#sorry about the smears from the brush pen though

[itsacon10]

Welcome home, Greg, or Naughty Sally Donovan

[asweetprologue]

Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn’t help but steal it and/or friends with benefits falling in love <3 geraskier or jaskier/other wolf if you'd like a challenge

I got #2 twice, so I decided to combo these for you and @a-kind-of-merry-war. Hope you guys like soft af smut!! 

Explicit below the cut!

36. Friends with benefits and both people catching feelings AND

2. Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn’t help but steal it

Geralt freezes as soon as he steps into their shared room. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times, and then says, “Is that mine?”

Jaskier looks up from his seated position on the bed, propped up by the flimsy pillow the inn had provided, folded in half. He freezes himself, his pen poised above the page of his notebook, and looks between it and Geralt a few times. “What? The book?”

Geralt shakes his head as he steps into the room, allowing the door to fall shut behind him. Jaskier feels something hot unfurl in his gut at the dark look in Geralt’s eyes. It’s a look he’s gotten to know quite well recently, and it’s usually a precursor to good things. Geralt steps up to the bed and sets one knee beside him, and Jaskier’s heart rate spikes embarrassingly.

Geralt reaches out two fingers and slips them under the hem of the shirt Jaskier’s wearing. The dark fabric is soft with age, billowing around Jaskier’s form and falling loose about his shoulders. “My shirt,” Geralt says, and his voice is warm with something that Jaskier can’t identify.

Jaskier shivers. “Sorry,” he stutters, setting his notebook aside on the frail bedside table. “I, uh, my shirts are all in the wash, I can change into something else--”

Geralt pushes forward, his nose suddenly tucked into the hollow of Jaskier’s throat, where the collar of the shirt meets his skin. “Mm,” Geralt says, “don’t. You smell good. Fuck.” And then he bites lightly at Jaskier’s collarbone, and Jaskier is suddenly desperate to get the shirt off for a whole different reason.

They’ve been doing this for a while now.

Jaskier isn’t even sure anymore how it started. One moment you’re pining desperately after your best friend, and the next you’re - well, still pining, if he’s being honest. But now he’s pining while also having the best sex of his life on a regular basis. He’s not sure if it’s better.

It’s hard, is the thing. To sleep with your best friend, in the first place, much less sleep with your best friend who you’ve been in love with for the last ten odd years. Jaskier has to stop himself from reading into things, from seeing layers that aren’t there. When Geralt wraps his arm around Jaskier after they’ve finished, snuffling sleepily into his hair, or when he presses tender kisses to the bruises he left the night before, or when he looks at Jaskier across the campfire with something soft and burning in his eyes - none of it means anything. Geralt cares about him, Jaskier knows this, but they’re just friends who fuck each other sometimes. If Geralt had wanted more, he would have said, oh, anytime in the last decade and a half. Jaskier refuses to make a fool of himself believing otherwise.

But it’s hard. He wants Geralt constantly, a feeling that has only grown worse with each encounter, but every quick fuck just leaves him feeling achy and empty inside, no matter how blissfully good it is in the moment. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t even care about the sex that much. It’s amazing - of course it’s amazing, Geralt is practically a god, and he’s got stamina - but Jaskier would trade it in an instant just for the knowledge that his feelings are even partially returned. Being so close to having what he wants, sharing intimate moments when their bodies are pressed tight together and singing with pleasure, only brings what he lacks into sharp relief.

Like now, with Geralt pushing him back into the shitty pillow and straddling his hips, dragging his unfairly large hands up Jaskier’s sides as he moves in to kiss him. Jaskier meets him halfway, immediately letting Geralt lick into his mouth and turn the kiss into something wet and needy. Geralt pulls away after not nearly long enough and starts biting kisses down Jaskier’s throat, sucking hard enough at one point that Jaskier can’t help how his hips thrust up against Geralt’s ass. Geralt makes a pleased sound against his jaw, a low rumble that has Jaskier squirming.

“Come on,” he pants, turning his head to try and recapture Geralt’s mouth. Geralt is uncooperative, so it lands somewhere near his temple instead. He’s still tucked into Jaskier’s shoulder, and Jaskier can feel him inhale deeply. “Are you-- Are you smelling me?”

Geralt hums an affirmative, taking another drag. Jaskier just blinks up at the timber ceiling of the inn, floored. After a moment Geralt says, “You smell good.”

Jaskier doesn’t know what to say to that, and Geralt doesn’t give him time to think about it. He pulls back, finally, and uses the hands still tucked under the shirt to ruck it up, his mouth falling on Jaskier’s left pectoral. Jaskier grabs the hem, fully intending to lift it over his head while Geralt is distracted, but a hand on his wrist stops him. He looks down to find Geralt watching him with sharp eyes, pupils blown wide. “Leave it on,” Geralt says, and Jaskier shudders at the heat in his tone. He drops the edge of the shirt, and Geralt goes back to work.

Usually when they do this, Jaskier makes an effort to stay in control. It’s not that he’s dominating by nature, though he doesn’t mind taking charge once in a while if his partner is interested in that. He just can’t handle it when Geralt turns his full attention to pleasuring him. It’s much easier to keep his feelings in check when he’s fully focused on Geralt’s pleasure. He can work his tender affections into the press of his lips and fingers easily, hide all the words he so desperately wants to say in the touch of skin on skin. It’s enough, he tells himself, to make Geralt feel good for once. And if he’s focused on how good Geralt feels, he doesn’t have to think about how much he wants Geralt to touch him tenderly in return.

This time, though, Geralt seems intent on making Jaskier writhe underneath him, and it’s immediately too much and not enough at once. Geralt takes his nipple into his mouth and sucks, and then laves his tongue over the bud until Jaskier is gasping. Once he seems satisfied with the left, he moves on to the other and gives it the same treatment, leaving love bites around the dusky skin before flicking his tongue over Jaskier’s nipple repeatedly. “Shit,” Jaskier says, throwing his head back as Geralt blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin. He feels hot and overwhelmed already, his cock straining in his trousers.

Geralt is soft and warm above him, nosing down the flat plane of Jaskier’s stomach, pressing tender kisses into his skin. He glances up when Jaskier speaks, and his eyes are soft too, the evening light streaming in through the lone window catching on the slim ring of gold around his pupils. He’s looking at Jaskier as if he cares, and his fingers are gentle when he reaches down to unbutton Jaskier’s pants. It’s too close, too much, but Jaskier doesn’t know how to change the pace, doesn’t know if he even wants to.

He drops his hands to Geralt’s shoulders as warm lips descend on his stomach, lifting his hips as Geralt pushes his trousers and braies down. Geralt leans back to pull them fully off, discarding them off the side of the bed. For a moment he just sits, looking over Jaskier spread out under him, and the warmth in his eyes makes Jaskier’s stomach go liquid with arousal even as anxiety furls in his chest. If Geralt keeps looking at him like that something is going to give. He can feel the words sitting like venom ready to spit on the back of his tongue, and he swallows them down before he tugs on Geralt’s shoulder to try and pull him back in. Maybe he can smother his selfish desires in Geralt’s mouth.

He shouldn’t want more. This should be enough.

But Geralt doesn’t meet him for the kiss, just shakes his head as he smooths a hand down Jaskier’s side and thumbs over the jut of his hip. He smiles, just a little, and his other hand moves to tug the shirt under Jaskier’s armpits back into place a bit. “I like you like this,” he says. Jaskier blinks at him.

“Like what?” he asks. He’s breathless, his cock arched up and smearing precome on his stomach, and Geralt is looking at him with something that seems part hunger and part fondness. He makes a last ditch effort, trying to turn things simple and dirty. He stretches out, knowing he must look obscene, and purrs, “Laid out for you? Ready for your cock?”

Geralt huffs a laugh - insulting, Jaskier thinks with a pout - and leans back in to press another kiss to Jaskier’s collarbone, this time just a faint brush of lips. “In my shirt,” he says simply, as if the words don’t wind their way immediately around Jaskier’s heart and squeeze. What does it mean? What could he possibly mean by that, it can’t be, he doesn’t--

Geralt is unaware of his spiralling, and after a moment it doesn’t matter, because Geralt is sliding his way back down Jaskier’s body and then Jaskier’s mind goes perfectly blank as Geralt’s mouth sinks down over his cock.

“Fuck,” Jaskier gasps, jerking at the sudden heat enveloping him. Two warm palms come up on either hip and hold him easily in place. Geralt hasn’t done this for him very often, and Jaskier had forgotten how overwhelming it is. There’s no hesitation in his movements, and all Jaskier can do is lie there and let it wash over him. He thrusts against Geralt’s hold as he bobs his head faster, tonguing Jaskier’s slit in a way that makes his eyes roll back. Shit but it’s good, and Geralt is so focused, Jaskier is losing his mind--

He’s looking down at where his dick is disappearing inside of Geralt’s stretched lips, and then Geralt lifts his mouth off of Jaskier’s cock, and their eyes meet. And he’s looking at Jaskier like he always does, with heat and affection and wonder, and Jaskier’s ears are roaring and his chest is bursting and his traitor mouth opens and he says, “Gods, I love you.”

Geralt’s eyes go wide, soft and shocked, and Jaskier immediately feels something cold wash over him. He can’t back out of this, he knows already. It was too earnest, too raw. If he’d said it when Geralt’s mouth had been on him maybe they could have dismissed it in the heat of passion, but he didn’t. Geralt is staring at him, mouth agape, lips still red from how they’d been stretched around Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier closes his eyes, not willing to look while Geralt gently turns him away.

But suddenly there are lips on his, and Jaskier opens his eyes with a gasp as Geralt plunders his mouth relentlessly. He kisses back - he’s powerless not to - and then Geralt is pulling away again, only to gasp out, “Do you? Do you mean it?”

Jaskier falls still for a moment, and Geralt meets his gaze as he waits for a response, clearly nervous. “I-- Of course I fucking mean it. Do you want me to mean it?” He feels like he’s going to shatter apart from how anxiety wars with hope in his chest, threatening to turn him into a wasteland. Geralt just reaches up a hand and slides it up Jaskier’s neck until he’s cradling his cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, and then presses a helpless kiss to Jaskier’s lips, painful and earnest. “Me too. Didn’t think you would feel the same.”

Jaskier pulls away again to stare Geralt in the face, shock a soft blow against his fragile heart. “I’ve loved you for years,” is all he can think to say.

