#so i sat there pointlessly for twenty minutes and they thought i was a no show!

[aquarianconstellations]

I'm already stressed about the fact i NEED to get a doctor's appointment tomorrow why do they make it so hard i hate it i hate it i hate it

[tora-ken]

[23:11] meeting fushiguro toji

warnings infidelity

other timestamps

nothing could ever piss you off more than the sight before your eyes.

"y/n, wait i can expla-"

"eat shit, you asshole."

all of your friends had warned you this guy was bad news, yet you stayed with him anyways. for three years. he had treated you so nicely the first year and a half, but then it just began to die down, and texts were half assed, conversations were short-lived, and even the littlest things like kisses felt so lifeless.

you decided to investigate why he was so distant for the past few months, since your fourth year anniversary was coming up, until you'd caught him with an old family friend who he'd sworn to you he would never interact with, since she was so obsessed with him. on several occasions she'd tried breaking the both of you up, causing so many bits and pieces to be put back together to result in your dull state of a relationship.

leaving the premises, you wandered around aimlessly until you'd found yourself at a café you'd planned to go to with him. just the thought of his existence gutted you, and everything you'd walked through constantly reminded you of him, and there was no other way to rid of his lingering presence in your mind.

before you knew it, you'd sat there until closing time, despite telling yourself you'd only stay for a few minutes. it was then the barista had told you to leave, and with a quick apology you left and walked pointlessly again, to who knows where.

there was something appealing about that bench you'd notice in that old park, and decided to sit there too, since you remembered he would still be at your place and wouldn't have packed his things yet, being the lazy shit he was.

"penny for your thoughts?" a bulky, raven haired man had smiled at you innocently, contrary to his large build. he'd worn a tight black shirt, too thin for this kind of weather, alongside a pair of drawstring white sweatpants, that also seemed unsuitable for the ruthless weather.

scoffing, you ignored the man who looked rather old to be honest, and mumbled, "my thoughts are worth tenfold of your paycheck."

he laughs, and it's quite relieving to hear, his voice isn't booming, nor is it loud and threatening. "i guess i don't need the penny for your thoughts then, i don't have a job."

you're flustered now, and red at the cheeks. you lift the back of your palm against the apple of your cheek to feel the heat arise on your face before sighing and ignoring him again. "shut up, old man."

"hey, old is a stretch, i just turned forty." he defends himself as he leans against the tree that loomed over the bench you sat upon, and you noticed how his features seemed more attractive under the moonlight.

stop. don't get distracted by some hot old guy

"that's what every old person says." chuckling, he leans closer to take a look at your face, and you can't help but burn an embarrassing shade of crimson.

"you look like a child. i bet you're the same age as my son." he teases.

what an asswipe.

"well that depends now, how old is your son?"

"fifteen...i think." he's pondering to himself, and looks down at his feet and shakes off the thought before looking back at you like he hadn't just revised his entire life story.

"you think your son is fifteen...?" what a strange man, firstly he has no job and second, has no idea on the age of his own offspring.

"yeah, he had to stay with some," he pauses, "relatives." maybe you should stop prying there, it seemed like a personal topic.

"well, to answer your question, i for a fact, am not fifteen. i'm twenty eight." you swung your feet from the bench in a child like manner.

"huh, would've never believed that. you've got quite a youthful glow. i remember my twenties-" he starts to ramble, and you realise this man is quite nostalgic in a sad sense, so you continue to let him speak.

"for someone who's only forty, you speak like you've got three lifetimes worth of experiences to give advice to someone who's pushing thirty." you intervened, and he bellows out another laugh, more heartfelt, and emotional.

"i've told you many things about myself, but not my name." he gestures to the empty seat beside you, charading if he could sit near you.

with a slight nod, you budge up a few centimetres, "so then, what's your name old man?" you huff, and take a breath of fresh air.

"toji fushiguro." confidence is exuding from his aura and you smile again.

"i prefer calling you old man."

a/n: this is more of a friendship than it is romantic relationship

- possibly might probably maybe make a part two

[leon-scott-kennedy]

Frostbitten

Chreon, Rated-T

Read on Ao3

Leon had barely kicked off his unbroken-in boots and flopped face-first on his bed when his phone rang. He groaned. Getting called back to the training field might kill him. Every inch of his body ached and throbbed after taking a literal beating for the last ten hours; he couldn’t be bothered to change out of his sweaty clothes, let alone shower. USSTRATCOM training was tough and the instructors tougher, but this was precisely what he had signed up for, a chance to help people, to make sure that Raccoon City never happened again.

The handset slid out of the cradle when Leon smacked it in his blind search. It hit the floor with a clunk, half suspended by the cord.

“Shit.”Leon grabbed the phone and rolled onto his back. “This better be important.”

“Rough day?”

Leon sat up, a lump forming in the back of his throat. “Chris?”

Weeks ago, Leon tracked down Chris long enough to send an email warning him that Claire had gotten herself into some deep shit and needed a hand, and then handily tacked on his new number in a hastily added PS. But, unfortunately, Leon himself was a bit busy with his so-called new job, which so far consisted of him having his ass handed to him on a regular basis, and he hadn’t been in contact with Chris or Claire since Raccoon City two months ago.

Honestly, Leon had hoped the Redfield siblings had found each other and were off chasing Umbrella and saving the world together, but apparently not. Coupled with Leon and Sherry having seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet for weeks, Chris had been a little desperate when Leon finally managed to send an encrypted email.

“How’s it going, rookie?”

Leon snorted and flopped back on the mattress, tucking his free arm behind his head, his fatigue melting away. “Oh, you know.”

“That good, huh. I know you can’t tell me what’s going on, but are you okay?”

Always with the tough questions. Leon sighed, but his stomach gave a funny little flip. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“I definitely owe you one.”

“I think we’re about even.” Leon wasted nights alone in bed thinking about the night he spent buried against Chris Redfield’s chest, arms wrapped protectively around him as he fell apart when Raccoon City was still a smouldering ruin on the horizon. Leon yearned for that level of comfort and warmth. “Did you find her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I found her. But, we lost someone.”

Leon’s chest ached. How many people was that now? How many people had they lost in this war that they hadn’t even been aware they were fighting. Umbrella destroyed so many lives; hurt so many people. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Condolences - apology, solace, commiseration - hung thick in the air between them, so many words left unsaid. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I left, that I abandoned you when you needed me; I wish you were here.

“How’s Sherry?”

“She’s good,” Leon lied. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought of the little girl he and Claire had managed to save from the city. The one thing Leon had done right.

Except, the first thing the government had done was take Sherry from Leon, separated them, interrogated him for days until they finally held her life above his head like a guillotine. His visitation remained few and far between, but she was alive and well taken care of, and that’s what mattered. Even if she’d traded one lab for another.

“Good. That’s good. Listen, Claire and I are back home getting things in order, but we both want to see you. Without you, I wouldn’t have found her.”

“Chris, seriously. It was nothing. I just passed on the information I had.” Leon twirled his finger absentmindedly in the phone cord. “I couldn’t get to her, but knew you could. I’m glad you found her.”

“You’re in DC, right?”

“What? Yeah. Listen, Chris-” Leon tried.

“We’re going to drive down for the weekend before we fly back to England next week. We’re putting together a team, but Claire really wants to see you. I want to see you. I need to thank you.”

Leon scrubbed his hand across his mouth and stared helplessly up at the stucco ceiling. Chris wasn’t going to take no for an answer, not that Leon wanted him to. On the contrary, he wanted to see them as badly as they wanted to see him.

“The weekend should be fine,” Leon said. “I usually have them off unless they decide to airdrop me into the center of a national park with nothing but a combat knife and a flask. I mean, no guarantees, but, you know.”

“Jesus Christ, Leon. What have you gotten yourself into?”

Leon grimaced. “Unfortunately, that’s classified.”

“I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.” That made two of them, but Sherry’s life hung in the balance.

Chris and Leon hashed out tentative plans for the weekend. Claire and Chris would drive the nine hours down from Franklin County on Friday, which Leon found insane. Nine hours trapped in a vehicle with their sibling for a dude they barely knew, only to be met with disappointment because Leon wouldn’t be whatever they expected. All the same, he’d let them crash at his place for the weekend, and then they’d fly out of the Dulles International Sunday evening.

Warmth blossomed in Leon’s chest; hope. Things weren’t ideal. Yes, he’d been coerced into the service of his country, but he wanted to do what he couldn’t in Raccoon City; save people, make Umbrella pay for their crimes. Maybe he could have done that alongside friends, allies, or Chris. Instead, the acute loneliness tingled in the back of his mind, a constant reminder that he had been abandoned. Not on purpose, no, but his naivety showed weakness.

The call ended with a promise, like their last separation, a reluctance to part, but a promise of companionship, of warmth, of friendship that was almost destined to end in grief. Leon couldn’t help the anticipation that bloomed.

Leon noisily clattered the headset back into the cradle and took stock of his tiny bedroom cluttered with dirty clothes, plates, a half-empty glass of water, and first aid supplies. “Fuck.”

Cleaning the apartment wouldn’t be so bad considering his severe lack of possessions, and he had three days before visitors arrived. Not that either of the Redfield’s would care about the clutter and shortage of furniture. If anything, they would understand. So much had been lost the day Racoon City disappeared in a mushroom cloud. Still, he tidied every moment he had between beatings, lectures, and exams.

Friday morning, the apartment was shockingly spotless except for the freshly used coffee mug in the sink. Loading it into the half-empty dishwasher wouldn’t have been all that difficult if Leon wasn’t already running behind schedule. The commute to the training center took twenty minutes on a good day if he obeyed all traffic laws.

Today likely wouldn’t be one of those days since he was due for roll-call in seven minutes, which seemed pointlessly ridiculous as he was the only agent in training. But the government liked to make him jump through hoops, literally.

Each course they had him run became increasingly complex and ludicrous to the point that Leon failed more than ninety percent of the time. With each fall, one instructor that he didn’t know the name of, only called Sir, yelled “dead” as if it wasn’t already abundantly clear that one mistake would be a death sentence in the field. Something he probably knew that better than the assholes pulling the strings. None of the big wigs had lived the hell he lived, seen what he had seen, and relived what he relived every night alone twisted in the sheets of his bed.

By the time Leon trudged through the front door of his tiny apartment, two hours later than planned, his entire side was mottled blue and purple from the fresh thrashing at the hands of his close combat instructor. His hand to hand had improved the most over the last month with the help of his natural flexibility and agility that earned him a few jokes about how he should have joined the circus. But they were impressed.

Nothing about his training was normal, even he knew that. Nothing like the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team had been formed before, people had never been reanimated from the dead by a virus before, and they were trying to prepare him for the worst. A nightmare they had never experienced themselves, but he had.

The phone rang. Leon groaned, staggering as he pivoted where he had been about to face-plant on the couch, and headed for the phone in the bedroom.

“Hello?” Leon said, almost certain it was Agent Benford with a new brutal assignment. He sagged onto the bed in relief, curling onto his side when the increasingly familiar greeting of ‘hey, rookie” rumbled in his ear. “Chris.”

“Thank god. Where have you been? This is the fourth time we tried calling.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Leon groaned as his side twinged. “Got, uh, caught up at the... office.”

“You sound like you’re in rough shape.”

Leon hummed. “Been worse.” A sad truth.

“We were calling to say we’re an hour out, but now that’s more like ten minutes,” Chris said, and Claire shouted something unintelligible in the background. “Oh, right. Remind me to give you this number. Claire made me get one of those Nokias so she can keep track of me.”

Claire screeched indignantly, and Leon snickered. “I’ve got a pager,” he offered as consolation. All that much easier to be at the government’s beck and call, but if Chris ever needed him, or Claire, or Sherry.

Leon rattled off a few quick directions to get the Redfield’s to his place, then hung up the phone and rolled out of bed to shower. The hot water stung the fresh bruising, his muscles ached, but he felt human the more he scrubbed away the sweat and grime.

The buzzer for the front door rang as Leon eased a fresh t-shirt on over his head; his shoulder twinged, but he limped over to buzz them up.

A few minutes later, since the building’s elevator took years because of the ‘historic’ value as the real estate agent had put it, someone knocked at the door in a frantic staccato. Leon swung the door open, hair still damp, and was immediately tackled in a hug.

Fight or flight kicked in, Leon’s brain came back online in fits and started in time to hug the small woman hugging him tightly rather than throw her over his shoulder. Claire’s mouth ran a mile a minute. Apparently, he had been missed, and Claire didn’t appear to want to release him anytime soon if the creaking of his ribs were anything to go by.

Leon stared helplessly over her head at Chris, who laughed, but pried his sister off Leon so he could drag him in a hug too. Chris enveloped Leon in a bear hug. That level of high alert that itched in the back of his mind for months ebbed, not disappeared, but faded enough that Leon enjoyed the moment, squeezing Chris back just as tight.

“Come in,” Leon said as he stepped back and waved them into his tiny apartment. “It’s not much, but, you know.”

Claire and Chris shucked their shoes and jackets and wandered into the apartment. Claire scrutinized every little detail or lack thereof. Decoration wasn’t exactly at the top of Leon’s priorities. Nevertheless, he had what he needed: a couch, a TV, a coffee table that doubled as his kitchen table, and a mattress in the bedroom. No bedframe, but he wasn’t picky. Clean sheets and a blanket, and he was good to go.

“It’s, ahh...” Chris trailed off as he glanced around the sparse room.

“What are you, a squatter?” Claire cut in. She stood in front of the mostly empty closet she’d opened.

“Okay, I was going to say it’s a bit Spartan,” Chris said. He slapped a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Can’t be easy to start all over from nothing, again.”

Leon rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders slumped. “I did warn you guys. Not much to do.”

Chris hummed, his hand dropping from Leon’s shoulder as he wandered off to the kitchen. “You got beer?” The fridge was stocked with two six-packs of cheap beer, a bottle of ketchup, a carton of 2%, and eggs.

“I’ll order food,” Claire said, glancing around, but the phone wasn’t in sight. Leon directed her to the bedroom, where his mattress sat on the floor against the wall. “Jesus Christ, Leon, is that a milk crate?” Clearly, she’d found the bedside table with the phone and takeout menus.

Groaning, Leon sank down onto his couch and buried his face in his hands. The cushions sank beside him as a much larger body sat down. Leon peeked out from between his fingers at Chris, who smiled sadly at him.

“If you need anything-” Chris started.

“I’m fine.” Leon ran his fingers through his damp hair and slouched so his elbows rested on his knees. “Not a lot of time to do much these days, you know, between the daily ass kickings and memorizing a million and one protocols.”

Chris mirrored Leon’s posture. “You could always come with us.”

Leon shook his head.

“Leon-”

“I can’t,” Leon snapped in time for Claire to walk out of the bedroom.

For a second, Claire paused, eyes bouncing between the heavy tension that hung between them. “I ordered Chinese. Did I miss something?”

“No,” Chris and Leon said at the same time.

The food didn’t take long to arrive. The delivery guy, already familiar with Leon’s apartment, joked that he had company for once. The restaurant had even thrown in some free spring rolls for one of their best customers. Sad, considering he’d only been in DC for a little over a month.

The three of them settled on the couch together; Leon squashed in the middle of the sofa, pressed against Chris because Claire had claimed one end with her feet up and tucked her toes under Leon’s thigh. They’d settled for a cheesy action movie they found flipping through channels, something with a bus that couldn’t stop, but ignored it in favour of light conversion, mostly Claire. Neither Chris nor Leon were much in the way of conversationalists. Still, Chris offered a tidbit here and there, and Leon hummed along, nodding when need be, and occasionally offered the occasional dry joke that had Chris and Claire in stitches. Chris nearly snorted beer out his nose when he made an off-the-cuff remark about the first day always being the easiest.

Pleasantly buzzed from a few beers and noodles heavy in his belly, Leon began to nod off, his head helplessly bobbing with the weight of fatigue.

Distantly, Leon heard a chuckle. His head plopped down on the closest shoulder, broad and warm, and the last thing he remembered was Claire wiggling her toes under his thigh and giggling.

When Leon woke up to his bladder screaming, the apartment was dark. For a brief second, he panicked when he discovered his mobility restricted, but his foggy mind pieced together the clues to form a complete picture. He was still on the couch, curled into Chris’ side, nose pressed into Chris’ neck. The arm slung around Leon’s shoulder held in him what couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a secure embrace. They were barely covered by what Leon quickly realized was the thin comforter from his bed because Claire, curled up on the other end of the couch, had stolen most of the blanket, leaving Chris and Leon with a tiny corner.

Leon eased himself out of Chris’ protective hold and slipped off the couch, tucking Chris back under the blanket so he could escape to the safety of the bathroom in what was becoming a pattern. Wake up cuddled with a man he barely knew, panic, then flee.

The moonlight through the clouded window lit the bathroom enough for Leon to piss and wash his hands without hitting the light. He stood, hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were lighter, and his hair was a wild tangle after falling asleep with it still damp. Even if he looked less tired, he was exhausted. He shivered. DC winters were colder than he was used to.

Shuffling back into the living room, Leon found Claire stretched further out on the couch, having used Leon’s absence to steal the very little room Leon had occupied beside Chris. “That seems about right,” he said, then jumped when Chris’ head popped up from where it had been stretched out against the back of the couch. “Oh! Sorry, I can just...” Leon waved vaguely back down the hall towards his bedroom.

Chris lifted his corner of the blanket in invitation.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Leon argued, rubbing his arm. “I can just sleep in my bed.”

“Isn’t this your blanket?” Chris asked.

Leon shivered in the cool December chill. “It’s not that cold.”

“Leon.”

Leon slunk back to the couch under Chris’ watchful gaze and tried to find space, but Claire’s sprawl left no room for Leon to squeeze back into. He hovered for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed, but the choice was taken from him when Chris grabbed him around the middle and hauled him down over his lap. Leon squawked, slapping a hand over his mouth. His butt nestled between the arm of the couch and Chris’ thigh, his legs thrown over Chris’ lap.

For almost a full minute, Leon stared at Chris open-mouthed, unable to do anything but blink like a startled owl while his attacker shook with silent laughter.

“Cat got your tongue, rookie?” Chris snickered.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Leon snapped his jaw closed, pursed his lips and purposefully flung an arm around Chris’ shoulders before wiggling until he was burrowed tightly into the warmth of Chris’ side like a kitten. Still, it took a few minutes for Leon to relax enough to sink into the heat of the body beneath him, Chris grinning a challenge to him. Leon rolled his eyes and stuck the cold tip of his nose into Chris’ neck.

“Christ, Kennedy,” Chris said as a stilted shudder ran through him, but wrapped Leon in an inflexible hug like the first night they met, the night Leon’s anxiety and doubt demanded the comfort of another person, the night he still dreamt about. “What are you? Part snowman?”

“Popsicle, but thanks for asking,” Leon mumbled.

Tucked under a small corner of the worn comforter he found in a thrift shop his first night in the city, Leon tilted headfirst into the satisfaction and comfort of Chris Redfield. Most men would have balked at even the idea of cuddling with another man, but Leon had never been like other men. He’d learned early in life to take comfort where he could because kindness was often isolated incidents of empathy.

