#in other news i have been hit over the head with a brick (midterms) sorry for inactivity

[heartscrypt]

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[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 034

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave; They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Brave

Broken hearts are made for two

One for me and one for you

Tell me have you heard the news

We are now in love

Fall break from school is scheduled during the last three days of the last week of October. Before she can take some time off, Iris has midterm articles to write and grade. Barry is busy testing DNA samples or whatever it is CSIs do so they don’t see each other for several days after he leaves her house the morning after Wally’s party.

On the Wednesday of Fall Break, the first day off, Iris lets herself sleep in until almost 10, and then she packs up her bag, stuffing a notebook, a couple of pens, and her laptop in, before dressing comfortably in a pair of dark leggings, and a white oversized CCU hoodie she stole from her brother. Throwing on a pair of white low-top Chuck Taylors, Iris heads out to Jitters. It’s a rainy day, and other than workers who’ve no choice, not many people are out. A storm is brewing for later in the night, the sky dark and cloudy, but for the moment, it’s just a steady rain that has Iris walking carefully to her car and driving a lot slower, thanking her lucky stars that she finds a parking spot right in front of the coffee shop.

Back in high school, especially once her dad had gotten her a used car during the beginning of senior year, Iris and Linda would come to Jitters to do homework or stare at the college boys who would come in. The coffee shop has expanded since then, buying the small antique store that had been next door and adding more seating and a bar that specializes in alcoholic coffee brews. It’s still one of Iris’s favorite places to work because now the manager is a young Black woman with wild curly hair always dyed in one bright color or another and a soft spot for mid to late 90s R & B female singers. The shop is comfortable, with couches and overstuffed chairs in mismatched browns and beiges and blues set up near the walls and windows and several tables, two- and four-tops, taking up the space in the middle. Two of the walls are exposed brick and the others are painted stark white and feature framed prints in wild colors. It’s changed since she was a child, but Iris likes to think that she’s changed with it, that as this integral part of Central City has grown and added light and color and comfort, so too has Iris.

Today, her plan is to outline at least two entire stories from interviews she’s completed over the last couple of weeks before she even thinks about leaving the coffee shop. She settles into one of her favorite spots, a soft navy armchair behind a small circular table. She sets up her laptop, her notebook with her notes, her pens, and once a waiter drops off her brown sugar latte and a chocolate muffin, she lets the sound of the rain, and the Erykah Badu playing on the speakers, get her into her work.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Iris looks up just as Barry stops beside her. She’s been at Jitters for just over three hours now, and her shoulders are cramped and she’s coffee high and hungry. The rain is still pounding down, so hard that it looks like it’s raining sideways, and Iris curses her inability to get any work done in her own home. Besides all that, she’s reeling. She’s just outlined a story of a man explaining the story of the woman he’d loved his entire life: from growing up together in a small city in North Carolina, to becoming best friends and de facto siblings when his parents died and her dad agreed to foster him; from not dating but seeming like it in high school, to falling for other people in college; from having other spouses and children to one night of passion before they found their way back to each other when she decided to leave her husband after his wife died. It was a ride from start to finish, such a roller coaster of feelings—of love and pain and joy and heartbreak—that make Iris feel a bit heavy with them, a little loopy with them.

Barry stands to the side of her, towering above her, in as simple an outfit as what she’s wearing, a pair of black joggers and a white sweatshirt. She’s startled that he's there because she figures that he should be at work, but her heart does tick up at the sight of him. That is, until she lets her eyes rake over his lean frame. He looks a little...down, like a physical manifestation of the story she’s just outlined. His hair is messier than usual and his eyes aren’t carrying their usual sparkle, in addition to the darkening bags that frame them. He’s also a little stubbly, his jaw covered in a fine layer of coarse hair, his pallor a bit ashen.

(Iris will also admit that she thinks he looks sort of, well, good, like this; but that’s neither here nor there and she feels terrible—and maybe a bit perverted—that she’s lusting after him when he’s obviously going through something.)

“Hey,” she responds softly, and she stands up to assess him further. He seems so much taller than her like this, when they’re both in sneakers. She hasn’t seen him since the morning after Wally’s party a week ago when he dropped her back off at her car after spending the night at her place. They’ve talked a bunch and FaceTimed once, but she’s missed him. She reaches up into his hair, rubbing at his scalp a little until his eyes close and he lets out a soft little moan. She keeps at it and then touches gingerly at his face, at some of the moles dotting his cheeks, at the stubble he’s grown. He reaches up to stop her, eyes still closed, and it startles her a little bit. She goes to pull her hand back, but then he holds on to her wrist to bring her hand down and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

She’s never seen him like this. He’s always so open and, maybe not happy, but never so melancholy. There is always a pep to his step, as her grandma used to say, a smile on his face that always said that he feels some sort of contentment in his life. And obviously, people are allowed to have days like this. But it does something to Iris, to see him this way. She wants to lash out at whoever has made him look like this, like he’s drowning in emotions that he can’t easily pull himself out of.

“Bear, you okay?”

He nods, a little woefully, and he catches her eyes again. She bites at her lip as she stares back at him and, on impulse, she leans up to kiss him. It’s just a little more than a peck, something to tell him that she’s there with him; but he takes it a step further, kissing her harder, biting at her lip enough that there’s more pain than she’s expecting. She moans at him and he pulls back, breathing labored.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You didn’t hurt me. Well, a little, but I didn’t hate it.”

That gets a more real smile out of him, and he thumbs at her bottom lip. “Hmm, I guess my good girl is a little bad.”

Iris rolls her eyes and gives him a look, sobering for a minute. “Bear, what’s up? You okay?”

He doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he nods at her table and asks, “you get a lot of work done?”

She eyes him, wanting to ask again. But she knows how she is when she doesn’t want to talk about something and so she lets it go. For the moment.

“Yeah. Or, at least, I’ve done most of what I set out to do.”

He nods, casts his eyes out of the glass, looking at the rain for a moment, watching it fall in heavy sheets. Normally, Iris likes the rain. It’s soothing and she enjoys how it makes the world take a moment to slow down. When she was a little girl, her grandma (her dad’s mother who grew up somewhere at the bottom of Georgia) used to say that when it was raining, and particularly when it was storming, that the Lord was doing His work and that it was the time to be still. They’d have to sit quietly, usually with the TV and the lights off, and just be. And while life doesn’t allow her to drop everything because it’s started raining, there is always a hushed feeling that comes over her when it rains, something tranquil, but also a little turbulent, a little uncontrollable, quite like the very rain she’s reveling in.

“Wanna come over?” he wonders, voice unsure.

She nods readily. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

He goes to return her mug and plate while she packs her bag back up. He meets her at the door, opening up a large umbrella and throwing an arm over her shoulder to lead her out into the rain. She walks with him past her own car as he takes her a short black away to where his Jeep is parked. He helps her into the Jeep first, watches as she tucks her bag under the seat, and then closes the door before walking around to the other side.

They ride to his house in silence. He lives far on the south side of town, a good twenty or so minutes from downtown if they hit the highway. Instead, he takes the streets, adding another ten minutes to their drive. Iris doesn’t mind; as she said, she likes the rain, and in this big Jeep, tires sluicing easily through the flooding roads in a way her car definitely can’t, she’s enjoying the ride. He had silently connected her phone to his car’s Bluetooth, so she took it to mean that the music choices were hers. She contemplates finding something that he might like, but she figures he likely wouldn’t even be paying much attention. So she decides on one of her slower playlists, ones with songs that dip and fade, that take listeners on a journey of highs and lows, and she lets it play. The lyrics tell too much, so i guess that i should mention; that i am in no condition; to put you in this position; i might fuck this up, although with the heavy weight on Barry’s shoulders right now, she can’t tell if she’s talking to him or vice versa.

He takes them past one of the major shopping districts in the city, past the Apple store and the Michael Kors shop and the one restaurant her dad took her to when she graduated college where pasta dishes run nearer to forty dollars. These shops, and the nicer mall and a couple business buildings that rise as tall as those downtown, lead into longer stretches of road where trees interspersed with beige or cream apartments begin to take up where businesses once stood. He turns into the familiar subdivision that she remembers; it’s a little older than some, which makes sense if his parents were able to buy and pay it off before they were gone. That also means that none of the houses are the same cookie-cutter versions that tend to make up most subdivisions these days, where houses are identical save for the color and the trim and what children’s toys litter the front yard.

He presses a button on his visor and the garage opens as he maneuvers the car so that he can back up into the driveway. He stays in the driveway, though, the music cutting out—but whatever the case, you're my favorite mistake; more than happy to make you—when he turns the ignition off. She waits for him to come around with his umbrella and he half picks her up to pull her out, holding on to her as he walks her through the garage.

She’s as quiet as he is, taking in her surroundings, trying to get a better sense of who he is by what he’s got going on in his house. There isn’t much in the garage; there are a bunch of boxes neatly stacked on one wall, a couple bicycles in another corner. There is a wall full of tools and a couple tables that have science looking tools on them, like a microscope and several bunsen burners and petri dishes, though nothing looks as if they’re currently being used.

He leads her through a door that opens up into the kitchen as he presses another button to close the garage. His house is as cute on the outside as it is on the inside, although she wonders how he might feel if she were to call it cute. The kitchen is large, done in white, gray, and green, with steel appliances, gray marble countertops, and the look of a place that doesn’t get a lot of use. They both stop to toe their shoes off right outside of the kitchen where a couple other pairs of Barry’s shoes lie. His living room is pretty big: a wide space that features a real stone fireplace as the focal point and a large screen television situated above it; a huge sectional in a slate gray with a few throw pillows; and a big square wooden coffee table. It’s masculine and clean without being gaudy or too bro and Iris wonders if he did this himself because even if she never knew her, she doubts a woman who loved flowers as much as his mother would decorate her living room this way.

The dark curtains on the windows are open wide and Iris can see the backyard but the rain coming down in sheets keep her from being able to make out much besides the patio with what looks like a grill and wicker furniture. Iris remembers being told that his dad had been a doctor and his mom some sort of university researcher and the house matches that.

Barry lets her hand go to tug his sweatshirt off, revealing a plain white t-shirt that rises up over his taut belly. She doesn’t avert her eyes, giving herself permission to track how the sweatpants hang off his slim hips and how he isn’t so much sculpted as he’s hard and tight, with just the beginnings of abs. He catches her staring and he smirks at her before dropping down in the corner of the couch, one leg spread out along the seats of the chair.

“Come here,” he tells her, and she moves toward him, sitting so that her back is pressed against that hard chest and his arms are wrapped around her. She grabs a hold of his forearm with both her hands and settles her head in the crook of his elbow. She’s surrounded by his scent, lemongrass and clean cotton, and for a while, the only sounds are his breathing and the pounding of the rain. He touches her, the hand she’s not holding on to stroking up and down her thigh. Her leggings are pretty thin and she feels his touch fully; if she concentrates enough, she can feel those beloved calluses on his hands. He rubs his hand towards the juncture of her thighs and then over her hip and then back again, and like always, his touch ignites something in her, even as she’s wondering how she might be able to help him out of whatever funk he’s found himself in.

“You ready to tell me what’s up?” she wonders a while later.

“Hmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Not yet. Tell me about your day.”

She shifts so that she can look back at him, noting the way his eyes have darkened a touch, become grayer like the sky outside, and it’s different from the bright blue-green she remembers from the day of the festival or the wicked blue-gray they always are right before he pushes hard into her.

He blinks down at her and licks his lips slowly. It’s not an explicitly sexual act, even if her body thinks it looks that way, and Iris finds herself lost in it, in whatever he’s emanating. It’s erotic in that it’s intimate, a whirlwind of whatever hurt made him seek her out at Jitters, of whatever still lies unexplored between them, of the attraction that doesn’t ever seem to dissipate.

When she pulls herself out, she tells him, “I was working on a story today. One that made me feel a little bit like how you might be right now.”

“Yeah?”

Wanting to look at him more comfortably, she uses his pause so that she can turn around fully and seat herself on his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically go to her hips, one sliding inside the waist of her leggings so that he can touch her skin.

“Tell me about this story,” he requests. She knows that he’s asking so that he can think about something other than what’s on his mind, so she does, giving a little more than she would originally, working out how she might want to tell the story in her blog.

“It was a couple,” she starts, “that grew up together, in the country. They bonded by playing together in the lake, climbing trees, and playing pranks on each other. And then they start to grow up. Their swimming becomes fraught with tension, the bathing suits showing the same skin, but more, ya know, both of them recognizing the differences, cataloging them, thinking about them, remembering them. They don’t act on it, because they’re friends, and he doesn’t actually understand what it means, that he’s 13 and he keeps dreaming about her at night, waking up with a wet bed and a pounding heart. And then his parents die and her dad, who’s a do-gooder in the community and had been his parents’ best friend, takes him in. Now they’re siblings, but of course not. Regardless, it makes it all harder and odder because she sleeps right down the hall from him, their shared bathroom always smells like her, and he understands now, that he likes her smile and the way she speaks and the curves she seems to develop out of nowhere.”

