying a wreath with a red ribbon woven into it, pine cones, and red holly berries. She glanced up and smiled at them, then looked again, her face breaking into a huge grin.

“Hello!” she exclaimed, setting the wreath on the counter beside the register. “Oh my goodness, look at you all! Look at that girl!” She walked over and stood in front of them, her eyes shining with happiness. “I can’t believe how much she’s grown, but of course she has, it’s been a whole year already.” She smiled at Faith who stared at her and then smiled back, before she looked up at the decorations all around her.

Betty laughed and turned her attention to them. “I am so pleased to see you again, I was hoping you would be back this year. How are you? Oh my goodness, look at that, you also have a puppy! You are very brave indeed.” They all laughed and Mulder nodded in agreement.

“If you can believe it, was her idea, not mine,” he said with a smile and a nod toward Scully.

“Of course it was, we mothers are a special breed. We do crazy things at times, like agreeing to open a Christmas tree farm with three children underfoot,” Betty said, with a wink at Scully. “A puppy is tiny in comparison.” She reached out and held Bella’s head in her hands. She wiggled and tried to lick at her hands as she pet her ears.

“Howard will be happy to see you both. He was just talking about you two, you especially, Fox. He said he wanted to continue your conversation about, I believe it was, moth men?”

“Mulder, no,” Scully said, looking at him with a groan. He opened his mouth to say something, but knowing he had been caught out, he sighed and nodded. Scully sighed in exasperation as Betty laughed.

“He truly enjoyed it, so apparently it was a good conversation,” she said, patting his arm and stepping back.

“See? He enjoyed it,” he said, looking at Scully, and she rolled her eyes with a smile, before looking back at Betty.  

“Betty, last night we were putting up all the wonderful items we bought last year. Well, I say bought, but…” Scully said as she looked at Betty, who smiled as she touched Faith’s arm before winking quickly at Scully. “Thank you so much for each of them, they are all so beautiful. The snow globe especially, as they are important in our home and that one in particular… it’s very special.”

“It was calling to me, like I said. It was meant to belong to you,” Betty said with a smile.

Scully nodded, smiling back as she opened the plastic bag and took out the nutcracker, holding it out for Betty to see. “This was another favorite, and somehow little miss puppy got a hold of it. I was hoping you might have one similar to it.”

“Well, my goodness. Puppy teeth can be quite sharp and at times dangerous, can’t they?” she asked with a laugh as she took the nutcracker from Scully and ran her fingers across the teeth marks Bella had made. “She obviously liked this one nearly as much as you. Yes, I think I might have a similar one, let me have a look around.” She smiled and took the bag from Scully, placing the nutcracker back inside. “Howard was just helping another customer load their tree, I’m sure he will be back soon. Why don’t you head out and he’ll meet up with you out there among the trees?”

Scully smiled and rubbed her hand on Betty’s arm. Looking at Mulder, he nodded and they began to walk towards the door, when it opened and two people walked in, stopping short as they looked up.

“Fox?”

“Rachel?”

“Dana?”

“Skinner?”

“Rachel!!”

Everyone froze, looking at one another. Scully looking at Betty, wondering how in the world she knew Rachel. Faith clapped her hands, reaching for her Uncle Walter, as they continued to look at one another. Then from behind them, a great booming voice sounded and it broke the silence.

“Rachel!” Howard shouted and quickly walked towards her, engulfing her in a bear hug that lifted her off the ground. “Oh, my girl! It’s wonderful to see you!” She gave a strained laugh and he set her down, kissing her loudly on the cheek.

“Hey, Uncle Howard. I’d ask how you are, but you’re obviously still strong as an ox,” Rachel said, rubbing her ribs and moaning.

“Ha!” he laughed, clapping his hands loudly, pulling her in for another hug as Betty walked over, smiling and waiting for her own hug.

Scully, Mulder and Skinner stared at one another, not sure what to do or say, when suddenly Bella barked and Faith screamed, her arms still out, trying to get to Skinner.

“Come on, hand her over,” Skinner said gruffly, stepping closer to Scully, causing Faith to laugh and bounce up and down. “I know, honey, you just need to wait for your mama to release you from that strange contraption.” Scully grinned as she opened the carrier and handed Faith to him. “Ah see, isn’t that better? Now you’re free.” She put her hands in her mouth with a smile as they all turned to look at Howard, Betty, and Rachel, who looked back at them and laughed.

“If you could see your faces,” Rachel said, shaking her head, a hand covering her laughing mouth.

“So, you all know each other somehow?” Howard asked, a large smile on his face.

“Uh, something like that,” Mulder laughed.

“Uncle, Auntie, you obviously already know Fox and Dana, and little Faith there,” Rachel said with a smile, looking at Faith in Skinner’s arms. “Howard and Betty are my uncle and aunt, well, not blood, but family just the same.” She smiled again as Howard put his arm around her with a chuckle. “And this… this is Walter.” Skinner stepped closer, his hand out to shake Howard’s.

“Oh, Walter, hello,” Howard said and grasped his hand in what Scully saw was a hearty handshake. Betty stepped forward and shook his hand too, though a much softer version of Howard’s.

Scully watched them, a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. She cut her eyes to Mulder’s as she felt his hand tapping her back. He raised his eyebrows and she nodded slightly, knowing this was a big moment and she felt giddy with happiness for Skinner.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Rachel’s told me a lot about you,” Skinner said, switching Faith to his other arm, and Mulder stepped forward to take her, but stopped when Skinner shook his head. “I just got her and I haven’t even said a proper hello.” Everyone laughed and Scully saw Betty nod as she looked Skinner up and down, apparently approving of him instantly.

“Well, it’s wonderful to meet you too, Walter, and to see you all again,” Howard said, smiling at Scully and Mulder. “Would you mind if I held this little one? You can have her right back, I promise.” Skinner handed Faith over without hesitation and Howard held her, making faces and bouncing her around. She laughed as she touched his face and he made an elephant noise. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He handed her back to Skinner, smiling at Scully with a wink.

Scully glanced at Rachel and smiled. She smiled back, taking a deep breath, and then clearing her throat. “So, we getting a tree or what?” Laughter and agreement rose up and everyone but Betty headed outside. Mulder set Bella down and Rachel bent down to pet her. “What did you decide to call her?”

“Bella,” Mulder said and Rachel stood up with a look of disbelief.

“Bella? That’s it? A black dog was given to you on Halloween, the birthday of your daughter, and you named her Bella?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and Scully smiled, liking Rachel more and more.

“Well,” Mulder laughed. “Her full name is Belladonna, which I chose, and yet her name tag, with that name engraved on it, had been already been purchased beforehand and sat in her box of items. Is that a more fitting name and story for a Halloween dog?”

“Oh, hell yeah. That’s a much better story than simply saying her name is Bella,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes with a smile.

“Uh huh,” Mulder grinned and then pulled her in for a hug. “It’s great to see you, Rachel.”

“Of course it is,” she said, stepping back and grinning. Scully smiled and Rachel looked at her, hesitation on her face until Scully embraced her, telling her she was happy to see her again.

“Hey! What the hell? Let’s go get the trees!” Skinner yelled, holding a laughing and happy Faith, as Howard laughed.

“Cool it, man. We’re coming!” Rachel called back and they all laughed, walking over to join them and pick out their trees. Mulder fell into step with the men and Scully and Rachel walked behind them, smiling at one another.

“It’s amazing how big Faith’s gotten in just over a month,” Rachel said, looking at her and Scully smiled, waving at her as she looked at her over Skinner’s shoulder.

“She has been going through a growth spurt. Eating a lot and sleeping more. Some of her clothes never had a chance to be worn, she’s growing so fast. I think she’ll be tall, well, taller than me anyway. Although that’s not too hard to accomplish.” She laughed and Rachel nodded with a smile.

“And here I always wanted to be shorter. It’s how it seems to go, right?” Rachel said and Scully nodded, truth in the statement.

“So, Howard and Betty. How exactly are they family?” Scully asked, as she heard the men laughing heartily knowing they were definitely not discussing moth men.

“Oh, they are old family friends. We moved here when I was ten, and that year we searched around to find a cut your own tree place like we had gone to in Washington, and we found this place. We didn’t really know anyone and my dad was a very charismatic man. You can imagine how he and Howard got along,” she smiled at Scully and she nodded, knowing how much she and Mulder had liked Howard. “Well, their kids were grown, and the oldest had gotten married and had a little girl, I think she was about four. We all sort of became this little non family-family. They were there after my father passed away, taking care of us and making sure we had food, and were doing okay. I didn’t come out here last year as my mother and I took a trip, so I missed them, and I’ve been busy recently with… well.” She looked at Skinner and Scully grinned.

“Yeah ya have,” she said under her breath and Rachel looked at her, her face reddening more than from the chill of the day. Scully laughed and hooked her arm through Rachel’s. “Please don’t be embarrassed or think I’m teasing you out of maliciousness. I am truly happy for the two of you. Mulder has never had anything but wonderful things to say in regards to you. And Skinner, Walter…” She shook her head and smiled, stopping them for a second, so she could look at Rachel. “He’s a good man, one to which I owe my life. I know you and I don’t know each other very well, not personally anyway, but seeing him with you, knowing you through Mulder, I can’t think of anyone better for him.” Rachel smiled and blinked her eyes, wiping at them quickly.

“Walter has said so many wonderful things about you, and Fox too, but mostly you. He’s told me how he was always impressed and in awe of you; the command you demanded without saying a word. As much as that is impressive, I told him that’s simply a woman getting shit done,” Rachel said with a smirk and Scully laughed loudly, her head falling back. She looked back at Rachel and they smiled at each other. “But he also said he owes you his life, so it seems you two are equal. I don’t know everything that’s happened, but I thank you. Thank you for saving him.” Scully stared at her and her eyes filled with tears. Nodding, she put her arms around her and they both gave a shaky laugh, wiping their eyes when they pulled apart.

“SCULLAAYYYY!” Mulder bellowed and Scully shook her head and laughed.

“Come on, we better catch up. He only says it that way when it’s really serious,” she said, rubbing Rachel’s arm as they started to head toward the sound of his voice.

“A fox in a forest calling for his mate,” Rachel said, shaking her head and laughing, as Scully smiled, thinking of all the forests and places he had called for her in that manner.

Yes, that was exactly what he was doing.

Catching up with them, the next forty five minutes were spent arguing, laughing, and passing Faith and Bella between them as they searched for the perfect trees. Howard laughed at them, siding with the women in every dispute over height, fullness, and kind of tree.

“I’ve been around a long time,” Howard said, slapping Mulder on the back as he shook his head at Scully. “It’s always best to side with the woman.” Scully smirked and Mulder sighed as he mouthed never, causing her to laugh.

Finally settling on a tree, they took turns, Scully and Rachel laughing, as Mulder and Skinner argued over the best way to cut them down.

“I did this last year, I know what I’m talking about,” Mulder said, instructing Skinner of the angle at which to cut the tree.  

“One tree. You’ve cut down one tree and that makes you an expert? Shut up,” Skinner said, looking up from the base of the tree and shaking his head. “Just hold onto it and I’ll cut it down.” Mulder looked at Scully as Rachel danced around with Faith.

“One tree,” he said quietly, wiggling his eyebrows, looking down at Skinner and over at Rachel. Scully nodded with a smile, understanding the implication.

The tree cut, they carried it to the one Mulder and Scully had chosen, and set it down. Rolling up his sleeves, Mulder cleared his throat and knelt down to cut theirs down.

“Anyone interested in taking notes or a video even, to see how to properly cut down a tree, I’ll be here for a few minutes and willing to narrate as I work,” he said, as he began to cut down the tree.

“Seriously, how do you put up with him?” Skinner asked Scully and she laughed.

“He’s really cute and a great kisser,” she replied and he made a sound of disgust as he shook his head. Howard laughed and Scully winked at him.

The tree cut, Mulder stood up and grabbed Scully, kissing her loudly as he lifted her off of the ground, causing Bella to bark excitedly. Scully laughed against his mouth and kissed him again before he set her back down.

“One tree, Scully. Whose place do you think will be gifted with it?” he whispered close to her ear. He grinned as he stepped back and she bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Jesus… come on,” Skinner said and Scully saw Rachel smack his chest, Faith reaching for him with a laugh. “Sorry, honey. I have to help carry the trees, but I will hold you again soon.” He kissed her head and Scully saw a look on Rachel’s face that she had seen before, almost a sadness or longing. She smiled quickly, but her eyes still seemed sad.

“Here, I’ll take her,” Scully said, walking over to Rachel, smiling as she reached for her.

“Oh, it’s not a problem. You have Bella there, and I really don’t mind,” Rachel said, tickling Faith, not looking at Scully. Dropping her hands back down, Scully nodded and kept an eye on her as the men picked up both trees between the three of them, laughing and cursing as they did.

Walking behind them, Scully held Bella’s leash and stayed close to Rachel, feeling she wanted to say something. She heard her sigh, as Faith laid her head on her chest, saying Mama as she looked at Scully. Rachel suddenly sobbed out a breath and Scully stared at her. Tears ran down her face as she held Faith close.

“Rachel?” Scully asked, stopping her and touching her arm. Faith wiggled and pulled back to look at Rachel, touching her face with one hand, causing Rachel to cry harder.

“I’m… I’m so… sorry,” she gasped out and Scully shook her head.

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay, you go ahead and cry.” They stood in the middle of the trees, Scully gently touching her arm as she cried and Faith continued to stare at her, before laying her head back on Rachel’s chest.

As Rachel's tears began to slow, Scully took off the backpack she had taken from Mulder and searched inside for a tissue. Finding a small pack, she took them out, putting the backpack on again and handing one to Rachel.

“Thank you,” she whispered, taking it and wiping her eyes. “I don’t normally do this…” She gave a shaky laugh and Scully smiled.

“I shed some tears here myself last year. I think this place may carry some magic. Please don’t tell Mulder or he would want to conduct a thorough investigation,” she said, handing her another tissue.

Rachel laughed softly and nodded. “I’ve always felt that way about this place,” she agreed. Wiping her eyes again, she shook her head. “What you must think of me.” She looked down, not meeting her eyes.

“I think you’re carrying something heavy within you and it’s been there for a while. Something you may not even have known was there, but it’s decided to poke its head out and it’s causing you hurt and pain,” Scully said softly, watching Faith’s eyes grow heavy, tired from the excitement, and feeling warm and cozy as she was held by Rachel. “That’s what I think. Nothing more, nothing less.” Rachel nodded and rubbed Faith’s back, her eyes closed as she rested her cheek on Faith’s head.

“I’ve always wanted kids. Always. But…” She swayed slightly and shook her head. “It just didn’t work out. Seeing Faith at your wedding dinner, and even little Raina, it brought those feelings to the surface. I hadn’t thought of them in so long and that night… they were there again. And now,” She laughed softly and bitterly. “I’m with this amazing man, and all I can think is how much I would love to have a child with him. I know it’s fast. So fast.” She opened her eyes and looked at Scully, tears pooling in them. “I love him so much. It sounds so cliche, but I can’t imagine my life without him. I can’t.” Scully smiled and pulled her close for a hug, mindful of Faith sleeping, and they both sighed.

“Is your fear that he wouldn’t want a child? Because…” Scully said, shaking her head, stepping back as she looked at Rachel, who shook her head sadly.

“It’s not that. I’m 43. I’m… past child bearing age. There is adoption or foster care, of course, but I really wanted to have one of my own and my time has passed.”

“Oh, Rachel,” Scully said kindly. “No, you’re not. My situation was… well different to say the least, but… I’m 55 now and well…” She touched Faith’s back gently and smiled. “It’s not too late.”

“We haven’t even discussed anything close to this,” Rachel whispered. “I haven’t even told him that I… it’s too fast.”

“Is it?” Scully asked softly. “Is it really? Who determines when we fall in love? It may seem fast according to what society deems as “normal” but, six weeks, six months, would you still feel the same?”

“I would. I can’t begin to explain it, but I would. I... I knew it when I first saw him.”

“You just needed to be sure,” Scully whispered, staring into the distance, remembering many days of uncertainty, until she knew beyond a doubt that Mulder was her choice. He was and would always be the choice she made, again and again.

“Seven years,” she breathed, shaking her head, and closing her eyes with a smile. Laughing softly, she opened her eyes and looked at Rachel. “Don’t wait seven years to tell him how you feel. Don’t wait seven days. If you love him, tell him.” Rachel smiled, tears filling her eyes again, and Scully handed her another tissue.

“As for children…” Scully smiled at Faith. “I don’t think you need to worry about him. He acts gruff and grumbles a lot, but that’s how he shows his affection. How quickly did he take Faith from me? And he wouldn’t give her back.” They both laughed and Rachel nodded. “However children may come into your life, Rachel, if they do, he will love them with his whole heart.”

Rachel nodded and smiled, wiping her eyes again. Shifting Faith a little, she held her close and took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said. “I talk to people every day for a living, but sometimes I’m the one who needs to be heard.”

“We all need that,” Scully said with a smile. “Are you ready to head back? Or would you like a little more time?” Rachel smiled and nodded once more.

“I’m ready” she said. Scully gave a gentle tug to Bella‘s leash and they continued walking toward the little gingerbread house, which they knew would be warm and inviting, and smelling of hot cocoa.

As Scully suspected may be the case, Betty had found a nearly identical nutcracker and would not hear of charging them to replace the one Bella had destroyed.

“You keep both,” she said. “It’s always good to see how what we do affects those around us. Seeing something like this, is a good learning tool sometimes. Life is messy, but we can always try and fix it, but it might not be exactly the same, which is why care needs to be taken with things we love.”

“Damn,” Mulder said. “You come for the trees and the pretty decorations and you get words of wisdom to boot.” She smiled at them both, and then continued to wrap the nutcracker.