The smell of coffee tickled Leon’s nose. He was hot, a little too hot, and a little sweaty, but he was comfortable, safe. He pressed into the warmth, groaning quiet contentment when the heat squeezed back until a sharp snort and a giggle shocked him into alertness like a splash of ice water.

Leon’s eyes snapped open. Claire grinned at him from the far end of the couch, legs pulled up to sit cross-legged, hand curled around a steaming mug of coffee. “Morning.”

Ao3

[jacobseedz]

Care pt.1

Professor Snape x Student!Reader

1340 words lol

Been feeling kinda shitty for the past months, so I thought I’d write something w my fav Prof :))) Hope you enjoy it, and I beforehand apologise for any errors, english is not my first language. I’M SORRY IF SEV IS SOOO OUT OF CHARACTER DKDKDK NOT EDITED SO IM REALLY SORRY BOUT THE ERRORS DKDJ LOVE YALL

Part 2   Part 3

Another bad, unproductive day. Nothing seemed to be quite alright for a long time. Nobody noticed your mood lately, but it was nothing new, you were used to it. Your parents were too busy, working for the Ministry of Magic. Your friends had their own problems, and the teachers? Why would they even give a damn..

You laid in bed for about twenty minutes, staring pointlessly at the ceiling. There were no classes to attend, it was Christmas after all. Everyone from your dormitory had left Hogwarts to spend the holidays with their family. Only you stayed behind, your parents wouldn't be home, so there was no point in leaving.

Looking to your left, you saw Jinx, your pet bat hanging upside down, soundlessly asleep. At least she could sleep with no care in the world. 

Deciding to roam around, you got up, maybe you'd stop for food in the kitchens. The kitchen elves were particularly fond of you, and always gave you a small snack or some sweets. As long as you were nice to the elves, they were happy to give food out.

With a sigh, you throw off the soft blanket. Your grandma gave it to you before passing away. It was a birthday gift.

Upon the last memory of her, tears welled up in your eyes, which you quickly wiped away. She was your biggest supporter, teacher, and the only close family... until death came for her. And that was the breaking line.. You felt stupid, crying and walking down the hall, where everyone could see. Even though it was nearly nighttime, and half of the students who stayed were probably in their dormitories by now. However, the ghosts were always around, some taunting you, some playing tricks, and some being indifferent. 

The closer the kitchen got, the faster you started wiping the tears away. Finally, able to breathe properly, you put on a small smile, and entered the area. Two elves greeted with warm smiles. They never said a word to you, not that it was a problem. Without a word, just a wink one of them gave you a long bar of chocolate, skittles and a bottle of chocolate milk. 

"Thank you.." you whispered. You left with a wave, still smiling softly. Now you just had to find a place to sit down.

Two more turns, and you found yourself before the staircase leading to the dungeons. It was one of your favourite places. Whenever you felt sad or just exhausted with life you came there. Sometimes you managed to cross paths with your professor, however you prayed to Dumbledore that he was already down there. It would've been an embarrassment if he'd see you in such state.

Munching on your treats, tears began flowing down again. This year was just so terrible for you. Your grandma passed away, your grades got worse, you parents were always working and your friends just stopped caring.

Loud footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. Before you could wipe your face, Professor Snape came into view, a nasty scowl on his face. Upon seeing you, his expression changed, it softened a little bit. 

Since he started teaching you, he saw great potential, not once did you make a mistake in brewing a potion or on a test. You were always the first one to give it back, or answer a tricky question on many lessons. He liked your passion about potions, always approaching it with delicacy and great precision. 

And you never spoke any ill words about him, quite on the contrary, you defended him handful of times. And it warmed his cold heart, making him put down the tough layers he built around himself, just for you. On free periods, you came to his classroom, offering your help in arranging the cupboard or preparing for his next lesson, like bringing important jars and such. 

Students noticed how you became the only favourite student, always going soft on you, never giving a snarky comment, only small praises, sometimes even a smirk, although barely noticable for others. 

"OH.. Professor-" you started, getting up. Your cheeks heat up, embarrassment washing over you. 

"Come along, Y/N." he spoke quietly, going down the stairs, towards his office. 

Not wasting much time, you walked behind him. Vision still blurred from the tears, you took careful steps, afraid you'd fall and break your bones. 

You didn't know if you should curse Dumbledore or actually thank him. Maybe Snape's company would actually cheer you up, or worsen your mood. 

"Alohomora..." he muttered, letting you in first with a small nod. 

You went further in, sitting down on the couch near the fireplace,and opposite Snape's armchair. It was like a ritual, most of your holidays you spent there. Severus would always make tea for both of you, and sit down by the fireplace. Some days were in comfortable silence, just enjoying each others company, and on some days you'd make small talk, or discuss many topics. But it never felt forced.

"Green tea, as always I presume?" he questioned, raising a brow. 

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you." 

He nodded, turning the kettle on. You smiled, it was nice to have someone show a little bit interest in your well-being.

"How are the first years?" you asked, staring into the fire, pushing your hands out trying to warm them.

"Horrid. Not one brat knew what I would get if I added root of Asphodel to an infusion of wormwood.." he exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

"HA! Easy. Draught of Living Death." you shouted triumphantly.

"Precisely. Well done." he praised, smirking. You looked down, blushing madly. He knew it would lighten your mood a little bit.

"It couldn't be that bad though? I heard Jack got better in potions.."

Severus let out an annoyed sigh. "He just made the potion explode. Instead of cutting the Sopophorus bean while making Felix Felicis , he should've smashed it, brings out the juice more. Damn dunderhead .."

"Oof, well, next time I see him, I'll tutor him a little bit."

Severus handed you the tea, sitting on the armchair, taking a sip of his own one. You handed him the other half of the chocolate bar.

"Don't bother... How are your parents?"

You offered a weak smile. "Good, busy as always, but working for the Ministry is like that, so what can I say."

"How have you been lately, professor?" you questioned, looking into his eyes.

"I've told you many times before, call me Severus." he gave a small smile, making your heart melt instantly. "Good, although the holidays aren't my favourite, I prefer that muggle tradition called Halloween."

"Oh Merlin! Me too! Especially when the elves make pumpkin pasties and delicious cranberry punch." your laugh was like a beautiful melody to the dark-haired man.

"Ah, yes. Though the idea of scaring those isolent brats is just too tempting to pass." he smirked.

He frowned quickly. It threw you off a bit.

"I've noticed your grades getting worse. Minerva approached me before the christmas break. She worries about you, as do the other teachers. And I." he said softly. "You were always a top student. What changed?"

Tears welled up in your eyes for the milionth time. The teachers actually care? Professor McGonagall even came to Severus?

So lost in your thoughts you didn't realise Severus sat beside you, his worried gaze on you.

"I'm sorry.." you managed to whisper, before heavy sobs took over your body.

The cold man instantly took you into his warm embrance, caressing your soft hair, rocking you back and forth. Who would've thought that a man like Severus Snape would ever hug someone and try to make their every problem dissapear, because he cares so deeply. You really wreaked your way into his heart, that actually lied existed, but under many layers of thick walls.

"Shhh. It's alright. We're here, I'll help you as much as I can, and so will others. Don't worry." he promised. 

You pushed your head into the crook of his neck, hugging him as tightly as he was you.

"Thank you.."

[eryiss]

Summary: Two weeks. They had spent two weeks unable to touch one another, to kiss one another, to feel one another. That was why Freed had taken Gajeel to the damn hot spring in the first place: so they could have some time alone. So when half of the guild showed up and kept interrupting them, Freed felt his patience wearing thin. Thankfully, runes can be very useful, particularly when you want privacy. [Freed x Gajeel Oneshot]

I've been wanting to write for this pairing again for a while, and I was reminded of this post by @furidojasutin​, which inspired this fic, so consider giving it a reblog or like. Just a waarning, this is SMUT, so be careful before reading.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. Hope you enjoy it.

Reaching Breaking Point

Freed was going to snap.

By all rights, he should be incredibly relaxed. He was sat in a luxury hot spring located in the mountainous north of Fiore, having taken a day off from an intensive training regime. Sitting beside him was his boyfriend, their thighs grazing slightly from time to time as they let the volcanic water soothe them. Other than perhaps an expensive glass of wine or champagne, Freed couldn't think of anything that would make the situation better. And yet, despite the technical perfection, Freed was pissed off.

The reason he had suggested to Gajeel that they go to the hot springs was that, for the last two weeks, the majority of Fairy Tail's mages had been partaking in a training bootcamp for the Grand Magic Games. It had been a gruelling and harsh time, one with far too much interacting with his fellow guildmates, and far too little interaction with Gajeel.

Normally he wouldn't have minded, but given his relationship with Gajeel was not yet public, the weeks had been painfully long.

So, imagine Freed's surprise and utter-fucking-delight when, about twenty minutes after he and Gajeel had relaxed into the spring, the loud and rambunctious chorus that always accompanied Fairy Tail suddenly filled the tranquil resort. An annoyed dread had filled Freed the moment he heard recognisable voices, and when he turned towards the resort's gates he saw nearly half of his guildmates entering, thus destroying the quiet, delightful little haven that the two men had made for themselves.

Gajeel had tried to placate him, saying that the resort was big, and they'd fall into obscurity, but it hadn't really worked. Two weeks without so much of a kiss from his boyfriend was far too long, and Freed was not happy to know that the issue would not be rectified.

Even if he was to blame, given that Gajeel was all too happy to let their relationship be known.

Freed was in no way ashamed of his relationship with Gajeel; he was a strong, competent, ruggedly handsome man that Freed was proud to call his. But Fairy Tail was something of a rumour mill, and the smallest of whispers could snowball into something much larger. This definitely happened with relationships, and Freed would rather not have his business spread throughout the guild's gossipers. He would much rather spend the start of his relationship with Gajeel relishing the man in every way he possibly could without interruption.

Which was why he'd taken Gajeel to the hot spring in the first place. It was meant to be a time for them to enjoy themselves, to kiss and make up for the lost time the bootcamp had taken from them. Freed had been looking forward to it the moment he came up with the idea, and now it had been ruined.

"Fuck," Gajeel groaned. "Incoming."

Freed glanced over his shoulder, deflating slightly as he saw Jet and Droy approaching them. This had been avoided so far, and Freed had just started to think maybe Gajeel had been right, and they'd be able to drown out the yells from their guildmates and pretend they weren't there. But no, that hope, too, was dashed.

"Hey," Jet greeted. "Mind if we join you?"

"Yes," Freed said without a moment's thought. The two men looked at him confused.

"Why?" Droy asked, frowning. "And how did the two of you even get here? You weren't with the group."

"We got here before you," Freed explained, voice a little tight still. "We both wanted some time away to relax, this was the best place close to the camp. Obviously, we didn't choose to sleep in like you all did."

"You came together?" Jet asked, frowning.

"Nah," Gajeel shrugged, opening his eyes. "Just happened to have the same idea, I guess. And the old man wanted us to work on our teamworking skills outside of the people we normally take missions with – some bullshit about not limiting who we can work with – and we thought we might as well try and get to know each other. Works on what Makarov wants us to do and means we'll have progress to talk about, unlike the rest of you."

Under the water, Freed placed a hand on Gajeel's thigh in thanks. He really did appreciate how Gajeel hadn't once been insistent that they make their relationship public, and was willing to lie to keep up the charade. Freed felt guilty about making him do it, though.

"And we'd quite like to continue with this," Freed added on, before either of the other men could say something that would further grate on his nerves. "So please leave."

The two men gave Freed an odd look, most likely thinking Freed was being unnecessarily rude to them, but the rune mage wasn't bothered by it. A moment later, they turned around and started to walk to another of the hot springs. They would most likely be talking about Freed's behaviour, but Freed couldn't find it in himself to care. Because even if this wasn't what he had wanted, his hand was still on Gajeel's thigh and that was the most contact he'd had with the man over the past few weeks, and he would take anything he could get at this time. But he really did want more.

"I'm sorry," He said softly, barley resisting the urge to lean into Gajeel. "I shouldn't be forcing you to hide like this."

"Doesn't bother me," Gajeel shrugged. "I can deal with it. And we've still got our deal, right?"

"Yes," Freed chuckled. "The moment I'm ready, you can parade me around as much as you'd like."

"Damn right I can," Gajeel grinned.

Under the water, Gajeel placed his hand atop Freed's, and the rough callousness contrasted beautifully with the soft water covering them both. As he glanced to the side, he saw how the candlelight flickered onto Gajeel's face, reflected in his piercings and his eyes. It was damn hard not to kiss him, to feel him, to embrace the urge demanding he trace a droplet of water down Gajeel's broad chest with featherlight kisses until he-

But the hand holding was good. It was almost enough.

It was a mantra that Freed found himself repeating through the next hour, because although they had been left alone with nobody trying to enter their bath again, Fairy Tail was an unignorable force. They were loud, either with raucous laughter or pointlessly petty arguments. Every moment of calmness the couple could gather was instantly disrupted by the reminder they weren't alone.

Slowly, his plan for a heavenly afternoon became torture, a torture of his own making. He'd organised a situation where both he and his boyfriend would be naked, wet, and alone. And he'd had plans to make use of that solitude, which he now could no longer do because they were not alone.

Meaning now he was sitting next to his strong, handsome, broad, and beautiful boyfriend who he hadn't touched in weeks, in the same naked and wet state that he had planned, without the ability to do anything about it. This was a lesson in self-control already, made worse given that, apparently, Gajeel was in a slightly teasing mood, if the knuckle grazes against his thigh and the intentional whispers of breath against his neck were reflective. It was like being presented with the best meal you've ever seen without being able to devour it. Freed wanted to devour Gajeel, and his grasp on his good senses were breaking.

"Yer tense," Gajeel noted, and quirked his mouth teasingly. "You want a massage; I'd be happy to give ya one?"

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Freed muttered, and Gajeel laughed.

"Not what I was hoping for, but you gotta make the best of a bad situation, don't ya?" He grinned, and Freed glared at him which only made him chuckle. "But you didn't answer me; you wanna nice rubdown? I can go all over."

Freed opened his mouth to respond, but a yell echoed throughout the resort, and a dark look flashed over Freed's face. The couple looked towards the source of the shouting, to see Natsu cackling while holding a small towel aloft, and a moment later a fully nude Gray stalked after him, demanding Natsu return his only cover. Natsu simply laughed louder, goading his boyfriend into getting the towel himself, all the while wolf-whistling about Gray's naked state.

And that was the moment Freed lost himself.

Because it was enraging that Natsu and Gray were so open about their relationship; that they could perform their flirtatious arguments in front of everyone without thinking. They were basically engaged in foreplay in public, and yet Freed had to settle for handholding and slight proximity to his own boyfriend. It was utter bullshit.

Bullshit of his own creation, but he didn't want to think rationally.

Instead, he muttered out a spell, and runes fluttered out from him. Quickly, before he could stop himself, they had rested against the ground and created a large cylinder of enchantment-walls around the specific spring that he and Gajeel were using.

The sudden removal of sound, as well as the sight off their fellow guildmates, was a welcome relief. Nobody could see nor hear them, and they were as alone as they could hope to be in this damn place, and Freed was going to enjoy it if it killed him.

He shifted himself to his right, leaning into Gajeel and resting against his side, cheek against Gajeel's shoulder. Gajeel almost instinctively wrapped his strong arm around Freed's shoulders, and Freed immediately relaxed into the grasp. The feel of his boyfriend's bulk – his unabashed broadness, power, and strength – was comforting and something he had been craving. He had quickly become addicted to Gajeel.

"They broke ya, huh?" Gajeel asked only slightly teasing now.

"If they can practically fuck in front of everyone, then we deserve some time to enjoy ourselves too," Freed shrugged, breathing in Gajeel's scent while resting their legs together. "It only seems fair."

"Yer right," Gajeel nodded. "But there's a small problem. You made yer runes a little too wide."

Freed frowned, looking in the same direction that Gajeel was looking, and he deflated at the sight. Standing just inside the runes was Natsu, still holding Gray's towel, poking at the runes tentatively.

There was a beat of silence as Natsu turned around to look at the two men, wrapped up around one another in a way that was so obviously not platonic that anyone with half a brain would see it.

"He might not realise," Gajeel commented as if Natsu wasn't there. "He ain't too bright."

"Perhaps," Freed agreed, ignoring Natsu's cry of protest as a quick, appealing, devilishly tempting thought struck him. "Best to make sure, then."

With a rush of adrenaline too sudden for Freed to ignore, he turned slightly, grabbed Gajeel by the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss. It was a passionate, strong kiss, filled with the emotion and the need that had built up over the past two weeks. His hands absently roamed around the incredible expanse of Gajeel's body – god damn it was a crime he couldn't feel the man at any given opportunity – and groaned. Gajeel was kissing back just as strongly, a hand roaming down Freed's back to grope his ass.

Before they could get any more passionate, Freed pulled away. He looked at Natsu, who was gaping at them, looking between them both. Freed almost rolled his eyes at the dumbfounded expression – he and Gajeel might not be an obvious pair, but the reaction was overstated.

"If you can make sure everyone in the guild knows by sundown, I'll get Laxus to fight you."

Before Natsu could speak, teleportation runes enveloped him, and he was gone. Freed and Gajeel were left alone.

"So," Gajeel said after a moment, voice slightly breathless, still holding Freed close.

"Indeed," Freed agreed, nodding slightly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken so long to let people know, and I shouldn't have done it without-"

"You know I pretty much have to fuck yer ass right now, right?"

The husky, deep growl seemed to vibrate in Freed's bones, and it sent a jolt of arousal through his dick. There was a slight haze of lust in Gajeel's eyes, and the rune mage grinned a little at the sight of it. He felt Gajeel's large hand kneading at his ass, something that he always did when he wanted to be in charge. Gajeel was a tactile man, wanting to feel everything, wanting to make his lover feel everything just as strongly. Freed relished it when Gajeel got into these moods.

"Here?" He asked, voice also a little low.

"Fuck yeah," Gajeel almost growled, and Freed watched the water ripple around Gajeel's hard-on. "Don't know if it's some dragon shit or I'm a freak, but I really wanna fuck you knowing that they're out there. Wanna make sure they know."

"They can't see us," Freed reminded him.

"Good, yer mine to watch when you're bein' fucked," Gajeel grunted. "But they'll know. They'll see all the bite marks and hickeys that we give each other. They'll see how out of breath we are and that yer walking just a little funny and they'll know what we did," Gajeel had a look so intense, so aroused that Freed' cock jumped at the sight of it. "They'll know that we belong to each other- fuck. I want it so bad."

And damn did Freed want it to. To be touched, to leave marks on his lover that made it clear they were together, to leave it in no doubt that he and Gajeel were one. He wanted to see just what this mixture of pride and possessiveness would drive Gajeel to do. How good it would feel.

"Stake your claim," Freed whispered huskily into Gajeel's ear. "And make it unforgettable."

Gajeel moved immediately, his unused hand also grabbing Freed's ass. Freed moved with Gajeel's guidance, so that he was straddling the man's thick thighs, facing him now. They were kissing within a moment, wet chest rubbing against wet chest. Freed bit at Gajeel's lip, sucking at it a moment later to ensure that it was kiss-swollen. He would be marking Gajeel just as much as Gajeel intended to mark him.