Geralt makes a pained noise and then they’re kissing again, and this time they don’t stop. Geralt presses down until they’re one long line of heat, touching from shoulder to hip, legs slotted easily together. They rut against each other until Jaskier grows tired of the rough friction and reaches down to push Geralt’s trousers out of the way, taking them both in hand. Geralt’s hand doesn’t leave his face, and they don’t stop kissing, not until they’re both too worked up for anything more than panting against each other’s mouths.

Geralt slips his head down and presses his nose back to Jaskier’s jaw, breathing him in. “Smell so good,” he stutters out, “like me, like you’re mine, Jask, fuck I’m close--”

“Yeah, yes,” Jaskier says over him, canting his hips up as he moves his hand faster. “Love you, I love you, come on.”

Geralt goes still above him, a high whine leaving his throat as he grinds down into Jaskier’s hand, burying his face in the warmth of Jaskier’s shoulder, his spend coating Jaskier’s fingers and dripping onto his stomach. Jaskier works him until his shuddering stops, and then Geralt reaches down a hand to still him. Jaskier lets out a soft ah at the pause, but soon Geralt’s hand replaces his own and he’s thrusting wildly up into a familiar, calloused palm. Geralt shifts to the side slightly, and Jaskier turns his face to follow him, desperate to be as close as he can. “Geralt,” he begs, nearly a sob.

“I’ve got you,” Geralt promises, and that’s it, he’s done. He clenches his teeth as the first crest of pleasure overtakes him, and Geralt slowly wrings out everything he has until Jaskier collapses back into the mattress, gasping and oversensitive.

They lie there for a few moments, just catching their breath in the quiet room. It’s darker now, the sun beyond the little window finally conceding to the cool night. Deep purple shadows fill the valleys of Geralt’s body, and Jaskier unthinkingly reaches out to trace across the edge of one. He lets the simple sensation calm his racing heart enough to say, “We should probably talk about it.”

“Probably,” Geralt hums, and then he reaches out and hauls Jaskier to him, pressing their sweaty, come-sticky bodies together. Jaskier makes a face, and he feels Geralt’s laugh more than he hears it. “In the morning,” he says, and Jaskier sighs, letting himself relax into the embrace.

“Alright,” he agrees. “In the morning.”

He lets his eyes fluttering shut, his head falling to rest on Geralt’s shoulder, arm slung over his stomach. It’s peaceful, and Geralt is warm and firm in all the right places, and he’s nearly asleep when Geralt speaks again.

“Me too,” he murmurs into the dark, pressing the words into Jaskier’s skin like a kiss. “I love you too.”

Jaskier smiles, and he falls into a dreamless sleep.

[allthingskakashi]

thigh riding with kakashi maybe👀

OKAY SO idk if this was just a general ask but i was inspired bc Kakashi's thighs get me 🥵🥵 so i wrote a whole fic which I'm not sure you asked for but hope would enjoy nonetheless 😌

And i managed to come up w a satisfactory title too 😌

• Enough Already •

[ Kakashi x Reader]

Words : 2k

Tags : Smut, 18+

You were beginning to get impatient.

You’d been watching Kakashi hunched over his desk, going through piles and piles of paperwork for the past three hours now. Sure, he was the Hokage and you did understand that he had a lot of work to do, but for the past month now it felt like you barely even got to see your own boyfriend. And even when you did, he’d just be nose deep in work and come to bed late every night, only to pass out the moment his back touched the mattress.

And yes, you did understand all of that, but it’d been so long since you’d made love, that even the sight of his bare biceps contracting as he worked right now was getting you hot and heavy.

You sighed, uncrossing your legs on the sofa, and closing shut the book in your hand. You'd been trying to read, but the book you were reading was an erotica and the vivid descriptions playing all sorts of images in your mind only added to your frustration.

Tossing the book onto the table next to you, you got up, making your way to where Kakashi was sitting.

You trod over lightly, coming to a halt at the back of his wooden chair. You stood behind Kakashi, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck, before crouching to plant a feathery kiss on the side of his face and working your way down, your kisses getting slobbery as you went.

You’d almost reached the crook of his neck when his curt voice stopped you. “Y/n. I’m working.” He said, oblivious to your advances and continuing to scribble away.

You stopped, unwrapping your arms and stepping away from him. “Yeah, I can see that.” you replied, not putting any efforts to mask the hurt in your voice, before adding “When are you not” in a low mutter.

Kakashi kept his gaze focused on the papers in front of him, his sharp eyes scanning quickly across the sheets as he worked.

You let out a deliberately loud sigh, hoping to elicit some sort of a reaction from Kakashi. An apology, an acknowledgement, or anything, but much to your disappointment, you found none.

With your mouth formed into a frown, you turned away from him, making your way to the other side of the room as the sound of your footsteps rung a little too loud against the floor.

You were a patient woman, but this was starting to get on your nerves now. All you wanted was for Kakashi to just give you a few hours of his time in a day, that’s all. Working like a machine in the way that he was wasn’t good for him either, and you couldn’t possibly be the only one who missed the times you spent. The passionate nights, the lazy mornings, the afternoons spent in bed like it was your last day on Earth. Surely, he missed them too?

You had to do something.

Your feet stopped near the main switchboard in the living room. Reaching your hand to the board, you quickly flicked off the switch connecting to the air conditioner, before slowly making your way back to the sofa and plopping down on it.

You sat waiting with your arms crossed, jiggling your legs and watching Kakashi carefully out of the corner of your eye, studying him and waiting for any kind of a movement or response.

The minutes drove by and beads of sweat were beginning to form on your forehead now. It was the middle of summer and the air was warm and crisp outside. During day, the streets were so hot you could fry an egg on them. But Kakashi remained glued to the chair, continuing with his work with not so much as a flinch or a sound.

Alright, this was REALLY starting to get on your nerves now.

You stood up swiftly from the sofa, fanning yourself with your hand, before vigorously shaking the neckline of your shirt. “Gee, it’s really hot don’t you think?” you cried out, making sure to enunciate every word as you trudged towards his desk again. But his head was bowed, his focus unfazed.

“Did you hear what I said?” you tried again, walking a little closer and standing by the side of his chair. “I said it’s really hot.”

“Turn the AC on, then” Kakashi replied in a flat tone, without sparing you a glance.

Honestly, he was walking on thin fucking ice now.

You ignored his comment. Clearly, these subtle advances were not working. You had to be more direct.

You stood beside his chair watching him for a moment, admiring the way his long fingers gripped the pen. Just below your line of vision, his Anbu tattoo sat exposed, curved over the bulge of his bicep.

Jeez.

Inching closer to him, you gripped the hem of your t shirt, before slowly pulling it off over your head and throwing it on his face. “Oops, sorry”, you sang, your tone not apologetic in the least.

The thin cloth fell on his head, covering part of his hair and his face. “What do you think you’re doing?” Kakashi said with a certain crisp, before pulling the cloth off his face and balling it into a clump on the desk.

Ridden of your t shirt now, you stood in your black bra. It wasn’t the best one in your collection, but it did give your breasts a good lift.

Batting your eyelashes like you had no idea what he was talking about, you squeezed yourself into the cramped space between his knees and the desk. “Nothing at all.” You said, your tone as innocent as ever as you proceeded to reach under your dress, slowly pulling your panties down to your ankles before kicking them to the side.

Kakashi’s eyes were finally on you, fixated and unreadable.

You held his gaze, not taking your eyes off him as you widened your stance and took a few steps forward, before plopping down on his lap, your legs straddling his thighs.

You watched his pupils narrow, and he tried speaking again. “Y/n, I told you, I have wor—”, but his words were cut off by the touch of your index finger to his lips.

Hooking your finger at the edge of his mask, you pulled it down, revealing his beautiful soft mouth underneath.

All you wanted was to have it run all over your body, but you knew you’d have to work a little more to make that happen. “I don’t care” you said, in a cool, low voice.

Your hands brushed up the sides of his arms, feeling every bulge and curve of his toned muscles before sinking into the softness of his hair at the back of his head.

Pulling lightly on his silver strands, you brought his head forward towards your chest, arching your back to push your breasts into his face, which were now heaving, thanks both to the heat and the pooling wetness down below. You felt the tip of Kakashi’s nose rub against your cleavage, even the smallest contact sending shivers up your spine.

Tightening your grasp around him, you pushed his face deeper as you slowly began to grind your hips against his thighs, your stomach stiffening into knots with the wave of arousal coursing through you. The friction of his pants felt heavenly against your sensitive folds and you continued rubbing yourself over him, pressing yourself on his legs as you moved back and forth.

You could feel Kakashi’s breath hitch against your cleavage as the wetness from your core began to drip to his legs, moistening his pants. He tilted his head back, eyes squeezed shut as a low guttural noise escaped his throat.

Your lips curled into a slow smirk at the sight of him and you leaned forward, holding his face in your hands as you whispered, “Lord Sixth, would you like me to stop?”

But you knew the moment those words rolled off your tongue that you’d edged him on too far. With his head still tilted against the chair, you watched Kakashi open his eyes, his dark eyes burning with the hunger of an animal left in the wild.

In a flash, his hands were on your hips, long fingers gripping your soft skin hard enough to elicit a moan. They travelled to your back next, grabbing your ass as you felt every single finger dig into your skin, squeezing hard.

You melted into his touch instantly, your mind spiralling into a frenzy as he clutched the curves of your waist again, guiding you back and forth on his legs with increasing pace.

Ahead of you, his growing bulge fought beneath the thin material of his pants, forming a distinct mound right below his abdomen.

You bit your lip at the sight, resisting the urge to rid his cock of its clothed prison already, mouth drooling at the thought of your tongue slobbering all over his thick girth. Your body squirmed and you felt pleasure building up at the base of your stomach, as you reached for the waistband of Kakashi’s pants, unable to keep holding yourself off any longer.

With desperate fingers you found the strands of his joggers, going ahead to untie them when suddenly, Kakashi’s palm clasped around your wrist, fingers tight against your bones as he stopped you from going further.

You looked up to find his piercing gaze drilling through you, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

“Kakashi…” you purred, your heart thrumming in your ears, “Please…”

His unwavering gaze burned into you, brows raising as though asking you to repeat yourself, when you felt his right hand snaking up your stomach, pushing through the underband of your bra to clasp around your breast. He gave it a hard squeeze, before starting to stroke over it with nimble fingers, his lips parting as he spoke. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

The sound of Kakashi’s raspy voice sent tremors through your body. You squirmed, imploring him with your eyes.