Barry squeezes at her and she pauses as he asks, “And what about her? How does she feel about him?”

“Well he doesn’t know it, but she’s there too. At first she thinks that she’s just conflating it, confusing their friendship. Because she doesn’t laugh with anyone else like she does with him and she never has as much fun with anyone else as she does him and she never feels as comfortable with anyone else as she does him. He’s her best friend. But she sees him, one night, in his room where the door hasn’t fully closed and he’s, well, he’s masturbating, touching himself, eyes closed and moaning, and for the first time outside of the books she’s read, she feels something. And she knows it’s not just because she’s seen him naked because she’s kissed boys before, she’s felt them hard under her before, but something about this feels different for her.

“But she doesn’t act on it. And he doesn’t either, because remember, he only thinks this is one-sided. They graduate. They go to the same college. But their majors are different and their friends are different. She joins a sorority; he gets into a couple of clubs. Their paths separate, even if they still laugh and talk and be when they’re home for the holidays. Then she gets a boyfriend.”

“She never had a boyfriend before this?” Barry questions.

Iris shrugs. “Sure. But it was high school and the beginning of college. They were mostly hookups that didn’t last. This guy is serious. He’s a couple years older, got his own place, and eventually she moves in with him. Heartbroken, he gets a girlfriend too, one of her friends. That doesn’t last long because she figures out that he’s a little bit in love with the main girl, and then he moves on, to someone sweet, someone who’s been not so subtly hinting that she wants to go out with him.”

Barry seems to be engrossed now. She can’t say that the dark look he was sporting is completely gone, but she can see that he’s not as deep in it, interested in the story she’s weaving.

“They go on to marry these people, even if their hearts are not fully in it. His wife has a kid first, her baby comes next. And meanwhile, they’re still friends. Her dad is still his guardian, so to speak; they are together for whatever holidays they don’t spend with their spouses’ families. They still laugh and talk and be. They still look a little too long and want a little too much.

It comes to a head one Christmas. The gods or fate or just some movement on their parts mean that they both go home to her dad’s house with their spouses and children coming in the next day. But her dad is called in to work so they order take out and watch movies in front of a fire. And they laugh and they talk...and they hug and they kiss and they…

“Be?” Barry tries, a tiny little smile on his face.

She matches it. “Yeah. And it’s beautiful, transcendent. But they’re married. To other people. With kids. So they vow to forget it, to never bring it up again. A couple of years pass. They don’t laugh as much, don’t talk as much. She’s having troubles in her marriage. He is too. He actually consults a divorce attorney because he thinks that it’s unfair to both him and his wife, to live like this. And then the wife dies in a car accident.”

“Oh damn,” he mutters.

“Right,” she agrees. “He’s wracked with grief and more than a little guilt, because he loved her but was never in love with her and she had no idea he was going to leave her.”

“What about her? The one he loves?”

“She’s there for him. She consoles him, cares for him, takes his kid when it gets too hard. Her husband doesn’t like it though. Thinks she’s doing too much, thinks that there’s another reason she’s over at his so much. Later, he learns that this wasn’t a new accusation, that even before she and her husband got married, the husband would question their closeness, would wonder what, if anything, had ever happened between them.

“Eventually she gets tired of it. Her kid is older, in their teens now, and she leaves her husband, packing her things and her kid’s too and moving back in with her dad for a while.”

“And what happens between them?” Barry wants to know.

“He and his son come over more. They hang out more, the four of them, going to dinner and to the movies and to the arcade together. And when their kids are gone, at sleepovers or game nights with their friends, they laugh again, talk again. Fall in love again.”

The ending is implied. Iris closes her eyes when she’s done, letting Barry continue to rub at her back, his fingers so so warm on her skin.

“It's a happy ending,” he says, eventually. “But getting there was a little...depressing.”

Iris chuckles softly, lightheaded again at having gone through that again. It likely didn’t make Barry feel any better, but she’ll take the win that it took his mind away from his own problems, if only for a little while.

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “But it reminds me that just because it’s not easy and just because it takes some time, it doesn’t mean that things aren’t worth it.”

He nods, slowly, thinking.

“What about things that are...easy? That come like breathing? That start as a simple dance and just, just keep going?”

She stares down at him and she knows that this is rhetorical. She can see the question in the depths of his eyes, feel it in his hands still kneading her flesh. It would be easy to retreat, to tell him that nothing is ever easy, even if the reality is that it is because they are, because they fall into each other so effortlessly, that she’s terrified. There are always hiccups, obstacles, and the fact that she can’t find any keeps her on edge, waiting, anticipating trouble she knows must be coming. She doesn’t want to believe it, wants to stand firm in them—stand firm in the lyrics she keeps hearing, if you decide to stay, know that there is no escape; there's no one here to save you—and she holds onto that as he asks,

“Don’t you think it’s worth it, Iris? Even if it’s this easy?”

She can’t speak, but his eyes are imploring her to answer. Pleading with her for a response. And however terrified Iris is, or however much Iris tells stories, she is not a liar. So she nods and whispers to him, “yes.”

Without waiting for her to say anything more, he kisses her. He squeezes at her waist and leans up to capture her mouth. She meets him with his same fervor and it’s different, this kiss. She knows the passion of his mouth when he’s high, the boldness when he’s teasing her. But this is new, this is fervor, warmth and agony and doubt and pleasure, all wrapped up together.

(Something also tells Iris that there is another word for this, that this is the part of the story where feelings would be laid on the table, where hearts would be splayed open and she’d say it, or he would, and the other would respond in kind, with declarations of adoration, of infatuation, yearning, of any other word that means what she can’t say yet.

But she feels it, what she’s wanting to say, what she thinks he is saying, in this kiss. It is slow and nasty, all tongue and mouth. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling, at how he licks into her mouth and then sucks on her bottom lip, at how he licks against her tongue and then holds her face to bring her closer to him. She feels it, she feels it, she feels him…)

He stands, holding on to her, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tightening her arms around his neck as he carries her through the house. The kisses don’t stop, though they become shorter, more mouth now, and he takes her down a long hallway past several doors until he turns into one at the end of the hall. She makes a quick note of the light gray and burnt orange decor, the side tables holding books and knickknacks, the one window that spans nearly the entire wall, but she focuses most heavily on the king-sized bed on which he throws on her, the soft comforter half hanging off the bed.

Her clothes come off first, Barry pulling her sweatshirt over her head and yanking her pants over her hips. He comes out of his own clothes as she discards her underwear, and then he’s between her thighs again. But she wants something else first so she taps his shoulder to flip them and then she’s hovering above him.

She gives him a kiss, slow and sweet, and then she makes her way down his chest, kissing as she goes. She loves the feel of his skin against her lips, likes how his skin tastes as she presses tongue kisses on him. His belly clenches and unclenches under her ministrations, and by the time she’s looking back up at him from her position near his crotch, she can see the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing.

She reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his dick. It’s long like the rest of him, and thicker than she would have expected just looking at him. It’s a pretty dick, the base the same color as him, the head slightly pinker. It’s a little veiny, but the skin is smooth, and already he’s starting to leak. She lifts her eyes to find him watching her, his own gaze hooded. In her peripheral, she sees his hands grip the bed sheets and she revels in how she hasn’t even done anything and his control is starting to slip.

“Tell me what you want, Bear.”

She says the words softly, but Barry doesn’t miss the cheek that lies under it, if the slight smirk he gives her is any indication.

“Your mouth,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming about that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick.”

She shudders at the tone of his voice, at the vision of her on her knees for him. She likes it.

“I bet you have too,” he guesses.

Without a response, she licks him, holding him at the base and running her tongue up one side of him. She does it again, and then one more time, acquainting herself with the taste of him and the satiny feel of him on her tongue, and then she adjusts and covers the whole of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

She hums around him and she sucks him down, taking him until he hits her throat. Then she pulls back until just the tip remains. She licks around his head and sucks him there, letting the spit pool in her mouth, letting it mix with his own wet. She opens her mouth and lets it slide out, dripping down onto him, and her own body starts to drip at his wrecked whisper, “god, baby, look at you.”

She adds her hands, palming his testicles in one and rubbing her spit down the length of him with the other. She finds a rhythm, sucking him down, inch by inch, hollowing her cheeks as she goes, and then stroking his back up. Barry keeps his hand clenched in the sheets, but he cants himself into her mouth, rocking his hips lightly. She’s getting into it, loving the way he responds to her.

“Come here,” he says, suddenly, reaching for her, and she pulls back with a soft pop.

“Barry?” she furrows her eyebrows in question.

He gives her a gentle smile and grabs at her arm; Iris moves at his request, crawling up his body.

“But you didn’t finish,” she says, pouting a little.

“I know. I want to come when I’m inside you.”

She’s mollified by that, and he settles her on his lap.

“You were so good though, baby,” he says, kissing her. “My good, good girl.”

He reaches down to touch her, slipping his fingers easily into her sex. He groans into her mouth at the feel and he pulls back to ask,

“Is this all for me? Did you get wet sucking me off, good girl?”

She nods, rocking her hips against his hand, against his sex still hard beneath her. “Can, can you…?”

He tilts his head at her, fingers still caressing inside of her. “Can I?”

She huffs out a small laugh because he’s always fucking with her. “You said you wanted to come inside of me,” she reminds him.

“I did, didn’t?” He takes his time removing his fingers, eyes on her as he does. Even with the window curtains wide open, the dark sky has the room dark

(and she doesn’t dismiss the fact that the window faces the side of someone else’s house, where they could be seen if the neighbors were so inclined to watch)

and his eyes look a little like molten lead in the faint rainy light like this. He goes to reach over to his bedside table but Iris stops him.

“I want to feel you,” she says.

He licks his lips and she doesn’t mistake the twitch of his dick she feels under her. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m on birth control. And I trust you.”

He nods once and again, and then he takes her by her hips and slides her down his cock.

After, Iris decides that this time is the single most erotic experience of her life.

They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way.

She rides him, and he’s so full in her like this, so deep in her like this. His back is against his fabric headboard and she’s so close to him, her knees jutting into the headboard, her thighs holding around his hips, her breasts rubbing against his chest, nipples pebbling with each brush on those hard planes.

She holds on to him with her hands holding the back of his neck, softly scratching at the nape. But he’s touching her, always touching her, his hands caressing her spine, and then holding her waist, and then squeezing her hips. He guides her: keeps his favorite pace, smooth and languid; bring her up to the tip and fucks her back down; shows her how he wants her to roll her body when he’s full in her, so her clit is brushing the soft hairs on his pelvis, the sensation incredible.

He uses his mouth too: to kiss her throat, deep tongue kisses that’ll leave marks she knows she’ll have to cover up; to whisper against her mouth, “see how easy this is; see how good, baby; fuck, see how good this is; yes, yes, yes, my good girl.”

And Iris feels so caught up in it. She can’t stop looking at him, loving when the lightning slashes across the room and illuminates those eyes, the constellation of moles on his skin, his wet, pink mouth. Her body hums with pleasure, soaking her thighs and his, tightening around his dick as if it never, never wants to let him go. She voices her satisfaction, in soft sighs and heavy pleas, and his name on her tongue like a chant, or better, a song, “Bear, Bear, Barrryyy.” They’re so close, her skin sticking to his wherever they’re touching, chest to chest and ass to thigh. She feels full and whole and filled...with him and with desire and with, and with love, the thought of it making her shudder and close her eyes.

“No,” Barry whispers. “Don’t. Just let it, just let it...stay here with me. Can you do that for me? Be brave for me?”

She nods, head heavy as her body starts to reach its climax, as her body loosens at the same time that it tightens and she has to fight to hold on to him. “Yes,” she moans again, holding his gaze again.

He touches at her face, holding her cheek and staring back. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t know whose climax triggers the other. She just knows that at the same time that her body explodes, fluttering wildly around him, he comes too, so hard that she feels him throbbing against her walls, that she feels him filling her up with his cum.

He doesn’t let go of her right away. He just holds her, hands at her hip and her face, and then he kisses her, cementing what they’ve just done, cementing what Iris feels for him.

“It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” he says, out of the blue. “And when I went to visit my dad earlier, I found out that he’s sick, something with his heart, and I’m-I’m reeling.”

It’s been a long while since they separated and Iris climbed off of him to pad into his bathroom and warm a hand towel under warm water to clean them both. They’ve been lying in his bed, only half under the covers as they let their bodies cool. It’s quiet now, so quiet that Iris has thought he’d fallen asleep; she’d almost fallen asleep. But when he speaks, she blinks wide and then turns her head to face him.

“14 years today,” he adds. He’s looking up at the ceiling as he talks, but Iris feels the hand that’s settled at her waist tighten, the move bringing her closer to him. She understands that he just needs the contact, so she turns so that she’s all the way curled on him, one of her legs thrown across him, her arm tossed over him too, hand settled on his heart. It’s beating slow, steady, and so she strokes his bare chest, right it.

“How’d you find out?”