He felt his lover all over. The wetness of their bodies writhing against one another, hard pricks rubbing and grazing as they leant in. He could feel the slight contractions of Gajeel's strong legs when the man shifted, rubbing against Freed's balls and making him groan into his lover's lips.

His left hand roamed up Gajeel's stomach, pressed tightly between their bodies and allowing him to feel every inch of his strong, perfectly cultivated abs. He dragged his nails across the wet skin, leaving slight graze marks as he got higher and higher. As his hand pushed against the man's barrel-like, well-defined pecs, he gave a sharp pinch to the erect nipple he found. He simultaneously buried his other hand in Gajeel's hair, giving it a slight tug; neither man could be a passive lover, and the small grin that split the kiss told Freed Gajeel appreciated it.

"Fucker," The dragon-slayer grunted.

Before Freed could say anything, Gajeel's lips were at his collar bone. He felt the distinctive sensation of biting and sucking, and the combined feelings of that, one hand still groping at his ass, and the other digging into his back with sharp nails made Freed moan, leaning back slightly, and presenting more of his neck to his lover.

Gajeel rolled his hips slightly, and their dicks – trapped between their stomachs – rubbed against one another with the movement. Freed let out a shuddering moan, feeling pre-cum leak from his slit into the hot water.

"Gajeel," He panted, eyes wide.

"Fuck," Gajeel gasped. "I missed touching you so fucking much. Need to feel you."

Gajeel dug his nails further into Freed's back, pushing their strong bodies together as close as they could be. The feeling of the pierced, muscular body rubbing against his own was incredible, and he tightened his grip on Gajeel's hair in response.

"I'm close," Freed groaned.

"I know," Gajeel gritted out, the hand grabbing Freed's ass leaving. "Yer gonna cum, ain't ya?"

"Yes," Freed's voice was loud, lust filling him.

"Good," Gajeel whispered into Freed's ear, breath hot and ragged.

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around both his cock and Gajeel's, pushing them together. The cool feeling of the studs in Gajeel's member pressed against his, and Freed let out a cuss at the sudden feeling. Rubbing his dick against Gajeel's stomach was good, but having their dicks held together in Gajeel's large, strong hands was incredible. Freed all but combusted when Gajeel began pumping his fist, hard and inelegantly.

He still bit and nibbled at Freed's exposed neck, and the feeling was all encompassing. He was everywhere, wrapped around Freed tightly and dictating his intense pleasure, and it was incredible. The pumping, groping, biting, teasing, clawing. It was all too good. Too much.

"I'm gonna-" Freed began, cutting himself off when orgasm hit him.

It was explosive, a rush of powerful feelings that made Freed's eyes clench shut with its intensity. Hie entire body was on fire as spurts of cum shot from his dick, and Freed's body clenched entirely against Gajeel's. He was cussing and shouting something – Gajeel's name – but he cared not for anything other than the pleasure overthrowing him.

A loud grunt-like moan forced his eyes open, and Freed watched as Gajeel too was overtaken by orgasm. His body flexed and heaved, shimmering and so damn hot that Freed was transfixed. The look of shameless pleasure on Gajeel's pierced face was indescribable, and Freed couldn't look away.

"Fu-uck," Gajeel moaned as him cum-shot ended, chest heaving. "Fuck I missed yer body. We ain't waiting this long again."

"Obviously," Freed panted, slightly breathless. "I thought you wanted to fuck me?"

"I will," Gajeel promised, chest heaving. "I ain't jerked off since we got here, and I know you haven't either. I know your scent too well, if I could smell yer cum I would've gone crazy," He chuckled, hand plunging below the water. He grabbed Freed's balls and gave them a small squeeze; Freed hissed. "These are full. I'm gonna change that."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

Gajeel grinned, leaning down and pressing slight kisses against Freed's collar bone, starting where the obvious mark now lay. He trailed the kisses down, against Freed's chest. He gave his nipple a small, teasing bite before going down again. Gajeel shifted him, lifting him slightly so the entirety of his stomach was out of the hot water, and went on to kiss further and further down.

Freed's cock, though drained only a moment prior, quivered back to life at the feeling of Gajeel's light touches. Gajeel noticed this, gently running his knuckles from slit to sac as he reached Freed's waist with his kisses.

"You ready?" Gajeel asked, voice low and needy.

"Yes," Freed whispered.

Gajeel reached back to the edge of the spring, picking up one of the provided lotion bottles meant for customers to clean themselves with. Before he could open it, Freed took it from him and emptied some into his hand. He jerked his head slightly, telling Gajeel to lift himself up a little, which his boyfriend did. With Gajeel's hard cock now out of the water, Freed began to slowly lube it up.

He watched as Gajeel's arms tensed, biceps flexing and showing just how much power the man had in his body. Freed raked his eyes over the man's incredible body, which contracted and tightened, abs flexing as he recovered from the last orgasm. This man was perfection; rough, ragged, powerful, beautifully so.

"That enough?" Gajeel asked as Freed placed the lotion back.

"Yes," Freed repeated. "Ready?"

Once Gajeel had nodded, Freed lifted himself up. He watched as Gajeel's eyes flickered to Freed's hard cock as if was lifted from the water, and the mans throat contracted as he became eye level with the stiffness of it.

After he'd positioned himself directly over Gajeel, Freed began to lower himself down. He held the man's cock by the base and slowly sunk down, the feeling of Gajeel's tip splitting apart his cheeks already a heavenly sensation. After taking a moment to ready himself, he started to sink lower, and his mouth split open in a moan.

Gajeel's cock filled him completely, and the feeling of his rivet-like piercings sliding against the inside of his ass was incredible. Gajeel was long and girthy, made wider by the many barbells pierced into his member. Taking him in blurred the lined between pleasure and pain so perfectly, and Freed's cock was already dribbling with pre-cum again. Inch by inch he took the man's cock, straddling him with their bodies pushed together tightly, without room between them. He felt enveloped in Gajeel entirely, inside and out, and it was brilliant. As he took the last inch of the man's fat cock inside him, he let out a shuddering breath.

"Okay?" Gajeel questioned quietly.

"You're far too unmarked right now," Freed hissed, moving slightly and sending ripples of pleasure through him. "And remember, I said I want this to be unforgettable."

Freed leant down before Gajeel said anything, pressing his lips into Gajeel's neck and sucking at the soft, wet skin. He gave his hips a slow thrust, moaning into Gajeel's neck as the feeling of his prostate being tickled rushed through him. He heard a beautifully needy groan slip from his lover, and he smirked slightly.

The thrust was all the encouragement Gajeel needed. He began to gyrate his hips, slowly at first, and Freed's entire body tightened as Gajeel's cock pushed hard against his sweet spot. One hand wrapped around Gajeel's back, nails digging into his skin and scratching at him, the other pulling at his hair to give him better access to his neck. Gajeel let out another shuddering moan, moving his hips faster and making Freed groan louder.

As he continued his attack on Gajeel's neck, one of his lover's hands began to grope at his ass again, while his other rubbed and kneaded against Freed's abs. The rough, battle-worn hands were harsh against his skin, and Freed groaned.

A sharp thrust slammed into his prostate, and Freed all but yelled a loud 'fuck!'

Gajeel repeated the action, again and again. Thrust after thrust slammed deep inside Freed's ass, sending waved of unfathomable pleasure through him. He let out a string of moans, curses, groans, and yells, Gajeel grunting just as loudly. Freed lost all sense, allowing his eyes to close, back to arch and mind to shut down as pleasure overtook him. Everything was Gajeel at that moment. Everything was perfect.

"Fuck," Gajeel yelled, loudly and unabashedly.

A moment later, Freed felt hotness filling his ass; Gajeel's cum. The thrusts became faster and sporadic, almost always hitting his prostate. Freed moaned loud, body clenching as he pushed down, taking Gajeel's cock entirely in him. A shuddering groan left him, and his second orgasm hit him.

It was just as incredible, just as intense. The feeling of being filled with Gajeel's dick, his cum, was so damn intoxicating that Freed felt half-drunk off the sensation. He was near delirious, only half aware that his cum shot across Gajeel's chest. The dragon-slayer continued thrusting hard and fast, riding out both of their orgasms until slowly coming to a stop, panting and red faced with a blotchy mark on his neck.

Freed looked down at his lover, grinning slightly.

"You're incredible," He whispered, leaning down and pressing his lips gently against Gajeel's. He cupped the man's cheek softly. "So beautiful."

"Yer pretty beautiful yourself," Gajeel grinned, expression almost lovesick. "Like a king."

"Would that make you my consort, then?"

"Nah, I'd be the castle blacksmith or something, the dirty little secret you can't stop coming back to," Gajeel smirked, and Freed chuckled slightly. "I ain't some boring rich guy. Kinda offended."

"You're certainly nor boring," Freed agreed. "But you're also not a secret anymore."

Gajeel seemed to remember that for a second, and a brilliant smile spread across his face. It made Freed's heart flutter.

Slowly, he removed himself from Gajeel's member, turning and resting so his back was against Gajeel's chest. It was silent again, the warm water covering their now exhausted bodies, and Freed relaxed into his lover's arms as he was slowly washed.

As the rush of orgasm dissipated, it was replaced by a feeling close to serenity. He was with the man he loved, and he no longer had to hide it. He could do what he wished with the man, go where they wanted, and do what they pleased without the need to look over their shoulders. It was incredible, a sense of freedom, as well as a promise of comradery. They were now a team, ready to face anything together.

Which was good, given the thought that had just struck Freed.

"Gajeel," He began. "Because I rushed the spell, my soundproofing runes weren't absolute. The effect only worked up to a certain volume."

"So if we were loud enough," Gajeel said slowly. "They would've heard like normal?"

"Correct," Freed nodded.

There was silence for a moment, before Gajeel grinned against the back of Freed's neck.

"Gihi."

[mummybear]

He’s Not You! - Part 13 - The Impossible Choice

Words: 3828

Warnings: Mentions of blood, Shooting, Sacrifice, Swearing, Thinks that’s it.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader/You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, OFC Witch, Mentions of Jody Mills

You sat beside Dean in the car that he had managed to ‘borrow’, less than twenty minutes ago, the silence was still heavy and awkward as hell, just like it had been the entire drive so far. You could only manage to look out the window, not trusting yourself to look over at him even for a second. Your heart was still hammering in your chest, you weren’t sure if it had stopped since you had confessed your feelings to him. You were also unsure if it was from the nerves, or from embarrassment of your earlier conversation. The time the witch had given the two of you was slowly running out, Dean had his foot to the floor, he was clearly missing his baby as he barrelled down the road in this stolen car. You could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of your head, it was taking everything that you had inside you to even attempt to ignore it. 

Hearing the squeak and groan of leather under his hands, it didn’t take much imagination to realise that Dean had a tight death grip on the steering wheel. You knew that he was worried, of course he was, about his brother, Bobby and Jody, you wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay, but you didn’t want to lie to him. In truth you had no idea if everything would be okay, even remotely. You were terrified of losing Bobby or Jody, you’d only just got them back you didn’t want to lose them too, definitely not this soon.

You’d felt a little sick yesterday, but you’d tried to ignore it, but as the day wore on today it was getting harder and harder to ignore. You were pulled from your thoughts at the sudden sound of Dean’s voice, “Aren’t you even gonna look at me now?” he asked a little sadly, sighing when you continued to look out of the window. “Sweetheart, please. It’s not t-” Dean started but you cut him off with your own sigh as you turned in your seat finally facing him, causing a sickening roll to go through your stomach..

“Don’t even finish that sentence Dean, for both our sakes. I don’t need the pity, okay. I’ll be fine, and so will you. I’m a big girl, I’ll deal. As soon as the spell is gone, then you can get on with your life. You won’t need me anymore when it’s done, everything will be back to normal” you tell him truthfully, your voice cracking towards the end of the sentence at the mere thought of not being near him anymore, you have to turn away to stop him from seeing the tears that fall from your eyes.

You pulled your legs up under you and tucked yourself up further against the door. In an attempt to comfort yourself somewhat. The longer the two of you weren’t touching you could feel him more again, like he was crawling under your skin. “That’s not what I want sweetheart” he said suddenly, surprising you when he moved a hand to rest gently on your thigh.

Heart practically stopping in your chest you finally glanced back at him, “What exactly are you saying Dean?” you asked reluctantly, you could feel his nerves as well as your own as Dean pulled up at your destination, an unexpected wave of nausea rolls through your stomach, slightly bubbling up in your throat, there’s a burning feeling and it disappears as soon as it had appeared. You have to grit your teeth to stop it from showing on your face.

He took your hand in his as he shifted awkwardly in his seat, “Look, I ain’t really any good at all of this. But before we go in there, you should know that this isn’t just some witch spell that I can’t wait to be shot of. You’re so much more than that, more than some fling that I wanna forget. I just need you to know that, this is all new to me, do you think you can just bare with me?” he asks somewhat shyly as a blush creeps across his cheeks. You bite your lip trying to hold back a smile, but fail miserably.

“Okay, I get it. I guess I might have overreacted, my emotions are kinda going crazy today I guess. I think I can handle that, we should just take every day as it comes. I’m sorry I guess my hormones are going crazy with this spell or something” you reply a little awkwardly, letting the smile finally grace your lips, a smile which Dean quickly returned. 

Dean pulled out the only two guns he had brought with him, checking the ammo he handed you one. You took it thanking him, he cupped your cheek with his free hand, “Can I please kiss you?” he breathes heavily against your lips. You bite your lip and nod at him. Dean pressed his lips gently to yours gently, your hands rest against his chest as you melt against him. He pulls away all to soon to look you in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it by the way, I get it. I was kind of a dick, could’ve handled it better. I’m sorry, everything you said, it’s completely understandable. Just stay close to me out here, okay?” he said quietly against your lips, you nodded slowly your hand covering his, you turned your head pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand before you let it go.

The two of you did as you had planned, you stayed close as you walked closer to the small cottage, Dean turned to you pressing a finger to his lips, you nodded keeping as close to his back as you could. 

Dean was careful as he approached the door, suddenly the handle moved and Dean reached behind him pushing you back against the wall, his arm across your chest as his back hit the wall beside you. He pressed a finger to his lips when you glanced over at him with wide eyes.

Swallowing hard you gave a shaky nod of your head, and Dean turns his head back towards the door, peering around the corner, his fingers curl around the stone corner of the cottage. Seeing the coast is clear he shifts closer to you again, pressing his lips to your ear. “I’ve gotta take a look sweetheart, wait here. I’ll be right back” he assures you quietly, as he pulls away to investigate further you pull him back against the wall.

“Hell no! You’re not going in there without me” you hiss back glaring at him.

“Don’t start this Y/N! I’ll be fine, I know what I’m doing. You being there is only gonna distract me. I’ve got a job to do and I need you safe” he replies a little louder than he meant to.

“Fine! But if you die or get cursed again then don’t blame me!” you huff in annoyance, holding out your arm for him to go ahead.

Dean rolls his eyes at you before walking out a little further than before, as you carefully sidled up to the window nearest to you and away from him. You think that you can make out the shape of a person, you move a fraction closer it’s a man you realise, the cap is the first thing to catch your attention and it quickly hits you, it’s Bobby. 

You clamp a hand over your mouth, covering and hiding the gasp that wants to escape. The side of his head is bleeding, you can even make out the blood flows freely down his cheek and into his beard. You edge a little closer, seeing further into the room hoping to find Jody, but there is no sign of her. However, you do quickly make out Sam’s face, he’s not to far away from Bobby. Both are seemingly held to the wall by nothing, unlike Bobby, Sam’s head and face are clear of injury, but as your eyes slide down you catch sight of the blood staining his shirt the slices in his shirt are covered with blood.

You can practically feel Dean’s heart beating along with your own, feel the heat of his skin as though it were your own. Your eyes immediately find him as he enters the door slowly, you see no sign of the witch so you remain quiet. You can’t stop yourself from watching his every careful step, he keeps his gun raised and eyes forward as he closes the door quietly behind him. 

The room is pitch black but Dean moves as though he can see, nobody could deny just how impressive Dean Winchester was as a hunter. You watch as he finds Sam first gently tapping his face with his hand. Your eyes catch something in the reflection of the window, you reach into your waistband for your gun. But a hand gripping the back of your head by your hair stops you.

You wince a little but refuse to give this bitch what she wants. You can see her smirk in the reflection when your hand finally grips your gun, her face remained unchanged as she pulled your head back roughly by your hair, smashing your head into the side of the building. Which causes your gun to slip from your hand, but not before you had managed squeezed the trigger. The bullet that you had fired had no real destination, except to alert Dean to the problem at hand. Your vision began to cloud on the second strike, you could even feel the magic behind this one, “Nighty night bitch” you hear as your world fades to black. 

When you finally come back to reality, you groan in pain feeling the thumping in your head as it drops sideways onto your arm, which are both pulled above your head. You know you’re tied up in a matter of seconds, you blink your eyes open wincing as the bright lights hit your them. “Dean?” you groan hoarsely, doing your best to blink through your blurred vision as you look around a little pointlessly at first.

Then you spot him as your vision clear, you wince at the marks across his face it doesn’t take long for you to feel the anger practically bubbling under your skin. “S’Okay sweetheart, I’m good” Dean slurs unconvincingly and you hear a laugh that makes your stomach clench painfully, as the bile rises in your throat. 

The witch smirks looking between the pair of you as she walks closer to Dean. “Don’t you fucking touch him” you warn her through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the pain that’s still bouncing around in your head. She turns to you with a twisted grin, as she runs one of her long nails along Dean’s jaw. You can practically see how that strong jaw clenches in protest, you growl somewhere low in your chest as blood begins to roll down her finger. 

“So possessive, you really should learn to share” she chuckles at you darkly, pulling her hand away from his face, only for her tongue to run over the mark she’d made on his skin. She pulls away from Dean properly this time, his invisible biding pull him back flat against the wall. You watch as she practically glides across the floor, making her way over to you. 

“Where’s Jody?” you ask suddenly, she seems taken aback for a second before she recovers, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

“The woman is alive. I didn’t really need her, but she was a need to an end. Like you and not so little Sammy, even the old man” she tells you easily, her eyes are on Dean as she reaches forward tucking some hair behind your ear. Her lips press to your ear and you do your best to lean away from her, “You see little girl, Dean has been a very bad boy. He took someone from me, now he has to pay” she tells you simply, just loud enough that Dean can hear, you swallow thickly as one of her fingers brushes across your throat. You know all too well that she could kill you right now if she wanted.

Unfortunately your body picks this as a good time to betray you, your eyes move to Dean and you can feel the shake of your legs and everything in between. “I swear to god if you fucking hurt her, I’ll-” Dean starts his threat but never finishes, with a flick of her wrist an invisable objects strikes his face hard enough to draw blood.

“Don’t be rude! We’re talking” the witch snaps rolling her eyes before turning back to you. Your eyes remain on Dean and you watch as his white teeth sink into that plump bottom lip and you know he feels it to. 

She snaps her fingers and your body slumps in relief, Dean does the same his body going lax in whatever hold he’s in. You hear Bobby grunt from beside you and your head snaps towards him, “Bobby?” you ask desperately, trying to get to your uncle even though you know it’s pointless. 