He continued stroking with one hand as the other flew to his mouth, and you watched him lick the tip of his finger, before bringing it down to your other breast, smearing his saliva over your nipple.

“You wanted my time”, he stated, gaze fixed on you while two of his fingers twisted your wet nipple hard, before rubbing around it in circles with his thumb. “I’m giving you my time.”

“Infact…” he said as one of his hands travelled below, fingers finding your folds and grazing along it lightly. “I intend to give you all night.”

A desperate gasp left your lips, your swollen clit beginning to ache under his touch.

“Kakashi…please.” You pleaded again in broken rasps of your voice, struggling to keep your mind from going numb.

Kakashi ignored you again, his fingers continuing their ravage down below as his mouth latched on to one of your nipples, sucking slowly at first, and then as if his life depended on it. He clenched and unclenched his thighs, every contraction of his muscle teasing your clit, making you writhe with the overload of pleasure through your veins.

You moaned with every suck of your nipple, and every flick of his finger, becoming a squirming mess in his hands as you gave yourself in to him completely, losing control of your body.

A grating moan began to form at the back of your throat as you felt yourself getting close, his fingers stretching you up, rubbing, and stroking every part of you.

Kakashi hunched forward, finally pulling away from your swollen nipple, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke.

“You’re not tired already, are you?” he asked in an innocent whisper, his fingers moving steadily down below.

Your voice came out in a tiny squeak as you answered, your entire body buzzing. “N-no.”

“Good” Kakashi replied, his voice gravelly against your ear as you finally felt him slip one finger inside you, eliciting an immediate burst of almost inhumane sounds from your chest. “because you won’t be walking out of here any time soon.” He whispered against your shuddering frame, before slipping another finger inside and adding in the same husky tone,

“Or walking at all.”

[the-slasher-files]

Hello there! I’m back with another request. Can you write some headcanons of Michael, Jason, Bo and Bubba if their S/O was an artist? I’m an artist and I would love to see their reaction if I showed them one of my latest drawings.

Yay.. ok so I’ve got a few requests for this (from a shy s/o to a confident one) so I kind of mixed them together :) also btw I don’t write for Bubba but I will write for all the others, plus more! hope you enjoy 🔪💕  

MASTERLIST

SLASHERS WITH S/O THAT LOVES TO DRAW OR IS AN ARTIST

INCLUDES JASON, MICHAEL, BO, VINCENT, and CHROMESKULL

JASON VOORHEES

First of all living where you do at the cabin there is so much inspo from deer, to the lake, to changing of the seasons.. It is honestly the best place for an artist

Jason always noticed a black notebook lying around with pens and pencils on every other surface, and you were oddly protective of the book, so he left it alone respecting your boundaries

Sitting with him in the quiet cabin Jason loved the sounds of the pencils scratching along the paper, and he loved to watch the soothing motions of your wrist going to work

Slowly he will become more and more interested in what you're doing and he needs to see. Sneakily inching himself closer to you as you work away and stretching his neck as far as he can, catching a glimpse then feeling guilty

Jason wants to respect you so much but it kills him that you’re not showing him. So when you were in the shower he quickly ran to the book and gently ran his fingers over your work, amazed at how good everything was and how you brought the nature/animals to life in the book from around the camp

Flipping a page then he is met with sketches of himself, with the mask and without, his hands, some of his wounds with the bones sticking out... it was beautiful and he couldn’t look away until you walked into the room pushing him away from the book but seeing his expression made you melt, he loved it so much and slowly brought out confidence in you, making you show him your work all the time

A few times he had brought some art supplies home from a group of teens that came along

One day he came home to canvases all over the floor and red paint splattered all over your old t-shirt Jason freaked out thinking it was blood in the dim lighting, he stepped on your canvases with muddy boots and held you up making you yelp... “Baby it’s just paint”... well now he feels foolish and upset for stepping on your art

The next night he still felt bad but you showed him what you had created from “the incident”... Bright colours framed the bootprint and brought out the muddy tones, some of the canvases had pressed flowers along the details of the print and it was so beautiful Jason immediately hung them on the wall  

Just an fyi he wants to always do crafts with you lol so make sure you help him

MICHAEL MYERS

Now this guy is pretty indifferent to everything but something about your art brings out a new side in him

You can say a lot of things about Michael but you cannot say he isn’t observant, he sees everything and knows everything

Like Jason he notices your many notebooks and various art supplies around the house, but he is far more intrusive than Jason and will rip the notebook from your hands holding your neck if you protest as he flips through it

Watching his face nothing changes, he just scans the pages then throws the notebook down walking away leaving into the night

The next morning notebook, paints, pens, brushes and other supplies litter the kitchen counter... wonder who got those???

Michael loves watching you work on your art, watching your facial expressions, the way the pens run along the paper and how the paint coats the canvases.. oop you just gave him an idea

One night he came home gruesomely cover in blood a little more than extra, and Michael moves above you and the art you are working on, whoops he is dripping blood on the canvas, then smearing it, then moving his knife along it using it as a brush, I guess

You yelled at him at first but watching how he seemed to enjoy the colours mixing together and the way the blood dried was sort of.. cute

You knew Michael had a funny and creative side just by the way he walked into the bedroom one night with a sheet over himself and sunglasses on, and the way he leaves marks on your body in a certain pattern or framing his favourite features of you. Michael’s art was his kill you realized

He really loves your pieces, even though he would never say so and Michael’s favourites were the sketches of himself you did and he would paint blood along them

You weren’t gonna lie it made the portraits more interesting and honestly beautiful, they quickly became your favourites as well

I’m sorry but my horny self just wants to see Michael in an all-black suit at an art gallery admiring the masked portrait of himself covered in blood... sorry but it’s hot lol

BO SINCLAIR      

So Bo is not really observant so it might take him a while to notice the art supplies around the house but even then he thinks it’s just Vincent’s

You will probably have to do just do the art in front of him before he gets that its your art supplies.. man sucks lol

Bo really enjoys your company when he is in the shop, you just sitting there working away in your notebook and him under the hood of his truck

He doesn’t necessarily push to see what you’re drawing but Bo teases, the harder you hide it the harder he teases... “what ya got in there sex drawings?” “Fuck darlin’ let me be your model”

If you don’t want him to see what you’re doing never leave your notebook behind because the man is a snoop in every sense of the word

Bo 100% supports your art even though he isn’t very interested in it and doesn’t really get it, if it makes you happy he will steal supplies from his twin and if victims have notebooks or pens he will bring them to you immediately  

On a day where you decided to spend the day at the shop, sitting on your chair sketching away while Bo was organizing his tools, he kept catching your glances and smirked “Baby, you need somethin?” he would ask smugly.

“Nope” a simple answer not stroking his ego “gonna grab a beer from downstairs you want one?” Bo nods as you make your way to the mini-fridge. Quickly the man strides over to the notebook, opening the page where you had placed your pencil. He knew it, sketches of himself, it makes his ego skyrocket.

“BO!!” pushing him away and he grabs the book holding it just out of your reach smirking “Momma always said I’d be a good model” “Don’t flatter yourself Sinclair, you’re the only man around for miles that doesn’t wear a mask or look like a trash man” you laughed as him smirk fell... run

He honestly loves your art even though Bo gives you a hard time... His favourite thing is falling asleep to the pencil sounds against the paper when you’re laying in bed together

VINCENT SINCLAIR

SAAAAAAME... lol

The man notices right away that he begins to lose his an unused notebook and some of his best art pencils

It made you very nervous to show Vincent what you sketched and painted since he was just so good at art in every way. It was unfair

His favorite thing to do with you is make little sculptures from wax or clay, he could tell you were very creative and good at what you made, and he would always be super supportive

Vincent’s praise and support made you more comfortable with doing your art around him and even showing him. The man loves it and loves all of it

Different from his brother, Vinny respects you a lot and is fine with not looking in your notebook until you’re ready to show him. He hates when people see his unfinished work and flip through his notebooks as well

The good thing about dating him is Vincent’s art stuff is now yours

Also he is a very good teacher, somehow though he cannot talk, Vinny never makes you feel bad about your art and if you need help he is more than happy to support

Art date nights!! Getting the idea from your phone, you lit all the candles and brought down all the paint you could along with the large unused canvases you had found. When Vincent strolls downstairs his eyes go wide, seeing you in just your bra and underwear “I’m ready for art class Vin” you giggle

When he finds your paintings or sketches of himself without his mask Vincent’s heart melts, finding someone like you to love him, let alone see his destroyed features as art kills him

CHROMESKULL

Jesse is a very watchful human, even when he isn’t at home the guy has cameras literally everywhere

When he was gone on a "business trip" you had all the free time in the world, plus you had picked up some new art supplies, so why not work a large piece when Jesse isn't around to distract you... When you had worked on for a few hours you got a text 'How's the painting coming along?' And that's when you realized cameras are everywhere!

If you are a shy person with your art he basically doesn’t allow you to be, he’s a pushy spoiled man but he is also very supportive and it makes you more confident in showing him  

Jesse honestly loves art and has many expensive paintings in his large home, so when he sees your art you better believe he will have Preston frame the art and put it on the walls, with special art gallery lights really making it look perfect

If you need any and I mean any art supplies no matter how expensive Jesse supports it *hands you his gold credit card*

"Oh.. renovations? To the already perfect mansion?" "Yup.. it's your new art studio"

Art, wine and cheese nights... the perfect date

Feeling uninspired? alright time to change the scenery, let’s go to a tropical destination or a wintery cabin. The man wants to spoil you and put your passion at the top of his priority list, plus he just wants a vacation and see you in your swimwear

It doesn't matter if you're shy about your art or confident Jesse will say he is taking you to an event, get you all dolled up and take you to an art gallery event that is just your art... surprise! Dumb rich bastard loves your work and flaunts it to everyone he can

[heli0s-writes]

It Is Knowing*

HI THANKS FOR EVERYTHING. It’s been a wonderful ride. Here’s the last part of Bag of Tricks. It’s tender and smutty and stupid. All mistakes are my own.

Please stop reading if you are not over 18!

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

He’s terrified.

Suddenly he’s looking at you one way, and then in a flash, the same dumb grin you always give him— the crooked one on the cusp of an ill joke— turns bright white.

It goes brilliant like star fire and during a storm inside a standard-issued cabin hideout, Bucky thinks he must be losing his mind.