“I was still at school,” he tells her. “It was a Friday and some of my friends had convinced me to go to a football game, so we were there pretty late. Games could run until 11. I was 17 so I had my own car. It was an old car; we’d bought it from a guy she worked with. By this time, my dad had been gone for a couple years, and my mom was always working late at the lab, so when I got home around 10:30 that night and the lights were out, I wasn’t surprised.”

He shifts a little and continues. “I took a shower, put some leftover pizza in the microwave, and just as I was sitting down to eat, the doorbell rang. It was the police looking for her next of kin to tell them what had happened.” He sighs heavily. “I got lucky. The courts let one of my friend’s parents take me in until I graduated a few months later. I was able to get a work study job in college to pay my bills since the mortgage was already paid off.”

He says it all like he was lucky, but there is nothing lucky about losing both of your parents in that matter, even if one of them was still physically alive. Iris knows from experience that he doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for his story. But she can’t help the way she wants to comfort him, and so she lets herself do that, tightening herself around him, snuggling even more into his chest.

“How are you feeling about your dad?” she asks, mumbling against his skin.

“Devastated. He looked like, like, I don’t know, like he’s giving up. I don’t get to go see him too often, every couple of months, really. And he looked so different from when I saw him last: smaller, frailer. I think there might be something he’s not telling me. Like he’s been sick longer than he says he has.”

“Is he supposed to get out soon?”

“Another couple years. But I don’t know if he wants to hold on that long.”

She feels them first, the tears. She tries to hold him even tighter, tries to crawl into his skin almost, trying to stem his pain. He doesn’t cry for long, just a few sobs, and then he’s inhaling deeply and wiping at his eyes. But it must be enough because he sounds a little hollow when he says,

“And truthfully, I’m not so much sad as I am mad, that he seems to be giving up. On getting out. On me.”

She hums, not dismissively, but because she understands. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes, I hate my mom.”

He sort of jerks up at that. Not fully, he looks down at her, eyes widened in shock. However inappropriate it might be, she finds herself laughing a little at his expression. Then she explains.

“I know that addiction is not a moral failing. I know that she struggled right up til the end. I know both of those things as completely as I know anything else. But sometimes I wonder why my dad wasn’t enough, why me and Wally weren't enough. I wonder what she was trying to find in those pills that she couldn’t find in us, and I get so pissed that she let it take her away from us.”

She’s startled when he moves. He pulls himself from under her, letting her fall onto her back, and then he’s hovering above her, holding himself up on his elbows. He falls into the spread of her thighs, his sex nuzzling comfortably against her still warm center.

“I’ve seen some of the worst effects of addiction,” he says, “when their bodies end up on a slab of metal and it’s my job to dissect the things around them, to even sometimes help detectives dissect their lives to figure out what happened. And something I’ve learned is that it’s always, always about them. Never about the people they love.”

He searches her face, brushing a piece of hair back from her forehead. “And whatever your mom was or wasn’t thinking, you are enough. You are more than enough, Iris.” He leans down and gives her a kiss, deep and dirty, and she moans in frustration as he pulls back from her. He gives her a grin, one more reminiscent of the Barry she’s used to.

“Repeat after me,” he commands. “I, Iris West…”

“Really, Barry?”

“Yes, come on. I, Iris West…

She sighs, but says it. “I, Iris West…”

“Am more than enough.”

She licks her lips then, blinks, works to not let the tears that have suddenly gathered in the corner of her eyes escape.

“Am more than enough,” she whispers, finally.

Barry’s smile turns fond. “Good girl.”

She shakes her head because she doesn’t know what else to do besides kiss him. Which she does, deeply, reaching down to grip him in her palm. She pauses, just for a moment, to tell him “you know that you are enough too, right?” and she kisses the look of awe off of his face. It’s a long while before she stops kissing him, and then it’s only to moan into his mouth, to let him whisper his dirty somethings into her ear.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

They’ve just shared a shower. Barry is throwing on another pair of sweats and a hoodie and Iris puts her own leggings back on, sans underwear, and thumbs through Barry’s closet for another sweatshirt to put on.

(There’s no reason that she can’t put hers back on, but she’s feeling particularly sentimental and she wants to take something of Barry’s with her, something that smells like him, that feels like him.)

“None, really.” She pulls out a red sweater that reads Central City University Track & Field and throws it on over her bra. “Why? You kicking me out.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” He glances down at the watch on his wrist. “Wanna get dinner? And then go with me to my tattoo appointment? It’s at 8 tonight.”

She smiles at that. “Sure.”

They take the highway back downtown. The rain is still beating steadily and there is still the occasional rumble of thunder, the sporadic flash of lightning. He parks a bit further in the arts district, in front of a restaurant specializing in wood-fire pizzas and craft beers. This time, she knows to wait for him to come around and open the door for her so that she can walk under his umbrella. Once he locks his jeep, he grabs her hand, and they walk the couple doors down and into the restaurant.

The place is brightly lit, in direct contrast to the dark sky and even the faint light that had been on at Barry’s place. The weather assures that it isn’t densely packed, just a couple booths of families and what looks like a couple, so they’re seated quickly and easily. They eat fast since they’ve only got an hour before his appointment. In the meantime, they both keep the conversation light. It’s been a day, for the both of them really, and Iris doesn’t think that she can cry twice in a day.

After he pays, she goes to the bathroom and he tells her he’ll wait at the door for her. She goes in and it’s as brightly lit as the rest of the place and she quickly does her business and washes her hands before heading back out to where he knows Barry is waiting in the little space between the outer door and the door to the restaurant.

She walks through the place and out of the restaurant door, likely too quickly and without really looking. She takes several steps, straightening out Barry’s sweatshirt again, and then she’s bumping into what feels like a solid wall, almost falling backward. A quick hand reaches out to catch her, the hand large, easily wrapping around her forearm.

“Shit,” she says, shaking her head to clear it as she looks up. “I’m sorr..Scott?”

He doesn’t move back right away and so she has to look up, up at the man holding on to her. Scott Evans is the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He’d been her editor when she’d work at CCPN right out of college, and she’d had the biggest crush on him. Tall with dark caramel skin and a neatly trimmed beard, he’d been the one to help guide her in the ways of mass story-telling. They’d gone on one date and Iris is not actually sure why they’d never gone on another.

“Iris West.” He says her name slowly, his grin widening at the same pace. He gives her a once-over, slow and heated. “How’ve you been?”

“R-really good,” she says, stumbling a little at that grin. Even if she doesn’t actually regret never seeing him again, Iris can admit that a man this good looking makes her a little tongue-tied.

“Yeah? I’ve been catching your blog when I can. It’s some good shit, West. I can see why you left our little paper.”

“Please,” Iris rolls her eyes with a little laugh. “There’s nothing little about Picture News.”

He shrugs, humble all the way. “Still, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate that.”

“It’s the truth.” He looks down at her, swiping at his lips with his tongue, and she suddenly realizes that they’re still too close. She steps back fully from him, glancing over Scott’s shoulders to see Barry watching them, his expression unreadable.

“Um,” she speaks, catching his attention. “I gotta go Scott.”

“Oh yeah; of course. We should get together soon. Maybe do dinner.” Scott looks back out of the window where rain steadily pours. “It’s still raining out. Can I walk you to your car?”

Her eyes don’t leave Barry’s and he tilts his head, waiting for her answer. “Scott, I’m not alone.”

He turns as if he’s just realizing that Barry is standing there. Barry is still quiet and only lifts his eyes to look at Scott when he mutters, “oh, hey man.”

Barry nods. “What’s up?” Then he looks at Iris. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I am.” Her voice is soft, cautious, and she throws one more glance at Scott. “It was good to see you.”

He graces her with that smile again. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

Barry takes her hand and they walk back to the truck. They’re on the road again, driving to a neighborhood near her own. For a second, she thinks he’s going to take her home, but he passes the road to her apartment and goes on to a neighborhood featuring several bars and little shops that cater to the college crowd. He pulls into the parking lot of a place called Black Gold, the lights inside near as bright as those in the pizza place.

Again, she waits until he comes around and turns as if to get out. He stops her though, holding the umbrella high, standing in front of her open legs. He does his thing, his stare like he's trying, and succeeding, to get inside her mind.

“That your ex-boyfriend?” he wonders.

She shakes her head. “Ex-boss.”

His expression doesn’t change. “All your bosses look at you like that?”

She swallows at the sudden feel of his hand on her thigh. The rain is pounding and drops fall on them, but she’s not noticing it. Instead, she’s caught in the storm that’s returned to his eyes, in the feel of his hands inching steadily toward her center.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she says, instead of responding to him.

One corner of his mouth lifts, and the confident, bordering on cocky, Barry is looking at her now, even if that sparkle hasn’t returned quite yet.

“Nah,” he says. “Not jealous. You’re here right now. And you were with me earlier, moaning for me, coming for me.”

He slides his hand between her thighs and because she is, almost literally, always thirsty for him, wet for him, her legs spread easily. He fingers at the crotch of her leggings, and she knows that he can feel her warmth through the thin material. He thumbs at her until she gasps against him, finding her clit in a way that reminds him that he knows her body better than she knows it herself.

“He ever touch you like this?” Barry asks, voice a whisper above the rain. “Make you whimper even without getting your clothes off?”

She is whimpering, as he keeps his thumb on her clit, rubbing on her in slow circles. That’s all he’s doing: touching her with one hand, looking at her with those eyes that tell as much as they conceal, with his voice a deep rumble that rivals the thunder. He might be turned on, but he’s proving a point, naming himself as someone who, well, who owns her, even if she recognizes that no man should claim any power over her.

Heat spreads through her, a low, simmering sort of heat, but it’s enough that her folds grow slicker, start opening like the flowers of a petal waiting to be plucked. He keeps rubbing at her, staying on her clit, staring in her face, so much that she can’t hold his gaze. Because it feels better than it should, and her wet is soaking through these too thin leggings, and her breaths are coming in longer, coming in heavier.

“Tell me he hasn’t, Iris,” he says, commands, and Iris throws her head back, legs widening at their own volition, hips canting against his hand. “Tell me.”

“No,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed. “He never even touched me at all.”

“Tell me it’s just me,” he adds and she’s too far gone to note the pleading in his voice. “Tell me no one has ever touched you like this.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Just you, Barry, shit, just you.”

“Good,” he groans. “Good, good girl.”

Even if touch is the word he’s using, Iris understands that it’s more. She understands that they’re both wrapped up in uncertainty, never too sure of where they lie in others’ affections, never too sure of where they lie in life at all. She understands that he’s asking her if she feels it too, if she’s there with him, if this too easy, this too natural, feeling is a first for her too.

He’s asking if she’s brave enough to tell him the truth, if she undertands is meaning-understands that I'm no walk in the park; all these scars on my heart; it’s so dark here-even as she’s wondering the same, as she’s feeling the same, wondering if the churning feelings of abandonment make her unworthy somehow. Wondering if he’ll come to see that unworthiness.

Barry leans forward, just a touch away from her mouth, eyes blazing.

“There’s only you too, Iris,” he says, unprompted. “I swear I’ve just been waiting for you.”

He closes the distance to kiss her and that’s enough to take her over. It’s not a powerful orgasm, not like usual, but it does make her shut her eyes tight, make her limbs seize up as she rocks her hips through it. She breathes out, and she can’t stop the little laugh that comes out.

“You really are a dick,” she muses, opening her eyes slowly.

“A polite one, though,” he says, as he stands straighter and holds his hand out to help her down from the car. He holds the umbrella high over her. “See how I’m making sure you don’t get wet.”

“You didn't think of that earlier.”

His grin is devastating but it doesn’t hide the plethora of emotions in his eyes: the simmering lust, the faint traces of insecurity, the grief that’s been hovering all day...the love she doesn’t think he wants to hide anymore.

She hikes up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, and then she walks beside him into the parlor, words flashing in her head like a sign, but if you’re a warrior, there’s nothing to fear; nothing to fear.

And later that night, as she cuddles up next to Barry is his large comfortable bed, she listens to his soft breathing, the sound a melody to the rain still pattering against his windows. She listens and she stares at him, taking in his features, softer than they were before, the stress of today easing away with every second he’s lost to sleep. A flash of lightning lights the room, and it catches her eyes again, the new tattoo, the purple ink bright on his skin, covering the space from a lily on his shoulder to just over his heart. It goes dark again, his room blanketed once more, but in her mind’s eyes, she can still see the vibrant ink on his skin, the pretty drooping petals of an iris.

Cause you're so brave

Stone cold crazy for loving me

Yeah, I'm amazed

I hope you make it out alive

[the-omni-princess]

Blood Bound [Chapter Three]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky x Witch!Reader

Summary: Vampires and witches have been known enemies since the dark ages. Backstabbing, secrets, and magic turned supernatural brethren again each other. As a natural-born witch, you grew up on these stories, your own monsters under your bed. What happens when one of those sworn enemies claims that you are his blood mate, the vampire equivalent of a true mate? Will you give in to this man out of time? Or destroy him for the sake of your Coven?

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: nightmares, witchy things, vampire things, minor death, attempted assault.