“I see that plan went well then?” he laughs dryly, his eyes flicking around the room. 

“Enough!” the witch fumes, there's a snap of her fingers and only you Sam and Dean are left in the room with her.

You blink rapidly at the now empty space and your head snaps to her so fast it's almost painful. “Where the hell did you send him!?” you ask quickly, trying to keep the worry from your voice. Her hand strikes your face and you moan as the heated pain radiates across your skin, you can hear Dean raging at her but you can’t hear his words your completely focused on her. She seems to notice that, made evident by her smile.

“He and the woman are fine, simply in the other room. Now, I believe that I was talking” she tells you quietly, you nod only thinking that listening could keep the two of them safe.

“Dean, I’m okay. Let’s just get this over with” you sigh just about meeting his eyes over the witches shoulder, she smiles patting your head. “Get to the point” you deadpan, meeting her eyes.

“Fair enough” the witch smirks, easily moving Dean so he slams against the wall beside you. You frown in confusion as Sam hits his other side, but it’s a lot more careful than the way she had tossed Dean. He’s still out of it that much you can see. Dean’s close enough for his fingers to brush against yours, “As I was saying, Dean took my world away from me that day he came for my family. I could’ve handled losing every single one of them, but he just had to finish the job. Had to take her from me” she tells you before turning her attention to Dean. “She told you we would leave, that we didn’t want anything to do with what our coven was doing! You couldn’t just leave well enough alone could you!” she spits angrily, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“Get rid of the water works you psychotic bitch. Look at you now. You and your little girlfriend were just as bad as the rest of them. I only messed up when I didn’t finish the job, when you survived” Dean spits hatefully, his tone turns curious as he speaks again. “Why curse me though, you had a shot, then why not just kill me?” Dean asks cocking his head to the side, that dangerous smirk on his lips.

Unfortunately, that makes her smile, worryingly. She even manages to smile through the tear that has slipped from her cheek, halting all others in their tracks, “I wanted you to find her” she says her eyes flicking to you before she continues, “She was the next person in your future, she was perfect for you Dean. Sweet, innocent, yet damaged and she needed a white knight to save her. Meant to be, I wanted the two of you to fall for each other, fall so hard that nobody else mattered, yet you both managed to still care for others” she states a little annoyed, but she tries to shrug it off, another smile curling her lips further more dangerous than before, “Unfortunately for you Dean, that will make this next part, oh so much harder” she grins her hand stroking Sam’s face and his eyes blink open dreamily.

“What do you want?” you ask tiredly, she glances at you and her smile makes you want to throw up. Her hand rests on your stomach and she smiles harder.

“Well the surprises just keep coming,” she says happily, clapping her hands looking between you and Dean, which only makes the three of you frown in confusion. She pulls out Dean’s gun from behind her back, as she bends whispering something against your stomach. You let out a loud groan as a pain rolls through your stomach, it was like nothing you’d felt in your entire life, like no pain you’d ever experienced. Then she straightens up, you Sam and Dean fall to the ground in a pile. 

Something is wrong but you can’t explain it, wouldn’t know where to start. “What did you do to her?” Dean growls getting to his feet  but he can’t get close to her, there’s an invisible barrier stopping him. He drops down in front of you, he helps you stand beside him as Sam comes to stand on the other side of his brother. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. Your ties to each other are gone, just checking that I was correct” she grins and you all look at her confused, “Anyway Dean, you have two options right now, either you kill your brother, the boy you’ve brought up most of his life. Or, you kill the woman that you love” she says simply handing Dean the gun, he snatches it, immediately shooting the gun at her, but the bullet rebounds, instead of hitting its target it hits the wall behind you. “Not gonna work on me or you honey, before you get any ideas of self sacrifice, you don’t get to die. I want you broken, totally and completely broken. Now chose” she says with an evil look taking over her face.

Dean throws the gun to the ground, but it is whipped up and tossed right back at him. “Either you kill one, or I will kill both of them,” she tells him angrily, as a deep dark purple colour flashes through her eyes.

“I can’t” Dean says shakilly, his voice and his hands shaking more than you had ever seen them. He’s simply looking between the two of you, he looks lost already and the anger is there, but it’s being outshone by the hurt and pain of this decision. You can see how much this is hurting him and it’s killing you to see that look on his beautiful face, the face you loved,you already knew you’d do anything to keep him safe, protect him from the pain. You know the right thing to do, it’s not even a real choice, not from where you’re standing.

You step in front of him, taking both of his hands in yours, the one which is still holding the gun. You hold them against your body with one hand, letting your free hand cup his cheek, “We both know where this is going honey, even if you haven’t let yourself admit it” you smile sadly, as your thumb grazes his cheek, he leans into your touch and shakes his head, only making you smile. 

“It’s okay, It’s all gonna be okay, I promise. I need you to know, that I wouldn’t change a single thing that’s happened between us, I love you Dean Winchester, I don’t care that it’s fast, or what other people think. I need you to know, I need you to hear me and really listen. When I say that this is not your fault, none of it. It’s just something that needs to happen in our fucked up world. Another obstacle between you and saving the world, even if it’s one person at a time. I believe in you, I know you can do this. Just do one thing for me, tell Jody and Bobby I love them, tell them I chose this. Because if anyone upsets you, I’ll be haunting their ass” you smile through your tears, wiping away Dean’s as you step closer and move his finger to the trigger of his gun. 

You hadn’t looked at Sam, because as always since the day you met him, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of the man in front of you. Dean pulled his finger away from the trigger and shook his head, “I can’t do it. I can’t shoot you, I won’t” he practically whimpered against your hand, finally meeting your eyes. You ignored the snickering of the witch behind you, Dean’s jaw went stiff in your hand as he swallowed hard. 

You leaned closer pressing your lips to his, the kiss was slow and sweet and something so different to anything the two of you had shared. Dean saw it for what it was, you saying goodbye. His hands tightened on the gun, but you squeezed the trigger yourself and the gun dropped to the floor between you.

Dean’s wide eyes met yours and everything seemed to happen so fast, you had no idea where Jody and Bobby had come from. There was a tired smile on your lips as you collapsed to the floor, which you never hit, Dean’s arms wrapped around you and you fell back against his chest. It was all a blur of people, gunshots and loud angry screaming and Dean calling your name, but you were quickly losing focus. 

“So tired” you mumbled, leaning back into Dean as he squeezes you tighter, you can feel him gently rocking you, with his lips pressed against the top of your head. You smiled down at Sam as he applied pressure to your wound. “Look after him Sammy, he’s a big teddy bear really” you slur as your head falls to the side of Dean’s shoulder.

“Y/N stay with us okay, you’ve gotta keep your eyes open” Sam tells you firmly, you nod sleepily, his words not really registering. The blood is warm as it pools around you, Dean’s body is so warm all you want to do is sleep.

“Talk to me sweetheart, please” Dean begs as Sam tells him to move, that you all need to move.

“In the morning Dean, please. I’m too tired” you mumble before your eyes close, the last thing you hear is Dean shouting your name before blackness surrounds you like a blanket.

Tags: @lusyschwa @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desiree-0816 @emichelle @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @bangtasticbobby @justanotherwinchester @vicmc624 @stoneyggirl @iamy-n @deans-baby-momma @fandom-princess-forevermore​  @flamencodiva​ @hobby27​

[cherryrogers]

falling for you {ch. 3}

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | high school au

warnings: mentions of an unhealthy relationship, mostly fluff.

synopsis: Unlike most teenagers, you had your life completely mapped out. You’d graduate high school, go off to the university of your dreams, and live the life that your parents always wanted you to. That was the plan. Falling for Bucky Barnes, however, was never part of that plan.

a/n: just wanted to say that the warnings are different for each chapter, but the synopsis is always for the whole fic - just in case that was confusing :) pls enjoy !!

Series Masterlist

Usually, weekends for you consisted of textbooks and flashcards galore, and of course, a helping of hanging out with Bucky on the side. It hadn’t been until Sunday since you actually heard from him since seeing him at school, so on Saturday, you’d planned to get as much work as possible done so that a burden wasn’t weighing on you when Bucky inevitably whisked you away from your bedroom the next day.

However, you somehow managed to get nothing done. Your parents still hadn’t called you about the dreaded detention that’d ruined your perfect record, which was a relieving sign at first. Although as time went on, the relief began to build into more and more anxiety. Maybe they hadn’t checked in with the school yet, maybe they just didn’t know you had detention. The thought even occurred to you that perhaps they knew you had detention, but just hadn’t called you to complain about it. That seemed very unlikely, however — when any chance to lecture you appeared, they usually took it. You knew the call was coming, it was bound to, and the thought would be keeping you on edge until it actually happened. In a way, you wished they’d just call and get it over with; they’d pointlessly lectured you enough times for you to learn to tune it out.

Bucky had shown up to your house on Sunday morning, insisting that he took you out to this diner that him and the guys went to all the time. You’d woken up late that morning, after the stress of the day prior had drained you of all energy, to the sound of pounding on your door.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” He greeted you, smirking as he eyed your pyjama shorts and oversized hoodie, as well as your far from tidy hair. It was a first for him, seeing you in a still half-asleep state. The boy had forgotten to text you first, much to your frustration, but only because he was set on getting to your house as quick as possible so that you didn’t miss the breakfast specials at the diner. Besides, he still thought you were as pretty as ever, even when you’d just rolled out of bed.

He wished he could tell you that.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes with fisted hands as you attempted to not be blinded by the sudden rush of daylight through your door. “Please tell me there’s a good reason why you’re incessantly banging on my door.”

“We’re gonna take you out for breakfast, sweets.”

“We? Who else is—”

“Hey, hot stuff.” You were cut off by another voice, one you immediately recognised as Sam Wilson’s. Leaning to the side to look around Bucky, you rolled your eyes as Sam winked at you, blatantly mocking your outfit as he leaned casually against his car.

Next to him, Steve narrowed his eyes at the boy before turning to you and giving you a shy smile. “Hey, (Y/N).”

Giving both of them a hesitant wave, you set your eyes back on Bucky. Although there was that annoying voice in the back of your head screaming at you that you needed to study, you weren’t about to turn the boy down. Even if you did, you doubted he’d take ‘no’ for an answer.

Plus, you felt bad about making Bucky worry about you on Friday. Though there wasn’t really anything for him to be concerned about, you hated thinking that you were putting some sort of emotional burden on him. At the same time, however, you didn’t want him to think you didn’t care. If you kept trying to emotionally distance yourself from him, it wasn’t going to do either of you any good. You couldn’t just study to distract yourself from the rest of your life, as much as you wished you could. When you had lunch with Pietro, that seemed to make you feel better, so you were sure going out with Bucky would do the same.

“Alright, give me twenty minutes to get ready.”

“Really? No ‘I need to study’ bullshit?”

“Do you want me to make this harder for you?”

Bucky’s smirk faded into a soft smile after chuckling a little. “No, I’m glad you wanna come. See you in the car, sweets.”

After nodding and closing the front door, Bucky grinned to himself in content before making his way back over to Sam’s car.

An hour later, the four of you were tucked into a booth in the retro diner. Carter’s, it was called. Bucky and you were sat on one side of the booth, his arm resting on the top of your seat, just grazing the back of your head, while the other two boys sat opposite.

The diner was rather lovely — it had a pale pink and blue theme, gleaming neons signs placed all along the walls, even an old jukebox in the far corner playing songs from the fifties. It was quite spacious, having lots of tables and booths scattered across the tiled floor, and the place happened to be pretty crowded.

“So, what is it about this place that you like so much?” You asked, not to any of the boys in particular.

Bucky let out a laugh. “I think Steve can answer that one for you.”

Your brows furrowed before you turned your head to look at Steve, whose cheeks had began to tint a rosy pink.

“I have a friend that works here.”

“Friend? Didn’t she stay the night at your place, like, last week?” Sam questioned, earning himself a glare from the blond as Bucky snorted.

“Well, yeah. But it’s more than that; Peggy’s different.”

“That’s sweet, Steve,” You gave him a smile. “Is she still in school?”

“She goes to Shield High, yeah.”

Sam raised a brow. “Ain’t that the fancy girls school a few blocks away?”

“It’s the same one Natasha goes to.”

“Who’s Natasha?” You asked, and an odd silence followed your question. Dumbly, Sam and Steve slowly shifted their eyes towards Bucky.

You copied them, turning to look at the boy next to you, who seemed to have joined in with the uncomfortable silence too. Cocking a brow, you looked back over to the other two boys, and after a couple of quiet seconds, you got your answer.

“She’s Bucky’s ex-girlfriend,” Sam spoke, sipping his coffee to try and hide his amused smirk. “Didn’t you know? I mean, they were together for a year. A whole ass year, I thought everybody—”

“Sam, stop talking.” Steve sighed, glaring at his friend, who soon realised that perhaps not everyone was aware of the past relationship. If you’d been looking his way, you would’ve seen the awkward smile that’d settled on his lips.

Bucky’s ex-girlfriend. Natasha was Bucky’s girlfriend for a year, a year, and you had never heard her name slip from his lips once. Your gaze was set on the table, unable yet to look up at Bucky who you could sense now swarmed with guilt. Not that there was any reason for him to feel guilty. It was clearly none of your business, clearly something he didn’t want you involved in.

Before Bucky could interject, a waitress began to approach your booth, the clicking of her heels against the tiles stopping once she’d made it over. When your eyes flicked up to look at her, you were almost taken aback by her looks. She was gorgeous, definitely — her lips were painted a cherry red, and her chocolate curls were resting comfortably on her shoulders.

And by the way Steve was looking at her, you were sure he was thinking the same thing. It was pretty safe to assume the the waitress was the friend he’d been talking about.

The blond beamed up at her as she greeted him before beginning to share a sweet conversation, Sam watching them in amusement. Meanwhile, Bucky took their distraction as an opportunity to shuffle closer to you in his seat, his right thigh now pressing against your left.

The moment might’ve had your heart racing if your head wasn’t clouded with confusion over why you’d been kept in the dark by him.

Leaning down so that the conversation was kept quiet, Bucky began to talk. “I know what you’re thinking; I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Natasha. I promise, I’ll explain it all when it’s just us.”

“When were you guys together?” You asked simply, but curious as to why Bucky felt he had to apologise.

A sigh escaped his lips. “We broke up the summer before junior year. Dated when we were both sophomores.”

It felt like a punch to the gut for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, knowing Bucky had kept a whole relationship from you. A year long relationship that ended only months before you met him. A year was a long time to spend with someone — Natasha was surely someone that meant a lot to him. Countless times, you’d told Bucky your embarrassing crush stories and about the utter awkwardness that was your first kiss. There wasn’t a lot about your past that he didn’t know, so why hadn’t he trusted you with such a large part of his life?

You made the assumption that he’d never been in a proper relationship before, and since you’d never been in one either, it gave you a sense of comfort. Thinking you could relate to Bucky in that you’d never felt so strongly for someone, that you’d never loved someone. Was Bucky ever in love with her? Was he still? And what did he think of you? God, he probably thought you were pathetic. Just a little girl who’d never been in love, who’d never been on a date, who’d never done the dirty. Not that he knew that, but he could assume it, since you had a better relationship with the librarian at the library near your house than you’d ever had with another teenager.

You know what? It’s not like you and Bucky were a thing - why did he feel like he had something to explain? Hell, he could still be dating the girl and you’d be... fine with it. Yes, it’d be perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t it be? You hated having to tell yourself that you and Bucky were only friends a hundred times a day, but it was the only way to stop yourself from overthinking into a mental breakdown.

“Sweets, you okay?” His voice broke you from your trance, and you immediately inched yourself closer to the window of the diner, so your side was no longer pressed against Bucky’s.

His heart sunk at the loss of warmth from you, but he guessed he sort of deserved it. God, why hadn’t he told you before?

“I’m fine, James.” James. That’s how he knew he had fucked up.

“(Y/N)-”

“Excuse me, can we order now, please?” You pretended not to hear Bucky, leaning your elbows onto the table and interrupting Steve and Peggy’s conversation.

Peggy nodded, grabbing a pen from the pocket of her apron. “Sorry, of course you can. What can I get you all?”

Steve looked a little bummed that he didn’t have more time to talk with her, but your head was crowded with too many questions and thoughts to acknowledge his expression. “Uh, I’ll just get another coffee, thanks.”

“(Y/N), you haven’t touched your first cup.” Steve frowned slightly, glancing at the cup in front of you that was still filled to the brim.

“Oh.” You said weakly, now feeling like a bit of an idiot. “You know, I don’t feel too good. I think I’m just gonna walk home.”

“Are you sure? I can give you a ride if you want, (Y/N).” Sam offered.

I think you’ve done enough, Sam - Bucky thought to himself. He knew it was his own fault for not telling you about Natasha, but it would’ve been helpful if Sam hadn’t blurted it out in your presence.

“Thanks, Sam, but it’s okay. I think i just need some fresh air.” You turned to the side, not fully looking at Bucky as you spoke to him. “Could I get out of the booth, please?”

“I’ll go with you, make sure you get home alright.” The boy stated, sliding along and out of the booth. You didn’t even try to tell him not to go with you, because you honestly wanted to talk to him about the whole ordeal. He nodded his head towards Steve and Sam. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Bye guys, and thanks for the coffee, Peggy.” Even though you didn’t drink any of it, you still thanked the waitress while rummaging through your jean pocket, pulling out a five dollar bill and placing it on the table before heading for the exit of the diner, Bucky following quickly behind you.

The cold air hit your body as soon as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, and you crossed your bare arms over your chest, regretting not bringing a jacket out.

Bucky walked next to you, keeping his distance a little, not wanting to make matters worse. He wished he could read your mind, know what you were thinking. You never really got into any sort of dispute with each other, because there had never really been any drama between you two. Bucky didn’t care what he had to do to resolve it, however - he just couldn’t stand you being mad at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?” Your voice startled him, not expecting you to be the one to break the silence. While your eyes were locked on the pavement as you walked, you were listening intently, ready for whatever he had to say after you’d finished speaking. “I know things ended a while before we met, but I thought...”

The boy furrowed his brows, looking down at you. “You thought what, sweets?”

He noticed how you jaw clenched at the pet name, and he regretted letting it slip out. Not the time, Barnes.

“I thought, well- okay. I... I told you about my parents, and how they tend to care more about my grades than how I’m doing; I told Wanda about them too, but I don’t think she really understands, not like you do. And it was important for me to tell you that, because... because sometimes, it’s kinda hard to deal with.” You hated how you were opening up to him. You were supposed to be mad at him. But even then, did you even have the right to be mad? “And I know that this isn’t about me, but what I’m trying to say is that it helps, knowing that you understand what I’m dealing with - it helps me a lot.”

A smile appeared on Bucky’s lips. It felt good hearing that from you, that you felt like he understood you better than your own best friend. That he helped you. Sometimes, he felt like he didn’t help you at all, interrupting you while you studied at the library and absentmindedly flirting with you all the time. If he couldn’t be anything more, he wanted to be... a friend. Even though he felt like the term ‘friends’ didn’t quite fit you and him, he just wanted to be there for you. Even if it hurt him being just that.