And maybe he’s been losing it for a few weeks now, but he’s done a great job dodging the reality of your confession so far. Doesn’t matter what you mumbled—cracked out on exhaustion and sleep-talking—because in the end, you’re his friend and you love him the same way you love everyone else: annoyingly. Nothing’s changed about that.

He hazards another glimpse.

“Help?” You ask from the table, angrily scratching out blocks of an attempted crossword puzzle.

Do it in pencil, he tried to warn earlier, but you only called him chickenshit because you’re—yep—annoying.  

“Foudre,” Bucky says carefully and you perk up at the sound of his voice. “It’s a… six-letter French word for thunder.” He clears his throat, gesturing toward the window splattered with rain.

“Oh-ho-ho,” you snort, “Smart boy, aren’t ya? FOO-DRUH.” An incredible bastardization of the term, and you sing around a chewed-up pen cap between your teeth. “My name’s Smart-Boy-Bucky and I know French, Russian, and Updog.”

“What the hell is Updog?”

Your face steels.

“Nothing much, how ‘bout you?”

And instead of going over there to kick your ass, all he can do is stare wordlessly as you break into a laugh—his entire body electric like a live wire.

-

He keeps telling himself there are only a few days before someone drops in to collect. He just needs a little bit of distance, some time alone to clear his head and get over this—thing.

But his brain feels like it’s melting while he waits, his stomach is probably developing an ulcer, and his heart is so fast and fierce that he can almost see the pulse in his sternum throbbing errantly.

Too many things are wrong. You’re his friend— and Bucky wants to throttle himself a little bit for ever letting you be his friend. You’re an unfiltered, oblivious dumbass and he doesn’t like that at all. You cry over animals and when he gets hurt because you’re an insufferable drama queen, too. He hates that. He does.

The sound of something enormous slamming on the ground makes him dash into the shared bedroom and—oh god, Bucky thinks he’s going to throw up.

First, the mattresses are on the floor.

Second, you’re. wearing. that. stupid. shirt.

The blue one. The one he used to love, hated for a bit, came back around to wearing, and now—yep, he officially hates it again.

“I think you’re too tall for the bunk.” You’re pushing the beds together, unaware of his clenched fists. “So if we sleep diagonally your feet won’t hang off—and can you believe it—” you point to the hem of cerulean brushing against your skin, “I packed three raincoats and no pajamas.”

At the sight of your creeping smile, Bucky loses it.

“Why are you going through my stuff?!” He shouts, gripping the doorframe with enough force to take the molding clear off. “Why are you touching my shit!?” And he probably sounds insane, flying off the handle like this, but he’s got a million grievances against you and this is just the tip of the iceberg.

“Mind your own fucking business!” He’s still unloading, unreasonably frantic at the sight of that terrible color hanging from your shoulders.

Bewildered, you plop down clumsily on your knees, gawking like a deer in the headlights.

Your bare legs, your fingertips on your thighs, the thin sleeves oversized and loose on your forearms, that smear of toothpaste on the collar, the hollow of your throat taut from holding your breath—it makes him want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you dizzy.

It makes him want to touch you. It makes him want you.

He’s sick. He’s dying. He’s so, so fucked.

“What…” Bucky quietly trails off, gasping helplessly as realization sinks in, “…what the hell is wrong with you...”

“Me?!” You shriek back, “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m over here worried about your crusty feet hanging off at night and you just swing in and take a dump on me?”

Bucky groans, miserable and guilty. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “Shit. I’m—I don’t know.”

“Eat my ass, dude!” you sneer, already tucked under the blankets. “I’m going to sleep. Turn off the fucking light you’re going to stand there looking like a dumbass.”

A feeble sigh as Bucky pushes his hands into his face, gripping his hair, pulling his own head back until he’s glaring at the ceiling, listening to the patter on the roof.

“You’re the dumbass,” he whispers.

You’re the dumbass with the emotional regulation problem. The idiot with the temper. The head full of sawdust. But, if it only took three careless words from your blundering mouth to make Bucky fall entirely apart, you must be right after all. He is the dumbass.

He feels split open like the sky—torn up completely, unable to make out anything in his own turbulence.

Fuck.

The sheets shift until he hears them slide off. Then, a pattern of bare feet across hardwood. He must look disastrous in the doorway, bent out of shape in uncharacteristic disarray.

“What is going on with you?” You find his arm, fingers wrapping around his wrists, tugging until they peel off his wretched face. “Why are you so upset? I wear your clothes all the time; I’m always in your stuff.”

He chuckles defeatedly because you really are always in his space. Throwing yourself into in his room. Eating chips in his bed. Squirreling away in his brain. Everywhere. Always.

Bucky presses his lips into a thin line, grimacing as he looks at you. Wordless and vulnerable, he can feel his brow sinking lower, throat narrowing around a swallow as he attempts to fix himself. A stutter falls out, then another, crackling syllables like surfacing thunder but never quite forming a sentence.

The earth groans, shaking the cabin and his precarious soul.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like—”

And then, under a streak of lightning, recognition splits across your face.

“Don’t,” he pleads to the silence, “Don’t say it.”

The seconds stretch into horrible eons of slow passing time. You tilt your head this way and that, eyes going from his face to his hands, limp at his side with your own fingers still grasping on.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you say gently, “You’re—my best friend.”

Bucky shuts his eyes. “I know. I’m not trying—"

“Bucky,” you interrupt, faster now. “Bucky,” suddenly elated and laughing. “Bucky—shut up.”

And then the entire room bursts into flames. Your lips are searing hot against his— plump and eager, leaving scorching trails everywhere they touch, and Bucky burns up like a solar flare trying to catch his breath.

“You’re an idiot,” you laugh, kissing him again. His cheeks, his jaw, his chin. “A real idiot.”

He’s terrified and dizzy, fumbling with a million possible outcomes and failing painfully each time. Relationships never quite work out for him; he’s dated a few girls and liked them a lot, too, but they’ve never turned out how he wanted them to. And this one—this one, he really can’t fuck up.

He’s got a bad track record, and with you, never knowing is much better than losing.

“Hey, you’re going crazy in there. I can hear it.” A sweet smile as your lips hover over his. The sweetest your face as ever looked. “Stop thinking, Bucky. Kiss me.”

Your lashes are so long and pretty. The dip of your cupid’s bow, a shape he adores. Even the tiny scar on your neck and the way your hair moves— wispy strands framing your face. Sounds of happiness tumbling out, hand firmly inside of his.

“It’s just me.” Joyful. Comfortable. “You know me.”

Your eyes glimmer—a familiar color calling him home.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, “Yeah, I do.”

Steve was the more competent linguist in their old days. Rolling French r’s, dropping ending consonants, silky smooth in pronunciation. Bucky’s tongue had always been more supplant to the Eastern European languages but, he knows enough of French—remembers enough from the war to recognize this:

Coup de foudre.

It’s the thing romantics exalt, the thing that half-strikes him now. The thunderbolt.

Love at first sight, even though it’s not quite first sight at all.

It’s not infatuated or starry-eyed. Not blind. Not feeling.

It is knowing.

And yeah, Bucky watches the way you pull him to the floor, euphoric and aglow, Jesus H. Christ, he knows.

This is it for him: your chaos, your entropy, your impulse. Your lack of personal space and foresight and good fucking sense. But—your kindness, too. Your care. Your heart.

Calm and patient as you settle down into his lap, the warm weight of you seems to be the only thing keeping him on earth.

“Can I touch you?” You ask shyly.

His voice is barely audible, hands unsure of where to rest, heart swollen in his throat.

Bucky flushes, and in the split second of your tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, he tells himself do it, you coward, just fucking do it—and god help him, he does.

He presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collar and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs and instinctively pulling everything off.

You’re both surprised and excited, blinking at his urgency, and then you start scrambling, too.

His shirt gets flung behind your back. Both pants disappear somewhere else. One hand goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

Bucky stutters breathlessly like he might go into shock. “You’re all fucking— oh fuckin’ hell.”

You only arch into it, holding his chin between your thumb and forefinger, kissing the bristles of his jaw. You’re soft and warm and he’s utterly overcome. Little noises fall from one mouth to another. An awkward shift and your thighs slip off his, head knocking into him, but neither of you are bothered.

He feels perfect in your hands. A silly grin blooms on your lips before you tip forward and glide yourself over his length, rubbing back and forth, hips moving easily.

His abs clench in time with his fists, wet fingers digging into his palms, bit-back groans barely contained. You keep going, marveling at the way he’s sensitive, kissing his neck, letting him feel good. Bucky begins to protest, embarrassed at the way you’re moving, at how he’s unquestionably powerless.

“S-slow—hold on—“

“Let me do it, Buck.” He’s so hard it hurts. “I wanna learn everything you like.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Bucky holds himself to calm down, other hand steadying your teasing. Nothing’s happened yet and he might already blow his whole fucking load.

“Okay—just—will you give me a second--"

Using the position you’re already in, he lifts you up and brings you back down, a bit at a time until you’re landing on his hand with a gasp. He uses his fist as a stopper, letting you have it slow, feeling you shudder from inside your goddamn bones with every further inch until he takes it away and you shimmy down to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back. And you look perfect.

“Was it good?” He blurts, “With Thor?”

He doesn’t know why it slips out; he never thinks about it, honest. It was a hook up. One time—and he’s not jealous like that because you’re all adults, and it’s not like he’s a virgin or an ascetic, either. You freeze, but he really is an idiot because instead of apologizing or rectifying that outburst, he cuts you off.

“I can give it to you better.”

Because Bucky wants to. He really does.

He presses onward before you can respond, taking hold of what little courage he has, making you whimper, feeling prouder as he goes. Another one and you’re meeting him with a roll of your own hips. Another one, harder now, and you’re shaking on top, tipping him backward into the cushions, grinding recklessly with that exhilaration he adores.

“Bucky, you feel amazing.” Tongue-tied like a schoolboy, he’s keening after your words. “Can I have you all the time?” And Jesus wept who knew you could talk so sweet and filthy.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky promises, his jaw hanging open in awe, “I’m yours. You can have me as much as you want— anytime.”

You bite your lip, skin of it pulled taut and snapping back bruised, light-headed and reeling. Glistening across your collarbones with his spit, body trembling like a high note. He feels it— just a little more— god, you look incredible— he’s gotta hold out for this— and then—fuck. 