They drank hot cocoa, eating fudge and cookies as they looked around, rehashing the experience of cutting down the trees, laughing as they did. Faith woke up, happy to find everyone was still together. Demanding attention, she found it was not hard to come by, when she flashed her blue eyes and smiled her sweet smile. They let her try some fudge and she enjoyed it, evidenced by her chocolate drooling smile.

A few new decorations were chosen for the tree and the house. Scully saw Betty throwing extra items into their bags and she knew by the time the decorations had been packed up and put away, they would most likely need another bin to hold all their new treasures.

Howard encouraged them to take a picture in the sled, all of them together, Bella included, as Mulder held her in his arms.

“Let’s get one of everybody,” Rachel insisted. “That means you too Uncle and Auntie.” Despite their protests, she maneuvered them into the sled as she set the timer on her phone and ran back to stand beside Skinner and wait for the picture to be taken.

They left together, walking out to their separate cars, the trees tied securely to the tops. Mulder placed their overflowing bags and the backpack in the backseat and put Bella in the travel crate they bought for her, in rear of the car.

Rachel still held Faith, but Scully saw a difference in her now, as though a worry had been lifted. Catching her eye, Rachel smiled and Scully knew it had. Whatever happened next, Rachel was ready to face it.

“Mama!” Faith shouted, reaching for Scully and Rachel smiled. Hugging her close once more, she handed her to Scully.

“She always smells so deliciously wonderful, I had to have one last sniff. That’s not super creepy is it?” Rachel laughed and Scully shook her head with a chuckle.

“Not at all. I find myself absolutely intoxicated by her scent as well. There’s something about the smells of a baby.”

“Hits you right in the ovaries, that’s for fucking sure,” Rachel mumbled and they stared at each other, understanding passing between them. Scully nodded and Rachel smiled. “Thank you for everything today. The listening ear, the discussion, the lending of this beautiful girl.” She touched Faith’s cheek and smiled again. “She’s so beautiful and such a happy little girl.”

“Unless she’s tired and hungry, then you might not recognize her,” Scully warned her with a smile.

“I don’t blame her, I’m the same way. Ask Walter about Pittsburgh one day. It was not pretty,” Rachel said with wide eyes. Scully laughed and nodded.

“Mulder could tell you many stories about that in regards to me. We’ll just steer clear of that topic around them, agreed?”

“Agreed,” Rachel laughed.

“You ladies ready?” Mulder asked, walking over and kissing Faith’s head.

“Yeah,” Scully answered, smiling at Rachel.

Skinner walked over and they all shook hands and hugged goodbye. Faith was taken from her, lifted up and hugged and kissed. Mulder took her from Skinner, and as they said goodbye once more, Rachel grasped Scully’s hand and smiled, silently thanking her again. She nodded and squeezed her hand before Skinner and Rachel got into their car.

Watching them drive away, Scully smiled and took a deep breath, happy for what she knew was coming for them.

“What’s got you smiling so happily, Miss Scully?” Mulder asked, putting his arm around her.

“She loves him,” she said quietly, turning her head to look at him. He stared at her and gave her a look of mock astonishment.

“Yeah, obviously,” he said with a puzzled frown.

“Oh, did she tell you too?”

“She didn’t have to, I could see it,” he said, opening the car door and buckling Faith into her car seat.

“You could see it?” she asked as he shut the door.

“Yeah,” he answered, crossing his arms and staring at her. She raised her eyebrows at him and he grinned.

“I recognize the signs,” he shrugged. Her eyebrows went higher and he laughed, uncrossing his arms and pulling her towards him. “She looks at him the way you looked at me… the way you do look at me.”

“Is that right?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck with a smile.

“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured. “Has she not actually said it yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Hmmm… and what was the brilliant advice you gave her?”

“I told her not to wait for seven years. Not even seven days. If she loves him, she should tell him.” She stared at him and he nodded, smiling as his eyes dropped to her lips.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“And I love you,” she smiled.

He kissed her and she pulled him closer, trying to put every missed I love you moment into the kiss. The times when they had nearly died and she wanted to tell him. The moments that seemed so small and insignificant, when her love for him had bubbled up to the surface, only to be tamped down; she tried to convey it all.

Breaking apart, they smiled, kissing once more before they got in the car. Reaching for her hand, he softly kissed her fingers and smiled.

“I know that saying it, putting it out there and leaving yourself vulnerable, is terrifying. Seven years, Scully,” he said quietly, staring at her with a smile. “Hearing it, of course it’s important. But, Scully… I saw your love far before I ever heard it. Rachel may be worried to say it, but trust me, Skinner already knows. Love can’t be ignored, not when it’s being silently shouted every time you look at the person you love.”

“God… you always say the science talk gets you hot, well when you talk like that, hoooo boy…” she said with a low moan. He raised his eyebrows and she nodded slowly.

“Well…” he said, clearing his throat, letting go of her hand and fumbling with the keys to start the car. “I say we, uh, we head on home.”

She laughed as he quickly backed up and they started down the road. The car smelled of Christmas as Faith babbled away in the backseat and Mulder reached for her hand again. Interlocking their fingers, he hummed under his breath, and she smiled at him, her heart filled with happiness and love.

[sugarfreecapsicle]

study buddy

bucky barnes x reader

Prompts: college!au (1.5k constellation writing challenge by @sunmoonandbucky); fake dating!au & unplanned bed sharing trope (star’s multi-fandom follower celebration by @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan )

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit of pining, lots of awkward interaction, fluff!!!!

Wordcount: 2k-ish

A/N: oh my god, y’all, I can’t believe two of my favorites have challenges going on at the same time. I’m so honored to call them both friends - both are phenomenal writers in their own right and I am always floored by their respective work. I love the both of your oh so dearly and am so happy you’ve reached such important milestones! You deserve every happiness, and I hope this fic can bring you just a little of that.

Gif Credit (x)

Assigned seating did not end in grade school. The nightmare of desk dictatorship held strong in Fury’s classroom - a man of simple rules and unquestioned respect for his time. Your research into your professors via many forums and sites like RateMyProfessor did not alert you to the nightmare of obeying his law to the letter.

“If I were sorry about my decision, I’d apologize, but I’ve always been an honest man. You chose your seat, you chose your partner, and you chose to break up. That’s a personal problem to solve on personal time. Not mine. See you next class.”

Your conversation on the phone with Wanda and Maria definitely didn’t help lift your mood. Wanda, empathetic and full of irrational resolutions like falsifying a restraining order. Maria, ever practical and smug with her I-told-you-so attitude.

“I don’t know what else you expected from Fury of all people,” Maria chuckled before biting into an apple slice. “Even if he thinks Brock is an asshole, he won’t make an exception without something dire on the line.”

“Maybe you can just switch classes? I’m pretty sure there’s an opening in-” “Wanda, I love you, but I can’t switch classes two weeks from finals.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeeze your eyes shut in the afternoon sun. “I’ll just...I’ll just handle this as gracefully as I can.”

“Godspeed,” Maria deadpans before dropping the call.

“Y’know, I didn’t want to have to resort to this,” Wanda’s trepidation fueled your oncoming tension migraine, “but maybe it’s time to call in your favor with Bucky.”

Your heart drops somewhere on the pigeon-shit sidewalk.

“Wanda....I think you might be right.”

The saying goes that once you’ve hit rock bottom there’s nowhere to go but upward. If calling in a favor to your freshman year crush turned campus heartbreaker didn’t qualify, you didn’t want to find out where bedrock truly could be.

You shouldn’t be surprised to find a technology major in the library swamped with work on a Tuesday, but when that student is James Buchannan Barnes, it’s worthy of flipping the world ass over teakettle. Dashing as ever, stormy eyes, chestnut hair combed just so. Your backpack thuds on the floor beneath the co-op table, and his eyes find you.

“Hey, stranger,” he murmurs with an impossibly charming smile that lights his entire face. “Where have you been since August?”

Fighting a smile around Bucky is futile, so you let a grin appear. “Unfortunately dating Brock and sitting next to him in Fury’s class.”

His smile pulls into a tight wince as you take your seat across from him and retrieve your laptop from your bag.

“I don’t envy you.” Bucky waves and nods briefly at another student passing by behind you, and you turn to notice it’s a shapely redhead you recall from last semester’s art history class. “He won’t budge without legal documentation at best.”

Your fingers twist and curl together in nonsensical patterns in your lap. “Well, I was hoping to get Brock off my case, actually.”

Bucky doesn’t respond more than raised eyebrows and startled blinking. 

“Would...could you be my fake boyfriend long enough to convince Brock we aren’t getting back together?” It comes out all rushed and nervous, syllables running together like a skittering mouse across the kitchen floor. Your heart hammers against your chest, determined to break free of your body every second Bucky stalls his reply. You can’t read him - he’s still leaned back in dumbfounded silence. 

At long last he leans in, hands steeple between the two of you, calculating gleam in his eye. “If you’ll help me figure out how to pass this English Lit final, I’ll actually date you.” 

You both laugh quietly, minding the nearby staff eyeing your space at the table. Pink tinges your cheeks dangerously beyond mere flattery. 

“Let’s just agree to fake dating for now, and we’ll see if you can still stand to share space with me after a few weeks.”

“Deal.” Bucky extends his hand, you grasp it and shake to your agreement. Your fingers reluctantly move to let go, but Bucky holds firm and pulls the back of your hand to his smirking lips. “Whatever you need, darlin’.”

Days later you’re still tingling from his public affection in the library. Could you have been imagining the color shift in his eyes when he peered over your hand or was it purely fantasy? Lack of caffeine, mental fixation from stress - more likely than any truth to how deeply in character he seemed to be already.

Bucky escorts you to your classes with his fingers threading yours, a hand at the small of your back, an arm flung around your shoulders. He’s in your ear, whispering jokes and delicious plans for the rest of your time together, kissing your forehead or your cheek when you reach the door. Keeping your arrangement from Wanda and Maria could only be explained by the stress of impending finals, and you’d managed to avoid inevitable party and holiday invitations. If nothing else, this pretending made the idea of being near Brock again less intimidating.

Fury Friday arrived sooner than you’d felt it should, and as set in precedent, Bucky strolls next to you with his hand in yours, beaming and chatting about how he’d managed to bring his scores up enough in Statistics to earn a pass on his final and thereby free up his weekend. Dread skirted in your lungs, a distant siren’s call to your sense of reason as the reality of sitting next to Brock for two hours pressed upon you. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or are you gonna keep me guessing?”

He’s too good at this, and Bucky has to know it. “Sorry, I...am not looking forward to this.”

“I can’t think of anyone that looks forward to a Fury class to be fair,” he laughs breathily and puts a soothing hand to your waist. A kiss lingers on your forehead, and Bucky’s spicy cologne takes over your senses in a tight embrace. “Especially with Rumlow as your seatmate.”

His whispered acknowledgment makes your whole body shiver, and he responds with a few brushes over your arms and back to stir away the obvious chilled gust of wind that’s painted your cheeks pink again.

“Knock ‘em dead, killer,” he teases with a single knuckle against your chin. Bucky’s nose brushes just barely against yours, and then he’s dashing down the hallway with a wave over his shoulder. It dawns on you as you take your seat - your neighbor pleasantly absent - that Bucky could be sacrificing too much for a fake relationship, for your sake. Brock could be all bark and no bite, but a small part of you felt he could be a breath away from snapping. Others are milling about the room, so you pull your phone out and send Bucky a text. The little heart next to his name stings somewhere deep in your chest.

You’re not missing classes just to walk me to and from, right?

Your laptop is open and ready to go, humming to life while you bend beneath the elongated desks to make sure you could plug into an outlet if need be. The buzz of a reply sends you hurtling into the composite tabletop, a loud thud followed by tittering giggles around the filling room.

Brock is glaring down at you and your phone screen, mouth in a thin line, eyebrows knitted together. You don’t say a word to him and try to keep his prying eyes from your screen.

Not missing, exactly, but cutting it close. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.

“Didn’t take you long to hop on someone else’s dick, did it?”

His voice churns in your stomach, but you don’t acknowledge him. Had this been any other class but Fury’s you could put in earbuds and block him out. Brock’s eyes are on you, or at least the cold sweat chilling the back of your neck makes you think as much, and he’s seething, boring holes into your form. For two hours. For an entire Fury lecture.

Your shoe catches one of the rear legs of his chair, but you can’t bother to turn around and apologize - not like the seat budged under the star athlete. Bucky grins as you exit through the wide double doors, moves to wrap an arm around you, and you pull him by his jacket to your lips. You’re lost in his cologne, the feel if his mouth on yours, his body heat against the biting December cold. There’s a hum, something of a moan quiet enough to feel and dream of hearing - and you can’t be sure if it came from you or Bucky. With a dizzied wobble, you’re separated and Bucky’s eyes are still closed, arms cocooning you against his form.

“Hey,” he chuckles, voice deep and husky, the grin tugging at the right corner of his mouth.

“Hi,” you’re just as breathy and more than a little wanting. “Ready for the weekend?”

______________________________________

Friday night passes without a mention of the kiss.

The entirety of Saturday passes, and no mention of the kiss.

And it’s all you can think about. Forget studying for finals, forget meal prepping for the guaranteed necessity of pre-made lunches and dinners. That kiss.

You’d caught him off guard, but he didn’t hesitate to respond hungrily. Bucky tasted of honeyed tea and cinnamon chewing gum, carried the warmth of summer sun beneath his jacket. You hadn’t considered prior to the rash decision to just fucking kiss him that your senses would swim in his aftershave, his sheer proximity, the comfort of him. For you, Bucky had never been so tangible.  

Truthfully, Bucky had never been tangible for anyone - notorious campus-wide for gracefully bowing out of invitations for dates, one night stands even. People of course talked, spread rumors that he had to be dating a professor in secret, that he had a long distance relationship with a supermodel overseas. 

Until that kiss two days ago.

Bucky arranged for time to cram for his English Lit final with you tonight in his apartment, more for the convenience of avoiding scorned women at every corner of your dorm than anything else. He did have more space, privacy and faster internet than the supplied campus Wi-Fi. 

Is it appropriate to bring wine to a study session or is that strictly for dinner parties? Maybe some appetizers? Seven o’clock on a Sunday night typically meant binging as many football games as anyone could consume, especially in a college town. 

You’re buzzed up to this apartment, cream puffs in hand, and freeze when Steve opens the door to a living room full of people in various coordination of navy and ivory. The tall blonde ushers you in and sweeps your dessert out of your hands before you can locate your study buddy.

“Buck’s in his room,” Steve offers with some mischief. “Says he needs to pass this final, so he’s passing on the game night.”

It’s easy enough to figure out which room with a shut door is Bucky’s when Sam walks out of the bathroom and immediately checks the score on his phone (the space around the smaller television is too busy to see). You knock, probably a little too lightly at first, but the second set of taps nearly clock Bucky’s throat.

He’s beaming, cheeks flushed, smile wide - like a smitten kid. His electric touch pulls you into his bedroom already scattered with his scrawlings and textbooks. The door barely provides enough sound protection from the party for you to feel comfortable at attempting to concentrate.

“I really thought Steve had an away game this weekend, but I hadn’t thought about having a bye week for finals -” Bucky stops, feet strategically between loose paper and dog-eared texts. And god, he’s looking at you like that again and you can’t breathe. 

Suddenly you understand the gravity of your feelings, and your mouth goes dry.

This isn’t fake for you. Not anymore.

“Really, I’m glad you still wanted to help me out.” Bucky’s sincere, permanently grinning as he’s rearranging his chaotic floorspace to make room for you. You swallow hard as you eye the sliver of skin between his sweater and his lounge pants, the well-loved hoodie pooling around his middle as he bends from his hips. When he’s upright and inviting you to settle in, you decide that professionalism has to outweigh your own personal crisis - think like Fury.

Hours later, the two of your are in a shambles - Bucky insisted you change into a pair of his sweats and a tee shirt in the event of an all nighter, you’d made a run for fast food, and your eyes can hardly stay open long enough to fact-check Bucky’s recitation. 

“I think maybe we should call it a night,” he yawns, interrupting his monologue. You nod mutely and move to get up when Bucky catches your arm. “Uh, I mean, you could...you could stay.”

You shouldn’t, though, for reasons Bucky doesn’t know - but he has an excellent argument: you’re in no shape to get yourself home and with the party still going strong outside his bedroom there’s no way he can drive you home. 

Bucky helps you get to your feet and smooths his hands over your shoulders. “Scout honor, no funny business. They’ll all crash on top of each other in the living room and Steve’s room. You’d at least have a little more space in here. I’ll take the floor -” 

“Absolutely not, Bucky Barnes.” Your tone even surprises you; the Fury switch quickly dissipates. “I mean, I can’t in good conscience let you do that, it’s your room. We can...we can just share, if you don’t mind -”

“Not at all.” Maybe it’s your drowsiness but he seems eager. “Just washed the sheets anyway, and the blanket’s something Mom and Gran quilted for me as a kid.”

Soft cotton and jersey envelop your aching muscles, and a betraying moan of contentment escapes you when Bucky curls into bed next to you. He’s warm, a furnace beneath the covers, haven from the biting cold. 

His stubble, still unshaven from Friday, borders on scruff and tickles your forehead. Hands ease over your back, tentative, hesitant. You can’t deny him and certainly can’t deny yourself this moment. 

“Darlin’?”

He’s whisper soft, cotton candy words prickling against your skin. You hum and his hands still against your shirt.

“Wasn’t kidding about actually dating you, y’know. If you want to take up the offer-”

Your fingers are on his lips, you crane your body to get a better look at his beautiful, tired face. 

“Ask me again in the morning, Buck. After coffee. So I know this isn’t delirium.”