“A year is a long time to be with someone, Bucky.” You continued, walking a bit closer alongside him. “It must’ve been an important part of your life, being in that relationship, and I guess I just don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me stuff.”

“(Y/N), of course I feel like I can tell you things. You know that I trust you more than anyone, right?” Bucky nudged you with his elbow, making you look up at him. Well, now you knew that, and there were those damn butterflies in your stomach again.

“I’m glad, Buck. But if that’s true, why didn’t you ever tell me about Natasha?”

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Bucky began to talk. “Natasha and I... we weren’t good for each other. We went to the same middle school, and I stayed friends with her when she went off to Shield High. We started dating around year later, and it was good at first. I’d never been so close to someone before, you know? I told her things that I’d never even told Steve. And it felt great to have someone I could be so open with. But... it wasn’t like that all the time.”

When Bucky turned his head towards you, he noticed how you were shivering from the icy air. Without saying anything, he removed his leather jacket from around his body and quickly placed it over your shoulders, to which you responded with a thankful smile as you pushed your arms through the sleeves. After nodding at the boy, indicating for him to continue speaking, Bucky let out a breath.

“Sometimes, the girl was... as sour as a lemon. One minute, she’d be listening to my problems as if it was her soul purpose to help me with them. But the next, I wouldn’t hear from her for days. She’d ignore my calls, avoid me on the weekends, and eventually she’d stop being bitter and pretend like everything was right as rain. At one point, I sorta realised that she never opened up to me, and when I tried talking to her about it, she told me I was being ridiculous. It was like... like she was cold, and I burned, you know? It was never gonna work in the long run, and I think she knew that too.

And I never told you because I didn’t want you to think I was... weak.”

Yep, your heart definitely broke when those words left his lips.

“Bucky...” You gazed up at him with sad eyes. “Why would you say that?”

He stared hardly at the ground, unable to meet your gaze. “My mom always used to say that the key to relationships... was commitment. That if you can’t commit to someone through thick and thin, then you ain’t with the right someone. When I ended things with Natasha, I felt like I was taking the easy way out. She was a great girl, and I still really liked her when I broke it off. I thought that maybe if I told you about it all, you’d think I was the type of guy who ended a relationship when things got too hard, when I couldn’t handle the bumps in the road. That’s not how I wanted to be thought of, especially not by you.”

You shook your head, tugging on his arm with your hand to get him to look at you. “Ending a relationship because it’s unhealthy, even when you still have strong feelings for the other person? That doesn’t make you weak, Bucky. Strength is having the self respect to do that for yourself.”

Now you understood Bucky’s reasoning behind keeping Natasha from you. Sure, it broke your heart that he felt like he couldn’t say anything in case you thought of him negatively because of it, but hopefully now he knew that you could never think of him like that.

It took you by surprise when you felt his fingers brushing against the back of your hand, before he slowly laced them with yours, enveloping your cold hand with his warm one.

“Is this okay?” He almost whispered, giving your hand a squeeze.

For a moment, you hesitated. Holding hands with Bucky? Not something you’d ever done before. To some, holding hands might be just an innocent gesture. But to you, it was truly the most intimacy you’d ever experienced - your awful first kiss when you were fourteen was anything but intimate. And because it was with Bucky, the hand holding meant all the more to you.

Glancing between his eyes and his hand wrapped around yours, you nodded before biting back a smile. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

How were you meant to suppress your feelings for him when you were getting weak at the knees from the boy simply holding your hand?You should’ve said no. You should’ve pulled your hand away, and told him it couldn’t happen.

But you didn’t. You didn’t want to. You let yourself be selfish and basked in the comfort of being close to him all the way home. It was silent the rest of the way, but it was pleasant. And when he dropped you back at your front door, you felt like you were a teenage girl in a movie, gazing up at the boy you liked - didn’t like - as if he was some sort of angel.

“Thanks for... listening to me before.” Bucky let go of your hand after giving it a squeeze, but still stood close enough so that your chests were almost touching. “I still feel bad about not telling you about Natasha earlier-”

“It’s no problem, Bucky, really.” You reassured him. Once you were no longer holding hands with him, reality suddenly set in again. Oh, god. What had you done? Now he thought it was okay to hold your hand, which it certainly wasn’t. Nothing more than that could happen. You couldn’t be anything more than friends. You just couldn’t. “And you shouldn’t feel bad - it’s... it’s not like we’re together., it’s not like you had to tell me.”

His eyes darted to the ground, and while you knew that saying that completely ruined the mood, you had to. If he did still have any feelings for you, you couldn’t lead him on and let him believe that you could be together. Even if deep down, that’s what you wanted too, it just wasn’t ever going to work. He’d been in a relationship like that before, and you couldn’t do that to him again.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bucky nodded, slowly inching away from you. “Are you gonna be alright for the rest of the day?”

You couldn’t help the smile forming on your lips at his question. “I’ll be fine, Buck. Thanks for walking me back.”

“S’okay.” He nodded, about to turn around and head off elsewhere. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” You confirmed, turning to your front door and unlocking it. A weight still felt like it was sitting on your shoulders. Like there was something you needed to say.

“Bucky?” You called over your shoulder, pushing open the door but keeping your eyes on the boy who had stopped in his tracks at you calling his name.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Yeah?”

Letting out an exhale, you locked your eyes with his. “You’re a lot of things, Buck, but weak? That’s far from any of them. Nobody thinks that of you - I know I definitely don’t.”

The boy stayed standing still for a moment, and his gaze never wavered in the slightest. For months, that was what he told himself. That breaking it off with Natasha was selfish, cowardly, even. He was afraid that you’d think the same of him - that was something he never wanted. But somehow, a simple sentence from you miraculously calmed his cluttered thoughts of guilt and insecurity. Somehow, you just had the effect on him.

“That means a lot, sweets.” The sincerity in your words was evident, so much that he felt guilty about not being able to resist making a joke about how nice you were being. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

You let out a laugh, your next words flowing from your mouth without a second thought. “You’re special, Bucky, and you don’t need anyone telling you that for it to be true.”

God, what turned you into so much of a sap?

A smirk played on Bucky’s lips. “Maybe, but I actually sorta believe it when it comes from you, doll.”

The sentence brought goosebumps to your skin, which gave you a sudden reminder that the boy’s treasured leather jacket was still wrapping you in warmth. You called out to him again as he began walking off your driveway and onto the sidewalk.

“Hey, don’t you want your jacket back?”

“Keep it; I’ve got too many leather jackets to my name, anyway.”

And so, you were left alone at your door, tugging Bucky’s jacket tighter around your frame, inhaling the scent of his cologne and thinking longingly about the feeling of your hand in his.

He was right when he said that he burned. He burned right through the walls built around your heart and somehow managed to set a fire within your whole body. That wasn’t meant to happen, you weren’t supposed to let it happen. But you did, and now...

Now, you were well and truly, fucked.

* * *

Series Taglist:

@itz-kira @americas-ass-assins

[rsbry-beret]

Situation After Situation

Yes, it IS more Tobin x Leif

Find it on Ao3 here :)

1.

Leif adjusted his glasses for the third time in as many minutes, and Tobin knew something was up.

“Bro.” Tobin scooted his chair backwards so he was sitting next to Leif. “What’s shakin’?”

Leif stared at him blankly for a second before gesturing pointlessly at the computer screen. “Emails.”

“Cool, cool. I see that, I respect that. I raise you, snack break?”

Leif’s shoulders looked tense. He lifted his glasses to rub his eyes, and Tobin noticed the heavy shadows beneath them. Man, he was an awful friend, not even noticing how tired Leif looked. They should revoke his bro card.

“I can’t, Tobin. I really have to get this done.” He smiled apologetically, the one he used on Joan and Zoey, not the one he usually used with Tobin.

Tobin frowned and stood up, moving behind Leif. “Okay bro, fine. You can do your emails or whatever, but I’m giving you a shoulder massage while you do them.”

Leif froze up even more. “Uh, what?” he said, voice suddenly high.

Tobin lay his hands firmly on Leif’s shoulders. “I’m gonna give you a massage. You need to chill, dude. You look exhausted, and you’re never going to actually get shit done if you can’t even keep your eyes open.” Tobin started rubbing Leif’s shoulders.

“Right. Right, okay.” Life’s voice was still high. “Thanks, man.” After a second, Leif continued typing on his keyboard.

After a few minutes Tobin started to feel his muscles relax. Good. He leaned over Leif’s shoulder to see what he was typing and saw that he had stopped doing stuff. “Dude, are you finished?”

Leif started. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am. Sorry, guess I zoned out for a second there.”

Tobin dropped his hands and smiled at Leif when he turned around. “Cool man! Snack break?”

“Sure,” Leif replied, voice still weird and high. He rubbed his arm awkwardly and began walking towards the cereal bar. “Sounds good. Bro.”

2.

When Leif walked in the door of their apartment he looked completely drained.

It was past Tobin why Leif always insisted on biking to work. The bus was faster, and dry when it rained, and it wasn’t like Leif didn’t get any exercise- he worked at a standing desk all day, he jogged on the weekends, he was a healthy guy.

And anyway, on the days when Leif stayed up late gaming or worrying or working, he was always so tired the next day, and yet he still insisted that he couldn’t break the habit. It drove Tobin nuts.

So when Tobin saw Leif, droopy shoulders and glasses askew, he couldn’t not say something.

“Dude. Come lay down.”

Leif dropped his keys on the table and dropped onto the couch without comment. Wordlessly, he spread out, resting his head on Tobin’s lap and closing his eyes.

Tobin held still for a second before turning the tv on, absentmindedly flipping through the channels until he landed on a nature documentary. Tobin thought they were boring, but he knew Leif liked listening to them when he needed to get to sleep.

The British narrator said something about butterfly migration and Tobin felt Leif melt into his lap. He reached out and started gently carding his hand through his hair. The shaved part at the back felt weird and a little scratchy, and the top felt slightly stiff, like Leif had styled it with something, but then Leif let out a big sigh and seemed to drop off into sleep, so Tobin didn’t bother stopping.

The hours dragged on.

Eventually the tv ran out of documentaries, so Tobin turned it off before it cut to the evening news.

He probably should get up and start dinner, or at least call for takeout, but that would require standing to get his phone, and that seemed like the worst choice he could make, so he just sighed and finally let himself drift off too, leaning against the armrest and with his hand still resting in Leif’s hair.

When he woke up the next morning, Leif had already left for his Saturday jog.

3.

Tobin watched Leif’s leg shake up and down underneath the conference table. He had a presentation after Zoey, and clearly he was freaking out about it.

Personally, Tobin didn’t think he had anything to be worried about. Zoey was smart, sure, but she wasn’t a genius like Leif was, and she was way less charming.

But clearly Leif didn’t get the memo.

Quietly, without looking at him, Tobin reached out underneath the table and set his hand on Leif’s knee.

It immediately stopped shaking.

And then, very slowly, Tobin felt Leif’s hand move to lay on top of his.

When Leif stood to present, he smiled at Tobin, small and private and grateful, and Tobin smiled back.

4.

Leif’s presentation was totally fly, to nobody’s surprise except apparently Leif. Tobin had insisted on going out to celebrate, and Leif hadn’t objected, so they were at a bar and Tobin was smiling and so was Leif and it was actually kinda perfect.

Tobin watched the lights flash blue-pink-blue on Leif’s face. He looked dangerously kissable which, woah, drunk-Tobin thinks some pretty weird thoughts. He was gonna put that thought in a box, and then burn that box. Mentally. Not really burn things- at this point he was pretty sure his alcohol concentration was so high that he’d burst into flames just by standing near a fire, although considering the fact that part of his brain was still wondering what it’d be like to touch Leif’s cheek, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Tobin threw back another shot.

If he was being honest with himself, he’d been thinking about kissing Leif long before that night. He just had a very kissable face. And personality. Can a person’s personality be kissable? Tobin didn’t want to think about this. He couldn’t stop thinking about this.

God, he’d been staring too long, right? What was a totally heterosexual thing to do to diffuse this weird tension?

Oh god, wait, this meant he wasn’t heterosexual. Put it in the box, Tobin.

“Bro!” he said suddenly, slamming his empty glass on the countertop. Leif looked at him funnily. “Bro! We need like… a… handshake.”

“A handshake?”

“Yeah, man. Dude. A secret handshake.” Tobin stood up and immediately sat down again. Bad idea. Dizzy. “For best friends. A best friend secret handshake. We’re best friends, right Leif?”

Leif smiled softly, finally looking away from Tobin to trace patterns on the bar counter with his pinky finger. “Yeah, Tobes. We’re best friends.”

“Good. Good good good. You’re a- you’re a good best friend, Leif. We need a handshake.”

Leif looked up again, then turned on his stool to face Tobin, smiling indulgently. Some corner of Tobin’s head was aware that he was much more sober than Tobin was, but he was mostly too focused on holding back the kiss him kiss him kiss him on the lips and the forehead and the cheek and the top of his head part of his thoughts to worry about much else.

Tobin turned messily, facing Leif. Their knees bumped. “Okay. Okay okay. So it starts with a fist bump.”

Leif held out a fist agreeably. Tobin tried to hit it and missed it, twice. Leif laughed and stood, only staggering a little.

“Maybe we should go home, Tobin.”

“No, dude,” Tobin whined. “What about our handshake?”

Leif looked at the floor and then back up again. “We can make one tomorrow.”

“Promise dude?” Tobin stood up and almost fell over. Leif’s arm caught him and pulled him close to his side, keeping him upright.

“Yeah.” Leif looked down at him. They were so close. “Promise.” He pushed Tobin away, just a little. He was still close enough to lean on Leif for support but not so close as to… do anything else.

Tobin dug out his wallet and put two twenty dollar bills on the counter. They headed home.

5.

Leif was hiding in an isolation pod again.

Tobin wanted to respect his boundaries, he really did, and usually when Leif ran off somewhere alone it was because he wanted to be alone. He was smart like that, didn’t push people away when he really needed company or whatever like Tobin did sometimes.

It was just that Leif had looked really sad this morning. And his eyes were all puffy and red like he was about to start crying, and his nails were uneven in the way they only got when he started chewing them from stress.

It was just that Tobin had recently come to the terms that he was in love with his best friend. And his best friend was sad. And Tobin didn’t think he could just… watch him be sad.

So when everybody was out for lunch, Tobin rapped a little rhythm on the door of Leif’s isolation pod, then opened it without waiting for a response.

Leif was staring at something past his laptop screen, crying. He hadn’t even looked up.

Silently, Tobin awkwardly climbed inside with Leif, curled around him, and closed the door. Leif just buried his face in Tobin’s shoulder, and Tobin’s hand came up to rest on his lower back, tracing small circles there.

“Hey, Leif,” he eventually said.

“Hey, Tobin,” Leif responded, voice cracking.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

And so they didn’t. Tobin just stayed there, intertwined with Leif, until he was too tired to keep crying.

+1.

Tobin hadn’t ever been this angry before in his life. Yeah, he started a fist fight when someone insulted Brian David Gilbert and sure, he may have been the one to toilet paper James Tanner’s house when he had called Tobin names that didn’t bear repeating in High School, but he’d never felt like this.

He’d never felt like he could really, actually hurt someone. He’d never had his vision blur, never had his hands start shaking so bad that they automatically curled into fists.

If this guy said another word about Leif Donnelly, Tobin didn’t want to think about what he might do.

Leif reached out and touched Tobin’s shoulder. Leif turned Tobin away from the guy at the bar, and led him out of the building, and to the bus, and through their apartment doorway, and Tobin could still feel his brain buzzing but-

But it was better, now. Softer. Not gone, still angry, but Leif was looking at him like he was something precious and it was pretty hard to be mad at the moment.

And then Leif tugged Tobin close, to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his sides, and Tobin didn’t feel anything close to angry anymore.

Just warm.

Tobin brought his hands up, around Leif’s hips, and held on for dear life. He felt lips brush the crown of his head, so softly, and then he felt Leif try to pull away, and he just held on tighter.

The lights weren’t flashing, and there wasn’t any documentary playing in the background, and there weren’t any emails, just… just the two of them, hugging in their apartment.

And everything was going to be okay.

Title from the song Heaven I Need A Hug by R. Kelly :)

[chocoluckchipz]

Dance with Me, Chaton - 14

Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net

Written for @ladynoirjuly2019

< Previous

14. Sick Day.

It didn’t work. All the luck that Ladybug had sent his way must have stuck somewhere in the internet traffic because the next morning Adrien woke up with a pulsating headache, stuffy nose, and a sore throat. He groaned, shifting in his bed and threw his cover off. Too hot. Water. Thirsty. He needed some water stat, or he would die.

Adrien sat up. His head spun; a pained moan escaped lips. The clock showed… nine?

Shit.

Struggling to stand up, Adrien picked up the phone. There was a missed call from his father’s secretary and a few from Plagg. Adrien opened his messages. Ladybug has sent a few, wishing him a good morning and telling him about her plans for the day. Same stuff they’ve been exchanging for weeks now. He smiled. She was an amazing girl. He always looked forward to her messages. Unlike Plagg’s.

Plagg: Congratulations! You’ve won an extended session for the price of one. I’ll see you at my studio at seven in the evening. Next time you won’t pick up, you’re out.

Adrien groaned and flopped back onto the bed. The way he felt now, there was no way he could handle any session of Plagg’s, less an extended one. Maybe he should quit? Or maybe he could tell Plagg that he was sick? Surely even Plagg had a heart. Most likely he did. At least a physical one he certainly had.

Adrien: Can I get a rain check on that? I don't feel too stellar.

Plagg replied immediately.

Plagg: I'm not a convenience store to give out rainchecks. Seven or never.

Adrien groaned.

Adrien: At least make it a regular one.

Plagg: The only thing I can make it is a double-priced one. Would you like that?

Adrien pouted. Not that he couldn't afford Plagg’s fees. He could, but for Plagg’s attitude to him, Adrien refused to support the glutton further other than what they’d agreed upon.

Plagg: What are you a baby? Can’t handle some dancing?

Adrien scoffed. He called it dancing? He hadn’t danced a single step yet, pointlessly repeating exercises and moves Plagg ordered him as a broken record. He even stopped going to the gym. There was no need. Plagg worked him thrice as much as his personal trainer did, all while offering Adrien to quit at any given opportunity. Adrien growled. No way! Not after everything this arrogant glutton had put him through! Adrien couldn’t let him win. He’d go to that session and rock it.

Adrien: I’ll be there at seven.

Plagg: :thumbs-up:

Turning his phone off, Adrien shuffled to the kitchen. If he were to endure one of Plagg’s lessons this evening, he needed to get better. That meant rest, nutrition, and medicine. He lacked two: food because he was too tired to shop for it yesterday, and medicine because Adrien didn’t get sick often, so whatever he had was long expired. Trip to the store it was, and since he already was late for work, he might call in sick and skip it altogether. There is always a first time for everything, right?

Adrien changed and dialled his father. Gabriel wasn’t ecstatic, but he let it go, telling Adrien to get back as soon as he could. Glad that at least his father wasn’t heartless, Adrien went out to pick up food and medicine. He grabbed breakfast at a nearby café and focused on getting better upon returning, which meant hot bath, relaxing on a couch, and chatting with Ladybug. He kept his illness to himself, though. Ladybug had just gone through hell because of him. He had no right to get her sympathy.