It’s wet and divine when you come. Slick and tight, dragging him under as you ride out your orgasm, pulling him in like he belongs in you forever.

And he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Bucky could die happy seeing your face like this every day.

-

It’s rougher in the morning. In the shower, soaking together. Faster.

On the couch, next. With him asking you to put your hand here, move your leg there.

He wants to learn everything you like, too.

You eagerly change positions, giggling when your knee slips and you pitch forward onto his chest. The two of you take a moment to compose yourselves, pinching each other, kissing in-between. He commits to memory the way your lids flutter when he touches you. The way everything moves easy and wonderful, sometimes lazy, sometimes harried, but always fun.

Yelping when you bite too hard. Biting you back even harder. Positions neither of you have surprisingly tried before, but why not start?

Cursing. So much cursing. A lot of it good—fuck me, yes, more, don’t stop—but truthfully, most of it stays about the same.

Barnes, you got a juicy ass.

Will you shut up!

And he never thought a person was supposed to laugh so hard during sex, or if maybe that’s just your own brand of love, but he doesn’t want to find out with anyone else.

It’s the fifth time, and Bucky’s dick is about to fall off—how are you still doing this—just a few thrusts in when the banging on the front door frightens the both of you into your clothes.

Sam swings it open and Bucky is desperately tucking himself into his pants before—please, no.

“It smells like ass in here!” Sam hollers, “The hell have you two been—oh my god.”

“Shut up, Sam!” You respond from the corner of the room, head ripping through the neck hole of a sweater, legs wiggling into a pair shorts. Bucky is still shirtless, hoping he might spontaneously combust.

“Oh my god,” Sam whispers again, “Oh… my god.” He sputters on the verge of either eruption or death.

“You freaky little—” he hisses, before screaming, “Oh hell no! I’m here picking y’all asses up. Landed the damn jet like two miles away, walked my happy ass through the rain— you butt-ass-naked in here—” He stands ram-rod straight, hands on his hips angrily. “I’m tellin’ on y’all.”

“Telling on?! What are you, five!? You’re so annoying, Sam!”

“Annoying? What’s annoying is—I’m wet! And well— you wet too, huh?”

“I hate you.”

Sam snickers, high-fiving himself before crossing his arms, “Really though, believe me when I say this for everybody who’s ever met you two: finally. Now get y’all freaky asses outside so I can go home and drink myself into forgetting I ever saw Barnes’ dick.”

You pat him on the shoulder, “It’s nice, huh?”

Sam dry-heaves, “Uh-uh. That’s enough. Go wash your damn hands.”

A few minutes later, Bucky locks the door to a now silent cabin, damp with sweat and the smell of earth. It’s torrential still, two days bucketing and the ground is so wet mud goes up to his ankles. Luckily, and he wants to laugh at that, you packed two extra raincoats.

Thunderclaps shake the very ground he stands on. Bucky turns to look at you, marveling when electricity bounces off your eyes, lighting up your face. He reaches over.

A squeeze to your hand that says I’m yours.

One more, tighter. I love you.

You slot your fingers between his. I know.

You smile at the next streak in the sky. Me too.

[loving-all-for-loki]

Voiceless Love Chapter 4: Little One

Loki x reader, Bucky x reader

Word count: 2061

Warnings: fluff, talk of family loss, depression (alludes to suicidal thoughts), mention of a boner, angst

Tag List: @caffeineoverloadandstudying @zizzlekwum @lokiyoulittle @magicalpieex @daddysfavoritesexkitten @buckylokisimp

A/N: Okay Loki lovers, this is a dozy. We’re gonna delve more into Y/N and Loki’s relationship and look at her background a little. There’s a little spice at the end then it ends with some angst so I’m sorry. Trigger warning, there is depression mentioned and there are a few sentences that could be taken as suicidal tendencies or attempts so a little warning there. 

You find yourself sitting at the kitchen island one day and  eating your cereal still contemplating how you got to bed the night before. Bits and pieces from the night before come back. You remember making Loki a sandwich and him reading a book to you, but after that everything goes blank. Loki comes into the kitchen and smiles as he sits next to you.

“Hello, little one.”

You smile up at him, looking at his shiny beautiful green eyes.

“Did you sleep well?”

You take out your pen and write yes on his forearm. He chuckles at the way you always have that pen on you.

“You really carry that around everywhere?”

Yes, I’m not scared of communicating, just talking

Loki nods his head in understandment, “can I ask why you don’t speak?”

You contemplate answering for a moment, not knowing whether you should answer that question or not. 

“I’m sorry I shouldn't-”

You grab his arm and start writing all the way up to his bicep.

I’ve lost a lot of people in my life by twisting my words and changing them, so I figured if I were to write everything or make solid proof of my words, no one could change them.

Loki reads what you wrote then stares at you with a melancholy look. You hate being pitied, especially when you know the person is stuck up or prideful. Loki seems like one of those people who carries themselves on a higher pedestal than the rest. The looks he gives you makes you comfortable, urging you to repress into a small ball and close yourself off to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Loki reaches his hand out to cover yours in comfort, but it only heightens your anxiety. You move your hand and lean away from him, which makes Loki feel bad. He doesn’t know how to act with you, one second you’re very sweet then you avoid him like the plague. That’s why he started to leave the room when you entered, he thought you’d hate him.

Don’t worry about it

You finish your bowl of cereal and set it in the sink before getting up and leaving. Loki follows you up to the library where you start reading a book and he continues his own. He keeps staring at you, this lonely girl who has more pain than he realized.

“Why are you here?”

You look up and over to him on his chair. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, waiting to know everything about you, including why he is so drawn to you. Getting up and setting your book down (with slight annoyance), you sit back down near him like the first time you two interacted. He reaches his arm out to you to use.

I’m an avenger.

“Well, clearly, but how?”

About two years ago, my parents and I got in a bad car accident. They both passed away and I survived, horribly injured and stuck in a hospital. I was in a horrible state to the point where I should have been dead, but somehow I was alive. That’s when we found out it was a targeted hit and why I wasn’t killed. My parents were the targets. S.H.I.E.L.D agents came to me and told me that they were involved and going to help me. A day or two later, a scientist came and talked to me about healing options and there was a “potion” of some sort they had been working on to completely heal any wounds. They said the risk of me dying from taking it was about 50/50 and I didn’t have much to live for. Without my parents, I was lost and depressed, so I agreed to take whatever liquid they had. It healed me, but it had side effects. I would trip and scuff up my leg, but I’d find the bruises and legs to completely go away in seconds. Turns out it had lingered somewhere in my bloodstream and not my injuries that it flowed through me, healing any wound. Then throughout time, I found out it gave me the power to heal others as well.

You run out of room on Loki’s forearm and switch over to his right side, making him chuckle.

It started with me accidently touching my friends' cuts and them completely healing. After SHIELD came by my house one day to check on me, I told them what had been going on and they took me to some lab or theirs. I was tested on for a little bit and they decided I would be a good asset to them as a healer for missions. Not having a plan for my life, I agreed to join and come help. 

“You have no fighting background or any defense?”

Not at all. I’m just a personal nurse/antidote.

“What about your parents? Did they ever find out what happened?”

Hydra attack. Apparently, my parents were SHIELD agents back in the day and worked on a post-Captain America frozen case and Hydra wanted to cover up and hide Bucky. My parents found out about him.

“Your parents found out Bucky was alive a year before the Avengers did?”

Yes. 

Loki nods his head, wrapping his brain around everything you just told him. No wonder you were so close with Bucky. You probably relate to him with how bad Hydra ruined your life. 

“Does Bucky know about this?”

No. No one does except for you and Fury. He was told everything of course, but in my file he only put my powers and selective mute in ‘important information’. He knows how private I can be about things so he didn’t want to inform everyone on it if I didn’t want them to know.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Because I trust you

“No one trusts me.”

I do.

“Why?”

Because I know who you are. I know what happened with New York and it’s not your fault. I know what it feels like to be at the lowest point and want to do anything to feel something or get attention. I know you’re not a bad man, just a hurt one.

“I underestimated you, little one.”

You smile at each other, knowing you have a deeper bond than before. Loki chuckles at your shy little face, now knowing how much strength and depth you carry. You are much more than just a healer girl.

“I’m sorry about your parents.”

It’s okay. I’ve gotten over it.

“I remember when I lost my mom. It was my fault. I’ll never forgive myself for it.” Loki looks down to see you staring with big doe eyes. He smiles at you, the features on his face softening. “You make me feel better, though.”

I’m glad I can help.

“Were you mute before your parents died?”

No, it was the Hydra agents that twisted my words. Trying to get me to agree to things or say things about my parents. I stopped speaking.

“Hydra agents ma-”

They were the ones with the potion, not SHIELD. They’re trying to find what Hydra used on me and they took me in to protect me, but Hydra would come every day and aim a gun at my head. Asking me questions and threatening me.

“I’m so sorry. That must have been traumatic.”

That is why I don’t speak anymore, saves me from trouble.

“I don’t blame you. You’re very strong, little one.”

You and Loki share a smile, but the awkward silence fills the air. Loki wants nothing more than to hug and hold her, protect her from all the evil things in the world, but you’re timid. He doesn’t want to scare you again.

“I’ll leave you to your book,” he says, “thank you, for telling me everything.”

Thank you for listening.

You smile and nod before heading back to your seat and finishing Wuthering Heights. Loki’s eyes never leave you, though.

Another day or two goes on and you and Loki are closer than before. His whole body is covered in your writings and smears from when he washed off parts for you to write again. He doesn’t ever want to wash it all off, knowing your words are precious and important. You notice the way he rereads what you wrote when he’s sitting or eating. There’s something about his fascination with you that makes you feel important and loved. You’ve caught him a couple times smiling as he reads, byt quickly becoming stoic again when he realises you’re looking.

You’re baking a bunch of cookies for when the team comes home. The mission should be over in about a day and you wanted to surprise them. Loki comes walking in to see you covered in flour and munching on some spare dough that was too little to make a cookie. He chuckles at the sight of you and comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“What in the good heavens are you doing?”

You turn around and chuckle silently, pointing to the over. Loki slightly opens it and sees the pan of cookies baking.

“I didn’t know you baked.”

You grab your pen off the counter and write on his shoulder. 

I love baking, music, and sewing.

“You learn something new every day,” he chuckles, “Can I help?”

I’d love that! I need these things mixed, you write as you point to the recipe, think you can do that?

“I think I can manage to mix some ingredients, little one.”