He sighs and presses a tired smile into your forehead. “Whatever you need, darlin’.”

[ravenforce]

Ithaca Pt. 1

Word Count: 2928

Warning/s: None, right now. 

A/N: The O8 x Avengers College Au crossover fic you didn’t ask for is here, or at least the first part of it. I would first like to explain that Ithaca will be Avengers arc of this crossover. Manhattan will be the O8 parts. Secondly, I would like to apologize for being away all the time. December just really knocks the life out of me, to be honest. I’m not even playing a lot of video games as compared to the end of November but I’m still always tired. Anyway, I’m sorry. Lastly, as I said before, this fic is the wild and ambitious. So I would apologize in advance if details get inconsistent. 

PS. I would really love to hear your feed. Hit my inbox or the comments. xx

PSS. No pairing yet. Pairings will unfold as the story goes. 

Part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

***

Looking at your one backpack sitting idly in front of you outside the JFK, waiting for your best friend Maria to pick you up. You realized it’s been too long since you’ve been home. Home being where Maria is. She was adopted by Nick when you were thirteen. Giving you five years alone in the system, jumping from one foster home to another until you were old enough to take care of yourself.

You were never resentful that Maria got adopted and you never did. You were always too smart and too smart-mouth to be adopted anyway. You also love her too much to begrudge her of anything. Besides, she never stopped being your best friend even after she moved to New York. You two still talked every day, you both still know the ins and outs of each other lives even though you’re a few states or even a coast apart.

When you turned eighteen, you run away from foster care and graduated with your first degree in Literature and Mathematics at MIT. That’s right, after Maria left, you poured your energy into school effectively accelerating you to university. Now at 21, you decided to give in to Maria’s plea for you to come home and continue your education at Cornell University where she’s attending. Having finished all your minor classes, you’re able to transfer at Cornell as a third-year Art student.

“Y/N!!!!”

You looked to your right to see Maria running towards you. Thanks to all the time you spent doing Muay Thai, you were able to keep your balance after Maria launched herself on your person.

“Y/N,” she muttered against your hair. By the watery quality of her voice, you have no doubt that she’s actually tearing up in your arms.

“Hey,” you said a little breathlessly before wrapping your arms around her tighter.

Maria pulled away after a minute and you’re able to see her tear-stained face and beautiful smile. She runs her eyes all over your face and down to your body to assess your physical well-being.

“God, you look so good,” she said, content that you didn’t lie to her when you said you did learn how to cook for yourself and not rely on takeaway food forever.

“Thank you. You look amazing too.” Not that Maria ever looks anything short of magnificent anyway. Even when you two were still at the orphanage wearing hand-me-down clothes, she looked beautiful.

Maria blushed profusely before tugging you out of the airport and towards the parking lot. It was so good to have her hold your hand again and listen to her speaking voice in person after being apart for so long.

“What?” she asked when she noticed you staring at her after you both got inside her car.

You smiled softly. “Nothing, I just missed you. Missed this,” you said and Maria understood.

“I miss you too, silly,” she said before unbuckling her seat belt and leaning against her console to kiss your cheeks.

It was then your turn to blush. When she noticed it, she laughed remembering how you hate public displays of affection so much. Such a cool guy.

“Stop laughing,” you said with a pout, which prompted her to laugh harder as she backed out of the parking lot.

***

The drive from the airport to Ithaca took a while but you and Maria didn’t mind. You spent the rest of the drive back talking about literally everything. You weren’t surprised when Maria pulled up a tall building at the City Center. After all, she did tell you she was renting at a luxury apartment smack in the middle of busy Ithaca. What surprised you was Nick being there to wrap you up in a hug the moment you step inside the apartment.

“Y/N!!!” he yelled before hugging you.

You just had to chuckle at how he and Maria greeted you in the exact same way. 

“Hey, Nick,” you said before hugging him back. “What are you doing here?” 

Nick pulled back and grinned at you. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you. Besides, Maria needed help cleaning up,” he explained solemnly.

“Oh Nick, let’s give her the house tour before you tell her how messy I have been,” Maria said emerging from her bedroom wearing a fresh shirt.

The layout of the house is pretty cut-through. The first thing you will see when you enter the apartment is the modern kitchen attached to a small living room and a balcony on the far side. To the right is the shoe closet, and the hallway leading to a small storage room, a common bathroom, and the bedrooms.

“And this will be your bedroom,” Maria said after opening the second door to your left.

You can tell Nick and Maria took the time to customize your room to give you the best comfort available the moment you flopped down the bed. The sheet smelled fresh off the laundry, and the bed was the softest you ever slept in. Maria gave you literally five seconds to have the bed all to yourself before she launched herself next to you, and tugging you against her. Nick watched you two cuddle and giggle like a pair of five years old before he decides he has seen enough.

“Alright children, I’ll step out for a while to get us some food. Both of you freshen up before dinner,” Nick said from the doorway.

“Yes dad!” you both yelled at the same time. Nick shook his head with a smile before leaving you two alone.

When you heard the apartment door closed, you burrowed your head back against Maria’s neck and cuddled her as your life depended on it.

“Welcome home,” she whispered before kissing the crown of your head.

***

Between settling in, and Maria excitedly showing you around town, the weekend was a blur. You woke up Monday morning with no Maria but a sweet little note on your breakfast telling you that she had to go to school without you because she has early morning swimming practice. You wished to go to school together like old times but you are running on a different schedule than Maria. You sat down and savored the tasty ensemble of crispy bacon, perfectly poached eggs, toasts and black coffee that your best friend made you while scrolling through your phone to check on your schedule again. 

When you arrived at school with plenty of time to spare to find your classroom. The last thing you want to be on your first day is to be late. You were checking your phone again for your schedule when someone spoke in front of you. 

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

When you looked up, you had to restrain yourself from blinking twice because there stood in front of you is probably the most beautiful human you’ve ever laid eyes on. You take back what you said about being late on your first day. The last thing you want to be on your first day in uni is to have gay panic in front of your new school mate, who you’ll probably see often if the Head Girl pin on her lapel is anything to go by. 

You cleared your throat. “Who’s asking?” you managed to ask as casual as possible. 

“Natasha Romanoff, Student Council President,” she introduced herself politely while extending out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You smiled shyly and fought the blush that’s creeping up under your shirt. “Pleasure is all mine,” you said softly. 

Natasha looked at you for a second before relaxing her posture and smiling. “I’m here to give you the school tour,” she explained before pulling the door, prompting you to walk with her.

Natasha’s very leisurely phase made you wonder if you’ll ever make it in time for the first period. You glanced at your watch. 

“Oh,” Natasha gasped and frowned. “Am I boring you?” she asked quietly. 

“What?!” you exclaimed, earning a few curious looks from students at the hall.

Nat didn’t bother to pay them any attention. She’s looking only at you. “No, no, you’re not boring. I was just wondering if I’m allowed to skip the first period on my first day of school because this is by far the coolest school tour I’ve ever done,” you rambled on until you saw the grin on Natasha’s face. 

“You’re cute when you ramble,” she said matter-of-factly. “And no, you’re not allowed to skip the first period because you’re here.” 

You glanced at the door and saw that you were indeed standing in front of your classroom. You blushed and forced yourself to look back at this intriguing specimen of a human being in front of you. 

“Oh.”

Natasha took a step towards you and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “See you later, Y/L/N,” she said before walking gracefully away. 

***

When you got inside the room, it was almost half full. No one paid you any attention because Natasha, bless her heart, walked you to the back door. When the bell rung, the only seat left was the one next to you. About twenty minutes after the class started, the front door swung open and a disheveled blonde walked inside.

“Ms. Danvers. Glad you’re able to join us today,” the teacher said. “And only twenty minutes late.”

The whole room laughed, the blonde woman chuckled too.

“Sorry Mr. Banner but it’s the meet season,” the blonde girl said.

Mr. Banner just sighed and waved her off before continuing the lecture. The blonde girl immediately spotted the only empty seat next to you. Your eyes met and for the second time that day you felt like your breath has been knocked out of you. For her part, Danvers seems to have frozen on her spot on the podium as well before she heard Mr. Banner clear his throat.

“Get it together, Danvers and sit already.”

Danvers took the steps of the stairs up to you in twos.

“Hi, I’m Carol. Carol Danvers,” she introduced herself before flopping down on her seat.

God, she’s even more attractive sitting there a foot away from you. Her hair’s golden, her eyes are warm and her smile is radiant.

“Hi, Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you whispered.

She grinned. “Oh, you’re the genius from MIT? Nice to meet you. Maria can’t stop talking about you,” she tried to whisper but fail.

“You know Maria?” you asked even though you weren’t confused about how Maria would be friends with such a looker.

Before Carol can answer though, Mr. Banner shut his book loudly. When you turned back towards the front, Mr. Banner was looking straight at you and Carol.

“Care to include us in your discussion, girls?” he asked, not sounding very pleased.

You were on the way to shaking your head and shrinking in your seat before Carol spoke. “Did you know we have a MENSA student with us right now?” she asked. She sounds like she’s bragging a long-time friend’s achievement.

Mr. Banner didn’t look impressed. “I know Carol, that’s why I left that seat for you. So you can, maybe draw some inspiration and put an effort into this class.”

The whole room rambled with laughter. Carol still didn’t look affected by any of it.

“Well,” she started before blatantly checking you out. “I can already feel the inspiration coming.”

There was collective groaning inside the room like Carol does this thing all the time. Mr. Banner even facepalmed, literally. You couldn’t say or do anything but blush profusely on your seat. Mr. Banner called the class in order and continued the lecture with minimal interruptions from Carol because she was paying attention to you more than the blackboard.

When the bell rang, Carol was quickly being sought by various students, most of them are girls. A girl whisked her away, but Carol managed to stop by the door and wink at you. You groaned quietly before reaching out for your bag to look for your phone.

***

You: I swear school is out to get me.

Maria: Already? It’s your first day. Lunch? Meet me at the dining hall.

You: On my way.

Maria: Great! You’re great. Breathe. I love you.

You: Aye. See u.

Maria: Say it!

You rolled your eyes affectionately at your phone before relenting and typing out a response.

You: UGH! Fine! Love you too.

Maria: Now, was that so hard? :)

Growing up on the system though made it a tad hard for you to be vulnerable. Maria’s an exception though.

You shook your head before pocketing your phone and walking towards the direction of the dining hall. It was a part of the school tour with Natasha earlier that morning. So, finding the building wasn’t a problem. The problem was when you arrived, it was already packed full of hungry, noisy college students. The good thing is, looking for Maria on the crowd is second nature to you. You craned your neck up to scan the hall for Maria’s signature tight bun. 

It took a grand total of seven seconds before you spotted it on the table smack right in the middle of the hall. You walked casually towards the table but stop short when you realized Maria wasn’t sitting alone. She’s sitting in what you can only guess as the popular kids' table if the sheer number of attractive people sitting on it is to go by.

“You don’t plan on standing there for an hour, do you?” A voice too familiar spoke behind you. 

“Stark!” A pretty boy with military cut blonde hair wearing a basketball jersey shouted from the table before you could turn around and answer.

The whole table turned to your direction. Maria smiled at you. Tony didn’t wait for you to turn to him before he’s practically dragging you towards the table. 

“Who’s this?”

“Steve, don't be rude,” Natasha said firmly. Steve promptly closed his mouth. 

“Everyone, this is Y/N,” Maria introduced.

“Oh! The girl who vested Tony at the tech talent show on his own company?” Steve perked up and teased. 

Tony glared before throwing a napkin over Steve’s face. “Shut up,” he growled which prompted the table to erupt with laughter. 

“Hey, sit here,” Natasha and Carol said at the same time, which stopped the laughter almost immediately. 

Natasha and Carol glared at each other. Everyone was looking at the two’s stare off before a guy with sleek black comb back hair pulled you to sit beside him.

“Problem solved,” he said before smiling at you. You smiled at him thankfully. “I’m Loki. This is my big brother, Thor.”

Thor, amidst his muscular stature, gave you a toothy grin before extending his hand for you to shake. “Welcome to the gang. Don’t worry, we’re not always this messy,” he said. Something about Thor tells you he’s a safe space, so you let your first guard down and relaxed.

“Yeah, we’re always messier,” a girl who has her arms slung at the back on Carol’s chair said. “I’m Valkyrie, Val for short.”

You murmured a soft ‘nice to meet you’ but your eyes are focused on Val’s fingers playing with the ends of Carol’s blonde curls. You averted your eyes only for you to catch Natasha’s. She smiled before sliding across the table the other half of her sandwich. 

“You shouldn’t skip meals,” she explained softly.

“I wasn’t planning to but thank you,” you answered gratefully before taking a bite off the sandwich. It’s peanut butter, one of your favorites. 

Maria stayed low and watched the interaction between you, Natasha and Carol. She tossed the bottle of coconut water she got for you earlier before pulling out her phone. 

Maria: Now, I get it. Tread carefully, baby. 

You took a quick glance at your phone when you heard a notification. You looked at your best friend and rolled your eyes at her before turning back your attention at your conversation with Tony, Thor, and Loki. 

[charlotteu]

⟨ JENNIE KIM. CISFEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, CHARLOTTE TAN is actually a descendent of H E P H A E S T U S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old CIVIL ENGINEERING MAJOR from SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite PRECISE & TENSE. 

TRIGGER WARNING : death, specifically child birth death

hi i’m dana! i’m ninteen and i never fuckin learned how to read! i’m in cst timezone and i really immensely love pjo, i’ve been reading the book series since fifth grade so i’m really pumped to be here! i’m sorry if my activity is spotty over this weekend, my brain has decided to tell me to do anything and everything Right Now :) anyways

full name :

charlotte chunhwa tam

nicknames / aliases :

lottie, char, chunhwa, lola, lam / little lam

major :

civil engineering

sports :

rugby and volleyball

sexuality :

lesbian

gender idenitity / pronouns :

cis - female / she/her

age / birthday :

twenty - three, december tenth, nineteen - ninety - seven

zodiac :

sagittarius

powers : 

sensing faults in metal ores and technokenesis. / charlotte has the potential for her technokenesis powers to become stronger, she just needs someone to help her work more in depth with them. sensing faults in metal ores is the stronger of her two talents, but she thinks of this particular power more as an intuition thing versus a full “power.” she is definitely … not naturally talented when it comes to this area of her life, it’s something that she’s been trying to work on since going into college. she is prone to being easily discouraged by failure when it comes to trying to grow her powers, but that’s a trait she’s trying to work on.

personality :

charlotte is known to find literal scraps of anything and manage to make something gorgeous from it - whether it’s food, metal scraps, or a nearly - ruined picnic table - it’s a skill that she takes great pride in. she constantly tries to bring her loved ones together in one form or another, which results in quite a lot of last - minute plans and “family dinners.” because of these two traits, if someone just happened to forget to plan a birthday party or a baby shower and needed it thrown together within a day or two (maybe that is on her bucket list, maybe not,) charlotte is your perfect person. regardless of this, charlotte is still considered that friend that never has their life together and has an extensional crises every few weeks.

when it comes to school work, charlotte is perfectly organized. a well - planned and well - filled out academic calendar is always in her backpack and she has a few dozen notifications on both her phone and her laptop to remind her of class assignments. she is well - known at the tutoring center for her near constant sessions to ensure to that she is totally, a hundred percent getting the assignment. her math classes is where she thrives, and she has a record of taking several math classes during the summertime to further her knowledge.

myers - briggs :

entp 

vice :

temperance

virtue :

distrusting

hobbies :

gardening, poetry, welding, drawing, sculpting, learning about technological advances, running, and yoga

backstory :

      born in seoul, south korea to miss. tam, she had been visiting her parents when charlotte was born prematurely. ( there had been a complication in the birth that no one’s ever explained to charlotte, she just knows that her mom was alive long enough to hold her daughter for the first & the last time. ) legend has it it was silent in the hospital when the news broke, a rage washing through the family as they realize the expense that they had to pay for their grandchild. it’s her uncle that steps forward to take the child - a comfortable life in the epirus region of greece is what awaited the new family unit.

      life as a bachelor to the life as a single father was one that he greatly struggled with, but one he did not give up on. he always did his best to involve both the local culture along with charlotte’s heritage into her life - this involved food from both regions, learning greek and korean, participating in their holidays, etc. etc. no one could deny how happy the pair were, and how well it was going.

      when she turns twelve, she starts to develop ... slightly unusual powers that always came as a shock, especially considering how randomly occurring the episodes were. both charlotte and her uncle chalk it up to a weird sense of intuition before it starts to happen too much. ( her uncle doesn’t tell her how he found out her godly origin story. ) it’s a cloudy day when he sits her down & explains everything to her, drawing out the rest of her life until she goes to college. a life hidden away from everyone around her, a home school academic career that takes place while the two of them travel around the world. there’s a hidden element of paranoia as her uncle constantly moves them around & forces her to focus on her studies.

      this quiet life sealed away from the outside world leaves her doing whatever she can to keep busy. building whatever she can, trying to stay as occupied as much as she can. it results in a suitcase full of little trinkets by the time she’s six months into home schooling. the next few years of her life pass her by in a terrible haze as she does everything she can to catch up to the life that has been set out for her. her life begins to slow down when she gets into college, a safe haven where she can finally let go of the anxiety  that comes with the expectations.

[excelsi-or]

08/12/18 - performance art (woozi)

to a boy i love right now

w.c. 3.5k

A/N: Merry Christmas (in May)! Hahaha, just how the story rolls. This is a longer one, but I enjoyed this one.