Closer to the evening, Adrien ordered Tom and Sabine’s pastries to be delivered. After Marinette introduced him to the wonderful world of her parent’s bakery, Adrien couldn’t help but stop by every day after work. Today, however, he didn’t work, and he had to conserve energy for the torture session, so ordering in it was. Half an hour later someone knocked on a door.

“Marinette?” His eyes widened, followed by a lopsided smile on his lips. What a nice surprise.

“Hi.” She shyly waved at him from the hallway. “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting. Papa asked me to deliver this to you.”

“Thanks.” Adrien motioned Marinette to come inside. “Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, entering.

"It's five. Usually, you'd still be at work at this time."

“Ah, so the boss would scold me for leaving the work an hour early to attend to a sick father?”

Adrien chuckled. “The boss may do that. I’m not him, however. What’s with Tom? He looked healthy yesterday.”

“Nothing serious.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “Dad caught a man cold and is being a baby about it. But of course, he didn’t tell me that when he called my work. I thought he was dying and raced over only to find out he has a slight fever and cough.”

Adrien laughed. “Tell him I said Hello and hope he gets better soon.”

“Thank you. I will.” She smiled. “His colds rarely last more than a few days. You, on the other hand, don’t look so well.”

Adrien rubbing the back of his neck, shrugging. “Cold. A regular one, though. Not the one your father has.”

“I hope you feel better soon,” Marinette said, passing him the box in her hands. “I believe these are yours.”

“With these, I definitely will.” Adrien grinned, opening the box. Once the lid was off, he frowned. “Um. I think someone made a mistake. Was Tom the one assembling it?”

Marinette leaned over to look inside the box. “Did he give you the wrong items in his feverish state? Although, I think it was Maman who packed this. Papa’s dying in his bed.”

Adrien shook his head. “Oh no. I have everything I asked for. Double the amount.”

Marinette frowned, glaring to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her following grin was way too tense for Adrien’s liking. “They must have put it for you as get well wishes. Mama loves to spoil their regular customers.”

“I’m not that regular yet,” Adrien said. “I've only started going there after you told me about them a few weeks ago.”

“Really?” Marinette mumbled, still avoiding looking at him. “The way they talk about it, it seems much longer. In any case, enjoy and I’ll go. I have some scolding to do.”

She turned around to leave when a genius idea hit Adrien.

“Hey, Marinette?”

She paused, her body tensing. “Yes?”

“If you have some free time, do you want to come in for a cup of coffee? I mean only if you’re free because I’ve been kind of locked in here all day by myself and wouldn’t mind some company, even for a little while. And I have double the pastry, so… Please? If you want, of course. I don’t insist. I mean if you have free time… and not afraid to catch my cold.”

What was going on with him? Adrien could practically feel his cheeks burning. Why was it so hard to invite a friend for a cup of coffee? It’s not like he was asking her on a date or anything! Geez, Agreste! Compose yourself.

Marinette failed to suppress a chuckle. “I think I’ve already caught all the cold germs I could from Papa,” she said, the most endearing expression on her face he’d seen. “I have an hour to spare.”

Adrien glanced at the clock. It was five. He had to leave anywhere between six and six-fifteen. Perfect.

“Yes, please.” He grinned and prompted her to follow him into the kitchen. His heart full; he could hardly contain his excitement. How lucky was he to get Marinette all to himself for the whole hour? The perfect treat before he had to face Plagg The Tyrant.

Marinette was nice. She was fantastic. She reminded him more and more of Ladybug the longer they’d talked. She was smart and witty and funny and beautiful and everything in between. They had a lot in common, and even chatting about nothing was an experience Adrien would never forget. She made him feel so great; he’d cherish it forever. Somehow, Adrien didn’t notice where the time rushed to off, but when Marinette thanked him for the meal and stood up to leave, the clock showed thirty minutes to seven.

“Don’t be too grumpy about your butt camp,” she said gathering her things. “One of my best friends told me once that moving is the best way to get over a cold. It gets oxygen into your body and helps your blood to expel the germs out of your system faster, so even though it’ll be hard, it’ll help you.”

“Well, yes, mild exercise does. Whatever that glutton puts me through isn't remotely mild.”

Marinette shrugged with a smirk on her face. “Fake a fainting spell when it gets too much? I’m sure he’d let you go if you faint.”

Adrien laughed. “I’ll be sure to follow your advice when the insatiable desire to strangle my coach will kick in.”

Marinette laughed. “Didn’t peg you for a violent person.”

“I’m not. Or rather I wasn’t. Not until I signed up for that cursed course. Now, I’m just praying all the anger won’t spill over, so having someone like you to talk to and relax really helps. Thank you.”

Marinette blushed and standing on her toes, kissed his cheek. “Thank you for the meal.”

Adrien gasped. Her lips were so soft. Warm. Gentle. “Thank you for the company,” he mumbled back, awkwardly waving.

A moment later, she left. Adrien rushed to the bedroom to change. He had twenty minutes left before his lesson.

***

“You’re late.”

“By five seconds?”

“By two minutes and thirty-five seconds.”

Adrien groaned. “Plagg really? I show up here sick, and you lecture me about being two minutes late?”

“Two minutes and thirty-five seconds.”

Adrien closed his eyes trying to breathe evenly.

“And no Camembert that I can see.”

“That’s it,” Adrien snapped. “If you’re going to lecture me about being late and forgetting your damn, stinky cheese for once, then I have the right to ask you when will you start teaching me to dance?”

“What are you talking about?” Plagg stretched innocently, lounging on his throne. “I’ve been teaching you dancing this whole time. What do you think we have been doing here?”

“Pardon me for not noticing,” Adrien snarled. “Or do you call that pointless, excessive repetition of the exercises and moves you make me do dancing?”

Plagg smirked, looking at Adrien. “You’re finally asking questions. Good.”

“I’m glad you’re amused by my curiosity, but can you answer me while you are at it?”

“Feisty, aren’t we?” In one smooth move, Plagg leapt from his throne and walked towards him.

“What did you expect?” Adrien barked. “I’m sick and tired of your crap, and it’s time I finally told you.”

“I didn’t drag you,” Plagg said. “You ran here yourself.”

“As if you left me any choice.”

“There is always a choice,” Plagg said. “But congratulations. Your shell has finally cracked. All we have to do now is to pull you out.”

“What are you talking about?”

Plagg said nothing, stopping behind Adrien.

Adrien turned to face him. When Plagg remained silent instead of answering, Adrien bitterly puffed. “Spectacular avoidance of answering me. You truly are a Master. Only I’m not sure I want to study your craft anymore.”

“Tell me, Adrien,” Plagg said, looking him straight into his eyes. “What is dancing?”

Adrien frowned. “Movement to the music?”

“Wrong.”

“Relaxing?”

“Try again.”

“Exercise.”

Plagg laughed before leaning closer and whispering, “Dancing, Adrien, is storytelling.”

“Storytelling?”

“Exactly,” Plagg said and strolled back to his throne. “People express themselves in a dance just like they do with verbal stories. Moving to the music, they can tell you how their day went, how much they’ve missed something, how much they hate someone. People can tell you their whole story through dance. Now imagine this: you put on music, and you hear the beat, and your mind decides on a move, but BAM! before you can do it the music moved on and the beat has changed. What do you do?”

“You move on and decide on the next one—”

“Only for the same thing to happen again.” Plagg plopped into his throne and added, “A true master never allows his mind to decide their moves for them. He lets his body and the music to become one, unity in the beat, and tell the story without stammering. But, for your body to do that, the moves have to become reflexes.”

Adrien stared at Plagg in a dumbfounded stupor. “So, all this time you’ve been—”

“Implementing new reflexes into you, so you can sing your song, not stutter it out,” Plagg finished for him. “Kid, it’s like learning a language. You must learn to write letters before you can imprint a poem on a blank sheet of paper. Now, stop questioning my methods and take this.” He pulled a small, plastic packet out of his pocket and threw it to Adrien.

Adrien twisted in his hand. “Is this weed?”

Plagg snorted. “No, seriously? Who do you take me for? It’s cold medicine.”

“Are you sure?” Adrien frowned, inspecting the content of the packet. “It looks suspicious.”

“You’re my main Camembert supplier at the moment. Why would I want to poison you?”

Adrien huffed. “I never know what’s on your mind, so don’t blame me for checking.”

Plagg laughed. “I love the level of trust we share, kid. But, seriously. This is some ancient Chinese crap. My doctor makes it himself. It does miracles, though, so you’re lucky I’m sharing because you can’t buy this shit in stores. Make some tea with it and drink before bed. You’ll be brand new in the morning.”

“I guess, thank you?” Adrien said hesitantly.

“Don’t mention it.” Plagg shrugged. “Now get out of my sight before you contaminate this whole place.”

Adrien frowned in disbelief. “What about—”

“You didn’t bring me my cheese. Why should I teach you for free?” Plagg huffed. “Get out and come back tomorrow evening. Oh, wait.” He pursed his lips. “I’ll be busy tomorrow. I’ll call you for time and date later. Now, go. Don’t spread your germs here.”

Adrien stood in his place frozen. A tiny smile sneaked onto his face as he nodded. “Thank you, Plagg. I didn’t expect you to be so—”

“Ugh, geez, kid,” Plagg groaned. “Get out of here before I smack you for being sappy. Just go! Au revoir! See you later. Do svidaniya. Sayōnara. Adiós. What other language do I need to repeat it in?”

“Got it.” Adrien chuckled and headed for the exit. “Thanks for the medicine. I’ll see you later.”

He closed the doors to loud music starting behind him, the smile on his lips not vanishing until he reached home. Who would’ve guessed? Plagg actually cared.

_______________________________________________________________________

Next >

[literarygoon]

“Ten things that make me happy”

Fiction by Will Johnson

Got the kid this week. Couldn’t find a baby-sitter. Called Mom and she said it was my problem, not hers. Manager said I could keep the kid behind the counter while I work, but only this once. All the customers wanted to say hi. Wanted to touch the kid. They said he’s cute, what’s his name? Embarrassed when I tell them Kane—a mix of Kate and Shane.

Kate = gone.

Said she needed some time. Moved back to Ontario with her parents. Left the kid behind. Now I’ve got this crappy basement suite in downtown Nanaimo and a baby I can’t afford. Think about Nicaragua a lot. Lived there for six months after I graduated from university. Ate fruit, spoke Spanish, did a lot of surfing. Bagged a few Latina chicks. Now I’m working at Starbucks. Job’s okay, but I spend most of my shift daydreaming about being a musician. Think about girls lifting their dresses over their heads. Dank venues, cocaine head rushes, blind groping in the dark. A used condom floating in my toilet.

Called Neil last week. Former band mate of mine, a drummer. Lives in Vancouver and I haven’t heard from him in years. Hoping he can find us some gigs. Took the ferry across the water to meet him on a Tuesday morning. Kane puked on my jacket, so I wrestled him into the bathroom and cleaned us off with a fresh diaper. Fed him this baby food out of a jar. Afterwards I stood outside on the deck looking at the Gulf Islands. The bus ride to Vancouver was more than an hour long and Kane cried the entire way.

At the restaurant, Kane ripped apart a coloring sheet. Waitress wasn’t mad. Asked me how old? Told her 18 months, but it seems longer. Sat there thinking about my band. Thought about finding a record label, maybe playing festivals. Told myself I’m not too old to be a successful musician. (Unrealistic?) The newspaper was boring, so did the crossword and flirted pointlessly with the waitress. Neil was fifteen minutes late. He yanked at the door for a few moments before he realized it opened inward. Stumbled through and almost head butted a plant.

Shane, man, he said. Look at you. Look at this. This is crazy, right? Isn’t this like crazy? This is crazy, man.

Stood up to hug him. His whole body was vibrating. Slipped into the booth and didn’t take off his coat. Legs bounced and his eyes darted all around the restaurant like he couldn’t decide what to look at.

What’s the kid’s name?

This is Kane.

Kane like in the Bible? Like old school Kane and Abel Kane?

No, just a name we liked. You know.

What’s up Kane? How you doing buddy?

Clear Neil hasn’t seen a baby in years. Kane in his booster seat looked at Neil a little confused. Maybe scared? Blew air out in little bursts.

Hilarious. What’s he doing?

Kid’s still learning how to talk. Figure that’s his first word.

Burp?

Yeah, he likes doing that. Does it all the time.

Just like burp, burp, burp? Hey Kane. Burp? Can you say Burp?

Kane started to cry. Picked him up for a minute, gave him his soother, settled him down. Have to do this every twenty minutes, seems like. Neil couldn’t figure out what to do. Played with the sugar packets. Picked one up and held it to the light.

Do you ever wonder who makes these, Neil asked. Like is there a factory somewhere with little Asian ladies filling these up with sugar? And how do they get it inside the paper? You ever think about stuff like that?

Not really.

How about this. You ever think about how incredible it is that in our society we can walk into rooms like this and convince people to bring us food? We don’t cook it, we don’t serve it, all we do is sit here and eat it. Then we pull out a little plastic thingie and punch some buttons. Crazy, right?

Interesting way to look at it.

We’re top of the food chain, man. There’s no other way to look at it.

Waitress was attentive. Looked about twenty-five years old, maybe younger. Had eczema all down one arm, probably from doing too many dishes. Said what a beautiful baby, you are so lucky. Kane was gurgling and she played with his little hands. Leaned over so Neil and I both looked down her dress, her white bra quivering. (Sometimes I get so fucking horny it hurts.) She said he is precious and wiped drool off his face. I never know how to act when people play with the kid. Am I supposed to smile? Do they want me to participate somehow? This is what I’ve figured out: having a baby = more flirting. Having a baby = less sex. Having a baby = no sleep/exercise/solitude. The waitress took our order.

For me: Toast. Scrambled eggs. Sausages + HP sauce. Black coffee.

For Kane: Apple juice and yogurt.

For Neil: Nothing.

Asked the waitress if she could watch the kid while I went outside for a smoke with Neil. Dislodged a crayon from Kane’s mouth. When we got outside Neil told me he got kicked out of his house. Said he’s been having trouble holding things together. (Drugs?) Didn’t ask about Kate. Suspect they had a thing while I was in Nicaragua. Never confirmed it, but pretty sure it happened. Not jealous, really. Just curious.

Nothing was ever enough for Kate. Three months pregnant she shimmied past this barbed wire gate and climbed up an emergency ladder to the top of the Blue Bridge in Victoria. Must have been three hundred feet in the air. Followed her and sat on the steel girders with my feet hanging above the traffic. The lights of the city were reflected in the ocean blackness. Took turns taking sips of whiskey. She told me sometimes she fantasizes about taking a running jump, about plunging down to the concrete and splattering on impact.

I could get it over with, she said.

Her first pregnancy ended with a miscarriage. Found her curled up in the bathtub with purple clots of blood streaking the porcelain. Figured that was the end of it, but six months later she told me she was late again. (Shitty birth control?) She acted like her body was betraying her somehow. Wandered around our basement suite in her bare feet. Ate lots of peanut butter. Rude to my Mom, complained about everything and wouldn’t quit smoking. I never asked for this, she said.

Me neither.

Started therapy once a week. Nice woman. Lots of pillows and inspirational posters on the wall. Kate brought me to a session and we brainstormed positivity exercises. Ways to escape depressive thought patterns. Therapist gave us this assignment to keep journals. Every day we were supposed to make a list of ten things that made us happy. Nothing makes me happy, Kate said. Therapist said sometimes we overlook the small things in life. The taste of toothpaste in the morning. A hug from a friend. Maybe an upcoming vacation to look forward to. These things all add up eventually. Kate picked lint off her jeans and stared at the floor.

Therapy didn’t make any difference. Found Kate crying one afternoon in the backyard. Told me she was going to spend a few weeks with her parents in Hamilton. Supported her, said I wanted her to figure this stuff out. Wandered our house alone, taking care of Kane and waiting for her to call. Stood at the airport with flowers, but she never arrived. Pretty soon she stopped answering my phone calls. Parents said she left to road trip across the country with some dude who owns a Westfalia. Promised to send money, to come visit their grandkid, but that was six months ago.

Neil said I can’t believe you’re a father.

Still getting used to the idea.

Seems like a good kid.

Babies don’t really have personalities. They mostly just need things.

Asked Neil if he ever drums anymore. Told me he had to pawn his drum set. Said he had some outstanding loans he had to pay back, plus it was cumbersome moving the drums from one house to the next.

I don’t know about music, man.

What do you mean?

You hear the stuff coming over the radio inside? It plays all day, all night. Shopping malls, gas stations. There’s so much fucking music in the world and everybody wants to make it. There’s so much music everywhere you couldn’t even hope to hear a fraction of it. How the fuck can you expect to make a difference in a world like that?

That’s a depressing way to think about it.

It’s all money, man. You think these singers are famous because they can sing? No, they’re famous because some dudes with money paid some other dudes with money to make them famous. And who wants to be famous, right?

I don’t want to be famous.

Me neither.

But I want to play music.

Neil shrugged. You know what I’ve been thinking, he said. I gotta find a way to break into the television business.

What do you mean?

Think about it, man. Every show, every commercial, they all need music. Somebody’s got to write that shit. Can you imagine? If your job was to sit there and make beats all day long. It’s all computer programs now. The bosses go okay, we need some scary music for this scene. Some happy music for this scene. Maybe some violin shit for a sex scene. Right?

I don’t know. Don’t you think that’s a little artificial?

Money is money, man.

I guess.

Here’s the thing: I broke my back in a snowboarding accident when I was a teenager. Fell into an off-run crevice. Body draped on this cleft twenty feet down. Felt like a mystical cavern, surrounded by glistening ice and weird noises far below me. Could’ve fallen a lot further, but I didn’t. I remember the helicopter lifting me out of there. Strapped to a spinal board, wrapped in blankets with nothing but my face exposed. Felt the rushing wind from the rotors in my eyes and made a deal with the universe. Promised that if I made it through okay, I wouldn’t waste my life. I was going to make music. Sounds stupid, but it still means something to me. Took me nearly six months of intensive physical rehab before I could lift myself out of bed again. When I left the hospital the nurse told me Shane, you’ll probably never really understand how fortunate you are to walk out of here.

My first band was called The Sultwater Sultans. Got interviewed for the Victoria newspaper once. The photographer arranged us in front of an autumn backdrop. Put us on the front cover of the Arts section. It said SALTWATER SULTANS in this swirly orange font. Mom still has that photo taped to the side of the fridge. Reminds me of finger paintings little kids bring back from elementary school. Kate was dating our bass player Cliff when I met her. She was our Yoko Ono. Once we got together the band broke up. (Worth it?) Cliff came to Starbucks a few months ago. Talked on his cell phone and pretended not to recognize me. Maybe he wasn’t pretending.

Played solo gigs for a while after that. Kate sang back-up and we called ourselves The Islanders. Mostly restaurant venues where nobody listened. Opening act for bigger bands. She introduced me to Neil, and he became our drummer. Bit of a loner but he could keep a beat. Toured around Vancouver Island and played some festivals.  Remember a time we got drunk on the beach. Firelight cast shadows on the sand. Twisted beach logs slick with moisture. Neil hammered drums pinched between his legs while Kate danced in her bare feet. Fucked it up and left for Nicaragua a month later. Wonder what would’ve happened if I stayed.