A couple minutes go by as the two of you mix and measure ingredients. You can’t help but watch the way Loki’s strong hands mix everything at a vigorous speed. You peel your eyes away, trying to not get caught and embarrass yourself.

What you don’t realize is the way Loki steals glances at you when you’re not looking. He loves the way your hair dances as you move around, the way you climb onto the counter to reach the highest shelves. You’re so focused while baking with your eyebrows furrowed and fingers skimming the bowls. He’s never seen a creature more adorable and divine. Then Loki notices the flour on your cheek and laughs, getting your attention.

“You have a little something on your face.”

Reaching out, he brushes the flour off of your forehead. The heat coming from your body is intimidating, calling him to get closer to you to warm up, but he denies himself. He brushes his hand against a towel to get rid of the flour before turning to you, who blows a little flour on him, covering his clothes in the white dust.

“Oh, you little-”

You start running around the island as Loki chases you. He laughs as you try to evade him, but he slips his arm around your bicep, pulling him into you. You fall on top of him, his body breaking the blow to your head. 

Lifting yourself up, you look down to see Loki under you, his arms still around your waist. His eyes go big as soon as he realizes you’re straddling him in the worst place possible. He prays to Odin that you don’t feel his boner as you lay on top of him. You blush as you two stare at one another in the tight embrace

“I uh-” Loki stutters as his eyes flicker to your lips, trying to focus on anything but the heat of your body on his.

All of a sudden, there’s a horrible sound coming from outside the tower. It pierces your ears, forcing you to cover them and drop on top of Loki fully. He pulls one arm around your whole body and cradles your head in his other.

“What is that sound?” he winces. Loki looks over to see the Quinjet landing and Sam Wilson running out of it.

Sam’s eyes go wide at the sight of you and Loki embracing on the floor. He notices the writing all over Loki’s arms and legs and the way he smiles as he looks up at you. He shakes it off as he goes in seeing that he has bigger problems at hand. “Y/N!” He shouts.

You look up to see Sam in a hurried scared face.

“We need you! Bucky got hurt and may not live! We need you to save him!”

[astralaffairs]

freedom of the press 06 | t. jefferson

title: freedom of the press 06

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

words: 15k

warnings: implied sex, suggestive jokes & teasing, thomas has astoundingly shitty timing, lafayette is a huge fucking cockblock, hella fanservice, v v v tender quality time, and then some more implied sex

desc: the 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he’s most eager to please?

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow  @siriusorionblackiii @fanfic-addict-98— hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

By the time Y/N woke up, the sun was hardly up, the streets were plowed, and the bed was warm. She didn't try to leave it, instead curling further into Thomas's warm embrace when he pulled her close. Huddled alongside him, his skin against hers, she didn't bother to fight the fatigue that still ebbed at her mind, instead letting herself drift peacefully in and out of consciousness. She could feel Thomas's quiet laugh rumble in his chest when she made no move to get up. She didn't process it enough to react when his lips brushed against the crown of her head.

By the next time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky over Washington D.C., the streets were still plowed, but the bed was cold.

She frowned as she pushed herself to sit up, leaning back on a hand as she rubbed her bleary eyes. He'd left without saying a word.

She knew as she peeled the covers off herself, still damp in places with sweat from the previous night, that she shouldn't have expected him to stay.

Why would he have? He was a busy person; it was already... Shit, how had it already reached 2 PM?

She slouched into the bathroom, feeling like a wreck as she wiped the smeared mascara from her face, tied up her wreckage of sleep hair. She couldn't bring herself to take off his undershirt she'd donned the previous night, too cold to sleep in nothing but too exhausted to find some real clothing. (He'd laughed at her for it, but all the same, he didn't give much resistance before offering up his shirt.)

Regardless, they'd done nothing more than sleep together. He had no commitment to hang around any longer. If she were him, she probably wouldn't have stayed either. Still, it would've been nice for him to have said goodbye.

She tried to blink the sleep from her vision as she padded to her kitchen on bare feet; she would force herself to eat something before getting dressed and having to go down to another shift at the diner that evening.

Dry cereal might not have been the pinnacle of health for her just then, but it was easy, and she was in no mood to fight her cravings. When she pulled down a bowl, though, a flash of purple in the corner of her vision gave her pause.

She closed the cabinet absentmindedly as she turned, eyeing the post-it note dubiously from a distance, glancing around her apartment to confirm she was alone. (There hadn't been much question about the matter, but she couldn't be too careful.)

It was a moment later still when she approached it, stifling a yawn, and plucked it from where it'd been stuck onto the countertop.

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Y/N raised an exasperated eyebrow at the scrawled note despite the smile she fought back. The handwriting wasn't hard to recognize; not after she'd run her fingers over matching pen marks through a few hundred pages of Byron poetry -- not to mention the fact that there had only been two people in her apartment all night, and she certainly didn't remember writing that.

She shook her head lightly as she went to recycle it, but that time, it was the writing on the back of the paper that made her freeze.

For the next time you need some ancient literature, or for the next time you lock me out in the cold.

(202) 863-4828

Perhaps it wasn't such a gloomy afternoon after all.

------

Unknown Number: [Attachment: 1 image]

Unknown Number: nerd

Thomas grinned down at his phone where it was tucked halfway into his pocket. He'd been in meetings since noon, but after the night he'd had, he was struggling to focus on fundraising numbers and campaign strategy, most of it going in one ear and out the other as he waited restlessly for his phone to buzz. He'd begun to think by then that she wasn't going to reach out.

thomas 🙄: kinda harsh to say that abt someone who's been dead for 200 years

Y/N 🍑👀: ah yes because i was definitely referring to byron

Y/N 🍑👀: not the person who carries around purple sticky notes just to paste byron quotes in people's kitchens

thomas 🙄: you insulting my stationery?

Y/N 🍑👀: just your taste in literary quotes

thomas 🙄: don't be mad just cause i'm right

thomas 🙄: it didn't even wake you up when i left in the morning

thomas 🙄: at that rate you were gonna spend a lot more than a third of your life asleep

Y/N 🍑👀: wouldn't have still been asleep if you hadn't had me up past 4 am

thomas 🙄: is that really a complaint, now?

Y/N 🍑👀: uh??? yes, it is????? i have to deep clean my sheets and my mattress now smh

thomas 🙄: as though it wasn't worth it ;)

Y/N 🍑👀: wasn't worth the cost of the five gallons of bleach i'm gonna need to get the smell out

thomas 🙄: don't even pretend

thomas 🙄: you didn't seem to have any problem last night when i started ruining your sheets

thomas 🙄: you really gonna act like you don't want me to ruin them again?

Y/N could almost hear his voice in the messages, could picture his self-satisfied smile, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she read and re-read the text.

Y/N 🍑👀: you're paying my laundry bill

thomas 🙄: worth it to me

Y/N 🍑👀: or maybe we'll just have to ruin your sheets next time

Thomas inhaled sharply; his eyebrows shot up. Next time. He wouldn't have thought that just two words could turn him on quite that much.

"Thomas?" His head snapped up, his eyes wide; he'd somehow managed to forget entirely where he was in the few minutes since Y/N had texted him. Thankfully, it was only James who seemed to have noticed.

"Hmm?" He blinked, staring up at James's expectant stare. His gaze flickered across the conference room, and while James was clearly on the border of annoyance, everyone else looked to him curiously. "'M sorry, James, I spaced out for a second thinking about... your proposal for the fundraiser?"

That was the last thing he remembered hearing, and James didn't look impressed. "Right," he said dryly. "Anyway, I was asking how you felt about doing another town hall in D.C."

"Yeah, alright." He nodded, hardly processing the words, and James cocked a brow.

"Really?" He folded his arms. "I'm surprised you're giving in that easily. Last I remembered, you wanted to move your next few town halls up further north."

Thomas shrugged. His palms were sweating as all eyes turned to him for an answer after he'd spent the past ten minutes thinking about something very different from his supporters. "You make a good case for it."

(The fact that he hadn't caught a minute of the advocacy was irrelevant.)

James hadn't bought a word of it, and Thomas could tell from a single glance at him. He made a mental note not to pick someone who could see right through him as a running mate next time.

However, he fabricated a smile, much to Thomas's relief, having no desire to confront him right there or then. "I'm glad. I had a couple venues scouted out, but I'm open to any more suggestions."

"I think we need a new type of place. The same locations again and again get monotonous." Thomas struggled to resist rolling his eyes; he had to remind himself he'd only hired Charles Lee because he was donating more than twice his salary to the campaign.

"So what do you suggest?" He met his eyes skeptically from the other end of the table.

"What about a café?"

"A café?" Another of his campaign staffers who he couldn't identify by name spoke up -- Noah? Nate? Nathaniel? Thomas couldn't help but agree with his incredulity.

"It would be good for you to actually get to know your voters instead of... preaching to them from on high." As Lee continued, his voice close to a sneer, Thomas had to force himself to control his expression. "It would be much more personal for you to finally sit down and meet them."

"I'm runnin' a campaign, not speed-datin' the voters." Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw James purse his lips to repress a laugh.

"It's actually an excellent idea." Really, now? He glanced disbelievingly at the woman to his left. "The most common criticism you receive is about thinking yourself above your voting base. It'd be a good chance to lose some of your aristocratic reputation."

Hurtful, but not inaccurate. Thomas nodded, though he knew the skepticism was still clear in his gaze.

"If we do go through with this, where in the city do you propose we hold it?" James didn't seem to appreciate his fundraising proposal being derailed into a meet-and-greet, and by Charles Lee of all people. Thomas was right there with him, his annoyance only compounding when Lee shrugged unhelpfully.

"It's the Jefferson campaign, not the Lee campaign." Charles did make a good point with that. Thomas only wished he'd have thought of it before he decided to wedge his opinion into James's plan like a Republican jigsaw puzzle.

The question gave him pause, however. Were he to be perfectly honest, he didn't know more than five restaurants in the city by name, four of which wouldn't exactly earn him any points as a 'man of the people.' The last, however...

It was probably a poor idea; he'd known that even before he considered it. But it did seem to fit what they were looking for. It was in a low-income neighborhood, run by a family of immigrants. It had a bright atmosphere and an abundance of seating. However, the most tempting part to him wasn't how it'd look to the voters, but being able to see one person's expression when she learned he'd rented the place out for an entire evening.

It might've been a poor idea, but he had to put his campaign first, and the benefits were more than defensible.