A/N:

Anyway! I’d like to thank two cuties. @annaloveloki for always trying to beta (and listen to my stories in the middle of anatomy lectures), and @peterfrxst for listening to all my wild Vamp and Witch ideas. <3

Updates will be slow since I have midterms this week, sorry

-

[Series Masterlist] 

 [My Masterlist]

 [Playlist Inspired by the Series]

-

----

“I know, I know, but it made me feel safe, and I don’t know. It felt like…” you ran your hand over your face, eyebrows scrunching up as you thought. “Like a warm bath on a cold day, or lighting a new candle, or snuggling in blankets while watching a movie, it felt like home. I just followed that little tug until it led me into the woods, and to James.”

“James?” Wanda looked up from the safe space of Natasha’s arms.

“Yep, James… How do I say this without being judged?”

“Y/n, you’re a natural-born witch that we’ve kept hidden from the Council for years, you can tell us anything.” Nat pointed out, placing an encouraging hand on your knee.

Taking a shaky breath, you nodded. “Well, for starters, he’s a vampire,” you saw Carol stiffen beside you. “And he claims, we are Bound.”

--

“Wait, wait, wait,” Natasha, who knew you felt a presence in the woods, spoke up first. “Is he the reason for that presence?”

You nodded, “It is…” You knew you could trust them, but you were unsure how supportive these witches, the literal enemies of vampires, would feel about your vampire boyfriend. Wait, no. Boy that’s a friend.

“I thought Bindings were rare,” Wanda spoke up, pushing away her tears, intrigued as to what was happening.

“Yeah, and how can you be Soul Bound to a vampire of all creatures?!” Carol was tense, she would of course take it the hardest. “They’re monsters!”

You winced, feeling her powers start to permeate the air, your own quickly followed. “He is not a monster,” you snarled, lightning crackled, ghastly shocks of blue and white flowing around you. You couldn’t explain the absolute need to defend him, you barley even knew him, yet you knew he wasn’t just an ordinary blood sucker.

“They all are!” Carol’s eyes began to glow a low golden color, most likely mirroring your own.

“I didn’t choose to be Bound to him, Carol! What am I supposed to do? Ignore all these feelings inside me? Just let the Council kill him, blame him for the North’s death, blame him for the crystals, blame him for everything? Or maybe you just want to blame me for it all! I didn’t choose this! I didn’t choose a vampire, I didn’t choose a Binding, I didn’t choose to be born with powers, I didn’t choose to have the Council hate me, I didn’t choose any of this!” The electricity pulsed around you, and even Nat’s usual tricks couldn’t calm you anymore.

Carol’s own power died down, sensing your panic replacing your anger. “Y/n…” she spoke softly, and something in you broke. “I know you didn’t choose him, but you know what he is…”

Sniffling, you reigned in your powers, defeat settling into your bones. You slumped on the couch, letting your eyes close. “He’s the first choice I actually have. Carol, I have to at least explore this,” you murmured, gulping down the rest of your tears.

“Be careful,” she quickly left, and you couldn’t really blame her. Both of her parents had been killed by vampires, that’s why she became a witch. So, it wouldn’t happen again. Guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders, and you groaned. “I’m going to bed. I’m tired of reading about Bindings and well… everything,” you didn’t wait for a response, heading up stairs.

Collapsing on your bed, you sighed softly. Life had become much more complicated within weeks, and you had the feeling it was about to get more twisted as you slipped into unconsciousness.

-

Darkness surrounded you, the faint push of a howling storm, the cliff below you lit up with your powers. Sharp, jagged rocks illuminated in your light show. Crashing waves, somehow too high to hear. Summoning lighting always felt easier in dreams, yet every flash of lightning slowed as the winds picked up around you, pulling you from the edge. A voice called from behind you, muddled, the words hidden by the wind. The air thickened into honey, too dense to move backwards, as the wind fought to keep you on the cliff. Trying to turn towards the voice seemed impossible. It seemed so familiar. Like home. Finally turning, you cried out, the scene changing around you, descending into darkness as the man in front of you blurred into nothing but blue eyes.

-

The alleyway was musty, dirty concrete, and a simple shortcut home. Shuddering, you pulled the jacket closer around your arms. Pepper promised she would pick you up, but she was currently nowhere to be found. Most likely being distracted taking care of her werewolf boyfriend.

Was this a dream?

The air seemed to chill, a shiver running up your spine. Something was following you. This was most definitely your worst idea. Still gaining control of your powers, trying to light up whatever human decided to trail you would be a bad idea. Humans were never kind to witches. Even worse, it could be another creature. Or even crueler. A bloodsucker.

Your feet moved a little quicker, trying to subtle out walk the thing chasing you. A hand grabbed at your arm, slamming you into the brick wall with a squeal. The scent hit you first. A human male. A drunk one at that. You were shaking, words spilling from your lips as you begged to be let go, but the man pushed you further into the wall. A devious smile lit his mouth up, and you held back tears, trying to calm yourself enough to use your powers, and yet that wouldn’t be necessary.

The man was ripped off of you and tossed into the opposing wall of the alley. “Hasn’t anyone told you to pick on someone your own size?” The gruff voice belonged to a man still hidden in the shadows. He wasn’t human.

The human groaned, clutching his head as he attempted to stand. “Don’t interfere,” he slurred, tripping over air as he lunged for you.

The creature caught him first, slamming him into the wall and lifting him off the ground. He scoffed, before chancing a glance towards your cowering frame. “Don’t watch, little one,” he warned. You bit back a cry, closing your eyes, curling in on yourself on the ground. A sick crunch followed by the human’s cries, and you felt your world tumbling down. Your savior was a vampire. Your literal nightmare.

Thump. The man’s corpse fell to the ground and the vampire turned his attention towards you. “What are you doing here this late?” he questioned, wondering who would let the teen out of their sight. He took a breath, almost choking on your scent as he drowned in it. “Little witch?”

Your eyes shot open, and you cried out again as he took a step towards you. Utter terror ran through your veins, and your powers were on the verge of emerging. He raised his hands in a sign of surrender, kneeling to your height on the ground. “I won’t hurt you, little one.” You didn’t seem convinced, and he sighed softly. “Run along, little witch, I’ll make sure there’s no other humans to bother you.” As he stepped into the moonlight, your heart skipped a beat. Red crimson eyes swirled away to bright blue. Electric and icy blue. Utterly enchanting. Hauntingly familiar.

-

You gasped awake, shuddering as you turned to see the clock. It was almost three am. Picking yourself off the bed, you wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. It was a terrible idea, but as you walked out the doors and straight into the woods, the yearning in your chest calling out, you couldn’t help but be pleased by your idea.

It took seconds before a figure jumped off a tree branch, and much to your enjoyment, he stumbled trying to stand up straight. Ignoring how he tripped for now, you looked up towards him. “You were the bloodsucker that saved me when I was younger, weren’t you?” Her curiosity needed to be sated, the knowledge from her dream eating away at her.

“I did tell you not all vampires are evil, little witch, though I do admit, I did not quite recognize you as that teenager until just the other day.” He admitted, tilting his head a bit to the side, amused.

“Why did you do it? Why did you save me?” You took a step closer, electricity started to flow through your veins, emboldening you to confront him.

“You needed help, I helped. It’s not too difficult to come to that conclusion, little witch,” he rolled his eyes, now starting to notice the small sparks of blue and white bouncing off your fingertips.

“You’re not telling me everything. You said you’d protect me, and you can’t do that if you are lying to me!” Shuddering, you pulled the blanket around your shoulders tighter against you as the winds picked up. Your argument was pretty weak, but he was most definitely hiding something.

“What do you want me to say?” He snarled, eyes turning crimson as the winds howled. “I only drink from humans? Or I felt this urgent need to protect whoever’s whimpers I heard in that alley? Or how for the first time in decades I’m starting to remember my human life? Or that I can’t control my feelings whenever I’m even near you despite knowing the fact the Council will want us both dead if they ever find out we are Bound?” He cried out, desperation and anguish laced into his voice.

You soon realized he was only a step away from you, and your own sparks died down the closer he got, his presence had more of a calming effect than Natasha’s powers. The winds thrashed the nearby branches, and yet you couldn’t feel the wind except for the small chill. “Probably the Binding making me feel like this, but… you just seem so familiar. It can’t just be from being Bound, none of the books mentioned it like this,” You murmured, and he only barley heard your words over the wind thanks to his enhanced hearing.

Confusion swirled in your mind, unsure how to connect everything that was going on. As James reached up slowly, cupping your cheek in his palm, you felt the strangest sense of déjà vu. Have you been here before? Why was he always so familiar?

“You feel it too, huh little witch?” he murmured, leaning towards you, trusting in you, leaving himself vulnerable to you.

Ignoring your mother’s voice in your head, you tilted towards his hand, closing your eyes. It felt like home. “I was always taught that vampires were evil, never to be trusted, and yet, you seem like the only thing I can trust in this world, Bucky Barnes,” you confided, relaxing to his touch, the blanket dropping away from your shoulders.

A few realizations hit Bucky one at a time, time seemed to slow around you. Firstly, the necklace that was now exposed and pressed against your collarbone, had a mint leaf charm. His free hand ran across the charm, dread and recognition creeping up his throat, burning him from the inside out. Mint.

Secondly, was the fact he never told you his last name. Sure, you could have researched it, but no one but his small family back at the motel knew his nickname. No one except maybe….

The final realization came when you opened your eyes, the wind and sparks surrounded the two of you, pressed together tenderly, satisfaction settling deep into his bones. He felt a chill run down his spine as he connected the final dot. What was I saying in my vision? You looked up at him with the utmost adoration, the haunting familiarity made him gasp softly. Your eyes had swirled into a different color with your powers surrounding him. You had kaleidoscope eyes.

---

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland  / @lumar014 / @maniacproffesor / @gollyderek / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @avengerstones

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx​ / @thedancingnerdmermaid / @mood-pancakes / @gracethegeek9902 / @annavega333 / @ravennightingaleandavatempus / @thelibraryoffanfiction / @sunkissedbarnes​

Blood Bound Tags:

@itz-kira / @rinthehufflepuff / @evilzinblr / @starkrobb​ / @paranoiadestroyah / @misplacedorphan

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[girls-scenarios]

To Meet You

Idol: Sooyoung (SNSD)

Prompt: maybe a sooyoung scenario where she and the reader meet while snsd is having promo in another country and sooyoung sees the reader in a coffee shop or something cliche like that and they hit it off even with the language barrier? i'm not sure if this prompt makes a lot of sense but anything similar to that would be fine. thanks for warning me early enough☺️

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I have a midterm due tomorrow but instead of studying for it I’m doing this... Oh well. Also Sooyoung can speak pretty great English but I didn’t want to specify one country so I didn’t mention what language it was. I did take a couple liberties with the prompt but I hope you all still enjoy!

♡ Tip Jar♡

Getting to rest while in a foreign country was the best. Sooyoung had come to promote her new movie, but one of the interviews had been cancelled and moved to another day, leaving her with one day to just relax and explore. And she couldn’t be happier. After letting her manager and coworkers know she’d be going out for a while, she left with a skip in her step, enjoying the warm summer air as she walked through the streets, taking in the sights.

It didn’t take her long to realize that she was hungry, though, and she quickly pulled out her phone to look up nearby places to eat. Although she loved Korean food, she wanted to try something new, so she scrolled until she found a cafe that caught her eye. Colorful photos of the inside of the cafe caught her eye first, but then she saw the food and immediately, her mouth began to water. It was brunch, and she loved brunch. Even more, the unique coffees and teas on the menus looked great as well, and she didn’t hesitate: the address was in her GPS and she was on her way to eat some great brunch food.

The inside of the cafe was cute. A huge, light-up sign with the words “eat” was on the wall, and plenty of tables lined the inside, as well as a bar area. The light fixtures were metallic and blue balls, which matched the colorful blues on the walls. The green of the plants near the windows and behind the bar acted as another pop of color, while white bricks made the bar itself stand out. The tables and chairs were all made of a purposely-faded wood, and little vases with small sunflowers and daisies sat in the middle of each table. The windows let in enough natural light that it felt bright and alive, and Sooyoung couldn’t help but smile as she sat down at one of the tables and looked around, loving the decorations.

It was the perfect place for an Instagram photo or two, so she pulled out her phone to begin snapping a few photos before turning her eyes to the menu. Oh, right. Of course the menu wouldn’t be in Korean. She squinted at it, trying to read the best she could. Thankfully, the menu had photos beside the items, and she knew how to say “this one, please” so she should be able to survive with her limited vocabulary.

“Hello and good morning! My name is (Y/N) and I’ll be taking care of you today! What can I get started for you?” At the sound of a voice and a glass of water being sat on the table, Sooyoung quickly looked up. And her heart skipped a beat as her breath caught in her throat. Were all servers here so attractive? She hoped her face wasn’t heating up as she cleared her throat and turned back to the menu, trying to remember all the vocabulary that had just disappeared at the sight of you.