December 7, 2018

December 8, 2018

With sunlight in her eyes, she wakes. She’s warm and is in no rush to move. As she starts to come to consciousness, her surroundings start to register. There’s a blanket over her and a sleeping Jihoon with his arms around her. The one that had been cradling her the night before is sprawled behind her, his right arm now resting in the dip in her side. She pulls back a bit to take in what he really looks like in his room.

His dark hair is sprawled across his grey sheets. Even in his sleep, his eyes are sharp, angled. The boy breathes in pout, and the slight upturn in his lips makes him look amused. She looks around for any sense of the time, wondering why she’s still here anyway.

Jihoon’s not letting go and she can’t move. Gently, she presses her lips against his, giving him butterfly kisses again and again. When he kisses her back, she stops and he rolls onto his back. This gives her the space to find her phone and check the time.

“I should get home,” she sighs. “I have a study session at noon.” On her elbows, she watches Jihoon try to decide if he’s going to wake with her or go back to sleep. She chuckles and kisses the side of his neck before getting up. She rolls off the bed and stretches.

“Did Mingyu not come home?”

Jihoon must decide he’s going to get up, because he wiggles his way into a sitting position. He leans back against the wall and she watches him carefully. “He did. It was late though.” Adorably, he rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands. “You’d already been sleeping for three hours. I didn’t want to wake you then.”

“And the blanket?”

“You’re a log in your sleep,” Jihoon chuckles. He ruffles his hair and stretches his arms over his head. “You’re not mad?”

“That you let me sleep all night?” She shakes her head and leaves the room. “No, Jihoonie. I’m not mad.”

She goes into the kitchen to look for food. On the fridge door is the now crumpled notice about the winter performance that Mingyu must have put back up. Her eyes skim over it, but she says nothing. Snagging a yogurt that Mingyu has stocked specifically for her, she makes no comment about the performance as Jihoon pads towards her. He stands by the door wrapped in the blanket they’d used last night. He’ll probably go back to sleep for a few more hours.

“I’ll see you, hmm?” she hums.

Jihoon nods and walks her to the door. She checks her pockets for her phone and doesn’t find it. She turns, about to say that she left it on the bed, when Jihoon holds it out to her. When she goes to grab it, Jihoon tucks it back into the blanket.

She laughs in confusion.

Jihoon leans forward to kiss her goodbye and the phone finds its way into her palm. “Bye. Have a good day today.”

She hesitates for a moment, but smiles. “You too, Jihoonie.”

“So should I be concerned that he hasn’t even mentioned it to me?” she asks Jeonghan during their study session.

He chews the back of his pencil. “He must know that you know it’s coming up,” Jeonghan answers. “Your best friend is in the show. I have no idea why he wouldn’t have told you already.”

“So is that a yes to being concerned?” She stops writing, because she’s not even focused on the problem that they’re working through. “I haven’t had any reason to be concerned with Jihoon yet.”

“I mean, every relationship has its bumps in the road.” Jeonghan puts his pencil down. “But I agree. You and Jihoon work well together.”

“Seungkwan says it’s because we both know what we want.”

Jeonghan nods. “You’re both no nonsense people, but you’re more… social than Jihoon.”

She puts both her hands dramatically on the table between them. “You’re giving me mixed signals about whether I should be concerned or not.”

“I don’t think you should really be concerned, but if you are, why don’t you just ask him about it?” Jeonghan pauses. “Why haven’t you asked him?”

“I did last night. He crumpled the reminder in his hand and then didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Huh.” Jeonghan mulls over the situation. “It seems weird that he wouldn’t want you to go.”

She buries her face in her hands, tapping her fingers on her forehead. “I just don’t want to freak him out. He’s been stressed lately, trying to finish up his songs in time. The boys have all done their parts and Jihoon’s kinda just left… trying to put it all together and clean it for them.”

Jeonghan nods. “Yeah. Seungcheolie says that Jihoon gets mad when other people are in the studio with him during finals time. They’ve learned to just leave him be.”

“What if he doesn’t want me there?” she asks suddenly.

Jeonghan shakes his head. “You’re silly. Of course he’d want you there. He adores you.”

She snorts. “That doesn’t mean he would want me there.”

Jeonghan sighs. “I don’t know. I think the best thing to do would be to talk to him.”

Well, she decided it wasn’t the best course of action. Jihoon during confrontations scares her slightly. He’s never mean to her, and typically they’re mature during disagreements, but this is something he’s blatantly trying to hide from her and she has no idea why. She knows how important the winter performance is. Hansol’s parents take the day off work to be with him to calm his nerves. She usually gets tired partway through the show and has to leave, but now she knows more of the participants. But if Jihoon doesn’t want her there, is it okay to go?

“Maybe he’s scared for you to hear the music he’s making,” Seungkwan says when she brings it up at dinner.

She shakes her head. “But I hear it in the studio. He plays new music for me all the time.”

“Maybe he gets stage fright and he doesn’t want to be embarrassed in front of you.”

She tips her head both ways, toying with the idea. She quickly dismisses it though and puts a piece of bulgogi in her mouth. “I think he’d have good stage presence.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re bad luck and he doesn’t want to ruin his chance at landing a good company spot somewhere in the future.”

Her face deadpans. If looks could kill, Seungkwan would be a dead man. He laughs. “I’m trying to lighten the mood, calm down.”

“You’re being honest and I’m annoyed at myself for wondering if it’s true,” she grumbles. “Maybe I just won’t go. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“Right. Besides, aren’t you going home for the holidays that day anyway?”

“Yeah,” she reaches for her water, “my last exam is on that day too.”

“There you go. You’ll be really busy.” Seungkwan waves his chopsticks in the air, dismissing any more discussion of her worries. “Things are fine.”

“What do you mean you’re not going?” Hansol demands as she leads him to the restaurant where Jihoon often takes her. They’d finished their exams at the same time. “Noona, you always come.”

“Jihoon doesn’t want me there.”

Hansol’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Why wouldn’t he want his girlfriend to be there?”

She shrugs, watching her step as they cross campus. She’s slipped on all the ice on the walkways at least four times today. She isn’t planning on breaking her neck any time soon. “He hasn’t even mentioned it to me.”

“Maybe he thinks that I’m inviting you?” Hansol guesses.

“But I don’t think he knows that I go every year,” she explains. “Yes, we’re best friends, but it doesn’t seem like Jihoon to consider stuff like that.”

Hansol frowns, thinking hard. She has to grab his elbow to make sure he takes a wide berth around an ice sheet. “Well I have a ticket for you.”

“I’m not going if Jihoon doesn’t want me there.”

“But I want you there. And so does everyone else. Mingyu hyung is excited for you to see the performance. And Soonyoung hyung says that you’ll be disappointed if they perform badly, so they’re practicing extra hard.” Hansol swings his backpack to his front. She watches him unzip it and dig around for something. She wants to scold him for being careless; he could slip and die, but she doesn’t. Instead, she gently nudges him out of the way of danger spots and tugs him back onto the walkway when he passes around them.

Finally, he presents her with a ticket.

“I got you a free one. Please come.”

She sighs and takes it from him. The date is printed in black ink, the rest of the ticket in gold. There’s a sheen that catches the dying sunlight and she can see a man sitting at a piano if she tilts it a certain way.

Hansol begins whining, which if they weren’t alone he would never do. She pushes his shoulder, causing him to stumble back. His left foot catches on the ice and he starts to slip. Quickly, her hand snaps forward and grabs his wrist to right him.

His face has paled, as if his life had flashed before his eyes. Rolling her eyes, she links her arm through his. “Fine, I’ll come. It seems you’ll injure yourself if I don’t.”

December 18, 2018

Exam. Pack. Performance.

Seungkwan stands beside her in line, his free ticket from Hansol in hand. “If the entire audience is everyone’s friends,” he looks at the young people and parent-aged humans around, “aren’t all the tickets free?”

She chuckles. “Well they aren’t supposed to make a profit.” She shows her ticket to the usher at the door and he waves her through. They find their seats near the front, just close enough that they’ll be able to see, not so close that they’ll break their necks.

“Wow, look at these center seats,” Seungkwan whispers.

She snorts as she slips out of her coat. “You say this as if he doesn’t get us good seats every year.” She’d first met Seungkwan at Hansol’s first winter performance. Just like every year, Hansol’s parents are next to her and they exchange greetings. Seungkwan does the same and they fall into easy conversation until the lights begin to dim.

Hansol forewarned her that everyone she wanted to see would be at the tail end of the show. “Apparently, we’re good this year.”

The first half is boring, a lot of first and second years who haven’t quite learned where they fit in the music department. She finds her head falling to Seungkwan’s shoulder. She tries her best not to fall asleep, aware that the acts can see her. When the intermission starts, Hansol’s mother nudges her leg.

“You should go get something to eat,” his mother chuckles. “You’ll be asleep before Hansol gets on stage.”

Upon return though, the second half picks up a lot. Seungkwan whispers in her ear when a shorter guy with a fedora comes on stage. He does a Michael Jackson inspired performance, all his tributes to the King of Pop extremely accurate. Seungkwan informs her that this is the guy that her boyfriend finds irritating. She tips her head, wondering why, but deciding she’ll never know.

When Hansol gets on stage with Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Mingyu, she’s upright in her seat. Her heart is beating in her chest from excitement and second-hand nerves. They’re in formation at the start, but once the chorus drops, they’re all over the stage. They attempt to hype up the crowd and their friends in the audience do not disappoint. She can’t help but laugh in her seat at the fan chant the other boys had come up with, Seungkwan chanting along.

Hansol’s eyes seek her out and a smile breaks his cool demeanour. The beat is familiar, likely from Jihoon making the beat while she slept or studied in the studio. She’s been blown away by Hansol’s rapping skills before, but alongside other people, there’s a different vibe. He seems a million times more comfortable, but that could also just be from experience.

His parents, who had been skeptical about his decision to major in music, seem more assured with every passing year. They still aren’t sure what type of career he could go into, though Hansol has informed her that he’s been offered auditions at various companies. He’s never gone.

“School first. It’ll make my parents happy.” And he was right.

As each act is called after Hansol’s, she listens carefully. She’s pleasantly surprised to hear Jihoon’s be the last name called, alongside Soonyoung and two Chinese names she’s never heard before.

All four make their way onto the stage, a piano for Jihoon at center stage. The three dancers take their places around him. Each boy starts with his head down and Jihoon starts the song with light piano trills.

“Has he played this for you?” Seungkwan asks as the song picks up.

“I’ve never heard this one.”

“It sounds like a break up song.”

The dancers fly around the stage in a flurry of arms and floor work. Jihoon’s voice trembles, as if he’s trying not to cry. The performance feels like one final push for somebody, as if the song is a call out of desperation.

And while she feels all the right emotions, the pain and the hope and the loss, she also feels pride. Not only is Jihoon the center of the song, when the orchestra is revealed behind him, they take none of the attention from him. As the song falls from its last crescendo, the entire room erupts in applause. Jihoon stands and moves to the front with Soonyoung and the two others. His eyes settle on her and widen in surprise before the front rows block her during the standing ovation.

The rest of the acts join them onstage and everyone bows to all sections of the university auditorium. The emcee returns and bids them a good night. A beat passes before the lights come back on. She checks her watch and calculates that there’s one train she can catch in the next thirty minutes.

“We gotta go,” Seungkwan says, as if reading her mind, “if you want to make the next train.”

She peers up at the stage where she can see Jihoon surrounded by a lot of people. His eyes keep darting to the audience, clearly unsure of where he’d seen her. “Yeah, let’s go.”

She turns to Hansol’s parents. “Tell Hansol that he was amazing.” She gives them hugs. “I have to catch the train to see my family.”

They wish her a merry Christmas and Seungkwan leads the way back to the lobby. The sea of people leaving urges them forward, though a few try to push their way to the stage, likely to get photos with the performers they came to see. Once in the lobby, which takes a surprisingly long time, she hears her name and Seungkwan’s being called.

They both turn and she smiles at the collection of men that she’s met through Hansol (and Jihoon) standing in a clump to greet them. She glances at her watch again and grimaces.

“You’re really gonna cut it close, but don’t you want to say hi?” Seungkwan is already tugging her, knowing her answer. They hurry through the crowd towards them. The boys are also surrounded by admirers and friends who want to talk to them, but she passes her bag off to Seungkwan and ducks in and around to get to Hansol. Immediately, she throws her arms around him. Mingyu is on her other side and wraps one arm around his waist, her other hand falling into Hansol’s.

“The rap was so good!” she exclaims. “It was well worth the wait.”

“Whose part was your favourite?” Mingyu asks.

She ponders her answer and nods. “I really liked Won—” Before she can even finish her sentence, she smells Wonwoo’s cologne and then feels a weight around her shoulders.

“Hah, told you. It was a killer verse,” Hansol says to him.

She laughs. “It was all amazing. The rhythm was good.” She squeezes Hansol’s hand. “You better give me a copy of that song for Christmas.”

Hansol smiles his toothy smile and nods his head.

Suddenly, her hand is yanked out of Hansol’s by Seungkwan, bag still over his shoulder. “Noona, you’re gonna be late.”

“Train station,” she informs Hansol. She gives Mingyu a squeeze before patting Wonwoo’s stomach with her now free hand. She catches Hansol around the neck in another hug, his hands snaking around her waist quickly.

“Merry Christmas, noona.”

Then Seungkwan has her wrist death-gripped in his hand so he won’t lose her as he tugs her to the exit. That is until someone grabs her free hand and gives it a hard tug. She yelps in surprise and turns, coming face-to-face with Jihoon.

“Jihoon.”

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Home,” she states, motioning towards the bag on Seungkwan’s shoulder. The younger man is itching to get going. “I’m gonna be late if I don’t—”

“We need to go, noona, seriously,” Seungkwan insists.

Jihoon laces his fingers between hers. “I’ll take her.”

It’s then that she notices he’s already dressed in his coat. “You’re not going to stay to talk with everyone?”

“I’ll catch up with them later.” He looks to Seungkwan. “There’s an after party at Hansol’s. He wants to know if you’re going.”

“Oh, yeah, I was going to go after—”

Jihoon nods his head in the direction of everyone else and Seungkwan takes the hint. He throws his arms around her, slides the bag strap onto her shoulder, and wishes her a merry Christmas. Over his shoulder, Seungkwan promises not to ruin their apartment, and then she loses his dark head of hair in the crowd.

Jihoon pulls her attention back to him. “Ready to go?”

“Oh.” She adjusts her overnight bag on her shoulder. “Uhm, yeah.”

Carefully, Jihoon leads the way out of the auditorium and they hurry towards the bus stop.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Jihoon asks when they take a seat at the back of the bus.

She blinks at his tone. There’s no aggression in Jihoon’s voice, only awe. “I didn’t think you wanted me there.”

“Why wouldn’t I have wanted you there? I—” Jihoon stops himself. “I… I’m happy you were there.”

“But you wouldn’t tell me that it was happening,” she explains. “When I asked you about it weeks ago, you wouldn’t talk about it.” She shrugs. “So I just left it.”

Jihoon shakes his head, his gloved hand squeezing hers. “I didn’t want to stress you out more by adding something else to your plate. I didn’t want you to feel as if you had to come.”

“I guess I should have told you I always go,” she chuckles. “Hansol gets me a ticket every year.”

Jihoon’s head falls to her shoulder. She pecks the top of his head. “Did you like it?” His voice is small, clearly worried about her reaction.

“Your song was beautiful.”

Quietly, Jihoon tells her the story behind the song. A few weeks back he’d woken up from a nightmare where she’d left and never returned without a reason why. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” He exhales a long breath. It’s one of the most honest things he’s ever said to her.

“Was that the time you asked me to spend the night with you in the studio?”

“Yeah.”

She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Well that explains why you were so clingy.”

She’d spent most of the evening in his lap at his insistence that evening. Being a messy studier, she was worried she’d be in his way. Her papers and books would be everywhere and she had told him that she didn’t understand why she couldn’t just sit on the floor at the coffee table like usual. But he insisted it would be fine and hadn’t complained. At the time, it hadn’t been so unusual to her. She figured that maybe she hadn’t been paying him much attention.

Jihoon presses a kiss to her shoulder, though she can’t feel it through her coat. Even though he’s facing her, he refuses to meet her gaze. “I adore you. I hope you know that. I wanted you there.”

She pecks his forehead, brushing some of his hair off his face. “You really are getting soft, Jihoonie.”

“Yeah,” he hums, “that’s your fault.” He gazes up at her and she tips her head in wonderment. Jihoon doesn’t explain, but a sweet smile grows on his face before he rests his head back on her shoulder.

“I adore you too, you dope,” she whispers.

Next: December 27, 2018

[shon-ha-lock]

Sweater Weather (harry/niall)

It’s that time of year! I had a blast participating in this year’s 1D Secret Santa. @silveredsound i hope you like my gift! 

It was a super cheap flight, in Niall's defense. A real deal. So what if the connection was in a tiny regional airport? In Wisconsin. Three days before Christmas. In the middle of a week of record low temperatures and snowstorms. 

Okay. In retrospect, maybe he should have expected something to go wrong. 

Niall's plane is the last to touch down in Chippewa Valley before it starts rerouting its incoming flights to airports not currently being blasted by the polar vortex. This is also, of course, when it grounds its outgoing flights “indefinitely”, leaving him and around one hundred other travelers stranded.

The whole airport has just two gates, with one shared, cramped waiting area. A line has snaked itself around that entire space, leading up to the customer service desk, where everyone is waiting for a chance to yell at a single beleaguered United Airlines employee about their flights being cancelled. 

Niall contemplates joining the line, but he’s more the type to wait until he can vent his anger by giving the lowest scores possible on a ‘how did we do?’ survey. And besides, just standing near the desk for a few minutes gives him all the information he needs to know, on repeat. 