He grinned. "Think I got a place in mind."

------

Y/N spent the next few days overthinking the fact that Thomas had left her last text on read. God, why'd she have to go and put the idea of a 'next time' out there? She was sure he didn't want commitment any more than she did, so she must have scared him off.

She hated how tumultuous the past Friday night had left her emotions.

Thankfully, when she arrived at work the following Monday, it didn't take too long for the distractions to come pouring in.

"Y/N!" Her head snapped upwards, her eyes wide as she saw Ashley marching into her office. She wore a smile, but her eyes were narrowed, and Y/N couldn't help the sense of dread building in her stomach.

"Ashley." Her response was wary.

"So your article got a decent bit of attention last Thursday." The words were nice enough, but they were altogether devoid of energy.

"... Thanks?"

"No, that's definitely a good thing; take the compliment." As Ashley circled around to take a seat on the edge of Y/N's desk, however, she tensed in her office chair, trying not to noticeably grip the armrests. "But a lot of it was controversial attention."

"How?" she asked, taken aback. Her brow was furrowed; it was likely the most unbiased article she'd written about the election.

"A lot of our readers seem to think you're siding with the Jefferson campaign toward the end of it." So this was why Ashley had entered looking so skeptical, and Y/N was sure her disbelief was written plainly across her face.

"Seriously? Because I mentioned that they're turning away funding from super PACs, you mean?" Ashley nodded, and Y/N let out a huff of incredulous laughter.

"You don't need to hold back on your critiques, alright? You can go after whatever information you uncover." She either didn't notice the annoyance growing in Y/N's eyes, or she didn't seem to care. "Don't be afraid to use what you uncover."

"And if what I uncover is entirely unrelated to the election?"

"Nothing is unrelated to the election, Y/N. That's exactly what you don't get." Something akin to excitement flashed in Ashley's gaze as she leaned forward toward Y/N, but the hint of vindictiveness gave her pause. "For you, the people are readers, not voters. You're not the one in an election."

Though she shifted further away in her rolling chair, Y/N said, "I'll keep it in mind, but for the time being, it's all been pretty mundane. Haven't found any skeletons in his closet."

"Then make some."

A beat passed; Y/N could only stare up at her boss in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes when Y/N didn't seem to be on the same page, which only elicited more worry. "You, as a writer, have grown to national visibility. You have the power to sensationalize things if you want to keep people hanging onto your every word."

"I'll keep it in mind, thanks." Ashley narrowed her eyes further at the bite behind Y/N's words.

"I'm serious. If you want to go further as a reporter, you can't just state facts. You need a narrative. There's a reason no one watches C-SPAN."

"Pretty sure I can spin a narrative on the election without stooping to the level of a gossip column." With Y/N's hard stare, Ashley seemed to realize she wasn't getting any further with the conversation, and after eyeing Y/N for another moment, she sighed heavily.

"You'd better show me a good narrative." Y/N had begun to tune her out as she pushed herself off of her desk, instead turning back to the article she'd been drafting. "I trust your judgment as a writer, so I'll let you take this however you want it. But people want to know who they're reading about."

"I have a feeling everyone knows who Thomas Jefferson is by now," Y/N responded dryly.

"I mean know him, know him." That elicited a raised eyebrow. "He's a person, not just a candidate. That's what America wants to see."

Y/N couldn't help the strange sense of pride that curled in her chest, tried instead to suppress it alongside the inexplicably conceited mantra Ashley's words elicited: she knew Thomas Jefferson in a way America never would.

When Ashley raised her eyebrows, Y/N realized she'd let the silence stretch on a moment too long. She swallowed her thoughts. "So you want me to air his dirty laundry?"

Y/N's eyes widened at the grin that broke through Ashley's unimpressed demeanor.

"Finally, she gets it." With that, Ashley turned to go, ignoring how dumbfounded she'd left Y/N. She glanced back with a well-pleased smile.

"If you need dirt, never be afraid to dig up whatever it is he's left buried."

-----

Unfortunately for Y/N, the distraction that was her boss's scarily cutthroat mentality only weaved itself into her racing thoughts about her most recent encounter with everyone's favorite Republican frontrunner. The next few evenings at the diner were slow, which she couldn't necessarily complain about -- being rushed and nagged by half of downtown D.C. over the course of a week wasn't quite her paradise. However, it only gave her time to spiral under the weight of everything she'd learned.

To her conflicted relief, coming in earlier in the afternoon on Wednesday provided a welcome diversion. It would've been her afternoon to herself after leaving her office at the Post, but when one of their baristas called in sick, the money for an extra two hours was too tempting for Y/N to turn down.

Despite her early shift, it wasn't until around 7:30 that her evening hit a bump in the road.

"Prosciutto roll for Belle?" she called out as she reached the end of the counter, putting the tray with the finished order and the receipt on the end of the counter. She pulled a paper cup out of the stack by the divider for the drink that was ordered. She was about to dash back to the kitchen after checking over the food, when--

"Excuse me."

She was sick of overly-familiar voices interrupting her workday. She froze on the balls of her feet where she'd begun to retreat, before turning with forced positivity permeating her demeanor. Couldn't her two jobs stay separate, at least most of the time?

"James! Hey. Congrats on the Super Tuesday win." His surprised smile put her at ease as she reached where he stood.

"Oh... Y/N. Thank you," he said, tone hesitant, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "I didn't know you worked here." She only shrugged.

"I just started two weeks ago. Not surprised you haven't noticed me around."

"No, I don't mean..." She raised an eyebrow when he trailed off, before he chucked to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is my first time coming here. You being an employee just... explains a few things, is all."

"Glad to provide some clarity... ?" With any context, his insinuation would've been painfully obvious; however, completely ignorant of the previous Saturday's meeting, Y/N was absolutely oblivious. She pursed her lips.

"You have my gratitude for it." James's knowing smile explained nothing for her, however.

"Right." She glanced at the growing line over at the cash register, anxious to keep the flow of customers going smoothly as the place filled up. "Anyway, what can I do for you? If you're here for dinner, line starts that way."

She nodded to the other end of the counter, but he shook his head.

"I'm not looking for food, actually."

Y/N cocked an eyebrow. "I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but I'm starting to think you're in the wrong place."

"No, no..." He plucked a takeout menu from the stand toward the end of the counter and nodded, eyeing the diner's logo. "I'm where I'm supposed to be."

"You're sure?" Her skepticism was still blatant.

"I'm sure." He glanced up from the menu with a smile. "May I speak to your manager, just briefly?"

That was when she paled. Eyeing his nonchalant expression, she prayed none of her assumptions about his motives could possibly be true, especially as they grew stranger and stranger. Her new spiraling was beginning to tie back to her previous spiraling -- could James have found out about the past Friday? Would Thomas have possibly told him? Why would that mean he showed up at her family's diner to talk to her manager about it? Could he have been trying to--

"Why do you look so nervous?" Her alarm only seemed to amuse James, and she huffed, leaning against the counter.

"James. You're a politician who showed up at my place of work, rejected food, and requested to speak to my manager." She looked up at him with a flat gaze, and he only chuckled, shrugging in acquiescence. "There isn't some new health code no one told us about, is there?"

"Not this time. Check back in a week, though." She rolled her eyes. "In all seriousness, may I speak to whoever's in charge? I assure you I'm not here to shut down your café."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "How generous of you. Give me a second."

He nodded as she turned away, laughing when she took only three steps before aggressively yelling "Orlando!" in the direction of the kitchen.

The man in question emerged with his brow furrowed, wiping his hands on a dishtowel with his brows furrowed. "What's wrong, mija?"

"Nothing yet." She glanced between him and James, her stare inquisitive. "Someone wants to speak to you about the diner real quick."

"You get us into trouble again?" Orlando raised a playful eyebrow, and Y/N couldn't help her wry smile as she rolled her eyes, batting at his arm.

"No, Orlando," she huffed.

Her contrived annoyance hardly buried her amusement before James decided to pipe up. "'Again'?"

She turned to James with a playful glare, and he grinned. "You stay outta this." She pointed a reprimanding finger at him, but he didn't appear at all fazed. "Gonna get me fired before you have a chance to shut us down, at this rate."

"You got us shut down?" Orlando gasped, but when Y/N saw the mirth behind his playful shock, she groaned.

"No, Orlando." James's and Orlando's grins mirrored one another as she looked between them, exhaustion settling into her tone. "I need you two to take each other off my hands, now. I have drinks to make."

"Of course, Y/N." James wasn't too hurt by the final glare she sent him before turning away.

As she fell back into her rhythm fulfilling orders, Y/N couldn't help but keep an eye on the two men, especially not when Orlando emerged from behind the counter to talk to James, trying to stay out of her way but also moving just out of her earshot. She knew the glances she kept sneaking toward them weren't as subtle as they should've been; she knew Orlando could see her watching them. As James continued on, Orlando's entire demeanor went from skeptical to welcoming, his body language opening up in turn. (Y/N tried briefly to read their lips, but something gave her the feeling that 'sent out the minors' wasn't quite true to their conversation.)

She had to force herself to turn her focus back to the customers as the unfinished drink orders began to pile up, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the mounting line of cups to her right with names and orders, but with a distinct lack of coffee. A few more minutes passed as she struggled to keep up, finally holding pace with the ever-growing demand when Orlando shook James's hand, passed off a business card before the two parted ways.

At the risk of making just a few customers lose their heads, Y/N followed Orlando into the kitchen, her curiosity overriding her work ethic.

"Hey, what was that about?" She caught him just as he was tying his apron back on. How pleased he looked had her skeptical.

"Oh, nothing very big. Don't worry." He withdrew his plastic gloves from the front pocket, pulling them on with a shrug. "He asked me about renting out the diner for a night for an event with Thomas Jefferson's campaign."

That stopped Y/N cold. "He did?"

"Mhm." He nodded, and he didn't seem to notice how stunned Y/N had suddenly begun to look. "I told him yes. I didn't think Mira would be thrilled if I turned it down. He offered us a lot of money for it."

"Oh, did he now?" She let out a shaky exhale, glancing back at the front of the diner to see James just exiting through the glass doors. "And did he say why he wanted to do it here, of all places?"

Orlando shrugged. "I didn't ask."

Why wouldn't that be your first question? Despite her moderate angst, Y/N tried not to let her frustration show. "Is Mira around? I need to talk to her."

"Aren't you in the middle of a shift?" He gave her a pointed look, and it elicited a dramatic, drawn-out groan from Y/N.