You ever think about that time we toured up island, I asked Neil, standing outside the restaurant. Glanced in to check on the kid.

Good summer, man.

I was thinking we could pick up where we left off. Revive The Islanders.

Minus a member.

But we could pick up a few more guys. Take a run at this.

Sounds good to me.

Neil looked skinnier than I remembered. Like he was sucking on the inside of his cheeks. Bet I could fit my thumb and forefinger around his bicep. He touched himself while he talked. Pulled on his earlobe, scratched his neck and drummed fingers on his sternum.

You think the kid’s okay in there?

The waitress’ll keep an eye on him.

Couldn’t he fall out of his booster seat or something?

Babies are resilient.

You know what’s crazy to think about, is that I was a baby. And you.

Well, yeah.

I heard once that every seven years our bodies completely regenerate themselves. Like every cell in your body, all your skin and hair and toe nails, I mean your bones, it’s all been replaced. So when you think about it, you’re not even the same person you were seven years ago.

Huh.

You’re what? Like 30? We haven’t seen each other for nearly a decade, man. And think about that guy. The guy you knew, like I probably don’t have any of the same clothes. I look different, I act different. This is completely new skin here. I may as well be a different guy. Isn’t that trippy?

Guess so.

University feels like ancient history, I said.

I’d do it again.

Me too.

Once she was nearly due to give birth, Kate was impossible to live with. She punched her knuckles against her temples and tore out her hair in tangled hanks. Slept through the afternoons and into the middle of the night, then lay like a bloated carcass on the couch. Didn’t know what to do. Therapist said pregnancy can be tough. Recommended we check into the hospital early for observation. Kate spent the last two weeks in a private room. Screamed at nurses and threw food down the hallway. Wouldn’t talk to me when I visited. Once the kid was born, Kate barely touched him. Said he’s got your eyes and she glared. Doctors kept her for an additional week because she was refusing food.

Sometimes I have nightmares about Kate. See her fucking random dudes in highway restrooms. That girl. Used to flirt with guys right in front of me. Liked to have sex in busy parking lots or shopping mall restrooms. One time she gave me head in an elevator. For a while it seemed like she was going to calm down. (Be happy?) We moved in together after Neil moved away. Played sporadic gigs around Victoria. She danced in her cowboy boots, her dress swishing around her little legs. Adorable. Her voice was literally heart-breaking when she sang. Thought that was how my life was going to be. I was mistaken.

When I was younger, I assumed happiness was a mathematical equation, easily solvable. My headspace was like a question mark waiting for an answer. Thought maybe music + girlfriend + job = contentment. But even when I was in Nicaragua, or when things were going well with Kate, there was always this nagging suspicion that something was wrong. That somehow I was missing out on the life I was destined for. Makes me wonder why I’m still here. After my snowboarding accident, the doctors told me there was a chance I could have spent the rest of my life in a wheelchair. People kept emphasizing how incredible it was that I had survived. Said I couldn’t take it for granted. But life-changing revelations have an expiry date. Sooner or later you have to go back to living your life, whatever that means. While I’m fixing a broken coffee machine or standing outside in the rain, life doesn’t seem very worthwhile. Some days I wonder if I wasted a miracle.

This = not my plan.

A siren screamed in the distance. The air smelled like piss. Neil and I smoked our cigarettes and watched a police car swerve around the curb. The people on the sidewalk didn’t even turn their heads. Inside our food was waiting. Offered Neil a piece of toast, but he said he wasn’t hungry. Spooned yogurt into Kane’s mouth.

What kind of food’s he eat?

I dunno. Mushy stuff mostly.

Doesn’t he need breast milk?

Think he’s too old for that. Not like I can pick it up at the grocery store.

Ha.

It’s kind of like having a human dog.

Wild that one day he’s gonna be us, you know? And we’ll be hanging out in nursing homes.

Or dead.

Or dead, yeah.

Tried for a while to make lists of the things that make me happy, but never got to ten. The things I came up with—a good song on the radio, a drunken night while Kane is staying at my Mom’s house, an easy day at work—all seemed superficial. Like a Band-Aid for a missing limb. Wonder if maybe I’m beyond help. Lately I feel old. Like I don’t recognize this ugly version of myself. Cigarettes yellowed my teeth. Belly fat jiggles over my belt from too much shopping mall food and late night pizza. Look in the mirror and hate the patches of hair on my upper arms. Dark eyes. Flirt with patrons and they act embarrassed. (Am I creepy?) When I was younger girls lined up for their turn. Took a new one each weekend. A blur of sweaty bodies and frantic late night fucking. Now I would kill to get some action. Haven’t been laid since Kate left.

Kane kept pushing my spoon away. Yogurt dribbled down his jumper. Burbled and stuck his fingers in the goop. Neil said maybe he wants some real food, man. Give him some sausage.

He can’t chew that stuff.

Cut it up into little pieces. He can swallow.

I dunno.

Watch this, he said. He pulled the plate across the table and sawed at the blackened sausages pushed to the side of my plate. Speared one with his fork. It was one of those moments where I felt like I was watching myself. Like there was a more responsible version of myself somewhere, watching me fuck things up. Should’ve taken the fork away. Before I could say anything, Kane had swallowed two small chunks.

He loves it.

That’s probably enough.

My step-dad used to say that’ll put hair on your chest.

He fed you sausages when you were a kid?

No, man.

Seriously, that’s enough.

Look at him. Happy as a clam, this kid.

Kane was enjoying the food. Saliva streaked brown on his chin. He bounced in his booster seat and murmured like a little animal. Neil held another piece of sausage to his mouth and forced it through his lips. The kid’s tiny pink gums smacked. Then he started to cough.

Shit.

He’s choking.

Nah, man. He’ll get it.

He can’t breathe.

Shit.

He’s fucking choking on that fucking sausage. What the fuck, man?

Can’t remember the last time I felt this panicked. The kid was looking right at me. His eyes bulged. I could hear things happening around me. Waitress was running towards us. Neil knocked my plate to the ground as he clambered out of the booth. He said don’t worry, I used to be a lifeguard. I know what to do. Sat there looking at my son and realized how easily I could let him die. These things happen. Babies go to sleep and don’t wake up. People get hit by cars. All this breathing can end in a single moment. Wondered if I should be having some sort of deep realization, whether this moment was designed to test me. Maybe this would ruin my life, or maybe it would take me a few years before I got over it. Kane’s little face was turning red as Neil grabbed him under the armpits. One last glimpse of my son’s terror. Waitress had her fingers over her mouth as Neil held my son braced facedown against his forearm and lifted his other arm up in the air.

The Literary Goon

[mlnmoongle]

Love Speaks in Flowers

Genre:  Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Romance, Awkward Romance

Pairings: TaoHun;

Rating: Mature;

Length: Chaptered - 3/12;

Note: WIP;

Warnings: Smut, Semi-public;

Summary: Sehun's mundane job as a florist clerk is the same day in and day out. Until one rainy morning brings a change in Sehun's life in the form of Tao, a tattoo artist next door, and Sehun's not sure he's ready for him.

Sehun opened Twenty Flowers again today. He had a real love-hate relationship with opening shifts. The love came from getting off early to have the rest of the day off and the hate came from waking up early and having to deal with customers, but so far, today wasn't an awful day. There were only a few hiccups that occurred but were easily settled so before long by mid-noon, Sehun was assisting the last customer. Since Sehun was working the shop alone today, Junmyeon allowed whoever was working a shift alone a full hour break with the store closed. Preferably around the same time daily, but Sehun was running behind. Sehun very politely smiled and nodded at the customer's lame jokes as he was finishing up with him. The customer talked Sehun's ear off as Sehun walked him to the door. He stood with a strained smile as the man finished up his story and it was then that Sehun was politely urging the man out the door. Once the customer left Sehun immediately locked the door and flipped the plastic Will Return sign and sighed in relief, leaning against the door. At last, Sehun had a whole half hour to himself to sit and eat or nap, whichever sounded more appealing honestly, but before he did that Sehun needed to clean off the mess on the counter. So he walked back to the front and started cleaning off the counter, discarding stems and petals and leaves and whatever else was sprawled across the white top. He already felt more relaxed with the area being neat and tidy now. Sehun was still full from breakfast so he opted to not eat lunch and instead laid his head down on his folded arms at the counter. He really wasn't expecting to nap but just closing his eyes and resting his mind was good enough. The last few days have been stressful for him. Emotionally exhausting, actually. His mind has been non-stop thinking about his talk with Jongin and Tao and how complicated this all felt. Not that it needed to be complicated but Sehun couldn't make up his mind, or feelings. In his defense, he didn't know anything about Tao, but in Tao's defense, going on a date would solve that sad excuse. However, Sehun couldn't help but think back to dating Chanyeol. Chanyeol was also handsome and charming but left Sehun, so what would stop Tao from doing the same? Sehun groaned. This was stupid, so stupid, he was over Chanyeol, he was. A jarred clunking noise interrupted his thoughts and Sehun rolled his eyes. "Can't people read?" He mumbled to himself, not bothering to look up at the door because maybe if he played dead the moronic customer trying to get into the shop would eventually go away. So he ignored it. Then not even a minute later the phone was ringing. Sehun desperately wanted to ignore that too, but the last time he intentionally ignored a phone call almost ended in his termination, and he wasn't going to risk that again. With a heavy sigh, but not opening his eyes, Sehun answered the phone. "Hi, thank you for calling Twenty Flowers. How can I help you?" He intoned, and oh my god, he was not expecting the voice on the other line. "Hey!" “You." Sehun breathed and snapped his eyes open to gaze out the window to see Tao, waving to him outside the shop. "Hi. Did you know the door is locked?" Came Tao's familiar, husky voice. Sehun exhaled heavily. "I'm aware." He drawled. "Oh." Tao made a small noise on the other end. "Can I come in?" "I'm on my lunch break," Sehun informed, his tone still steady. "Great! Cause I brought lunch." Sehun watched Tao hold up a small bag, and he could only sigh. "If you must," Sehun droned, not sure if Tao was aware of his tone because Tao was smiling wide. Hanging up the phone, Sehun slid off the stool and made his way over to the door. He took one look at Tao grin as he unlatched the door. Sehun had no idea why he was doing this, but he was stepping aside anyway and letting Tao into the shop. "Hi." Tao said pointlessly, and Sehun offered a soft, "Hey" of his own. "It was good timing, wasn't it?" Tao strolled over to the counter and sat the small bag down. He immediately started unpacking the goodies he brought. Sehun eyed him as he did, walking back to the counter to sit on the stool again. "Was this really a coincidence or are you stalking me?" Sehun asked, attempting a joke if his small smirk indicated anything. Tao burst out a laugh and shook his head. "I promise you, I'm not stalking you. It's just...I don't know, a universal lunchtime?" Sehun gave Tao a questioning, but amused look. "Yeah because that makes a lick of sense..." He rolled his eyes but there was no animosity behind it. Tao laughed lightly and placed a small container in front of Sehun and then himself. "I hope noodles are okay. I don't know what you like, but they're pretty generic, I suppose." Sehun looked down at the container before scooting it away back towards Tao. "Wow you sure know how to make a meal sound mouth-watering," his tone clearly sarcastic and whether Tao caught on to it was beyond him, "But I'm not actually hungry..." He watched Tao's face compress as he stopped fidgeting with his own container. "Oh. Then we don't have to eat." Tao grabs Sehun's container to put it back into the pack and then tightened the lid on his own to put it away, too. "Well, that doesn't mean you don't have to eat." Sehun reached out to lightly grab Tao's hand to stop him from putting his portion away. "I don't mind if you eat..." But Tao didn't respond because he was too busy looking at Sehun's hand that was lightly grasping his wrist. Sehun pulled his hand back when he made eye contact with Tao and cleared his throat, folding his arms close to himself. He tried to fight the heat crawling across his face when he added, "I mean unless it's awkward for you? I really don't care either way..." Tao gave a small smile and pulled his container back out to open it. "It's not awkward, and besides...I'm starving." His smile turned sheepish and Sehun couldn't help but give his own small smile. As Tao ate, Sehun took it upon himself to get a good look at Tao. Now that he wasn’t dripping wet he actually looked like a decent human rather than a wet dog. Tao had his bleached hair messily pulled up in a small bun on the top of his head, some pieces hanging loosely over his forehead. His messy bedhead look was complemented by a sleeveless logo t-shirt and dark jeans. Of course, Tao would wear sleeveless shirts and pants that made his ass look absolutely fuckable. And Sehun was positive Tao didn’t wear a sleeveless shirt because of the summer heat or tattoos, or for comfort, but so he could flaunt his toned arms in front of him. Sehun was sure of this. Also, Sehun noticed Tao was wearing thin-rimmed glasses this time, too, and his eyes weren’t a striking light blue anymore but instead a soft brown. He looked absolutely gorgeous. Sehun couldn't keep his eyes off him and was starting to feel hungry. Minutes pass in silence with only the sounds of Tao’s soft chewing and the light outside noises filling the space. Sehun propped his chin in his palm as he watched Tao inhaled his lunch, wondering if he's even tasting it. “What are you doing here?” Sehun finally asked with an indignant expression on his face. Tao swallowed the mouthful he had. Sehun watched Tao's throat move with the action. “Eating lunch?” Tao answered.

Sehun clicked his tongue. “Obviously. I meant, why are you here? A flower shop isn't typically a hot spot for dining.” He quipped.

“Oh. Well, I'm going to buy flowers, too, of course.” Tao answered easily and added, “You said I could come back if I was a paying customer, and when I’m finished eating and you’re off break then I will be.” He smiled as he slurped up a noodle.

Lovely. “You literally just bought flowers not even two days ago.” Sehun pointed out. Tao smiled fondly. “Yeah, I know.” Uhg, why did he have to look at him like that? Brushing off the heat in his chest, Sehun composed himself again. “Let me guess. More Lilies?” Sehun asked dryly. Tao shrugged. “Hmm...Sure.” “‘Sure’,” Sehun repeated mockingly. Then with a cruel smile, he asked, “Did you just come here to bother me while I work?” Tao’s eyes gleamed dangerously. “Hm. Maaaybe.” A playful yet mischievous smirk spreading across his face as he packed the empty container back into the bag.

Sehun took a minute to retort because what were they doing right now? Were they flirting? Was he really allowing this? Sehun hummed, smirking. “Well, you’re out of luck then.” He started, narrowing his eyes at Tao, but Tao only leaned in closer, grinning now. “And why’s that?” He questioned.

"Because, you can only stay if you’re buying flowers, if not then you need to leave.” Sehun snarked, feeling triumphant in his retort. “Okay. Then I want those. Right over there.” As far as Sehun knows, Tao pointed in a random direction to one of the many racks of flower displays and Sehun followed with his eyes to which he was pointing to. “The... Chrysanthemums?” Sehun deadpanned, looking at Tao. Tao bit back an amused chuckle when he heard Sehun’s, barely audible, lisp. It was incredibly endearing. “Mhm. Those exactly.” Tao was still leaning on the counter, still close to Sehun’s proximity. Sehun could smell the faint aroma of peach radiating off Tao and it suited him so well, Sehun thought. With Tao being so close to Sehun, he was able to skim Tao's whole upper body greedily, to take in the details that he missed from the last time. Taking a quick glance at Tao’s arms, Sehun skimmed his beautiful tattoos again. Somehow they deemed from eye-catching today than the other day. Maybe it was because Tao's skin was just glowing today. The way that Tao had his arms folded under his chest made his biceps flex and, god, they looked so firm and delicious just like chest. Sehun was thankful that he was sitting because the sight made his knees weak.

Blinking the salacious thoughts from his mind, Sehun reminded himself that he needed to keep this professional and end the shameless flirting. So putting on his best poker face, Sehun stared at Tao for a moment, internally debating if he should even bother asking the number of Chrysanthemums he wanted or what color. Unfortunately, that was part of his job so crossing his arms, Sehun finally asked, “Okay then. What color?”

Tao pursed his lips in consideration. “Violet?” He answered unsurely. Sehun hummed acknowledgment with a small nod. “Alrighty. How many?” “Ah! I want a bushel!” Tao answered right away, and proudly as if he’s been waiting for Sehun to ask. He probably thought it was a step up from the other day when he used a ‘bunch’ as an amount. Sehun gave a deadpan expression as he mouthed ‘a bushel’ and it took everything Sehun had to not to tell Tao to just leave.

“A ‘bushel’ isn’t a specified amount, Tao” Sehun informed flatly. “So if you don’t tell me how many you actually want, then I’ll have to just guess and charge you for whatever amount I pick.” He warned but Tao hunched his shoulders in a small shrug. “That’s fine. Surprise me.” He says airily, however, there was a challenging tone in his voice. With that, Tao leaned closer, If possible. He wasn't quite laying on the top of the counter, but he might as well be, and now Sehun was able to get a good whiff of Tao’s scent. Aside from the light peach scent, he could also smell Tao’s natural, virile spice mixed with a light antiperspirant. He smelled so damn good, and it stood out strongly even amongst the other aromas of the flowers and plants.

And to add insult to injury, the way Tao was leaning over the counter made the collar of his shirt hang low, giving Sehun had a clear view down his sun-kissed chest. Sehun only glanced for a moment but Tao must have followed his eyes because Tao was grinning wickedly, but before he could say anything Sehun was moving, walking around the counter and to the plant racks despite the light swelling against his pants. Luckily, he was wearing an apron so nothing was visible, he hoped. But for good measure, Sehun asked offhandedly, “So, are these for references again?” He was desperate to cut the tension between them because Sehun knew his face was red because he could feel it, and he knew there was a subtle tremble his voice because he could hear it betraying his stoic demeanor. Sehun hated this. He hated how attractive Tao was even when he wasn’t intentionally doing anything, and he hated how riled up he got over nothing. Sehun wanted nothing more than to run into the back room to hide or jerk off. Sehun had to lean down to gather the Chrysanthemums, and as he waited for a response he braved a brief glance over his shoulder at Tao, just in time to see Tao quickly avert his eyes up and to his face. “Huh?” Tao asked dumbly.

Sehun’s ears were probably red now, too. He turned back to the flowers. “ The Chrysanthemums. Are they for a reference piece or?” He asked again.

“Oh. No. Just for me.” Tao answered quickly, and Sehun stood up, turning to look at Tao with a raised brow. “Uh, my apartment is looking a little dull, so I thought these would brighten it up or something,” Tao explained, straightening up as Sehun was back behind the counter. Sehun nodded, setting the flowers down. “Well, these are a good pick…” He mumbled. “Good to know.” Tao smiled. Sehun ended up not picking an outrageous amount of Chrysanthemums and actually picked out enough for what he thought would look decent in a vase. Which reminded him, “You have a vase, right?” Sehun asked, bending down to grab tissue paper that was stored on a shelf below the counter. Tao was quiet for a moment as if the question was some kind of test. So, taking it as such he answered what he thought would please Sehun the most.  “...Yes?” His response was weak and a dead giveaway that he was lying, but Sehun didn't call him out on it and instead shrugged it off with a simple. “Okay.” Sehun tapped in the numbers to ring up tao's total. They exchanged money and with that, Sehun said, “Well then, you’re all set to go.” with a small smile, but Tao didn’t move.