“We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience this is causing our loyal customers,” is the current opener every time someone storms up to the little old lady working the desk. Her reedy voice is placating and increasingly nervous as she assures everyone that United is “currently working with Chippewa to arrange accommodations for anyone whose flight has been delayed by the storm.” 

This is comforting until Niall realizes that this means they don’t currently have hotel rooms set up for travelers with missed connections the way larger airports do. No shuttles, no vouchers, not a goddamn thing. 

They’re only twenty minutes outside of the little city of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, which probably has at least a few hotels with vacancies, but the odds of finding an Uber driver to brave the storm and get him there are slim to none. 

Niall’s not really the type to just stand around in a crisis and twiddle his thumbs, but if he’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t a goddamn clue what to do right now. He flies relatively frequently but he’s never actually had to deal with a flight being cancelled because of the weather, and he’s struck by a childish urge to call home and ask his mother for advice about what to do. 

At the moment, it’s looking like he might actually need to call her anyway, because she’s expecting to pick him up from Albany International in five hours, and that’s definitely not happening now. God, he hopes he’ll make it back to New York at some point within the next three days. He’s never spent a Christmas away from home in his twenty six years of life, and he doesn’t want to start now. 

He’s well on his way to an anxiety spiral when he notices that there’s one other passenger besides him not angrily crowding around the service desk. He looks to be around Niall’s age, and he’s pawing through a backpack with a resigned expression on his face. After a minute, Niall figures that he must be searching for warmer clothes to put on; the man’s short sleeved shirt is well-equipped to show off all the strange tattoos on his arms, but isn’t exactly appropriate for December in Wisconsin. 

Niall, by contrast, is dressed and packed for two weeks of winter in upstate New York. He looks down at his own backpack, aware that it’s stuffed with four different Aran sweaters, and makes a decision. It’s the season for doing good deeds, after all. Making a stranger a little less miserable surely counts. 

“Hey there,” Niall says as he walks over to the man, who’s given up looking through his luggage and is now sitting forlornly on one of the waiting area’s cheap plastic benches. He looks up, and Niall’s breath -- well, it honest to God catches in his throat. This guy must be some kind of model, because he’s got just about the most gorgeous face Niall’s ever seen. Green eyes, red lips, the works. 

“Hi?” the guy ventures after a few seconds of Niall staring down at him like a lunatic. 

Niall can feel himself go red as he hurriedly unzips his backpack, feeling around until he grabs a fistful of wool.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a sweater at random and basically throwing it at the guy’s head. 

“You looked cold, so.” He shrugs. He watches this ridiculously good-looking stranger hold out the sweater to examine it, smiling widely for a second before his expression shifts to concern. 

“Oh, this is hand-knit, isn’t it? I couldn’t possibly take this,” he says, trying to hand it back to Niall, who takes a step backwards and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Really, I insist,” he says. “Seriously, you’d be doing me a favor. My grandma still thinks we live in Ireland and makes one for me every year; I’m drowning in the things.” This seems to make the guy only more determined to hand it back to him, but Niall perseveres. 

“I’d feel guilty just getting rid of them, but if I tell her I passed one on to a chilly traveler I’ll be grandson of the year, so.” 

Niall narrowly avoids pumping a fist in the air in victory when this makes the guy giggle, bite his lip, and finally, reluctantly pull the sweater on over his t-shirt. It’s a sea green that matches his eyes perfectly, which is great, because what Niall really needed was to be even more distracted by a random person’s good looks. 

“I can’t thank you enough,” he says once it’s on, his chin-length hair now attractively rumpled. “I was worried I was going to freeze solid the second I went outside.”

He holds out a hand; Niall takes it. Soft palms, manicured and painted fingernails -- this guy might really be a fashion model. 

“I’m Harry,” he says. He smiles wide enough when he says it that his cheeks dimple. Niall’s heart is in some serious trouble now. 

“I’m Niall,” he replies, letting go of Harry’s hand a second later than is probably appropriate. 

He’s not sure how, but he wants to keep the conversation going somehow, just so he has an excuse to look at Harry’s face for a little longer. Before he can come up with something, an ancient intercom crackles to life and makes them both look around.

“Attention, travelers. In two hours, the storm is expected to dissipate enough to start offering shuttles into Eau Claire. Chippewa will be providing vouchers for the following lodgings.” 

The announcer rattles off a list of local hotels before repeating the entire message over again. This announcement seems to renew the stranded travelers’ agitation, and they start swarming the service desks with complaints about the wait. Harry and Niall both stay where they are, clearly on the same page about not bullying the elderly. Harry doesn’t seem any happier than the people yelling, though.

“I didn’t manage to sleep on the plane because I was so nervous about the weather and the turbulence,” he confesses to Niall. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out before that shuttle actually gets here.” 

“Where are you coming from?” Niall asks. They’re making small talk! Success! 

“Well, I started out in Italy thirteen hours ago,” Harry says ruefully. “Then I had a connecting flight in Boston, and from there, I should have gone all the way out to LA, which is where I’m spending Christmas. But I had to book last minute, and the only flights left had an extra connection. So I took a chance on this one, and of course now I’m stuck here.” He pouts as he says it, and it should make him look immature but instead he just looks like he’s posing artfully for Covergirl or something. 

“So we’re heading in opposite directions,” Niall says. “I’m coming from LA, and I’m on my way to New York.” 

Harry’s eyes light up at this.

“Oh my god, do you live in NYC? I love spending time there, it’s one of my favorite cities in the world.”

Niall sighs and shakes his head in mock-disappointment. 

“Everyone loves NYC so much but they always forget about the actual capital of New York.”

When Harry just stares at him blankly, Niall relents and laughs out, “I’m from Albany. My whole family immigrated there from Ireland when I was six months old." 

Niall feels a bit awkward at first, talking about his life with someone he just met, but he quickly learns that Harry is the type of old soul who loves to make conversation with strangers. And by the time the shuttles start actually arriving he can't say that the two of them are strangers anymore. 

He learns that Harry's lived in LA his whole life, and so traveling anywhere that's cold knocks him off his feet. Niall's only lived in California since he started attending UCLA (at first as an undergrad and now for post-graduate work) but it turns out he and Harry have several mutual acquaintances, which delights Harry to no end, and he seems more interested in Niall's classes last semester than Niall was, asking questions about what he learned and whether the professors were cool or boring. 

He's in the middle of a rant about early morning lectures when the intercom starts announcing that they'll be able to start shuttling people into the city soon. Which of course means that the two of them are going to have to go their separate ways. 

Harry starts fussing with his luggage again, seeming almost shy now, and thanks Niall again for the sweater.

Niall scrambles for something else to say to forestall a goodbye. 

“How did you know it was hand-knit?” is the only question he comes up with, but it's effective.  

"Oh!" Harry exclaims, going all smiley again. 

"The pattern was really detailed, and I could see how tight the stitches were. Didn't seem likely that a machine made it," he says. 

"Wow, you've got a real eye. Do you work in fashion or something?" Niall asks, wondering if his initial impression was right after all. 

"Or something," Harry says, seeming embarrassed for some reason. "I um, do modelling work sometimes. Shoots for Gucci, mainly, but other brands too. It's why I was in Italy, actually." 

Holy shit. There’s an actual Gucci model wearing one of his grandma’s sweaters right now. What a thought. His mom is going to flip when he finally gets to New York and tells her all about this. 

"That's really cool," Niall tells him, scrambling to think of a segue into asking for his number that doesn't come off like he's just trying to hook up with a model.

As luck would have it, Harry provides one for him - by asking for his grandmother’s phone number.

“Or even just her mailing address,” Harry rushes on when Niall bursts out laughing. 

“I’d like to personally thank her for making such a pretty sweater that’s doing such a good job of keeping me warm.”

“Well, I’m going to be seeing her for Christmas in a few days, if the weather calms down. You could call me and I could just hand my phone over to her.” 

It’s not particularly subtle, but luckily Harry doesn’t call him out on it. In fact, his face goes a bit sly, and he looks Niall up and down for a moment.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Harry says, and then whips out an honest-to-god gel pen from nowhere to physically write his phone number on Niall’s hand. 

“Text me when you get a chance, and we’ll have each other’s numbers that way,” he says cheerily. 

A few minutes later, they go their separate ways - Niall with Harry’s phone number written in bright green ink on the back of his hand, and Harry with a signature Grandma Horan sweater to keep him warm. 

As he passes the service area, Niall cheerfully plucks a survey card from the desk. Seems like he’s going to give United a glowing review after all. 

[im-a-star-boy]

Uno Reverse Card

So I finished this last decade but I forgot to upload it so like- here. Worked on it with @fandomsumthing as usual!

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Summary: Peter always has witty comebacks but sometimes they come back and bite him in the ass. That’s okay, if you don’t have an overprotective boyfriend who will fight anyone who looks at you the wrong way.

Word Count: 6,703

Date Of Completion: Monday, December 30th, 2019 (LAST FIC OF THE 2010′S!!!)

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Prepared. A word that people say perfectly describes Peter. For the most part, they’re right. He always had copies of his homework and bandaids with disinfectant on hand. Another word that people use to describe is quick-witted. Always ready to snap back with a better joke or insult. Now combined those and what comes out is a power that is seen as inhuman.

“Fucking fag.” One of the boys, Carlton, who’d been bullying him growled.

He and two other boys had Peter cornered to a locker, and a good number of students were standing by, watching uncomfortably. Peter simply grinned and shuffled around in his back pocket for a moment, before pulling out a self-painted rainbow reverse card. “No u,” Peter replied simply, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Carlton, along with his goons, turned a light red as the crowd around them let out snickers or full-on laughs. This was obviously not their plan at all. Carlton shot an angry look at Peter, who smiled in return. They both knew that physically fighting during school was prohibited, so Carlton backed off with his friends following.

Peter didn’t think that he had done anything too noteworthy, but that was because he’s never heard anything Carlton had done to people who stood up to him. That’s because no one spoke about what he had done to them out of fear. Carlton had little morals, so he wouldn’t steal anything from them, but he would make them feel as embarrassed as him or as hurt as him.

As Peter stepped out of his last class, an extra bounce to his step from passing a test, he happily strutted down the hallway, prepared to drop off his things then do a patrol. He stopped at his locker and shoved his schoolbag into his locker. He had lost so many backpacks that he just set aside one for school and left everything in there. He grabbed his backpack that held his suit, extra clothes, and snacks, and happily began walking to the exit.

He said his goodbyes to Gwen and Anya who both had extra work that they were doing in their labs. Not that they were failing or anything, they just had a personal project together. Miles wasn’t there because he was meeting him on patrol.

“Someone’s really chipper,” Anya commented as she noticed Peter’s slight bounce.

Peter smiled. “I passed that surprise English test.”

“The one about the book no one read?” Gwen asked. It was true, no one read the book because it didn’t have substance. Usually, the books assigned were really great, but this one just was all over the place.

“Yup! Hey, I gotta go meet up with Harry so can we talk about this later?” Peter asked. The two girls shared a smile at each other then looked back at Peter.

“You two going to hold hands?” Gwen asked, her voice mocking a small child. Peter and Anya laughed.

“I’m going to be late if I don’t go now,” Peter said smiling.

“Alright, see ya around!” Gwen called as he walked away.

Peter laughed to himself and walked towards the exit. He checked his phone, seeing that Harry had texted him. As he exited the building, he felt his spidey sense suddenly scream. He looked up, seeing no immediate danger when he felt someone grab his collar and drag him to the side before being thrown down onto the pavement with a surprising amount of force. He looked up in alarm, to see Carlton standing over him with a malicious look in his eye. “Hey Parker, wanna chat?”

“By the looks of it, you don’t want to do much chatting.” Peter got to his feet to run. He could easily take Carlton, but that would most definitely reveal his identity as Spider-Man or at the very least raise suspicions.

Before Peter could get away, Carlton grabbed a fist full of Peter’s hair and pulled. It felt like he was trying to scalp him. “Leaving so soon? Come on, my friends would like to chat with you too, fag.” Carlton growled.

Peter followed him, assuming that if he didn’t then he’d be dragged by the hair and it was already painful enough. “You know this counts as a hate crime,” Peter muttered.

Carlton simply scowled before throwing him onto the ground and kicking him in the stomach. “Shut the fuck up.” He snarled, as his friends approached.

Before Peter could stand up to defend himself, he felt someone kick him in the back. As more people began to kick him, he curled into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut. After a moment, he felt someone grab a fistful of his hair again and practically drag him to his feet. He let out a cry of pain before someone grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back. Carlton was glaring daggers at him. He rolled up his sleeves before punching him hard in the face. Peter felt blood wash down his face from his nose as he staggered backward. He was pushed forward by the boy who had grabbed his arms. He clenched his fist as his face was met with concrete. He coughed and was pulled to his feet once more. Peter growled as he was thrown against the wall, and one of Carlton’s friends punched him in the gut. Peter coughed as he slumped backward.

Peter’s phone had fallen out and Carlton had picked it up, seeing all the messages from Harry. The heart right next to his name didn’t go unnoticed. “Hold him against the wall,” Carlton ordered and his friends did so. Peter was still slumped over and catching his breath when they did so.

“So you are someone’s fuck toy Parker?” Carlton smirked, holding the phone up to Peter’s face. Peter looked up barely. He saw Harry’s name and swore to himself.

“That’s my best friend.” Peter partially lied.

Carlton laughed. “Best friend.” He mocked. “That’s bullshit.”

Peter held his tongue, despite wanting to launch at Carlton, who was laughing. “Makes sense, someone like you being a goddamn cockwarmer.” He sneered.

Peter felt his face flush with embarrassment. “It’s not like that!” He snapped, struggling lightly to push one of the other boys off.

Carlton laughed once again, before throwing Peter’s phone on the ground, shattering it. The battery fell out, shutting his phone off. Peter flinched as Carlton stomped on it, an amused look on his face. He punched him one more time before spitting on his face. “Come on guys, let’s take out the trash.” He sneered.

Peter let out a cry of alarm as the other two boys picked him up. “God he’s so light!” One of them shouted, seeming alarmed.

Peter kicked frantically as Carlton opened the dumpster. He felt himself fall for a second, then he landed on a trash bag. He yelped in pain as scrap metal dug into his back. What was he expecting, it was a school that centers on building robots for god’s sake!

“How’s it feel to be home?” One of them laughed.

“This might seem surprising, but this isn’t my first time in a dumpster.” Peter groaned. He didn’t sit up or adjust himself. Passed off what he’s experienced with Carlton, if he did, he’d get knocked out or worse. How did he even get into Horizon?

“Well, this will the longest time.” Carlton was about to close the lid but one of his friends grabbed his wrist. “What? Are you pussying out?”

“No, just wait a sec.” He said and then there were footsteps and some rustling. He came back and handed Carlton something. From where Peter was lying he could see a smirk on his face.

“This is why you’re my friend, Jim. You always think of something to make these things better.” A trash bag landed on Peter’s gut, knocking the wind out of him.

“Come on guys, I think we’re finished here,” Carlton called. He looked down at Peter one last time with a smile and then slammed the lid shut. He could hear his friends laughing as they walked off. Peter waited a few more minutes before trying to open the lid.

“Shit,” Peter mumbled to himself, realizing as the lid only jiggled that Carlton must have locked the lid before leaving. His anxiety began to rise as he realized how stuck he actually was. Breaking through the dumpster itself was a no go, he’d get more injured and is someone was walking by then he could be discovered as Spider-Man. If someone was walking by… Peter began banging on the side of the dumpster and calling for help.

After a few minutes, he had begun to run out of breath. He gave up for a while but never stopped tapping the side with his knuckles. After what must’ve been an hour or two, he heard a clicking. He looked up and was startled as streams of light poured into the dumpster. He covered his eyes with his hands, before grinning. “Nice weather we’re having, am I right?”

The lid dropped and he heard a shriek. After a second, the lid opened again. “Holy fuck- are you okay?”

Peter realized he must look like shit. Black eyes, bloody nose, cuts, and scrapes. He shrugged. “Eh, could be worse.”

The man reached in and helped Peter out of the dumpster. “God kid, go tell Modell what happened to you. That’s a nasty prank to pull.”

“Yeah. Um, could you help me to the schoolyard?” Peter asked. He knew he heard Carlton and his friends walk down the opposite direction of the school, but he also wasn’t sure if they decided to circle around in that time.

“I’ll walk you right to the door. You look like you’re about to pass out.” The man offered. Peter nodded, he often looked worse than he actually was.

Peter stopped. “W-wait.” He stumbled to the scraps of his phone. It was definitely beyond repair.

He searched through the busted metal before letting out a relieved sigh. The SD card remained undamaged. He carefully put the card in his pocket and returned to the mans’ side.

The walk there was fast, the trash guy really worried about Peter. He got to the doors and hesitated. “Do you have a card or something?” He asked Peter.

“Yeah, in my bag- shit.” Peter didn’t have his bag on him. Which held his Spider-Man suit. Did Carlton take it? Did he already know? What if he-

“I have it right here. I saw it next to the dumpster and grabbed it when we started walking.” He handed over the bag. “I thought you might have some important things in there. I gotta go, my job can’t be put on hold for too long.”

Peter nodded, “Check the trash.” Peter joked, getting a chuckle from the man as he walked away.

Peter sighed and debated on telling Max. He was a busy man, and he didn’t really want anyone else on campus to see him as beat to hell as he was. He sighed, before deciding to take a shower in one of the shower rooms. The school decided to install them after several kids had buckets upon buckets of paint fall on them. Not to mention any other lab accident that may happen. Peter stepped into one of the showers and washed the blood and dirt off of him. He sighed as he pulled on his shirt and jeans. They didn’t smell too foul and Peter sprayed a bit of provided Febreze onto him. He quickly decided he would change outfits and tell Max what happened the next day. Even if his wounds healed, the trash man and cameras would be able to defend his point.