“U-um, this one, please.” She pointed at one of the brunch sandwiches before flipping the page and pointing at one of the espresso drinks. “And this one.” You smiled at her, and she felt a bit faint as she handed you the menu, trying to get a hold of herself.

“Alright, I’ll get that going for you!” You walked away and she watched you go for a moment, mouth dry until you disappeared into the kitchen and her breath finally came back to her. Surprised by her own reaction, she reached over to take a sip of her water to cool herself down. What was that?

You’ve never seen a server that attractive, her brain said, but she tried to dismiss the thought, too nervous to let it stay. How would a relationship like this even work? Shaking her head, she pulled up Instagram to distract herself, quickly editing and posting her photos before beginning to scroll through her feed.

As she was looking at her (secret) favorite Harry Potter fan page, you walked up with her coffee and laughed softly. “Oh, you like Harry Potter too?” You asked as you placed down her coffee, making her cheeks color slightly.

“Oh, um. Yeah! Harry Potter is cool!” She gave you a thumbs up for a lack of anything to say, but you didn’t seem to mind.

“Sorry to look over your shoulder! Um, I like that account.” You pulled out your own phone to show you that you were following it too, and she smiled, happy to at least understand half of what you said.

“I’d like to dress up one day, too,” she said, almost wistfully as she peered at one of the cosplay photos.

“Me too!” Smiling brightly (so bright that it made her heart jump around) you slipped the phone back into your pocket. “I’ll be right back with your food, okay?”

“Okay!” As you walked away, she quickly looked up Google translate and swallowed, putting in the phrases that she wanted to know how to say, heart beating a little faster than usual. What was she even doing? Did she really think this was going to lead anywhere? You were probably just being nice.

But it didn’t hurt to try, and she knew that. So when you came back, she tried out one of the phrases that she’d learned, hoping that Google translate hadn’t screwed her over.

“Here’s your sandwich,” you said, placing the plate on the table, and she gave you her prettiest smile.

“Thank you! Are there any other accounts you follow?”

Your eyes lit up a little bit and you glanced around to make sure your other table was okay before pulling out your phone again to show her. There were a few more you followed, some art accounts, and a few she followed herself, giving the two of you something to talk about. Even though the two of you communicated through a language barrier, she found that it wasn’t hard to talk to you. You knew a little bit of Korean, and although your pronunciation wasn’t perfect, it felt nice to see you try and communicate like she was trying to do with you. She asked if you were in school and if you liked serving, and you asked her in return what she did. Upon hearing that she was an actress, you gasped and asked to follow her on Instagram, making her laugh and follow you back.

The two of you ended up talking so much that it would have been bad if there was another customer there, but your other table had left, meaning that Sooyoung didn’t feel bad about monopolizing your time. It also seemed like you liked talking to her, too, so she was happy with how things were going. Time just flew by as she talked to you, and before she knew it, she was done and her manager was asking where she was.

With a sheepish smile, she looked up at you from her phone. “It looks like I’ve taken up a lot of your time.”

“No, no! It’s okay! I’m having fun talking to you. I’ll be right back with your check if you need to go.”

“Yes, please.” As you left, she wondered how she should go about getting your number.

It was only when she opened up her KakaoTalk to answer a friend that she remembered: it had a translation feature! Trying to hold in her excitement as you walked back over, she put on her best smile once again, thanking you for the check. Then, as she was about to leave, she took a deep breath and turned to you one more time.

“Do you have a KakaoTalk?” She raised up her phone, just in case you didn’t understand, showing the app. Your eyes widened a bit and you pulled out your phone, nodding your head.

“I do! My friend had me get it!”

“Good!” She smiled brightly. “If we add each other, it can translate!”

Your mouth dropped open and you looked down at the app curiously. “Wow, really? Let’s add each other, then!” You held out your phone to her, and she felt like her heart might jump out of her chest as she added you to her friends list, smiling when your name popped up.

“There, we’re friends now.”

“How exciting!” You laughed, and she felt giddy inside for the first time in a long time. “I can’t wait to text you, Sooyoung. If you can, stop by again, okay?” Your smile was still bright, but it was different than the customer service smile you’d given the other customers, and she knew this meant that she had a chance.

“I will. I promise!”

As she walked away, texting her manager to let them know she was still alive, she couldn’t help smiling like a weirdo, even humming to herself as she walked with a slight skip to her pace. Once again, she looked at your name in her contacts before slipping her phone into her pocket and looking up at the clear sky. This was a place that she might not have ever come if she wasn’t promoting, but here she was. Acting had led her to this place, and to you, with your bright smile and now-familiar laugh.

And she was so glad she’d decided to become an actress.

[lancetuckershairgel]

The Family Secret: A Superfamily AU 

Eleanor Rogers is your average teenage girl living in New York City. Her father, Steve, is a highly ranked, semi-retired military soldier. Her stepfather, Tony Stark, is a billionaire inventor. Her stepbrother, Peter, is a dweeb. Life was great for the Rogers-Stark family until one day Steve leaves for an important mission and Eleanor stumbles upon a secret her father has been keeping from her. 

Chapter 1: An Ordinary Day

“Eleanor wake up!” My little brother’s voice squeaked as he poked my slumbering body

“Go away Peter” I grumbled, turning over and pulling the blanket over my head

“We’re going to be late for school” Peter pushed against my shoulder, annoyed

“Go without me, I’ll get there eventually.” I said, swatting at his hand

“Steve’s going to be mad if you’re late again” Peter shrugged before walking out of my room, making sure to flip the light on as he left.

I groaned and threw the covers off. I sat up and rubbed my eyes until they adjusted to the bright light and yawned. Staying up until midnight studying for midterms wasn’t a great idea, but I wasn’t one for organized structure and had messed around until the last minute. I quickly got dressed, throwing on some leggings and a sweatshirt that had originally belonged to my step dad. Throwing my hair into a bun, I grabbed my backpack and ran down the stairs.

“Morning kiddo.” I heard from the kitchen as my step dad stepped into the doorway, his favorite coffee mug from the CERN museum in his hand “You going to eat breakfast?”

“I don’t have time Tony, I’m running late”

“Again?” I heard my dad sigh from the kitchen before joining us

“Sorry” I shrugged, looking around frantically for my shoes

“Here” Dad grabbed my flip flops and handed them to me

“Not those. I have gym today” I said, tossing the cushions off the couch “I need my trainers”

“I’ll look in the bathroom, Steve you take the entryway,” Tony said as he walked off down the hallway

My dads helped me look for my shoes and a few minutes later I was kissing them both on the cheek and running out the door.

“She’s a mess” Dad muttered, shaking his head as he watched me run down the sidewalk

“But she’s our mess” Tony gave him a kiss on the temple before returning to his breakfast

----

School was the same as always, and the midterm was a breeze. I finished early which gave me time to go to the library. I was browsing the biography section, trying to decide on which person I should write my literature paper about when I saw someone approach from the corner of my eye.

“Sup?” MJ said, leaning her back against the shelf

“Not much” I mumbled still thumbing my way through the row of books “You finish the test early too?”

“Of course” MJ said “I bet Pete's still not even halfway done”

I laughed and agreed with her, selecting a book about Grace Hopper, a computer scientist in the Navy, figuring that would be the closest thing to my interests considering who my fathers were. I loved to read, don't get me wrong, but I much prefer fiction over nonfiction. MJ followed me to the checkout station and helpfully held my textbooks while I searched through my bag for the library card.

“Woah.” MJ whispered, nudging me in the side “Dude look at what just walked through the door”

I glanced in the direction my best friend was frantically gesturing toward and my jaw dropped. There, alongside our assistant principal, stood two incredibly handsome boys. Definitely seniors, they had to be. The blond was tall, muscular and had obviously long hair even if it was pulled into a man bun. The second also had long hair, but it was black as onyx. You could tell they were new here, the blond looking around in confusion and the raven haired one looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

“Hurry up girls” the librarian snapped her fingers at us, “Bell is about to ring”

We stopped gawking at the new kids and I checked out my book. We had to pass by them as we made our way to the door and I locked eyes with the dark haired one. His green eyes squinted as he saw me, as if he was trying to read me.

“Hi” I said politely, slightly blushing at the feeling of him looking me over.

“Hello.” he replied and I was taken aback by his accent

MJ pushed me forward and out the door just as the bell rang and we hurried to our next class. I soon forgot about the two new guys and focused on my science project.

The rest of the day carried on without event and soon the bell rung, indicating the end of school and that the weekend was finally here. I grabbed some things out of my locker and walked out of the front of the school to wait for my brother and our friends. Peter and his best friend, Ned, showed up first and I could instantly tell Peter was bothered by something.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him

“Nothing” he shrugged it off, but he still had a pout

I looked at Ned and raised my eyebrows.

“Flash was picking on him again” Ned said and Peter shot him a look

“Seriously? Peter you’ve got to learn to stick up for yourself.” I sighed

“It’s fine, Ellie, really.” Peter said as he slung his bag over his shoulder

“No it isn’t” I protested but was cut off by MJ joining us

“Did you and Ned see the new guys?” MJ asked Peter

“No?” Peter perked up at the mention of new people in the school and looked around to see if he could see them

“I did” Ned said “The blond guy is built like a brick house”

“Right?” MJ exclaimed

“Just what we need. More jocks.” I said with an eye roll “So what are we doing today?”

“The Bean Tap?” MJ suggested our favorite coffee shop

“Peter and I were going back to his place to work on the Death Star” Ned said

“Nerds” MJ wrinkled her nose

“Guess we’re on our own” I laughed

“We can go back to your place too I guess. I have math homework” MJ groaned

“Yeah, I have to start reading that book for my paper” I shrugged

I linked arms with MJ and we headed off, following the boys home. When we arrived, we went into the kitchen and Peter began searching the pantry for snacks. He threw a bag of chips and some fruit snacks on the counter and we dug in.

“Hey kids!”

My stepdad came into the kitchen. The glasses he was wearing indicated that he had spent the day down in his lab working, and the coffee cup he had that morning had been replaced with his favorite whiskey glass, which was empty.

“Hey Dad” Peter said with a mouthful of fruit snacks

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair and went over to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself another drink. He took a sip, peering over the glass at us.

“How was school?” he asked

“Fine”

“The usual”

“Lame”

“It was school”

Tony chuckled at our responses, taking another sip.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked, noticing that it was pretty quiet in the house

“Oh..well..” Tony swallowed another gulp “Steve had to go to work honey”

“Woook? He dint see bah?” Peter said

“Swallow your food, then speak, Pete” Tony said “No, this was an emergency. He had to leave quickly, but told me to give you both a hug and kiss. He’ll call when he lands”

“Lands? He had to go overseas?”

I became worried, since my dad was technically retired from the military, he still had enough rank and status that if the US Army ever needed something, they’d call him in.. He tried to stay home as much as he could to raise Peter and I but when the country had a devastating event he’d be the first one there to help. The last time they needed him was when Hurricane Maria hit and he went to Puerto Rico to help with disaster relief. There hadn’t been any major storms recently, and no terrorist attacks that I knew of, so it was alarming that he’d take off without giving us notice.

“It’s top secret Government stuff” Tony shrugged before coming over and placing a kiss on my forehead “It’ll be ok and he’ll be home soon”

I gave Tony a hug and he turned to go back down to the lab. I suddenly remembered something.

“Crap.”

“What?” Tony turned back around

“Daddy was supposed to take me to my drivers test on Monday” I pouted “Can you take me? Please?”

“I’ll see if Happy is available.” Tony nodded and left the room

Tony hated to drive anywhere unless he really wanted to, and didn’t really do much of the parenting if he could help it. He was a great dad, don’t get me wrong, but he was the fun dad. My dad, Steve, was always the one to attend the PTO meetings, chaperone field trips, take Peter and I to the doctor, anything that required an adult. Tony would leave the adulting up to his assistant, Pepper, or his driver, Happy. Happy wasn’t always “happy” to take care of us kids, but he did it because he got paid to. Pepper was always thrilled to spend time with us because Tony usually had her running all over the place doing ridiculous errands.

Later that night I was in my room, curled up in the white saucer chair, reading the biography book I had gotten at the library. I couldn’t focus on the book because my mind was on my dad. Where was he going that he hadn’t landed and called me yet? What was so “top secret” that he couldn’t tell Tony what was going on? Although my dad and I butt heads sometimes, we’re very close. He’s always been there for me and before Tony and Peter came into our lives, we were all each other had. Sure I was only four when he and Tony met and got married, but for those first four years it was just my dad and I. With him being military, I was always on edge worrying about him when he was away. One of the last tours he went on was a few years after September 11th and I made myself so physically sick worrying about him that he had chosen early retirement instead of furthering his career.

I put my book down and began to gather the week’s dirty laundry from my hamper and went down to the laundry room. I started the load and wandered the house, looking for a snack and another human. Ned was spending the night so I knew Peter was busy and MJ had gone home for dinner so I wandered down to the lab to find Tony still hard at work on his latest creation.