“Did you need something else…?” Sehun asked. “Do you want to get coffee later?” Tao blurted out. “No,” Sehun replied quickly. Tao’s brows furrowed, all hope disappearing from his face. “Why not?” This conversation felt like deja vu. “Because I don’t like coffee,” he lied. “Do you like lunch?” “Yes.” “Then how about we go get lunch sometime?” Tao tried again. “No.” “Breakfast?” “Wha.. -No?” "Dinner?” “Uhg. Tao, why are you so persistent?” Sehun asked, feeling exasperated and the start of a small headache forming. “Because I like you,” Tao’s answer was simple and embarrassingly blunt. “You don’t know me,” Sehun reminded him crossly. “Well, I could get to know you if you would give me the chance to.” Tao countered. Shit. Well, he wasn’t wrong. Sehun was silent for a long moment and considered Tao's offer, but he rejected the thought immediately. Tao wasn’t awful or anything, and in fact, it really wasn’t about Tao at all. Sehun was keeping himself guarded because he didn’t want to fall and trip on his face for another gorgeous, charming, funny guy again. Sehun looked down at the counter and avoided Tao’s face and the question. “If you don’t need anything then else then please go. I have to get back to work.” He spoke softly, barely a mumble. Because Sehun refused to look at Tao as he rejected him for the second time, there was no way for Sehun to see the hurt expression on Tao’s face and how Tao quickly covered it up with a small, frayed smile. “Alright. I’ll let you get back to work. See you around, Hunnie.” Tao grabbed his flowers and lunch pack and headed out the door. Sehun only looked up when he heard the door chime open then chime shut. Sehun went home exhausted that night.

[chasingthecosmos]

A Hand to Hold

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: G Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler Chapters: 13/15 Read on AO3 here.

“The Doctor realized - far, far too late - that this hand-holding thing might be becoming a problem …”

A (sort of) season re-write centering around the Doctor’s touch telepathy and the many inconvenient ways that it gets between him and his new companion, Rose Tyler.

This work is based around Season 1 and the Ninth Doctor.

Chapter Thirteen: Bad Wolf & The Parting of Ways (Part Two)

It took the Doctor nine minutes and twelve seconds to make good on his promise to retrieve Rose Tyler. It only took him twenty-three more seconds to have her in his arms once more. It was twenty-three seconds longer than he thought was right, but he was still largely being fueled by fear and anger in that moment and he needed to know that the dalek threat had been neutralized before he let himself pause to focus on anything else.

When he finally did rush towards her, his mind reached for her as easily as his arms did, and he let loose a ridiculously satisfied sigh as he buried his nose in her hair and felt her warm mental presence radiating through her skin. What would he have done if he had been robbed of the chance to have something like this ever again?

"Feels like I haven't seen you in years!" she exclaimed softly as her happy relief seeped into his mind and immediately erased the fear and pain of the last few hours that had been torturing him while they had been separated.

"I told you I'd come and get you," he replied easily, pushing as much love and devotion into her mind as he could before he stepped away again. There was still so much to do - but even so, he allowed himself the indulgence of letting his lips to trail lightly across the skin of her cheek before he finally released her.

"Never doubted it," she insisted with a sunny smile.

"I did," he quipped back lightly. He was distantly aware that his arms were still hanging loosely around her, seeming to refuse to let go despite the urging of his conscious mind to get moving. "You alright?" he asked, desperately needing the reassurance that she was properly safe before he attempted to face the dalek threat once more.

"Yeah. You?" She reached for the lapels of his jacket and the hard double-thump of his hearts immediately jump-started him back into action. He knew that if he allowed himself to linger any longer in this moment, then they'd both be stuck here all day - just mooning over each other while the daleks went on to destroy the earth unhindered.

"Not bad, been better," he muttered dismissively, finally side-stepping out of her reach to examine the steaming dalek shell currently smoldering in the entryway of his ship.

The sight immediately sobered him to their situation once more, and he scowled at the dalek husk before him as Jack and Rose debated possibilities around him. The familiar urge to run was quickly bubbling up within him, so he did what he always did in situations like this and attempted to channel that instinct into an action that was at least semi-productive.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a whole lot of room to stretch his legs on the floor of the dalek ship outside and the daleks themselves were as difficult to converse with as ever, so there wasn't much of an outlet for his nervous energy. Every attempt at levity on his end was met with cold indifference and hate. And these daleks - if they could even rightfully be called that - were even more mad than the usual lot. He was unable to tease very much useful information out of them other than the fact that they had plans to destroy the earth and harvest the humans below for spare parts.

The chaos waiting for them back on Satellite Five didn't grant him any amount of confidence, either. His options were dwindling quickly and he had no tools, no time, and no plan. It really only left one very obvious, very dangerous solution ...

"You've got to be kidding," Jack muttered, echoing the Doctor's own disbelief.

"Give the man a medal!" he shouted, knowing that the others wouldn't hear his forced optimism.

A delta wave - easy enough, really. All he needed to do was figure out how to cram three days worth of work into twenty-two minutes.

The Doctor immediately designated Rose as his assistant - partly because he didn't want her anywhere near the front line of defense with Jack, and partly because he didn't think he could stand to have her out of his sight again.

Lynda went with the rest of them, though - brave, sweet Lynda, who had stayed behind just for him. How could he keep his promise to her now? With daleks circling around them and the threat of death so very imminent, how was he going to get her out alive? How was he going to get any of them out alive? Still, they each promised to do their best and he supposed that that would just have to be good enough.

But after so much time traveling with Rose, he realized that he didn't quite remember what was socially acceptable as a normal human goodbye. He was running on adrenaline and he reached for Lynda without thinking, ready to bring her in for a bracing hug before they all turned and faced down their encroaching deaths. It was only Lynda's wide, surprised eyes and Rose's look of obvious disdain that reminded him at the last minute that he shouldn't be going around hugging random women, and they settled for the universe's most awkward handshake instead.

Jack's goodbye was next and it was just as dramatic and surprisingly heartfelt as the man himself was - though the Doctor personally could have done without all of the kissing. He decided that his strange moment with Lynda was nothing compared to Jack's refusal to accept personal boundaries, but he allowed it all the same - knowing full well that it may just be the last time that he ever spoke to the man.

Once Floor 500 had been cleared out, the silence that descended upon the room was unlike any silence that the Doctor had had to deal with yet. It was comfortable, in a way - just like it always was when it was just him and Rose together. If he closed his eyes and pushed away all of the fear and anger he could almost make himself believe that they were back on the TARDIS again - just spending time in one another's company while he tinkered with something or other.

But the quiet was also eerie - a haunting sound of desolation and abandonment. It felt like they were the last two people left standing, and for all he knew, they very soon could be.

When Rose finally broke the silence to suggest that they attempt an escape with the TARDIS, the Doctor felt his hearts swell with love and admiration for her. Of course his clever girl was still quietly working, trying as desperately as he was to find some sort of loophole - some way out.

The conversation did spark his brain though - just as conversation with her always did. That's why he liked keeping her around him whenever he was fiddling with something or trying to be clever. The sudden idea wasn't one that he liked, though - it sat like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach and made him feel sick. It was a suicide plan - a plan that there would be no coming back from. But what other choices did they have?

"There's another thing the TARDIS could do," he suggested quietly once she dismissed the idea as hopeful fantasy. "It could take us away. We could leave - let history take its course. We could go to Marbella in 1989."

"Yeah, but you'd never do that," Rose reminded him, smiling as though his foolish stubbornness was something to be praised and not feared.

"No, but you could ask," he told her pointedly, his eyes watching her reaction carefully while his hands continued their desperate, hopeless work. She frowned down at the split wires in her hands as she considered his words and he realized that she truly never intended to leave him. She was determined to stay, no matter what happened, because somehow she still believed that he would find a way out for them. "Never even occurred to you, did it?"

"Well ... I'm just too good," she announced teasingly.

And what argument could he possibly have for that? Of course she was too good - too good for him, anyway. Definitely too good for this damned universe and all of its problems. And absolutely too good to die pointlessly at the hands of the daleks 1998,000 years away from home.

He had one last burst of hope as the delta wave began to build, but it was instantly crushed when the readings filled the screens with a promise of death with no way out.

Well, there was one way out - there always had been. Rose had even touched on it, earlier. He still didn't like the plan, but what other choice did he have?

"Rose Tyler, you're a genius!" he exclaimed, jumping up and forcing his old, weary limbs into action once more. Her proud, excited smile was like sunshine on a cloudy day and he grasped her neck and placed a hard, quick kiss to her forehead. He moved quickly, hoping that she wouldn't realize that this was his attempt at saying goodbye.

The quick touch was all she needed, though, to toss one quick thought from her mind into his - I knew you could do it. But her unshakeable faith in him didn't fill him with hope, as it usually did. In fact, it weighed heavy right in the space between his hearts and he found that he wasn't able to look her in the eye for a second longer.

He lured her into the TARDIS with promises and clever lies, just as he always did, but this time, he left her there. When he turned back to face those gorgeous blue doors, he could feel his sentient ship in his mind, groaning a warning. She stood before him like a sentinel - judging him for his many misdeeds.

Take her home, he thought desperately. Keep Rose safe. Please, just do that for me.

The TARDIS made a growling noise in his head, but her protests were oddly resigned. It seemed that even she knew that there was no arguing with him or attempting to change his mind - not now, not when Rose was in danger. So he ignored her protests as he raised his sonic and remotely activated the dematerialization sequence.

He forced himself to watch as his gorgeous ship blinked and then faded from existence before his eyes. He was unused to being on the wrong side of those doors whenever those whooshing, groaning sounds finally faded away into silence. But here he was - left behind all on his own (again, why did he always have to be alone?) while she flew off back into the vortex without him.

Initiate Emergency Program One, he commanded, feeling his connection with the TARDIS slipping through his fingers even as he fought desperately to keep her in his mind. She responded with one last final wave of hope - a promise that he didn't dare allow himself to believe in - before she moved out of his reach.

And then, just like that, she was gone - and it really was just like the Time War all over again. Her familiar mental signature disappeared from his mind like a puff of smoke and he was left so terribly, horribly alone that it made him ache. It wasn't as dramatic as when the entire race of Time Lords had suddenly gone silent in his head, but it was vastly more intimate and devastatingly more painful.

So he filled his nervous hands and empty mind with the only thing that he had left - and that was work. But no amount of life-threatening situations could erase the one thought running through his mind on a loop - threatening to drive him mad.

I never told her. I just said goodbye to Rose Tyler for the last time, and I never told her that I loved her.

[smolllittlebean]

Nobody’s Fool; Clint Barton

A/N: Please excuse the angst. This is my version of how Clint was after Loki brainwashed him. Enjoy.

If he was going to be honest, he had grown tired of the team tiptoeing around him like he was some ticking time bomb. He wasn't. He might’ve been a little angry or snappish, but he would never hurt them; he had done that enough. Being someone’s personal mind puppet was something he could never truly come back from. He was paranoid, overly. And God forbid he went to a psychiatrist; their creepy eyes staring into his soul, minds analyzing everything he said and did. Hell, they observed the way he tapped his fingers. Psychiatrist’s eyes reminded him too much of his eyes; green eyes; evil, calculating, smirking.

Clint wasn’t a particularly vengeful person. People had done some pretty awful things to him- tried to kill him- and still, he didn’t sweat it. “Job’s a job,” he always said. But what Loki did to him -took over his mind, treated him like a fool- Clint couldn’t just get over that. Never had he been violated to that magnitude.

Natasha was the most adamant about him talking about it. She knew him, better than most; even his wife. But to Clint, what Loki did wasn't something he could just talk about; it wasn’t something he could simply explain. “It’s like he took everything I ever was or will be and threw it away,” he had tried, but to no use. No one could understand because no one had gone through it.

The eyes of his team were sympathetic at first, but then they were annoyed, once Clint started to withdraw. The biggest hit to the Avengers was when he moved out of the tower. Fury, being a suspicious man, sent people out to monitor him. But Clint owned the apartment building he lived in and was able to detect when the spies tried to move in. He was, afterall, a spy himself.

Storming into Shield Headquarters, Clint slammed down an ID of one of the agents sent out to try and fool him. “I’m not stupid, Fury,” he snapped. Director Fury looked up slowly, regarding Clint with a less than amused gaze. “Yes, Agent Barton, I’m aware of that.” Clint straightened up. “Then don’t treat me like I am.” He waved his hand at the ID. “Sending agents in on me? To try and spy on me? What? Am I too quiet? Can’t I have any privacy.”

Fury folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. “No,” he said simply. “And you know that. Suspicious behavior warrants retaliation. Your team is worried about you, I’m worried about you. You’re behaving oddly, Clint;everyone can see that.”

Again Clint slammed his hand down on the desk. “And everyone knows what happened! So why can’t I be left alone?!” Fury stood up, a tight frown on his face. “There is no privacy in the line of work. To be frank, Agent Barton, we can’t trust you right now. I know that Loki took over your mind and Natasha knocked you out of it, but there’s no confirmation that you’re all the way there. No matter if Loki’s locked up, he could take over your mind at any minute. We don’t know if there’s still some weird mind control juice up there, so until then, yes, Agent Barton, you are under surveillance.”

With that, Fury sat back down and stared at Clint poinetedly. Clint let out an angry huff and stormed out. The agents outside all quickly looked away as he pushed open the door. He gritted his teeth as he walked down the row of desks. A few of the agents he usually would have said hello to, but not today. Everyone in Headquarters were an enemy. They were all against him, whether they said so or not.

Thirty minutes and a lot of angry New York shouting, Clint climbed the stairs to his Brooklyn apartment. As soon as he got into his living room, he collapsed onto the couch. His head reeled with different outcomes. He shouldn’t have snapped at Fury; he knew that for a fact. He definitely shouldn't have forcibly thrown those undercover agents out of the apartment physically. He shouldn’t have gotten angry with Tony and Steve, and definitely not Natasha. But to be honest, there were many things he shouldn’t have done.

He shouldn’t have helped Loki attack the Helicarrier, or attacked Natasha, or killed all those Shield agents. He shouldn’t have even started working for Shield, he shouldn’t have worked at the circus. Hell, he shouldn’t have been born…God, what a sack of self pitying shit. He groaned, putting a pillow over his head to try and block out his thoughts.

He tried to focus on other sounds, like the cars outside or the crickets chirping. Hell, that arguing couple downstairs was better than what was in his thoughts. He felt like everything was a lie. The trust his teammates had in him, the trust he had for Shield. He wasn’t strong like them, he knew that. But he liked to believe he was worth something to the team, if not just moral support. But they were so quick to distrust him. What kind of teammates were those?

A knock on the door snapped him out of his self wallowing. He sat up slowly, eyeing the door suspiciously. He grabbed the gun strapped beneath the couch and inched towards the door. He glanced out the peephole but his shoulders didn’t relax. “Natasha,” he muttered. Natasha stood outside the door, looking around the hallway boredly. “I know you’re there, Clint,” she stated. “I’m not a threat; I’m your friend. I just want to talk.” Clint didn’t budge and Nat sighed. She held up a Chinese takeout bag, grinning weakly. “I brought food.”

The door creaked open slowly and Nat stepped inside. She looked around and pressed her lips together. “You should really hire someone to clean this place.” The door shut behind her and Clint slunk his way back to the couch. He flopped down on the couch, barely glancing at Nat as he flicked on the small television on the wall. “You can put that on the coffee table,” he mumbled.

Nat made her way next to him, placing the food on the table before dainty sitting next to him. “Looney Tunes?” Clint grunted, staring broodingly at the television. Nat remained quiet for a moment before coughing. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Kicking spies out of my building,” he snapped. Nat heaved a sigh. “That wasn’t my idea,” she said softly. Clint turned to look at her, fixing her with a menacing look. “No, maybe not. But you certainly didn’t tell me. Believe it or not, I don’t like having to physically move people of out places; especially if they’re my colleagues!” He turned the tv up more.

“I’m not saying I agree with Fury’s actions,” Nat started. “But I’ve got no power in that division. Even if I did, Clint, I wouldn’t have stopped it. You’ve been acting weird, and I’m worried about you; everyone’s worried about you. You get brainwashed by some alien and then, after I smack you in the head hard enough, you move out of the tower? You’ve got to admit that’s a little suspicious.”

Clint stood up angrily, pointing an accusing finger at her. “But you’re supposed to see past that! It doesn’t matter that I’m acting more antisocial than normal! You’re supposed to trust me! I’ve told you everything! I’ve shown you everything! I showed you my wife! My kids! My house! And what do I get? Mistrust! I trusted you and you stab me in the back!”

He hadn’t noticed but tears had begun to seep into his eyes and down his cheeks. Nat saw this and her throat tightened. She stood up as well, inching towards him. “You know that’s not true,” she said softly. “I trust you with my life, Clint, don’t you ever forget that.” She pulled him in for a hug. Instantly he melted. His legs went weak and he began sobbing loudly. Nat pulled him back to the couch and smoothed his hair down. “Get it out now,” she advised. “I know you’ve been holding it in.”

The sobs died down slowly and Nat waited patiently until Clint pulled away. He leaned against the back of the couch, running a hand over his face. “Thought you didn’t do hugs,” he chuckled weakly. “I don’t,” she answered, “at least not for most people.” She paused before reaching for the bag of Chinese takeout. “Eat,” she ordered quietly, shoving the bag in his hands. “You look terrible.” She stood up and sauntered off to the bathroom.

Clint watched quizzically, opening the bag and beginning to eat one of the many egg rolls in a container. Nat came back out, a roll of toilet paper in her hands. “There’s no tissue,” she mumbled. She sat back down, ripping a piece of toilet paper from the roll and dabbing at Clint’s face. “I know it’s hard.” She sighed. “I know we’ve been acting weird, but we’re just worried. Do you understand.”

Clint stared at the floor, nodding hesitantly. Nat smiled weakly. “You can stay here as long as you like, Clint; I just wanted to check on you.” With that, she was quiet. She grabbed the remote and flicked on the television. “DANCE YOUR CARES AWAY! WORRIES FOR ANOTHER DAY! LET THE MUSIC PLAY! DOWN IN FRAGGLE ROCK!”

Nat raised an eyebrow and glanced at Clint, who was staring intently at the screen. “Fraggle Rock?” she asked quizzically. He shrugged. “Reliving childhood memories.” Nat turned back to the tv, trying to give Clint the comfort and space he needed. If watching Fraggle Rock reruns back to back was what he needed to get over this part of his depression or whatever he was going to, she supported it.

The episode ended only twenty minutes later and Clint sat up and stretched. Nat watched intently as he stood up, shuffling over to his bedroom door. “What’re you doing?” she asked pointlessly. Clint smiled softly. “I’m going to bed.”

“I don’t get a good night kiss?” she chuckled. Clint snorted. “You don’t need one to know.” Nat rolled her eyes playfully and looked away, propping her feet on the coffee table. “Yeah, I know.”