Peter looked in a mirror and saw the scraps on his face along with the black eye. He grabbed his bag quickly, thinking he had makeup in there. Even with his super-fast healing, he found that bruise still took longer to heal. Maybe his body saw the cuts as more important and went for them first? He didn’t know.

He started digging through the bag and realized that he didn’t have enough makeup to cover the whole bruise. That was going to cause trouble. Letting out a sigh, Peter had no choice but to make the walk to the subway sporting a bruise. He reached for his phone only to remember that Carlton completely destroyed it. Now he couldn’t tell Harry he wasn’t going to show or Miles that he couldn’t go on patrol until later. He let out a heavy sigh, trusting that they’d understand until he could pay for a replacement, as he began down the hallway.

He got to the train station with nothing more than a few weird looks. He sat down and began fidgeting uncomfortably. After a few painfully long minutes, he got to his stop and jogged the rest of the way. When he arrived home, he walked into the kitchen. There was a note on the table. ‘Long shift at work today, won’t be home until 10:30, dinner is leftovers. -Love, May.’ He smiled softly and made a sandwich, before taking it upstairs to his room to do his homework.

After about an hour and a half, he heard the doorbell ring. Peter hurried down the stairs, knowing it wasn’t May but still wondering who it was. He got to the door and the person knocked.

“Peter?” Harry’s voice rang from behind the door. He sounded slightly peeved. Peter opened the door and Harry let out a relieved sigh.

“I’ve texted you 50 times, no answer. I’ve called you 15 times, no answer. Can I please have an e-“ Harry stopped and took in Peter. He had his hand cupped over his eye like was blocking something from him. “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Peter asked, acting like nothing was up but failing horribly.

“You know what I mean.” Harry took a step in and shut the door behind him. “Why are you hiding your eye from me?”

“No reason.” Peter squeaked, he cursed himself for doing so.

His boyfriend grew suspicious of him. Harry began walking towards Peter while Peter backed away. Soon Peter’s back hit the wall which caused him to gasp because of the bruise on his back. Before he could slide away, Harry placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and moved his hand so it was on top of Peter’s. He grabbed Peter’s hand lightly pulled it away, seeing Peter’s black eye and scratch. His other hand immediately cupped his face. “Peter, what happened?!”

“Har, I’m okay. I just- rough patrol?” His voice came out more as a question than a reply.

“Miles called me and said you never showed up for patrol,” Harry said. “And these injuries would’ve been well over healed by now if they were from last night or even this morning.”

Peter let out a resigned sigh. “I got beat up…” he mumbled.

Harry let out a sigh, before leading him to the couch. “Come on, tell me what happened.” He murmured.

Peter immediately laid onto Harry’s lap, his head using Harry’s legs as a pillow, as he’d done so many times before. Harry instinctively began running his fingers through Peter’s uncombed hair. Peter hummed softly. “They called me a fag and I pulled out a reverse card,” Peter admitted casually.

Harry stuttered. “You’re kidding. You’ve gotta be kidding- Peter!”

He sat up. “It was funny though! They were blushing and everything, you should’ve seen it.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Then what?”

“Then they beat me up and locked me in a dumpster.”

Harry looked down at him as he laid down on his lap again. “Like, locked you locked you, or you just stayed in there?”

“Like locked me locked me.”

He let out a deep sigh. “What’re their names, I’ll take care of them.”

Peter glared at him. “Well, there’s no way that’s happening.”

“Peter, they beat you up and left you bleeding in a dumpster.”

“You’d kill them!” Peter sat up to look him in the eyes.

“Peter! They treated you like trash! They literally threw you in the trash!” Harry’s eyes widened as he realized what Peter was doing. “You’re protecting them! Why are you doing that? They don’t deserve to be justified by you!”

“No!” Peter stood up. “I’m telling Max tomorrow. Don’t yell at me for protecting them, they don’t need to be protected. You, on the other hand, are being overprotective right now.”

Harry took a deep breath. “How am I supposed to believe you when in the past that is exactly what you’ve done?”

“Name a time that I’ve done that.” Peter was getting slightly defensive.

“Flash, Alex Simpson, Ricky Fresno, James-“ Harry stopped when Peter sat back next to him.

“That was a rhetorical question,” Peter muttered.

Harry sighed. “Pete, you can’t stop putting off your own health. Come on, let’s get you bandaged up.”

Peter made a face. “Harry, I have speed healing.”

“That doesn’t mean you should leave these wounds open. They could get infected.”

Peter shuddered at the idea. He once had a cut on his arm infected. It wasn’t something he wanted to deal with ever again to say the very least… He let out an irritated sigh, before nodding. “Alright fine.”

Harry pulled him to the bathroom, where Peter removed his shirt and sat down on the toilet. Harry sighed sadly when he saw the dark bruises on Peter’s chest and back. He grabbed disinfectant and began to clean Peter’s wounds, feeling his heartbreak every time the brunette flinched under his touch. There was a large gash in Peter’s back. Harry could only imagine what kind of scrap metal had been large enough to make an injury as large as that one. Luckily none of them were still bleeding.

Harry placed a hand on Peter’s back to get him to stop squirming. He didn’t realize that he had placed it on his bruise until he noticed that Peter was holding his breath. He pulled his hand back only to have Peter lean back on it.

“Your hands are cold.” Peter’s voice was slightly lighter than usual at the beginning of the sentence and slowly came back down to normal.

Harry sighed softly and held his hand there as he gently cleaned out the cut on his back. After a minute or two, he finished cleaning it out. He grabbed the bandages and began wrapping his wounds carefully. “Is that too tight?” He asked.

Peter shook his head. “No,”

Harry nodded. “Okay, wait here.”

He left the room and searched Peter’s closet carefully, before picking out a large, fluffy hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants. He returned to the bathroom to see Peter picking lightly at the bandages. “Here.” He said, handing him the clothes.

Peter thanked him, pulling the clothes on, as Harry left to search the freezer for an ice pack. Harry came back to find Peter standing.

“Peter, you should be sitting.” Harry tried getting him to sit on the sink but Peter kept standing.

“I’m just a little bruised and cut up. Nothing broken.” Peter saw Harry’s worry and smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine, you know that I’ve been through way worse. I’ll be fine by morning.”

Harry made a face. “Come on let’s cuddle.” He decided for him.

Peter immediately perked up and happily followed Harry to his room. Peter dug his laptop out of his backpack as Harry sat down on his bed, making room for Peter. After a minute or two of searching for his charger and plugging the laptop in, Peter nestled into Harry’s side. He put the ice pack carefully onto Peter’s back as the laptop loaded up. “So why didn’t you reply to my texts?” Harry asked, pulling a blanket over the two of them.

Peter made a sour face. “Carlton broke my phone. I tried to get the scraps but they were too busted up. I got the SD card though and the rest of my stuff is stored on the cloud so I don’t think I lost anything.”

“Carlton?” Harry sat up slightly to look at Peter. Peter groaned as he realized the name slip. “You mean Carlton Wagner? He did this to you?”

“Yeah, I guess. With some of his friends.” Peter sighed.

“Of course it was.” Harry groaned. “That kid has serious anger issues.”

Peter could practically see the cogs turning in Harry’s brain. “Stop that.”

Harry looked down. “What?”

“You’re plotting something, stop it. I already told you, I’m going to tell Max tomorrow. Let it go for now.” Peter argued softly.

Harry sighed and pulled Peter closer. “Alright alright. I’ll stop.”

Peter made a relaxed noise as Harry began running his fingers through his hair. He logged into his computer and brought up Netflix. “What do you wanna watch?” He hummed, feeling relaxed.

Harry shrugged. “Whatever looks good.”

Peter looked up and started staring at Harry. “What are you looking at?” He asked jokingly.

“You said we should watch what looks good. I am.” Peter replied playfully.

“Oh my god, you are that cheesy.” Harry groaned but slowly began to laugh.

“I’m just stating facts here, Mister looks good in every picture.” Peter smiled as he clicked on Criminal Minds.

“I do not,” Harry stated. When he said that, Peter immediately made a face. He reached into Harry’s pocket, pulled out his phone, and went to his pictures.

“Yes, you do.” Peter stopped scrolling and faced the phone to Harry. “See?”

The picture showed Gwen holding Peter’s phone. Harry remembered that picture being taken because Peter’s chair gave out right then. Peter was super blurry, but his slight panicked face was still able to be seen. Miles and Anya were slightly blurry, having dived to catch Peter. Harry had also dived for Peter, but he wasn’t blurry. He looked straight out of a magazine. Harry rolled his eyes. “You photoshopped that before you sent it to me.” He defended. “I know you have the skills.”

Peter grinned, snuggling closer to Harry. “It totally wasn’t.” He denied, shoving Harry’s phone back in his pocket.

The ice pack cooled his back as he leaned into Harry, feeling the weight of sleep quickly begin to press down on him. “Are you allowed to stay the night?” He asked through a yawn.

Harry hummed. “Yeah probably, why?”

Peter shifted as close as he could as the episode began playing. “I don’t wanna move anymore.”

Harry let out a content sigh as he watched along with Peter. Not just because he was hanging out with his boyfriend but also because he had just come up with the perfect plan for revenge.

~~~

“You know that you don’t have to walk me to school.” Peter stepped out of the subway with Harry in tow.

“Oh, but I want to.” Harry smiled with faux innocence. Peter gave Harry a look as they got out of the crowd.

“What are you planning Harry?” Peter sighed, knowing that it was going to be something against Carlton.

“You’ll see, bug, you’ll see.” Harry hummed.

Peter gave him a skeptical look, before leaning into Harry. After 10 minutes, the train stopped. Peter led Harry to Horizon, stepping into the bright sun. Peter began walking to Max’s office. Harry waited outside as Peter knocked. After a moment, the heard, “Come in,” and Peter entered Max’s office.

He looked around, waiting to see if Carlton would walk past. He remembered Carlton from the short time he was at Horizon. No one knew how he got into Horizon with his temper of personality. He was smart and all, but an all-around dick. Maybe he was able to trick Max into thinking that he was a good guy or that he could change.

The only reason he’s been able to stay in was that people were too scared to actually tell on him. That’s how terrible this kids’ beat ups were. He let out a sigh, knowing Peter must’ve been in pain from this kid. Every second he thought about it made him angrier and angrier. Harry watched silently, before hearing a familiar sneering laugh. He looked up and watched Carlton and a few other boys pass. He looked to the door Peter had disappeared behind, and then to Carlton, who was turning a corner. He made up his mind and followed Carlton.

“He wasn’t reported missing.” One of the guys said.

“Then he either got out or we did his family a favor.” Carlton laughed and the others did as well.

“What about his lover? Do you think that he’s looking for him?” Another asked.

“Harry is probably not even his boyfriend. He probably just fucked him once out of need or to make that whore less bitchy.” Carlton answered. “Parker is just his late-night booty call. But could you imagine? Harry Osborn loving a fag like him?”

Harry, upon hearing that, felt furious. He rushed up to them, grabbed Carlton, spinning him around, and decked him in the face. Carlton stumbled back, letting out a cry of alarm, before falling on his ass and covering his bloody nose. “Fuck!” He screamed.

“Excuse me, I thought I heard you talking shit about my boyfriend, could you repeat that?” He snarled, an angry look on his face.

A few people stopped to stare. One boy immediately made a face, before standing up and covering the camera. A few people began moving around, blocking cameras and deactivating security bots. Harry grinned. He knew that Carlton had made enemies, but he didn’t think he’d made enemies of the entire school.

Carlton recomposed himself and scowled. “Well if it isn’t the rich kid that got kicked out of Horizon. What are you even doing here?” Carlton sneered and he raised his fists.

“I’m here on Peter’s behalf, and you’re right. I don’t go here so I can’t be kicked out. You, on the other hand, can be kicked out.” Harry couldn’t help but let his smug expression shine through. Next thing he knew, Carlton was swinging. He got Harry in the gut, which caused Harry to stumble.

“Kick his ass, Harry!” A short girl with black fading into purple yelled. Her voice only broke through the crowd’s cheers for a second. Harry threw another punch at Carlton and it was a pretty good hit, but Carlton had good hits as well.

~~~

“Thank you for telling me this Peter,” Max said standing. “Carlton was a part of a raffle to get into Horizon. Some of the teachers along with me thought it would be a good way to give more people a chance to learn.”

“Really? No background checks or anything?” Peter questioned.

“There was on all of the raffle winners. Carlton’s record was clean, now I think it’s because he used scare tactics on his victims. He had the grades.” Max sighed. “I promise that he’s going to be kicked out and everyone will be questioned about him.”

“Thanks, Max. I really appreciate-“ Peter trailed off as he picked up on cheering. Max wouldn’t have been able to hear it, but Peter could and he knew what was going on. “Max, I think something stupid is going on.”

“What?” Max asked as Peter stood up and walked to the door.

“Come with me, please? And also am I allowed to stop Harry from being an idiot?” Peter asked as he opened the door. Max nodded and followed Peter.

They both reached the crowd and some students turn to face Max. They seemed to be ready to create a wall between the fight and Max.

“Is Harry fighting Carlton?” Peter asked, displaying his worried side rather than his annoyed. He knew Harry would get into a fight with Carlton, but he thought he’d at least be there to stop it.

The kids guarding looked at each other then back to Peter. “Please let me through, I gotta stop him from murdering him,” Peter begged. They looked at each other again then moved to let Peter through.

Peter nodded to not only them but to Max as well. After passing them, Peter let his worried facade melt away. To say that he was pissed was an understatement. He understood that Harry was protective over him, but he didn’t understand that he couldn’t just go and start a fight.

The people around him seemed to feel his anger as he passed because they made way and quiet down. It was probably the look on his face that was so full of poison that it could kill a raddled The hulk with one glance. Peter neared the center and saw Harry and Carlton fighting like animals. He let out a disappointed noise and walked towards them. They didn’t notice him until Peter grabbed them both by the hair and banged their heads together.

“Idiotas! Tanto de usted! Conmigo! Ahora mismo!” Peter yelled. The hallways went silent with his yell. Sure, they knew Peter could get angry and spoke Spanish, but never had they seen him hurt someone out of anger. He almost reminded them of Anya when she got angry.

Harry was about to say something when Peter tightened his grip on his hair. “No hay excusas! No puedo dejarte solo por diez minutos sin maldito vas feral!” Peter hissed as he dragged both of them by the hair to Max. Carlton tried to escape from Peter’s grasp only to receive a tug.

“No me prueba Carlton. Ya estoy harto con toda tu mierda, es toda esta escuela.” Peter hissed as the got right in front of Max.

He dropped both of them and got a good look at them. Harry’s nose was bleeding and he had a busted lip. It looked like Carlton had gotten him on the ground and stepped on his face or something. His hair was disheveled and he had a dark splotch under his eye. His neck was bright red like Carlton had attempted to choke him out. Carlton’s ear was ripped from Harry presumably pulling his earring out during the fight. He was holding his arm which had scrapes on it, somewhat like rugburn, and he had a large gash on his forehead that was bleeding, running down his face. Peter scowled, another rush of anger flaring from his gut, as he knocked their heads together once again. “If you try to beat each other up again I’m beating you both up.” He snapped.

He took a step back, so Max could look at the two. He glanced at Peter once and saw that he was still pissed. “You two need to go to the infirmary. Carlton, I’ll speak to you after your patch up. Come with me.” Max ordered. “All if you off to class.”

The rest of the students nodded and went off. It was a good thirty seconds before the grip on both Harry’s and Carlton’s heads disappeared and the found of footsteps echoed down the halls.

“Why am I the only one getting a talking to?” Carlton barked at Max.

“You have explaining to do to your parents why you’re being expelled. You’re lucky Peter won’t press charges unless you were to corner him again or anyone else. Especially because he has the evidence that would get you jail time for sure.” Max warned.

“I didn’t do nothing!” Carlton yelled.

“There’s no point in lying. There were cameras and a trash man that will testify finding Peter in that dumpster.” Max glared.

“That’s still doesn’t explain why he doesn’t get a talking to! He started this fight!” Carlton snarled.

“Because nothing that I can say will beat what Peter will say to him.” Max gave Harry a glance. Harry knew he was in for it when Peter knocked his head against Carlton.

“How could you tell?” Carlton question dully.