“Hey” I said

“Hey kiddo” Tony said, not even looking up from the computer screen

“Have you heard from Dad yet?” I asked as I perched myself on the stool next to Tony

‘Not yet, honey. He’ll call when he can, I promise”

“Yeah, I’m sure he will.” I sighed, looking at my phone for the hundredth time

I sat and watched Tony work on the robot he was building, like I always did. I never really understood the science behind it all, but I spent many hours just sitting in Tony’s lab watching him. He always had classic rock music playing and I’d often dance and sing around the lab as he worked. He never really paid attention to Peter and I when we were down there, as long as we didn’t touch anything, but we knew he liked the company.

I knew Tony would be working late into the night like he always did, so after bringing him another glass of whiskey, I made my way back upstairs. I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and laid down in bed but I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I stared at the ceiling and checked my phone every few minutes, hoping my dad would call. He never did and I eventually drifted off to sleep.

[parkapetrs]

in the middle 02 | college!peter parker x reader

summary: in which you and a shy awkward boy named peter parker waltz in the gray area between friends and lovers

word count: 2.5k+

PARTS: 01 02 03 04 05

02: back and forth

Midterms week came and went with no sign of him. Ever since the night of Liz Toomes’s party, you find yourself constantly searching the halls for the curly-haired brunette. Each skinny boy donning a flannel is suddenly Peter Parker until they turn to ask if you are okay or why you’re staring, pulling you out of your trance.

By the time the last day of exams rolled in, you’ve learned to accept your little obsession. Why were you so intent on finding him, anyway? What were you even going to say?

Truth is, you and your pride will always go hand in hand. He had already piqued your interest that day by the lockers through his demeanor: shy with just the right amount of mysterious. In a way, you wanted to top that. The final nail in the coffin was seeing his boyish figure in all its awkwardness, standing in the middle of your apartment that night and looking so out of place it made you think of an elephant in a toy store. Not to mention you were standing before him in your most vulnerable getup, yet he was the one flustered and at a loss for words. You are determined to give him a second first impression…one where you are fully-clothed.

MJ saunters into the living room, lazily drying her hair with a towel. She is wearing a rock band t-shirt with tight black jeans. You remember her telling you she is ‘getting the hell out to day-drink’ once exams are over.

“Y/N, Peter was here last week, no?”

“Huh?” You don’t really pay mind to her from your spot on the couch. Your attention is elsewhere, undivided and focused on the paperback novel in your hands. It’s always so refreshing to finally be reading text not related to school.

“I asked Peter to drop me off.” A pause. “Or did you not notice…?”

Oh God. It’s happening. There is no one you know to be wiser than MJ. Of course she knew about what happened in this very room. Of course she knew of your newfound interest in her friend. You struggle to think of something to say to salvage a bit of dignity. In the end, you pretend not to hear her.

When you don’t reply, MJ sighs. She knows better than to interrupt you while your nose is buried deep in a book. “No matter. He left his keys here. Will you give it to him if you see him?”

You try to sound as nonchalant as you can. “Sure.”

“Well, I’m off. See ya!”

Once the door closes shut behind MJ, you jump out of the couch and run to the marble countertop for Peter’s keys. You note the abundance of keychains, mostly from different fandoms you’ve never heard of. There is one keychain you instantly recognize: the ‘A’ that symbolized the Avengers. The only two keys in the keyring were labelled ‘Home’ and ‘Stark’ in scrawly boyish handwriting. You remember his internship back in high school, something MJ had once said in passing.

The reality of the situation hits you after a beat: he needed his keys to get back home! Is that why you didn’t see him all week? What if he never even made it home? You grab the keys and rush out of your apartment. You had to find Peter quickly.

You stop in your tracks. Will it even matter? Even MJ was lax about it. It’s been a whole week without his keys. You’re sure he’s either fine, or dead. In any case, returning the keys now won’t change anything. The pace of your walk directly reflects the erratic state of your mind. When you finally step out of the apartment lobby, you take a deep breath and collect yourself: MJ trusted you to get Peter’s keys to him, and so to Peter the keys will go. You vaguely remember seeing posters for some film-viewing event earlier in school and you know for a fact Ned Leeds is an organizer for it. If there’s somewhere Peter might be today, it‘ll be at the university.

When you get to campus, you roam for a good five minutes until you reach the back. You immediately spot Ned, wearing a ridiculously bright yellow cap backwards. He’s by the back of a building, alone, and helplessly lugging around two tall stacks of plastic chairs.

“Hi, Ned!”

Ned huffs, obviously tired from the demanding physical activity. He smiles when he sees you. “Hey, Y/N! Here for the film viewing?”

“Not really,” you say. You decide to help and take one of the two stacks of chairs. He thanks you and the two of you walk alongside each other as you push the chairs forward. “I’m looking for Peter. Do you know where he is?”

He freezes momentarily. “Um… he just left. Like, literally just now.”

“Oh, well—“

Suddenly you feel the wind cutting through around you, or above you. It‘s strange and new, seeing you’re currently at an isolated part of the campus where it was all brick buildings on brick pavements. No tree or car or human being nearby to direct the wind in this direction.

“Yo, Ned!”

You whip your head up and you immediately feel your entire body shake with excitement and awe. Perched on top of a building is a famous masked Avenger in all his red and blue glory. There is no doubt that that is Spider-Man.

Beside you, Ned looks frantic. In your moment of admiration, you don’t notice him nervously and repeatedly gesturing ‘cut it out’ to the hero. You can’t help but keep your eyes on Spider-Man, who you were secretly a big fan of. From the distance, you can see the whites of his suit’s eyes widen. The air is awkward and silent as the three of you stare at each other, each feeling a different emotion. Spider-Man says a hurried “bye” then just as suddenly as he appeared, he shoots a string of web and swings out of the scene.

“Holy shit! Did you—Was that—Oh, my god! You know that guy?” The pitch of your voice is noticeably higher; you are practically squealing at Ned.

Ned scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, sure. Kinda.”

“Oh, my god! Ned Leeds, you need to introduce us.”

He laughs. “Weren’t you looking for Peter?”

“Right. He left something at our place last week. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s uh… at his apartment.”

“Can I have directions?” Ned tells you the way and it really shows that he’s not good at giving directions at all. You end up just asking what the closest landmark is. He says it’s right beside the bank. You know immediately.

“Thanks, Ned! I should probably go there now.”

“Wait, no! I-I mean, do you think you can help me bring these chairs to the quad first?”

oOoOo

The sky is orange and tinged with pinkish hues by the time you get a moment to catch your breath. Somehow, you ended up assisting Ned and the rest of the committee throughout the preparations: from lining up the chairs into neat rows to setting up the projector and sound system. You sit on the front steps of the arts building, overlooking the quadrangle. The place is decorated with fairy lights. There are a few bean bags strategically arranged around a large white screen. With the setting sun, everything is gold and magical—the four hours of work actually paid off.

A few feet away, Ned and a tall senior guy—presumably the president of the organization—are deep in conversation. You walk towards them and smile at the senior, then tap Ned’s shoulder. “I‘ll get going.”

“Y/N! Thank you so much for your help.” Ned pulls you into an embrace. You don’t even know why you were helping them out in the first place, but he was so stressed out and persistent earlier that you just had to. The two of you weren’t particularly close but you hug back anyway, feeling his sincerity. He really seems like he needed the extra hand.

When you get to Peter Parker’s floor, his keys are jingling loudly as you anxiously play with them. You spot the door with his unit number on it and knock twice. You hear absolutely nothing from inside. You knock again, this time calling out his name. A minute passes and you still don’t hear anything. You’re about to leave when you hear what sounds like a window opening and closing loudly.

“Anyone home?” you call.

“Just a minute!” A muffled voice, but definitely Peter’s. You hear footsteps approaching and the door flies open.

“Hey— Y/N?”

Peter’s hair is disheveled but the most striking thing is seeing him in just checkered boxers and shirt only partly on. He turns a deep shade of pink and hurriedly pokes his other arm through the remaining sleeve. Awkwardly, he clears his throat and smoothens his white shirt that is now fully on. His lips part and then close, unsure of what to say. You look at each other quiet and wide-eyed.

“I thought you were May… I-I’m so sorry—“

“Hey, at least now we’re even.”

Surprisingly, a smile cracks on his face and he slowly starts to laugh. You didn’t mean for it to be funny at all but his laughter is so contagious you can’t help but join him. You expected your next encounter with Peter Parker to be a series of embarrassing moments— this is definitely not what you were preparing for.

Peter’s awkwardness with you seems to have dissipated, owing to your little moment. Or probably to the leftover adrenaline from whatever he was doing prior to greeting you, since he was breathing heavily like he just got back from some wild goose chase.

He opens the door wider and you let yourself in. Peter excuses himself and retreats to his room. He emerges back out with his pants on and hair slightly more tamed.

“So, Y/N,” he moves to the kitchen, scanning his fridge for a drink he can offer his unexpected guest. You stand in his living room, just observing your surroundings: the carpeted floors, the myriad of picture frames. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Just here to return your keys. Heads up!”

You toss his keys in his direction and Peter’s left arm shoots out, catching it without missing a beat. He didn’t even look up from the fridge. That is just amazing reflexes, you admit to yourself.

“Thanks. Good throw, by the way,” he smiles at you. Then without warning, he throws a water bottle in your direction. You’re able to catch it too, but with both hands and considerably less finesse. “For your troubles.”

You sit on the couch while Peter leans against a nearby wall. “My aunt is on holiday. Three weeks in Japan. She’s supposed to be back this week so I thought it was her when you knocked,” he explains. You apologize for delivering the keys so late—then proceed to blame it on MJ—and ask how he managed to get back that night if no one was home.

“I climbed to my window here at the sixteenth floor,” he deadpans. You laugh at the joke.

The two of you waddle in small talk for a few minutes until the pauses in between grow longer than the dialogues. It‘s getting awkward again. Your watch reads 7:45pm; it’s time to get up. You tell Peter you have to go.

Unbeknownst to you, Peter is cursing himself for being the world’s most boring conversationalist. He holds the door open and thanks you for the keys. He watches you walk away, feeling very frustrated with himself. His thoughts are racing now and in a rare moment of bravado, he finds himself grabbing his hoodie from the coat hanger and shutting the door.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Only that he’s jogging after you despite his mind’s protests.

“Y/N, wait up!”

You stop and turn to him.

“Is it okay if I walk you home?” He looks so small from afar, standing in the middle of the hallway. “It’s just—it gets really crime-ey at this time. I, uh, feel like it’s on me if you get mugged… you know?”

oOoOo

Between you and Peter is a decent and respectful amount of distance as you tread the sidewalk. In contrast to the heat from this afternoon, the cold air nips at you and you try not to shiver so obviously. You can tell Peter is cold too despite his hoodie since his hands are buried deep in his pockets. The journey back to your apartment started out quiet and full of dead air—the events of today drained you too much to make conversation—until Peter speaks.

“Um. So. Where are you from? If-If it’s okay to ask.”

It’s so sudden it catches you by surprise. By now you already know Peter isn’t much of an initiator or a smooth talker, at least not to people he didn’t know very well. So this comes across as a great deal to you.

“Ah, he speaks!”

You talk about your city and the two of you start to warm up now that the ice has been broken. You find that you have the same humor and like the same things: science, comic books, and grilled cheese sandwiches, among others. You fall into a rhythm of asking each other questions and playful bantering. By the time you reach your own apartment’s doorstep, he has you doubled over in laughter.

“There’s no way you got MJ to sign up for ballet!”

“She was so mad when she found out what it was really for—I think she still is—but she went to every class anyway…”

You open the door and the first thing that greets you is the devil herself—MJ with a big fat smirk plastered on her face and her arms folded over her chest.

“Had a good time, you two?” she winks.

“Just doing your chores for you, babe.” You dangle your own keys in front of her face as a friendly reminder. She playfully tries to snatch it out of your grip but fails.

MJ directs her attention to Peter and pouts. “How come you never walk me home?”

“I literally just did that last week.”

“Eh. You only did ‘cause there was something in it for you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about… still hungover?” Peter presses a hand to MJ’s forehead, pretending to check her temperature. She swats his hand away.

“Whatever.” But there is a knowing smile playing on her lips.

You thank Peter for walking you home and he tells you you owe him now for saving you from the criminals of Queens. The two of you laugh, leaving MJ lost and confused.

“Well, goodnight, guys,” Peter says to both of you girls.

“Night, Parker!”

“Night, Peter.”

MJ closes the door behind her then grabs you by the shoulders. She has on a look of solid amusement which kind of creeps you out. “How the hell did you get him to do all that?!”

Back at his place, Peter can’t stop smiling to himself. He sings happily while he makes a quick dinner, still feeling very elated for having gained a new friend.