“He swore in Spanish,” Harry responded.

~~~

Max had Harry stay the whole school day in the infirmary. He got to hear the screaming match between Carlton and his parents. The way they fought was nothing like how he would fight with his father. Carlton was the aggressor while his parents only show disappointment in his actions. Not like his father’s because they actually had a reason to be disappointed.

There was a knock on the door and Max entered. “Sorry for holding you here all day. I knew that Peter wanted to talk to you so I thought it would’ve safer to do it here.” Max joked. “But unfortunately for you, Peter wants you to meet him at his house.”

Harry’s face immediately fell. “This will be the end of me, Max.”

Max chuckled. “Oh relax, he won’t kill you.”

Harry gave him a hard glare. “Yes, he will, Modell.”

Max raised his hands in surrender. “If you need a hospital, call me.”

Harry sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Here’s my will: everything goes to Peter even if he’s the one who kills me.”

Max laughed. “Noted. Go, don’t keep him waiting.”

Harry nodded and raced towards the exit. As he reached the entrance, he saw Peter leaning against the door, looking more than a little pissed. “H-Heeeyyyyy Pete…”

Peter looked up and Harry felt his blood run cold. He was definitely pissed. Peter looked away from Harry and began walking, not saying a single word. The whole way back to Peter’s place was like that. Harry tried to start up a conversation but only received glares.

Once getting to Peter’s house, Harry mentality prepared himself for the lecture he was about to get. He stepped in after Peter and shut the door behind him.

“What part of I’ll handle it don’t you get?” Peter said through his teeth.

“Peter, he was-”

“Harry, stop.”

Harry flinched. He knew Peter was mad at him but… he was really mad. “Harry, I promised you I’d take care of it. You watched me walk into Max’s office. I told you to wait outside. It was the one thing I asked of you! But no! You had to go off and literally start a fistfight! I asked ONE THING OF YOU HARRY!” His voice was progressively getting louder, and Harry knew he had crossed a boundary.

“I-I’m sorry, he was saying things and-” Harry began.

“Harry, I don’t care that he was saying things! He always says things! People always will say things! That is not probable cause to run off and start a fucking fight, Harry!”

“I just couldn’t let him say-“

“Oh for fuck sakes, Harold! I’m not a kid anymore! I don’t need you to stand up for me every single time something happens!” Peter yelled. “Even when I don’t do something I’m doing something! I’m holding myself back! I could have easily put Carlton and his friends in that trash can but I didn’t! I was being the bigger man! Me not fighting back doesn’t mean I need to be saved! Why can’t you see that?!”

Harry stared at the floor, feeling a rush of guilt. He knew Peter had his reasons for not fighting back, but Harry had his for fighting. He looked down. “I’m sorry Peter. He was saying bad things about you and I couldn’t just stand by and listen to that.”

Peter sighed. “I know Harry, I get you wanna protect me but you have to stop. There are times when it’s okay and times where it’s not. And that was not okay, Harry.” Peter wasn’t yelling anymore, but his voice still had a layer of warning to it that made Harry almost cower.

Harry looked up at Peter. He was standing across from him, his arms crossed, but he wasn’t looking at him. Finally, after a moment, Peter sighed loudly. “Come on, let’s change your bandages.”

Peter led Harry to the bathroom and began digging through the cabinets while Harry sat down on the counter. He pulled out the bandages and a cloth. Peter ran the cloth under water and left it to sit so he could remove Harry’s old bandages.

A scab had formed on Harry’s lip and the bruises had darkened slightly around his neck. Peter frowned as he pulled the rag out of warm water. He moved to Harry and kept his gaze on him as he wiped his mouth clean if the semi-crusted blood. Despite how vicious the fight had been, Harry didn’t have many bleeding wounds. Just his lip and a large cut on his cheek. Peter wiped his cheek and frowned when he saw Harry’s guilty look. He didn’t try to comfort him since what he did wasn’t okay, but it still hurt seeing Harry so upset. He swallowed thickly before applying Neosporin and replacing the bandages, before dropping the rag in the sink. “Come on.” He muttered, leaving the bathroom.

Harry watched for a moment, before pushing himself off the counter and following Peter into the living room. He was digging through the freezer before pulling out a small bead ice pack and a large bean ice pack. Peter walked over to Harry and put the big ice pack on Harry’s neck and pressed the other to his cheek.

It was silent. A bad silence. The atmosphere matched when Peter got into an argument with Norman. Granted Peter didn’t start it, but he did say a few choice words to Norman that got Harry upset. It was uncomfortable as Peter led him to the couch and sat him down. He visibly flinched as Peter stared at him for a moment before saying, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He began walking down the hall when he stopped. “And stay there this time.” He ordered.

He watched after Peter, feeling a rush of guilt and frustration. He hadn’t wanted to upset Peter, but he was really mad. He stared at the ground for a moment. He hadn’t noticed Peter walkout until a large blanket was draped over his shoulders. He looked up to see Peter avoiding his gaze. He sat down on the other side of the couch and reached into a plastic bag he had brought out. Harry watched curiously until Peter threw a Snickers bar at him, hitting him square in the face.

Peter sat on the other side of the couch and turned on the TV. After flipping through channels he stopped on the ID channel. He leaned himself into the armrest and watched. Peter didn’t feel like talking to Harry at the moment, but he also didn’t want him to leave. He just needed to calm down a little more so that he didn’t yell at Harry again. Luckily Harry knew Peter long enough to know that that was what his body language was saying.

Halfway through the first episode, Harry had spread the blanket over to Peter. If he had done that earlier Peter would have pushed it off. Peter cast a glance over to Harry, who was watching the TV but still looked downcast. He sighed. He was still upset, definitely, but that was still his boyfriend who was still in pain. He scooted over to Harry and shuffled under his arm, leaning into him. Harry looked surprised and began smiling and leaned down to kiss him. Peter hissed dangerously. “Don’t push your luck, Osborn.” He warned.

Harry immediately stopped and pulled away. He glanced down at Peter. He definitely still looked upset. His eyes were narrowed and he was tense against Harry, but Harry could feel him beginning to ease down. He closed his eyes and sighed softly and leaned back.

When the episode ended and the other began, Peter leaned more into Harry. “You scared me,” Peter mumbled. “I just came out and heard the cheering and then you were acting like an animal.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said.

Peter shook his head. “It isn’t okay, Harry. Never do anything like that again, please. I couldn’t recognize you for a second there.”

Harry stiffened and nodded. “I won’t…” He mumbled.

Peter leaned the rest of his weight into Harry. “Not ever again.”

“I promise, I won’t lose it again,” Harry promised, leaning in and kissing the top of Peter’s head. Peter let out a relieved sigh as he closed his eyes.

[demigodsanswer]

Clarisse and the Labyrinth

While she had been on a mission from Chiron to investigate the Labyrinth in Manhattan, she hadn’t been planning to actually enter the maze. She ended up stuck in the maze relatively unprepared. She had her backpack with her, which had nectar, ambrosia, and enough food and water to barely last her a week if she very carefully rationed it. But she knew she needed to get out. 

She figured the only way out was forward once she lost the exit into Manhattan. She was the first modern demigod they knew of to enter the maze, so she didn’t know what to expect.

She ended up trapped for what felt like 9 days. Each day, she cut a strip of fabric from her shirt and tied it to her necklace to keep track. On the 8th and 9th days, all she could do was take a sip of nectar every few hours to stay alive. 

She had already had an uncountable number of monster attacks. Three of them had nearly killed her; she only barely escaped. One of the more deadly one got a good swipe at her braid, pulling her by her hair until she was able to get a hold of her knife to cut her own hair off. She was weak, tried, starving, and dehydrated. She was pretty sure she was going to die in there. 

And then she finally, finally, by the grace of something, she found a way out. She found a delta insignia and the maze opened into an abandoned building. 

The first things she noticed was that it was hot and bright. 

She stepped out of the building on weak and weary legs, and almost cried when she saw where she was. 

She was in Phenix - she was maybe two blocks from where her mother was a dance teacher. She made her way, injured and thirsty, down the street until she got there. 

She must have looked awful, because the woman working the desk clearly didn’t want to let her in. But Clarisse said she was Madeline’s daughter and asked if she was working and the woman looked shocked. She said Madeline wasn’t in, but that she would call her to pick Clarisse up. 

While she waited, Clarisse drank so much water from the fountain she thought she might throw up. The woman working the desk offered her the first aid kit or an ambulance, but Clarisse refused. She would be okay once she was home. 

She hadn’t been home since she was ten. She would turn fifteen in March. She and her mom had talked in the meantime, but they were so different in every way except their stubbornness and temper than their relationship had always felt strained. They loved each other, but they didn’t particularly like each other.

But while she was in the maze, all she could think of was how she had never told her mom what she was doing. Her mom wouldn’t understand if she died. Her mom didn’t understand demigod things. 

When her mom showed up, Clarisse saw her through the dance studio’s glass doors, and she ran out to greet her. Her mom is sobbing as soon as she sees Clarisse. Her mom, she realizes, is looking at her like she’s just come back from the dead. 

She was. “I thought you were dead!” Her mom yells. She held her tighter, “Oh baby, what did they do to you?” 

“I’m not dead,” Clarisse assured her. 

 “Chiron called me two weeks ago and told me you were missing and that you were likely dead.” 

Clarisse was crying and holding her mother too, until she realized what she said. “Two weeks ago? No, I’ve been in there for 8, maybe 9 days?” 

 Clarisse’s mom shook her head and said, “No, when they called me, they said you had already been missing for a week.” 

“What day is it?” 

“November 21st.” 

Clarisse almost fell over, and not just from exhaustion and hunger. She had gone into the labyrinth on the 1st. She had to call Chiron. 

“Can we go home? I’ll explain everything there.” 

Clarisse isn’t sure how her mom drove home, she was crying so much. When they got to their home, Clarisse went right to her mom’s room, so to avoid her grandfather. Her grandfather was sick with dementia, and Madeline hadn’t told him that they thought Clarisse was dead - she didn’t want to until she decided to have a funeral. So she didn’t want him to see Clarisse torn up and injured. She told Clarisse to take a shower and put on her robe, she would go to Walmart and get her something to wear and eat. 

When her mom left she called Chiron, not bothering to shower first. 

Chiron looked like he might pass out when he saw her. 

When he asked what happened, Clarisse thought she might break down. Thinking of the things she fought, the number of times she almost died for the first time was a lot to handle. 

She’s always been someone to wear her emotions on her face if she didn’t consciously control them, so Chiron could tell she had been through something traumatic. He told her she didn’t have to tell them yet. 

The one thing she did tell him was that it was nearly unsurvivable. “I survived the sea of monsters and my father. If I barely lived, few others will too. If Luke is sending demigods in there, I don’t think we have much to worry about yet. Not unless they find a way to navigate it.”

Then she told him that she wouldn’t be going back in. “I can’t do that again. I won’t survive again.” 

He says he completely understands and that he will arrange for a flight to take her back to camp. 

“I’m not coming back. At least not right away. I’m staying in Phoenix. At least until the new year. I haven’t been home in four years,” then she started to cry despite her efforts. “All I could think of while I was in there, dying, was that I hadn’t seen my mother in years. I miss my mom. You should have seen how she looked at me. Like I was back from the dead. I can’t ... I can’t come back right now. I need to stay here. And heal. Not just physically.” 

Chiron nodded, understanding. He assured her that when she wanted to come back, they would arrange for it. “Sherman has been running your cabin. He refused to burn your shroud last week when it had been two weeks since we had last heard from you.” 

That made Clarisse smile. “He’s always been on my side. Tell him he’s in charge until I come back. Tell them I’m alive and okay. But tell them not to call me. I can’t ... not right now.” 

Chiron understood that too. “They’ll be happy to know that you’re okay.” 

Clarisse just sniffled and thanked him, She said that she would try and investigate the opening she had found and see if she could close it. Chiron thanked her for that, and then told her to get some rest, and call if she needed anything. 

Clarisse spends most of the time in the shower, scrubbing off grime. When her mom got home, she changed into pajamas and fell asleep on the couch until her mother woke up up to eat something. 

The two of them pretty much cried the entire day, with it coming in short bursts. Clarisse tells her mom that she wants to stay, and her mother cries and tells her to stay for as long as she wants. 

The first two weeks are great. They hardly fight (and when they do, it’s low stakes and just the result of their temperaments), and Clarisse likes getting to spend time with her grandfather.  

But in the third week, early in December, she’s investigating the opening to Labyrinth, and she finds Chris. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck me, fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuck.” she mutters to herself as she walks up to him. 

When she gets closer, she realizes that he doesn’t recognize her - in fact, he doesn’t seem to recognize anything. He’s insane, she realizes. 

She brings him home before he can be arrested and institutionalized. She calls Chiron, and realizes that the fates have decided that her vacation is over. It’s time to get back to work. 

It takes over two weeks for them to figure out how to get him back to camp. He couldn’t get on a plane, and a long car ride with a madman seems like a bad idea. A flying chariot isn’t ideal - he might panic and try and jump. 

For the two weeks Chris lives with them, Clarisse and her mom start to call their house “the asylum” because of her grandfather and Chris. Twice, Chris forgot how to speak English, and her grandfather heard him speaking Spanish and called 911 claiming there was an “illegal” in his home. Clarisse had to hide in her room with him, trying to keep him quiet. She learned that if he was watching Star Wars, he would pretty much be quiet for the duration of the film.

Finally, Beckendorf and Lee Fletcher designed a larger sized chariot, meant for four, with one section enclosed and comfortable for Chris to rest in. They decide that Will will travel with them to help keep Chris calm and maybe heal him. it would be Chris, Pollux, Will, and Clarisse on the chariot. 

"You should find a way to get a portable DVD player. He likes Star Wars,” she told them.

They manage to get him back with only mild struggle. When she gets back, she learns that Annabeth and Percy had a few hunters have gone on a quest. 

Chiron asks Chris if he remembers anything, if he remembers why he was in the Labyrinth. When Chiron hears him mention “string,” Luke’s plan becomes clear. Clarisse realizes they can’t be done with the Labyrinth. But she won’t go back in, she tells Chiron. She’s done. She’ll share what she knows, and help where she can. But she can’t - she won’t - go back in. 

Chris scares her, she admits to Will one day. They don’t know what specifically drove him mad, but it’s not hard for her to believe that it would happen. She had hardly had a good nights sleep since she got out - she had been plagued by nightmares and memories. The dark and tight spots had become triggers for anxiety. Someone accidentally turned the bathroom lights out when she was in the showers at camp and she had a full-blown panic attack. She worried she would go mad next. 

[sherrybaby14]

The Option VI

This is a Dark! Bucky x Naïve!Reader story.  It contains questionable consent.

Warnings:  This is a dark/rape/noncon story.  Please do not read if that offends you.

Chapter warnings:  Smut, rough sex, spanking, (you’re into it, so its not noncon, but I don’t think Bucky really cares if you’re into it or not).

Words: 5k

Summary:  You get a break from domestic bliss that does not go as planned

Bucky ground his hips and you moaned, wrapping your legs even tighter around him, pulling him in deeper as the orgasm sent vibrations down your body.  

“Ugh!” Bucky spilled inside of you, pressing his forehead to yours before giving you a kiss.  

Both of you tried to catch your breath as he rolled over onto his back next to you.  

“Good morning.”  You turned to look at your grinning man.  

Bucky popped up on his metal arm and used the other to trace circles on your shoulder.  You still wondered what happened, but never asked the question again.  You didn’t want to risk upsetting him, those disappointed looks always killed you.

“Am I getting dressed today?”  The last few days every time you tried to pull a shirt on Bucky was there in a second to take it off.  

“Hmmmm…” He continued to run his finger over your skin. “Unfortunately I have some things I have to take care of today.  I don’t really think it’s fair to make you stay in bed waiting for me all day.”  

“I want to get back to the clothes making. I’m finally getting the hang of that old machine.”  You started to sit up, but Bucky’s hand was on your shoulder pushing you down as he climbed back on top of you.  

“You sound a little too eager to leave the bed.”  Bucky kissed your neck. “Maybe I should keep you here all day.  Remind you of what’s more important.”  

“A girl has to have some hobbies.”  You laughed. “It can’t be all sex all the time.”  

“I’m your hobby.”  Bucky kissed up your ear and lightly bit the lobe. “And I want sex all the time.”  

You felt his cock hardening against your thigh.   The vision of leaving the bed was fading, but Bucky’s face went in front of yours, his blue eyes electrified you.  Maybe you could waste another day with the man.  

He pressed his lips to yours as he lined up with your entrance and slid inside of you.  

Bucky had spent the last few weeks getting to know every way to push your buttons and master your body.  You didn’t think it should be legal for a man to have this much bedroom skills.  

“What a good girl you are Peach.”  Bucky bottomed out.  “So eager to please.”  

You moaned at his praise, hoping he wouldn’t leave the bed all day.  

~~~

Three hours later you found yourself walking back upstairs after eating breakfast.   You were in an oversized sweater and a pair of Bucky’s pants you’d managed to alter enough to fit you.  Still hadn’t tried to make any panties, but over your time here you’d gotten used to going without.  

You got the vibe Bucky liked having easier access and didn’t even think he would approve if you told him you were interested in wearing them again.  

You popped open the door to the small attic and walked inside.  It was hard to believe this was the same room you found.  You’d cleaned the whole thing out and made it your personal space.  The sewing machine and fabrics were in the corner, there was an old radio on a small table, the loveseat was cleaned and prominent.  You’d even hung some of the photographs of what you assumed were the previous owners.  

There was a stack of books you planned on using to make some sort of decoration.  You wished they were in English so you had something to read.  You laughed at the idea, as if you had free time for something like that.  

Bucky pretty much consumed you.  You figured you had two hours tops until he was back, carrying you to bed.  The man was insatiable and you had grown accustom to having sex at least four times a day.  It was almost like his stamina was superhuman.  

Thinking about him made you clench your thighs together as a wave of heat come over you.  You shook your head.

“Relax Peach.  Enjoy the break.”  Your words startled you, it was the first time you used the nickname out loud.  

But it was all Bucky called you and now you were more used to that than Y/N.  It made sense to refer to yourself by Peach.  There wasn’t anything wrong with it.  You reassured yourself and went to the sewing machine, sorting through the pile of clothes.  

“Hey.”  Bucky walked in the room, hands in his jeans.  

“Did you change your mind?”  You stood up from the machine, ready to strip at his command.  

“You are so beautiful and it drives me crazy when you look at me like that.”  Bucky folded his arms across his chest. “Come here.”  

You didn’t think you were looking at Bucky any differently than you always did, but if he was pleased you were happy, so you kept your eyes on him as you walked closer.  

“You really are perfect Peach.”  Bucky wrapped his arms around you and you draped yours around his neck. “My perfect Peach.”

He kissed you and the tingle between your legs flared.  

“Mmmm.”  He pulled away.  “I did come up here for a reason though.  I’m going to run into town.”  

“You’re leaving?”  Your eyes went wide. “How? The snow.”  

“Apparently we weren’t the only thing heating up the past few days.”  Bucky 

took your hand and led you down the steps and into the bedroom.