A/N: yaaaay! consider this chapter to be the entrance to fluff island lol. also, my ask is open for any suggestions or prompts or requests to be included to the taglist ;) see you guys in a few days for the next update~

@youllbemineandillbeyours @deadlyaffairs @melancholyandemotional @alexalltimelow @hbmoore1986

[thewritingfox]

Chapter 11 (Soulmate AU)

A/N: So my laptop is BARELY functional currently (it’s really old and honestly just needs to be replaced) and I hit a brick wall trying to finish chapter 10 and 11 so this is the best we’re getting. I’m thinking about walking to the library every so often to work on this. I have a friend willing to sell me his laptop when he gets a new desktop, but that won’t be for a while so... Alas please bare with me

A few months past as classes began. Pat and Lo hadn’t really talked much at all to Roman since telling him that Lo went to a nearby school, studying Astronomy and chemical engineering, and Pat was at a different nearby school, studying veterinary sciences and taking evening culinary classes. Everyone else had jobs as well, which made it impossible for anyone to attempt to meet up. Balancing all of the crazy schedules was hard. Roman worked in the school’s theatre department, Virgil had a job at a local coffee shop as a barista late at night, and Logan was an intern at a local observatory. Roman and Virgil didn’t really have time for anything romantic, even after Aunt Mabel and Miss Cici went back to Georgia. It became that whenever they were home together, they’d both just order pizza and watch a movie then Roman would go to bed and Virgil would stay up and make art until he was too tired to stand and passed out on a couch in the art room.

One night, Virgil was working a late shift. It was time for midterms and so there were tons of students coming in and out of the building which made him glad he wasn’t working as the cashier that night, he was already stressed and panicky enough just making coffees and handing them off to people. It was eleven thirty two when he glanced up and met the soft chocolate eyes hidden behind black framed glasses, the dark brown curls sticking out from under a grey cat hoodie framed his freckled face perfectly. “One extra large hot chocolate with whipped cream and caramel drizzle please. The name is Patton Caleb.” Virgil’s jaw dropped and noticed his wrist as the boy lifted his hand to move a strand of hair from his face, causing Virgil to subconsciously rub his matching mark. Before he even knew what he was doing Virgil mumbled to the cashier “I’ll take care of him.”. He made the drink as quickly as he could and made sure it looked perfect before calling out. As he handed the drink to Patton, he noticed the blush on his cheeks and saw him steal a glance at Virgil’s wrist before freezing still then excitedly squealing before getting embarrassed. “Virgil?!” He exclaimed, causing the boy in front of him to blush furiously as he nodded and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Y-yeah P-pat.”

“When do you get off?!” Patton squealed with excitement, causing some murmerings from other patrons.

“C-closing t-time. A-ab-bout th-three.”

“Okay well, I’ll stay here the whole time! I want to get to know you better, since Ro got to keep all your attention for the past few months! Oh this is so exciting!” Virgil just blushed harder and nodded, not really knowing how to handle the ball of energy that was standing directly in front of him.

Time seemed to fly by after that and before Virgil knew it, it was closing time. He ushered the last few customers out of the store, including Patton who waited outside patiently, While Virgil and the other closing employees did the last of the cleaning up for the night. When Virgil finally got out of the building Patton immediately bounded over to him, glowing with excitement and gave a startled Virgil an enthusiastic hug, almost knocking him over. “Sorry!” Patton exclaimed “I’m just so excited to meet you in person! You are so much hotter than I imagined! I’ve been imagining meeting you and Ro and Lo for as long as I can remember! Wow I’m rambling! Sorry! I’m just really excited!” Patton beamed. Virgil thought his smile was so bright that he wondered if the sun was originated there.

“Y-your f-fine. I-I m-m-mean with th-the r-r-r-ramb-b-bling, I-I m-m-mean y-y-you ARE f-f-fine! I-I m-m-mean-”

“I understand what you mean, Virgil.” Patton stated “Hey, how about the next time the three of us are free we can go out! Hey, I know I really cool bar in town we can all go to! I can invite some of my other friends too if you’d like, less pressure to be ‘soulmates’ you know? Like um… let’s all go out and have some fun and get to know each other a bit? I know a good restaurant we can all go to for dinner as well!”

“I-I’ll T-Talk T-To R-Roman ab-bout it. I-I sh-should be g-gett-tt-ing h-home a-any w-ways. H-he’ll f-flip o-out a-and c-call th-the c-cops if I t-take t-too l-long.”

“Yeah, and I got classes in the morning…” He said with a sad look in his eye before immediately perking back up “Anyways! I’ll see you later!” He said before quickly pecking Virgil on the cheek, catching the anxious boy even more off guard as he watched the adorable figure almost skip away in the ice.

“L-later.” He muttered before heading home.

The Thingy (Seriously what is the word?): https://thewritingfox.tumblr.com/post/174423684962/soulmates-prolouge-first-draft

TAG LIST:

@roxiusagi

@booksgamesnetflix

@minshinxx

@cinquefoilelove

@puppypadrepatton

@ccecode

@potterlover394

[rosegardentwilight]

Satisfied Chapter 5: Fundamental Truths

Satisfied Summary: Fate must hate her or her so-called good luck had run out. What other explanation was there to the course of events that would collide with her life that would bring her to Adrien Agreste’s Wedding? Rated: T Pairing(s): Marichat, Adrienette, and Adrien/oc Word count: 3k ish for Chapter 5 Also read on: fanfiction, AO3

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A.n.- Don’t know if anyone is still reading it on here but I figured I would post anyway. Sorry it has taken so long. Everything is kinda crazy at the moment. This chapter is dedicated to whimsolute for being the best temp beta I could ask for.

Chapter 5: Fundamental Truths

Why was she so nervous?

Marinette’s fingers traced the edges of her cup. It wasn’t like this was a date. Adrien hadn’t even waited a week before reaching out about getting coffee. But she couldn’t ignore the way his face lit up when he asked, and despite the butterflies fluttering in her stomach and her chest tightening, she managed to agree.

She had arrived early and scoped out the perfect seat next to the window. If words failed either of them, they could people watch until one of them made an excuse to leave.

The bell above the door chimed, drawing her focus from her mindless sketches in her notebook and her stomach turned at just the sight of the model. He ventured towards the counter and started ordering his coffee, she assumed that he hadn’t seen her. Not that she minded, it gave her more time to collect her thoughts.

Adrien was either oblivious to the flirting of the barista, or he didn't care. When he turned around, he had two coffees in hand and she couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness. It only took seconds before his eyes landed on her and he hurried in her direction.

"Marinette, I'm glad you came." His tone slowed to a stop when his eyes landed on the cup that was already sitting in front of her.

"Me too," she managed to reply. The third cup of coffee was placed to the side as he took his seat.

The silence sat between them until Adrien and Marinette’s voices collided in the air in an apology. Adrien's eyebrow rose, as his face contorted to one of confusion. He quickly motioned for her to continue. His eagerness gave her reason to pause, but if she didn’t get this off her chest now, it might haunt her for the next couple weeks.

"I shouldn't have left the club that night,” Marinette confessed, “I know we haven't really seen each other; I think I was just afraid that things changed between us, which is stupid, but when I didn't hear from you once college started, I just naturally assumed..." Marinette finally allowed her voice to fade out from her rambling, slightly embarrassed. She wasn't planning on admitting any of that to Adrien, but now it was too late to take any of it back. Her back slid down a little in her seat, wishing nothing more than to blend in with the floor.

"No, Marinette. I'm the one who has to apologize. There were so many times that I reached for my phone to text you, but everything I wrote was super lame,” He released a small chuckle to himself only for it to fade, and his eyes darkened, and his gaze landed on the table. “Then school got harder, and Dad got more demanding with my model schedule, and time got away from me. It doesn't excuse my behavior, but I'm hoping to make it up to you. Just like old times."

"We did make a good team, didn't we?" Once she had gotten over her stuttering communication issue, she couldn't remember a time where they didn't hang out constantly.

Adrien grew a mischievous grin showcasing his perfect model smile. "Remember when we pulled that prank on Wayhem?"

She didn't know if it was the question or the way he was looking at her, but suddenly her nerves began to die down and allowed her to respond. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Marinette that their hands were slowly inching across the table over the course of the last hour. She didn’t know when it started, they were just volleying stories of the glory days back and forth. Maybe it was just her body’s way of reacting to her suppressed feelings.

“You were always the charmer in high school,” Marinette mused. This time it was Adrien’s turn to laugh.

“I was the weird boy that always dreamed of getting out of his house, so he could have friends,” Adrien stated. Was he serious? Did he not know how many girls doodled his last name in their notebook?

“Adrien, you had all the girls drooling over you.” A small silence fell between them as his green eyes focused on his coffee.

“Even you?”

“I did.” She took a sip to keep her composure.

“Did?” Adrien’s eyebrows knitted together, pulling his hand back to his side of the table.

“It was just a silly school girl crush.” He let out a polite laugh, but she knew him better than that, all the life in his eyes had died in an instant. She eyed him silently, urging him to share his mind.

“I just wish I would have known. I had the biggest crush on you for most of high school.”

“What?” Marinette thanked her luck that she wasn’t drinking her beverage at that moment, otherwise it would have been sprayed all over the table. “W-what about Ladybug?”

It was no secret among the school of how he felt towards the red-clad superheroine. In fact, Marinette had even considered stopping by Adrien’s room as her alter ego plenty of times in high school, but she always seemed to lose her nerve. It was a gamble to bring up Ladybug, but her curiosity was too great.

“When I was younger, I thought she was my soulmate- my other half- but then things changed. Ladybug will always have a piece of my heart but...” he stopped himself fighting his own blush, “I slowly started to realize that you have always been there for me. You’re creative and gorgeous. I tried to tell you so many times.”

The news hit her like a wall of bricks. Adrien liked her? Her mind tried to comb through the memories to find any hints but came up empty.

“Guess we have rotten timing.” As much as she tried to use her upbeat tone it came out flat.

“Marinette-” Adrien was interrupted by his phone ringing. His eyes jumped down to see his father’s name flashing on the screen. “I have to get this.” Marinette watched as he started to pace- whatever his father was telling him was causing him to stress. After all the years that passed, she still could study his mannerism and facial expressions for a lifetime.

She was deep in concentration about his confession when she looked up and Adrien was standing at his chair, which caused her to jump.

“I hate to do this, but I need to go,” Adrien said.

“Oh.” It was hard to keep the disappointment from her voice, but she still offered her best smile.

“I’m really don’t want to go.” His hands gripped the chair tighter and his eyes fell to the floor.

“Your father needs you. I understand completely.”

“Rain check?” Her mouth grew dry, so she nodded in response. He grabbed his things and hurried out the door.

* There was a new-found confidence running through her veins after her cafe meet-up with Adrien. She could take on the world right now, or at least be able to tell Amelie how she really felt about the blonde. The consequences would be messy, but at least she wouldn't feel whatever it was that she felt when she saw the two of them together.

She never kept secrets from her roommate, besides the one where she was Ladybug- that was better off untold. Not that she didn't want to expose Amelie to that part of her, but she had never shown a real interest. Every time Marinette had brought Ladybug, Chat Noir, or the Akuma attack to the forefront of their conversation, it would always get derailed. This time she hoped that her lucky charm bracelet would give her the extra boost that she needed.

Adrien had no idea how much those beads would come to mean to her. They were always on her when it came to big decisions, and she had a mini panic attack when she had lost the bracelet for a week during her high school years.

High School.

Adrien's words echoed in her mind and everything started to blur once more. How could she not notice that he had a crush on her? Weren't they supposed to be too obvious that you couldn't miss it? There were so many instances where he had looked at her as if he knew.

“Mar-Mar, is that you? Where did you go?” Amelie called out as Marinette stepped into the apartment. She hadn’t expected the red head girl to be there, she had to come up with an answer quick.

“I went to get some coffee with an old friend.” It was a partial truth, she just omitted who the friend was.

“Oh?” Amelie’s eyes lit up as she took a break from blowing her nails dry. “Is he cute?”

‘More than you can imagine.’ Her mind retorted dryly.

“Amelie, I have to tell you something.” Her lack of answer was lost when her roommate released an excited shriek.

“Guess who finally agreed to escape for a weekend to my parent’s summer home.” Marinette’s heart sunk inside her chest, all the confidence in her was gone. Now she knew she was imagining things this morning, they were only friends, she had to keep reminding herself of that.

“Adrien was the best mistake that’s ever happened, and that includes ordering that wrong material for the dress I made for my midterm project.” The word caught the Marinette’s interest.

“Mistake?” She parroted. Adrien Agreste had been referred to as many things, but a mistake was not one of them.

“I have a confession to make.” She didn’t waste a second taking the seat next to Amelie. “The night we met him at the club, I thought you were lying…about having feelings for Adrien.”

Instantly, Marinette felt her whole body tighten. Maybe she had gone on a little excessively when they first met, but she had never mentioned a name. The fact that she pieced together Adrien was the guy from her story in a matter of seconds left other questions unanswered.

“Then why…”

“Did I ask him out?” Amelie finished for her with a small smile. “I thought that if I put you in a position where you would want to speak out, it would force you to address your feelings. But you didn’t, and I’ll admit that I read you wrong. Then the more that I spent time with him, I realized how much I liked him. He’s so down to earth, funny, and when I look into those eyes I feel so …” Amelie trailed off dreamily much like a younger Marinette did when she was 14.