You went straight to a window and peered through the blinds.  Sure enough there were patches of grass and mud visible through the piles of white, everything looked wet, but all the animals were out enjoying the sunshine.  

“Is this normal for November?”  

“It’s December fourteenth and no.” Bucky was right behind you.  

“It’s December?” You did the math, six weeks and two days.  “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You never asked.”  Bucky shrugged. “But I’m going to use the opportunity to go restock, because trust me, more snow is on the way.  I’ll be back in a few hours.  Can you be a good girl while I’m gone?”  

You nodded your head, almost in shock over the passage of time.  Bucky placed a kiss on the top of your head.  

“Lock the doors after I leave and stay inside.”  Bucky opened his closet and pulled out the giant backpack.  

You remembered wearing it when he drove you on the motorcycle to this place.  When he saved you.  The thought made you hug yourself and filled you with a bit of dread.  

“Can I come with?”  You knew what the answer would be, but still needed to ask.  

Bucky looked up at you with smooth features, but then he bit down making his jaw clench.  Disappointment.  Your heart hurt and you looked away.  

“You’re safe here Peach.”  He sighed. “It’s too big of a risk…if the wrong people saw you.”  

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have asked.”  The idea of being trafficked was fading away and feeling like less of a threat.  

“It’s alright.”  Bucky stepped forward and kissed your head again.  

“What are we going to do?”  You’d already disappointed him once, but there were so few opportunities to get Bucky to talk about anything except for you.  “When the snow melts?  I can’t hide here forever; my uncle is probably terrified.”  

“Are you happy here Peach?”  Bucky put a finger under your chin.  “Are you happy with me?”  

“Yes.” You blinked several times, not sure you understood the question or what it had to do with your uncle.  “Of course.”  

The last thing you wanted was for Bucky to think you were ungrateful.  The corners of his lips started to rise, but he kept the smile down.  

“When the time comes, I’ll figure something out.”  Bucky dropped his hand. “I promise.  Until then, keep being my good girl.  Let me do the worrying.”  

You nodded your head and looked at the floor.  That single flash of let down on Bucky’s face was going to haunt you all afternoon.  

~~~

When he left you did as you were told and locked the door behind him.  It was strange being in the house all alone.  The farthest Bucky ever went was the animals.  

He didn’t seem upset with you when you left, but you’d known asking to come was a bad idea.  All it did was put him in an awkward spot.  Bucky deserved better than that.  

Maybe you could do something to show him you were sorry?  The thing he would like the most was your body tho, and he was welcome to that whenever he liked.  A thought crossed your mind and you licked your lips.  

He’d walked you through oral a few times, maybe when he got home you could drop to your knees and take the lead.  

You imagined your mouth filled with Bucky’s cock, his hands in your hair helping you to take more of him.  

“That’s it Peach, what a good girl.”  

You nodded your head and shook the fantasy away.  Once he got back you would show him what a good girl you could be.  

The minutes felt like hours and you needed something to do with your time or else you would go crazy waiting for him.  

A present.  That was another way you could show Bucky how grateful you were.  After all, Christmas was eleven days away.  You didn’t know if he celebrated or not, but you really didn’t know much.  

That wasn’t true.  You knew he was kind, gracious, caring.  So what if you didn’t know details about his life before you?  Did any of that matter?  

This situation is seriously screwed up Y/N.  You pushed away the thought before it surfaced all the way.  

You wondered what you could get him, obviously you would have to create something with what you had.  It would have to be something you could hide and work on in your alone time.   But what did Bucky like outside of you?

The two of you had played cards a few nights, and some other weird games he had in the basement, but that was always just a way to pass the time until he carried you up the stairs or took you on the hardwood floor.   A smile came to your face; Bucky really did like you.  

It was like a lightbulb went off.   You didn’t want to make underwear, but what about lingerie?  There were a few dresses in the attic that were too small, but maybe they could be altered quite a bit.  

You glanced toward the basement.  You hated it down there.  It was too creepy, but you knew Bucky took all the extra stuff you didn’t want in the attic to the far side.  You’d only been over there twice.  It reminded you of a prison cell, but you didn’t have much choice.  It wasn’t like you could wait for Bucky to get home and ask him to get the dresses.  He would want to know why and that would ruin the surprise.  

You tried to picture the design in your head to distract from the creepiness of the bottom floor.  You turned on the light and took the stairs two at a time, then didn’t stop as you rounded the corner to the other side.  

There was a light hanging and you pulled the string, putting the room in an even eerier glow.  There were several shelves with Bucky’s stuff and extra supplies, in the corner was a freezer too.  There was also a toilet sitting out and a shower built into the wall.  It wasn’t a second bathroom since it was so public, which again made you think at some point someone was locked down here.  

A chill went down your spine and you turned toward the storage space.  That was where you discarded dresses would be.  It was a crawl space, but one you could reach from your feet since the basement was so short.  

You grabbed the first bag and opened it up.  No dresses, but you pulled it out to get it out of the way so you could go further.  The next two bags had the same thing.  There was a box toward the front right you knew wasn’t from the attic.  But it was big and in the way, when you tried to yank it down it was heavier than expected and hit the floor with a thud.  

“Shit!” The top came off and some of the contents spilled out.  

When you bent to put it away you froze.  Your eyes went wide and mouth hung open.  A black gun was half out of the box.  

You looked inside and saw there were cases of bullets and a few other guns.  There was also thousands of Euros. More money than you’d ever seen. Why was there a box of weapons in the basement?  These were hand guns, not the kind used for hunting.  

The sense of safety you’d crafted started to slip away.  Why the guns?  Why the secrecy?  Why wouldn’t Bucky tell you a damn thing about himself? Why all the cash? Who was he?  

If this place was so bad, why was he here?  

Much like the night you sprinted out in the snow the dam you’d built in your mind broke and all the questions flooded in.  You felt yourself hyperventilate and had to get out of the basement.  

~~~

Did Bucky put the box away?  The thought kept gnawing at the back of his mind.  When he saw the weather he was so shocked he regretted staying in bed all morning.  

That was a lie.  He never regretted any time with Peach, but he was scared about stretching the food all winter and now he wouldn’t have to worry.  

But he would never leave the house without protection and he needed money to buy the stuff.  He kept that stuff hidden though, and for some reason he thought he may have been in such a rush he left it out.  

Not that it mattered, Peach hated the basement anyway.  Just thinking her name made him smile.  He was going to the closest town.  It was about 20 minutes away.   He didn’t like the idea of visiting one so close to his house in the event he was followed, but he liked the idea of leaving Peach alone less.  

She was so helpless.  It was endearing, but if someone happened on the house while he was gone Peach wouldn’t know the first thing about defending herself.  The thought didn’t sit well with Bucky.  He would have to teach her some basic fighting moves.  

But that would involve keeping his hands off of her for longer than five minutes and that was becoming harder and harder to do.  Everything about her turned him on.  

  He parked his bike at the end of the downtown area and got off.  All these little towns operated the same way. One grocer, a few restaurants, some bars, a few specialty shops, and a farmers market on the weekend.

  To an outsider it would look like a simple poor place, but living in this country was expensive. There was a fee just to cross the border, and there was no overnight shipping.  The people who lived here chose it for a reason and odds were they’d done something horrible in their past lives.  Just like Bucky.

  He thought about the way Peach looked at him, so intent and almost proud.  Would she still give him those longing glances if she knew what he had done?

  It wasn’t worth the risk finding out, and he didn’t want to lie to her either.  She seemed to accept his silence though.

  Before he left she asked what were we going to do. We. He liked that.  Even though it was unspoken she realized that they were a package now.  When it was time to move on they were staying together.

He hadn’t decided what would be better, climbing the mountains into Romania or smuggling her out the other direction.  

  Either way they had to wait until at least April. He hoped by then her traffickers had moved on to other prey.  

  He pulled open the door to the first shop. It was the clothing store.  Even though he wasn’t thrilled with the idea maybe it was time to get Peach some panties.  She could use a pair of boots and a winter coat.

  Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated any holiday, but maybe he would pick her up a gift too.  He hoped they had some lingerie options. Then it would double as a gift for him.

  The shopkeeper nodded at him and Bucky responded.  He didn’t like to speak to anyone, but decided maybe asking would be the easiest way to get in and out.  

He spoke the local language easily enough.

  “Hello. I was wondering if you could help me...” Bucky trailer off when he saw the sign behind the register.

  It was a normal piece of paper, but in the center was a big picture of his Peach.  Missing, Beloved Niece. 10,000 Euro reward for any information. 100,000 Euro reward if found alive.  There was a contact number.  

 “That sign catches everyone’s eye.” The shopman pulled it off the wall to see another behind it. He set it on the counter. “Big reward.”

  “Yes.” Bucky tried to hide his reaction.

  This was too close to their home, and with this sort of money everyone was looking for his Peach.  

  He wondered how many people in the other town had described him, his motorbike, at least he had his hair piled under the hat today. He would cut it as soon as he got home.

 “She’s probably dead, but that doesn’t stop people from looking. Pretty girl. Someone must have some major plans for her.” The shop keeper smiled. “Keep it, and good luck. Now what can I help you with?”

  Any idea of buying Peach anything went out the window.  He imagined purchasing anything for a female may result in this man calling up the tip line.  

 “I need black t-shirts, some thermal wear, and socks.” Bucky folded up the paper and shoved it in his pocket. “All for me. My size.”

  The shopkeeper walked around the counter to start grabbing the stuff.  Bucky channeled all his rage and fear into keeping cool.  But right now all he wanted was to get home to his Peach.

  The fantasy bubble he’d been living in popped.  And the reminder of how much danger she was in flooded him. But he would protect her. No matter what. Nobody was taking his Peach.

~~ You paced the kitchen, unable to stop crying.  Who was Bucky?  Where were you?  What sort of life were you living?  All the false justifications you were using came crashing down.  

When the sound of keys fitting in the front door came you paused, a shake in your arm.  You were in line with the door and when it opened Bucky walked inside.  His eyes were downcast as he took off the pack on his back.  

He looked up and you locked eyes with him.  At first there was a smile on his face, but it soon dropped.  

“Peach…what are you doing?” He took a step forward.  

“That’s not my name.”  You gave a sniffle and wiped your nose, wishing you had the strength to say these things without tears.

Bucky’s eyes got wide and he held his hands in front of him.  

“Whatever you’re thinking, we can work this out.”  He took small steps.  

There was fear in his face, the way his brow wrinkled.  You were expecting anger, and disappointment.  That would’ve made you crack, but you could deal with fear.  

“Who are you?”  You started pacing again, throwing your arms in the air.  “Why do you have a box filled with guns and money?  What is this place?  Am I prisoner?  Are you the trafficker?  Did you buy me?”  

“Peach, you need to calm down.”  Bucky continued to move slow. “You can hurt yourself.”  

“Are you even listening to me?”  You wanted to scream in frustration.  “This isn’t about me.  It’s about you.  Who are you?”  

“Who am I?”  Bucky was a few feet from you now.

You locked eyes with him again and gave a nod.  You wiped your tears, imagining what a mess you looked like.  

“I am someone who takes care of you.  Who protects you.”  Bucky was about an arm’s length away.  

“NO!” You pinched your eyes shut. “Who were you then?  I have a right to know.”  

Bucky paused, his arms still in front of him.  He was approaching you like you were some sort of wild animal.  It made your resolve falter.  Maybe you were wrong to demand answers.  He kept his eyes on yours as he moved forward again.  

His hand slowly moved toward you, but not like he was going in for a hug.  Then you looked down and saw it.  The gun.  

“Shit.”  You were so into your own head you hadn’t realized you were holding it.  

Before you could react Bucky grabbed your wrist.  He put pressure on it making you cry out and drop the weapon.  He snatched it up and put it on the stove then grabbed your waist and spun you around, slamming you against the counter.  

“I…I…didn’t mean…” You didn’t know how to explain that.  

“SHUT UP.” Bucky growled next to your ear. “Do you want to hurt me?  Or do you want to hurt yourself?”  

You replayed wiping away the tears and your nose, throwing your arms in the air.  You had just been waving around a weapon.  One that was incredibly dangerous and you had no clue how to use.  

“I’m sorry.”  There was a quiver to your voice.  

“Very bad Peach.”  Bucky put his arms over yours and grabbed your wrists, pining them to the counter top.  “Bad.”  

All of the questions you had, your demands on him amounted to nothing.  You shut your eyes as a tear fell.  He was so close to you, if his fingers weren’t bruising your wrists you would say it was almost a protective stance.  You tried to relax your body into his, scared that if he let go he would never touch you again.  That was what you deserved after screwing up this bad.  

“You want to know who I am?”  He bit down hard on your neck.  

You squealed as pain set in.  His teeth vanished and you felt the spot pulsing.  

“I am someone who doesn’t take well to having a gun pointed at them.”  He let go of your wrists and started to stand up.  “Don’t you think about fucking moving from this spot.”  

Your legs wanted to give out and your arms weren’t strong enough to support you, but you forced yourself to stay against the counter, bent forward with your arms in front of you.  

“I am someone who cares about your life more than you do.”  His hands were on your hips and he yanked your pants down.  

He stepped on them with his boot and nudged your foot to step out of them.  You were a mix of emotions, scared of what was happening, angry at yourself for the situation, but most of all hopeful that he was going to touch you. Stripping you was a sign he wasn’t finished with you yet.

“I am someone who corrects poor behavior.”  SPANK!

“Ahhh!” You lurched forward on the counter top when his palm contacted your ass.  

He grabbed your bum and sunk his fingers into the spot he just spanked, making you whimper.

“I am someone who is in control.”  SLAP!  Pain exploded on your other cheek.  

“Oww!” It stung, but the humiliation you were feeling was worse than the spank.  

“I am NOT the type of person who purchases people.”  SLAM!  

That one hurt the worst so far and you cried out again as a new batch of tears came.  How could you have ever thought that?  Bucky would never have bought you.

“I am someone who you NEED to listen to.”  SPANK!  

This time he brought both hands to your ass and again sank his fingers into your burning cheeks.  It made you shudder and fall forward.  Then he was gone again and you tensed, unsure of what was to come.  

“I am someone who knows what is best for YOU.” SLAP!

Your body trembled and you cried again.  He was right, he was so right.  You were a mess and you would be lost without him.  How could you ever think such horrible thoughts about this man?  

He leaned over your body and put his mouth next to your ear.  

“Now, are you my Peach?” Even though it was a question there was no doubt of the answer demanded.  

“Yes.” You nodded furiously.  “I’m your Peach.”  

“Do you want to be my good girl again?”  There was almost a playfulness to his tone now.  

“Yes.  Please, let me be your good girl.”  If said no, you were pretty sure your heart would stop beating.  

He stood back up and the sound of his zipper going down brought your relief and a whole new type of crying.  

Bucky stood behind you and placed one hand on the small of your back before slamming into you in one stroke.  

You gasped and raised your neck.  He slid in with ease.  You were turned on.  From the spanking?  From the dominance?  You didn’t have time to think about it before he started thrusting in and out of you with speed.  There was no warm up or teasing as he pumped you.  

Fingers fisted in your hair and he arched your neck back.  You groaned at the strained position.  

“You are mine Peach.”  He fucked you furiously, slamming his pelvis into your abused rear.  “If you EVER think about hurting yourself, you have no clue what I’ll do to you.”  

It was never your intention to shoot anyone, but you could have.  He sped up and you lost any train of thought as your insides came to life.  You felt the start of an orgasm building, but then he pulled out, leaving you empty and wanting.  

His hand left your hair, but before you could hit the counter he grabbed you and spun you around.  

His face was tight and his blue eyes looked like the devil himself.  There as no forgiveness in him as he grabbed your chin with his metal hand and squeezed slightly too hard.  

“Do you understand?”  He focused on you and you nodded as you whimpered.  

He dropped your chin and his hands were on your shirt, he pulled it over your head, but didn’t take it off.  Instead he twisted in behind your back, essentially binding your arms.  Then he picked you up and set you on the counter.  

“Very bad Peach.” He dropped his vision to your pussy and slammed back inside of you again.  “VERY BAD.”  

You nodded in agreement, unable to come up with an excuse.  His fingers dug into your thighs as he railed into you again.  He put his mouth on your neck and sunk his teeth back down, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough for your to feel the pinch.  

You didn’t deserve it.  You didn’t deserve him, but the orgasm came back.  You couldn’t roll your hips to meet him in this position, but it didn’t matter.  You wanted to touch him, wrap your arms around him for support, but that wasn’t an option either.  You had been so bad, he was right not to let you.  

“I’ll be good.”  You let your head go limp, giving him easier access.  “I’ll be so good for you.”  

He grunted in approval and then dug his fingers harder into your thigh and bit down further.  You cried out, but the mix of pain with the pounding of his cock was enough and your pussy fluttered around him.  Clenching and unclenching as the orgasm shook through you.  

Your vision went dark, but not enough to lose consciousness.  

“Ugh!” Bucky lifted his mouth and jammed inside of you one final time.  

You dropped your head forward on his shoulder, the tears still falling.  You were sorry.  You would show him.  

“Are you okay?”  He brought his hand to your back and pulled your shirt off.

“Yes.”  You through your arms around him, not wanting him to let you go.  

“That was scary Peach.”  He let out a sigh.  “Never again.”  

“Never.”  You squeezed him tighter.  

He pulled out of you and scooped you up in his arms.  Your body was still shaking, but he was so strong.  You felt his gaze on you and looked up.  There was sorrow in his eyes and you hated it that it was your fault.  

“I wanted to see that look one last time.” He swallowed and carried you up the stairs. “I was born March 10th, 1917.  My full name is James Buchanan Barnes.”