Marinette on the other hand was trying not to become sick. Her roommate had only pursued him to push her towards him? She could have spoken up and Amelie would have stepped back and then Adrien and her could have been together?

“But what did you want to tell me?” Amelie asked. There was only a list of things that Marinette could not tell her roommate at the moment. The top two were that she had went to get coffee that morning with Adrien and that she was sure that she was still in love with him.

She was trapped. "I-I" Her mind raced for something, anything to say but she just kept drawing a blank. At this point, she would be content bringing up something as mundane as the weather. A weird look from Amelie was better than whatever she was feeling right now.

Suddenly there was a loud boom that shook the apartment. Within seconds an automated message started playing on their television that Paris was under attack. It stated that everyone needed to remain calm and get to a safe spot until Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Rena Rouge could take down the akuma. Marinette jumped out of her seat and raced to the window. There was a small billow of smoke that clouded the air right by the bridge next to the Eiffel Tower. Marinette's heart rate sped up, she needed to go. Paris was in danger, and she would have people counting on her. She couldn't let them down. The conversation would just have to take place at a different point in time if she ever regained the courage to bring up the subject again.

"You know what I realized, I have an appointment with Mrs. Saint Clare. I had questions about the final project before it's due next week." Marinette was proud that she had come up with a plethora of excuses when she needed to transform, she credited all the years of time to think.

"You're going out there now, while Paris is under attack? Stay here Mari till the police handle everything. Mrs. Saint Clare will understand." It was touching to see how much she cared, but Chat Noir and Rena Rouge would be waiting for her already.

"I'll be fine; it sounded like it was on the other end of town. Besides, any minute Chat Noir, Rena Rouge, and Ladybug will be jumping in to fight whatever is out there. I'm sure this whole thing will be over by the time I reach school." She didn't wait for any more objections and bustled out the door. Tikki flew out of her hiding spot from her pocket.

"That could have gone better." Marinette's eyes narrowed, choosing to ignore her Kwami's words. There was a more important task at hand, none of which related to telling her roommate that she was in love with her boyfriend.

"Tikki, spots on." “Ladybug, wait up.” Marinette released a sigh allowing her best friend to catch up with her. When she had given Alya the Fox miraculous in the first place, she thought it was a good idea in the moment. But when Rena Rouge had returned, this time because of Master Fu, it had changed everything.

The first couple months were hard, she felt guilty. She knew Rena Rouge’s identity and there was no getting around it, she even almost yelled Alya’s name a couple times. So, she did the only thing that made sense at the time, she told Alya who she was.  Meanwhile, in the back of her mind, she knew (even though he didn’t bring it up) that Chat was patiently waiting for when his Lady deemed it the right time. Alya had kept her secret faithfully for the last three years, and Marinette had to admit it brought them closer than they already were.

“We don’t have much time before we turn back.” It was a weak excuse at best, but all she wanted to do was go back to her room, so the only thing she had to think about was designs and fabric.

“Forget the Miraculouses. I spotted that something was wrong from when you arrived. Talk to me.” Sometimes it was scary how Alya could read her. She looked around to check if her Kitty had followed them. He would just use the information to tease her further.

“Did you know about Adrien’s crush on me back in high school?” Her best friend’s eyes widen, giving Marinette the answer she wanted.

“I’m going to hurt that boy the next time I see him.”

“Don’t.” The last thing she needed was Alya to go into her protective mode, it would only draw more attention to her feelings. “It’s...ok.” The lie slipped from her lips so easily. Something seemed to click on Alya’s mind probing more questions.

“When did he tell you this?” She rested her hand on her hip at the shift of information.

“We got coffee this morning.” Marinette tried to reply as casually as possible. If she was able to convince her that it was not a big deal, then maybe they would drop the subject. Alya instead crossed her arms over her chest.

“And what does his girlfriend think about that?”

“Ecstatic. They’re going away for a weekend to her parent’s summer home,” she mumbled bitterly. She chose not to tell her about the rest of her conversation with the redhead, Alya already disliked the girl for obvious reasons.

“This is a terrible idea.”

"I know, isn't it too early in their relationship for a weekend trip?" Her contribution earned a glare.

"That wasn't what I was talking about. As much as I hate to say it, you either need to stand up and tell Amelie how you feel, or you need to stay away from Adrien. This is going to hurt you in the end if you don't." Stay away from Adrien, the thought caused goosebumps to form underneath her suit.

"But he's my"- Marinette only managed to get a few words out before Alya cut her off.

"Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't have any feelings for him?" Marinette's shoulder slouched in defeat, even if she attempted to deny the fact, it wouldn't be convincing enough. Alya reached out and rested her hand on her friend's shoulder. "He's still your statue to your compass, Marinette. Until something changes, I would attempt to move on." The moment was broken by their Miraculouses beeping again.

"Thanks, Alya." There wasn't much else she could say, and as much as she hated to admit it, her best friend was right.

When it came to decision making regarding the blonde there was hardly much thought process behind it. She glanced up at an old billboard for the "Spring Edition Adrien cologne" and sighed. How one boy could make her so confused was beyond her. But for the sake of Alya and Amelie's happiness, she would attempt to move on.

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Poppy | Chapter One

||Two years earlier||

Fuck.

That was the one word that traveled through my mind as the cold metal pressed against my cheek. I felt every groove of the locker- smelled every scent that was carried in the row of iron cesspools the school system provided. Whether it be a rotten sandwich, or some off brand axe deodorant, I smelled it.

The ear that was slammed against the locker was ringing, making the sounds of the hallway muffled and distant as my mind ran. He pushed me so hard against the wall that I felt the warm blood from a busted ear drum drip slowly down the side of my neck as it soaked into my cotton shirt.

"You have the right to remain silent," His voice was gruff "anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law"

I drowned the rest of his brilliant speech out, not up for hearing about an attorney and how fucked I really was. I just nodded when his garbled speech ended. My shoulders began to ache from the handcuffs that so task fully bound my wrists together. They were tight enough for my elbows to touch each other.

The man grasped my shoulder and pulled me from my position, relieving me of the stench a months' worth of unwashed gym attire created. I stumbled slightly as he tugged me along. My heels were becoming a bother, so I let them drop from my feet as I practically tripped over them. The officer had no way of knowing, as his back was towards me. I was sure that wasn't protocol.

"Can you at least tell me why I'm in handcuffs other than the pure pleasure of the situation?" I grumbled as the cold air from the city hit my bare arms. I had left my jacket in the classroom with a set of unassuming students. I could practically feel their stares- knowing full and well that they were gaping through the windows that faced the street, watching me get manhandled into a police car. The officer just grunted as he slammed the door behind me, not saying a full word.

Three months into a new job at a new school and I'm hauled off in a police car. Fantastic. This is just what I needed on my record, which was slowly growing the longer I stayed in the city.

I breathed in sharply as he sat in the front seat, saying some codes I didn't' quite understand before he started the car up, he was still silent as I stared out the window with a frown on my face. I moved my chin down, wiping the blood that was tickling my jawline on the shoulder of my shirt.

"Sorry for being so rough," He apologized, looking into the rearview mirror.

"Oh it's fine," I said "I had a completely unreasonable reaction to being dragging out of my classroom in handcuffs."

He scoffed "what'd you think was going to happen? You can't work in a place like that with your tendencies."

I narrowed my eyes at this "tendencies?" my tone was like ice, my shoulders turned to face him instead of the buildings that went by in a blur outside my window.

"You can't do drugs and be a school teacher. It's one or the other ma'am."

I let my jaw drop open slightly as I furrowed my brow. The fear of being arrested was replaced with the anger of being accused of taking something that would end up killing my body "Do I look like I do drugs?" I hissed, my rage seeping through.

"They usually don't." He grumbled, taking notice of my annoyance.

"I'm not they," I said in a slightly less hostile tone before putting my head against the leather seat "what made you draw the conclusion that I did?"

"The drug test," he said "usually when it tests positive it calls some suspicion."

I was beginning to wrack my brain. Drug test? The one that they administered to all faculty and staff had gone off without a hitch. I peed in a cup without protest, and went back to my job. There was no way in hell I would risk doing anything that toxic when I was just starting off at a job. Maybe after midterms, but not in the first months of my position there.

"I don't' do drugs," I repeated, knowing I would have to prove a point to him, even if he didn't really care. I knew for a fact that he didn't. I was just a routine arrest that may have given him a little more trouble than he anticipated.

"Sure, sweetie" he said in a snarky tone "I'm sure you don't."  

I rubbed my wrists nervously as I kept my back against the brick wall, my head resting against the wall to my right as I pressed my knees to my chest. I kept myself as small as possible.

There were only two other people in the cell with me. A woman who looked to be drunk off her ass, and a man that was holding her hair back as she vomited in the opposite corner, filling the room with a scent that had me craving the stale odor of axe again.

I cringed away from them as a pounding headache began to form. I was glad that all charges from the school had been dropped shortly after my departure- but they dropped my pink slip off too. That was expected, but still stung.

I thought I was a good English teacher, albeit new, but good. I got the kids to the test scores that were required by the state. I heard some of the teachers talking about my new methods while students thought of me as a friend with common interests instead of an adult with threatening authority. I liked it that way. I like the classroom to be a safe place that the kids could just come to and learn a few things before getting on the buses to go home.

"Helbig," another officers voice rang through the cell as she caught my attention. She was unlocking the cell. That was enough of a signal for me to get to my feet. My bare cold feet. They had given me temporary socks to wear, but they were stained with something that didn't have a great look to it. "you're free to go, lucky that a friend bailed you out."

"Friend?" I knit my eyebrows together, but didn't' really question it further as she shut the door behind me and lead me towards the lobby. My feet padded against the floor before she shoved me forward through the waiting room.

It was empty besides the receptionist and I woman I had never seen before. She stood, smiling at me widely, putting me off even more. She was tall, almost as tall as me if I put heels on. Her hair was a deep shade of red that made her shamrock eyes popped. She was dressed in almost all black with jeans hugging her sides. A pitch jacket hugged her sides over a grey shirt. She looked like a sexy biker, but not someone I knew.

"Have a great night, Miss Helbig." The officer scoffed before turning away and walking back through the doors, leaving me with the mysterious stranger who had the kind eyes.

"You bailed me out?" I asked, knitting my eyebrows together in question. She nodded, pursing her pink lips. "Why?"

"you know, Helbig, most people are more appreciative to be free from a jail cell. Now come on, I'll give you a ride."

I swallowed roughly at how forward this woman is. As I saw it, I had two choices. I could refuse and stay at the station until I called up someone I did know with much humility, or I could go with a stranger who just paid a thousand dollar bail. She was already halfway to the door before I started to trot after her.

The night had gotten colder than I thought; the air was crisp and burned my lungs as my feet began to get raw under the pavement. I wish I took those socks at this point. Relief was quickly heading my way as the red head walked up to her car, a black BMW. Perfect. Seemed to match her dark attire.

She unlocked the door, sitting down before I did. I was nervous, but no immediate warning signs went off. After all, she did get me out of a situation that could have been worse than it was. She started the car, filling it with heat quickly- I welcomed it on my numb skin. She didn't put the car in drive, she was just sat there staring at me.

I didn't back down from her gaze, but felt her intimidation taking a toll on me. She broke eye contact first as she reached into the side of her door, pulling out a manila folder. I scooted further away, but felt the door hit my back, there wasn't really anywhere I could go.

"You're a teacher?" She said as she opened the folder. My picture was paper clipped to the front, a bunch of paper was in between the card stock, I couldn't quite read it in the dull light of the moon, but she seemed to have no trouble.

"Who are you?" I said, feeling my mouth go dry.

"I asked you first," she quipped back, she had a point.

"I was, by the looks of it," I grumbled, still a tad bitter about the subject.

The woman chuckled, a sweet but rough sound all at once, her hair fell into her gaze as she looked my way "So you're telling me you're not one for taking drugs?"

"No," I said quickly, maybe a little too defensively as she cocked an eyebrow.

"What about selling them, ever thought about that?"

I was taken aback by the statement. Selling drugs?  It sounded risky, and nothing at all like a 9 to 5 teaching job that I was accustomed to. My breath must of caught in my throat at the initial statement because my lungs began to burn.

"It's not like you have another choice," she said, letting me push the air from my chest in a huff.

"Like hell I do,"

"No you don't." she said in a calm tone that countered my rough one "you were arrested on school grounds due to drug charges. You'd be lucky if a McDonald's would hire you. I'm offering you a job here, Helbig. That's more than you'll ever get again."

I stared at her for a long moment, a bit of anger filling my veins, but it was quickly countered by rational thoughts. She was right. There was no way I would ever get a job. Not in this town anyway. I couldn't move again. Not after Hannah's relocation. She wouldn't want to move again.

"I'll let you think about it," the woman said as she handed me my folder so she could get it off of her lap to drive before glancing over one more time "do you have to think about it?"

"No," I whispered "I don't think I do."