"Orlando," she whined, folding her arms. He gave her a mocking pout.

"Y/N." She rolled her eyes. "You're losing us valuable customers and valuable time as the line gets longer. Go back to making drinks."

Despite her scowl, she nodded. "After I close tonight, you're gonna get a piece of my mind."

------

As it turned out, it wasn't Orlando who was given a piece of her mind that evening.

2 New Messages, 10:38 PM

Thomas raised an eyebrow as his phone vibrated. He sat at his own dining room table, the sound coming from just inches to the left of where he was working on his laptop. Who would be contacting him that late?

Y/N 🍑👀: tell me it wasn't you who came up with the idea of renting out mira and orlando's diner on the only night when i work all evening

Y/N 🍑👀: please for your sake blame james

He grinned. The draft reports of the campaign's funding allocation he'd been typing up could wait just a few minutes.

thomas 🙄: i feel like you're just tryna get me to lie so you can slander me in the papers for it

Y/N 🍑👀: thomas i stg

Y/N 🍑👀: are you just planning your campaign around what's gonna annoy me most????

thomas 🙄: that's a heavy accusation, i would never

thomas 🙄: just wanna make sure you don't get too lonely without me

Y/N's scowl held no real anger as she read the texts.

Y/N 🍑👀: oh of course

Y/N 🍑👀: if this is your way of trying to get laid again, it's a flawed strategy

thomas 🙄: what happened to ruining my sheets "next time"? :)

Y/N 🍑👀: you still owe me for all the bleach i had to buy

thomas 🙄: don't avoid the question

Y/N 🍑👀: don't avoid the cleaning bill

thomas 🙄: if you're still tryna ruin MY sheets next time, it won't be your problem

Y/N 🍑👀 is typing...

Thomas rolled his eyes when the typing bubble disappeared and he didn't receive another text. Y/N, on the other hand, was biting her lip, her fingers hesitant on her keyboard as she read his text to herself. Her heart rate was picking up as flashes of the past Friday played in her mind.

thomas 🙄: did you really just stop typing on me??

Y/N 🍑👀: can we return to my actual question???? why the fuck did you decide to rent out the diner for your campaign?????

thomas 🙄: wasn't my idea to hold a meet and greet at a restaurant

Y/N 🍑👀: there are literally hundreds of restaurants in dc tho

thomas 🙄: and??

Y/N 🍑👀: and you just happened to rent out the diner i work at during the entirety of my shift???

thomas 🙄: pretty sure i mentioned a while back that i was gonna learn your schedule

Y/N 🍑👀: i'm not sure how good it's gonna look for your campaign when i file a restraining order against you

thomas 🙄: you mean you don't miss me? :(

Y/N 🍑👀: oh c'mon you're just asking for it now

Y/N 🍑👀: you almost make it too easy to mock you

thomas 🙄: i'm so hurt

Y/N 🍑👀: already?? i haven't even started mocking you yet

thomas 🙄: we'll see who's mocking who when you're stuck with my campaign for five hours this friday

Y/N 🍑👀: five hours??????

thomas 🙄: don't get too excited now

Y/N 🍑👀: fuck you

thomas 🙄: only after you get around to changing your sheets

✔ Read, 11:03 PM

------

Try as she might, Y/N failed to find a way out of her evening shift the following Saturday. She pleaded with her co-workers (no one else was available); she faked sick (Jac marched up to her apartment just to call her out); she was about ready to find a fake ID and leave the country when a better idea occurred to her.

Mailto: john.adams@exec.gov

Hi Mr. Adams--

(No, too informal.)

Vice President Adams:

(.... Passable.)

I hope this email finds you well. This is Y/N L/N of the Washington Post, to whom you gave your email address a number of weeks ago at President Washington's gala.

(She prayed she was using 'whom' correctly.)

As you know, I've been assigned to cover the Jefferson campaign up until this November's election, and I'm reaching out for any timely information you would be willing to share on the current relationship between Secretary Jefferson and yourself, as the projected Democratic nominee. I was hoping to find out--

(What was she hoping to find out? Her mind was still attached to Ashley's most recent ominous wisdom -- don't be afraid to dig up what he's left buried. But how could she ask the vice president for dirt without erring on the wrong side of collusion?

Backspace just a little.)

I was hoping to give my readers a somewhat more personal perspective on Jefferson's time holding office as Secretary of State. Is there any chance you'd be available for an interview? Please let me know; I look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

(Was regards too stiff? Backspace.)

Best regards,

Y/N L/N

She'd been hesitant to actually use the email address he'd given her; she bit her lip as she pressed send. She might not have been able to find a way out of five hours of the diner being full of nothing but Jefferson supporters, but if Ashley was looking for dirt, eavesdropping and an opposing perspective could go far for her. Despite her writing prospects, she spent the entirety of her Saturday dreading its end.

James was the first to show up. The diner was cleared of its usual patrons, but that night, it'd be operating at capacity.

"So should I assume your presence means this whole 'meet-and-greet' wasn't an elaborate hoax just to deepen my frown lines?" Y/N was looking up at him with somber resignation as he entered the diner wearing a wide smile.

"Your input and documentation are valuable to this campaign, Y/N. We would never target you like that." She rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the counter, despite how amused James appeared. "In other words, you have a long evening ahead of you."

"Y'know, I'm firmly convinced you're just trying to make my life Hell until I stop covering the election," she accused him, and he laughed.

"Have a little faith. I wasn't even made aware that you work here."

"Yeah, you weren't."

"What are you implying, exactly?"

"Take a shot in the dark." She glared at him, but it had no real anger in it. "Now, I'm not sure why Thomas is so fixated on antagonizing me, but you'd better tell him--"

"James, hey, you ready to get set up?" It was at that moment the front door of the diner flew open, and it was only a moment of silence that passed before Thomas looked up from whatever he was so absorbed in on his phone, and when he caught sight of Y/N's exasperated expression, a grin split his face. "Y/N? You workin' here, now?"

"Don't even start."

"Aw, c'mon, what d'you possibly mean by that?" His hands were stuffed in his pockets; he wore a shit-eating grin, and Y/N just scowled.

"I have too many hours left in my shift to deal with you two this early." She pointed an accusing finger between the two of them as she threw down her dishrag. "I'm getting Mira and Orlando."

"Some hospitality," Thomas pouted as Y/N began to turn, pausing to give him the stink eye, and he failed to mask his entertainment under his feigned offense.

From there, the evening went about as well as she could've hoped. Mira, as expected, was beyond overjoyed to see Thomas, didn't waste even a moment in helping him set up, and when the floodgates opened at 4:30 PM sharp, Y/N's feet were sore even thinking about scurrying back and forth for five hours on the tile floor she'd already spent her morning polishing. (So much for that polish, anyway. It was less than five minutes before layer after layer of bootprints wracked the shining ceramic with an avante-garde collage of brackish slush and sidewalk gunk.)

Demands were ringing in her ears. She struggled to distinguish between her rather lifelike migraine and the surrounding frenzy of voters and journalists alike -- the voices all sounded the same. A disembodied shout requested an extra tub of honey butter, and she tossed one onto the end of the counter without thinking twice. Two dozen hamburgers over the next thirty minutes seemed a small price to pay to no longer be working the cash register.

She'd begun to count how many viruses could fit on the surface of each dollar she collected in tips with a strained smile, retreating back to the kitchen to wash her hands every time she stuck one into the pocket of her apron. Considering the crowd, she considered herself lucky she was making tips at all.

The money was an undeniable result of the wandering eyes of a number of middle-aged men in the crowd, being to various degrees of seedy -- her skinny jeans seemed to be a hit. Though he wasn't one among the crowd stuffing wadded bills into her hand with a sleazy grin every time she came around to bus tables, there was one man whose wandering gaze she kept meeting. (He'd rather have provided a much different type of gratuity, and she suspected that went beyond subsidizing her trip to the laundromat to wash her bedsheets.)

She had to put it out of her mind every time she caught and subsequently broke his stare. The wolfish smile he watched her with had her feeling more vulnerable than she'd have liked; every time she noticed it, she couldn't help but pale and duck away like a mouse dodging a trap (no matter how tempting the bait might've been). Not to mention it was distracting her from her job. She shook the thought from where it weighed down on her shoulders, instead scurrying back to the register to deal with the line.

"Alright, what can I get you?" The words were breathless as she rushed to the counter, having just made seven lattes in the span of approximately five minutes and ferried forty kilograms of dirty dishes back to the kitchen -- she wasn't looking forward to washing them at the end of the night. Her tired eyes snapped open when she realized who stood before her. "Lafayette! How long have you been here?"

"Standing in line, or in ze restaurant?" His smile was just on the right side of jeering, and she rolled her eyes.

"I didn't take that long to get here; I don't wanna hear it."

"Of course not, chérie." He eyed the menu posted above her as he spoke. "I arrived 'ere nearly two hours ago, but I 'ave only just now come to get food."

"Been avoiding me?" she teased.

"Can you blame me?" Her scowl was all but involuntary at how self-satisfied he looked, choosing to avoid her annoyed gaze. "Any recommendations from ze menu?"

"Whatever's most expensive." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she shrugged, holding her hands up defensively. "What? Like you can't afford the New England stuffed lobster?"

He pursed his lips as he looked back down at her, but his eyes were all smug amusement. "Fine. I will 'ave zat and ze agave lemonade."

"My paycheck appreciates it," she said. "That all?"

"Zat will be all for me." The devious smile he wore as he leaned in a fraction of an inch had her on edge. "But with 'ow he 'as been ogling you all night, I daresay Thomas may want something more."

"Lafayette!" she scolded him, stepping back from the counter to glare. "Why has that become the first thing you bring up every time you see me, now? I am at work."

Her seething was in a hushed tone, and he only shrugged, leafing through his wallet with a smug smile. "Remind him of zat, not me."

____________

It was nearing eight o'clock, and Y/N refused to remind herself that she still had more than an hour and a half to go. She'd deigned to wash the dishes by that point, actively avoiding the crowds in the dining room between Thomas's wolfish gaze and Lafayette's knowing smile -- she wasn't sure when her family diner had become a lion's den.

The yellow latex gloves she'd been forced to sport were an occupational hazard, she supposed, as she reached up to return her latest stack of side plates to their rightful place in the cabinet above her. When she turned back to the sink--

"Thomas!" She jumped back, holding the edge of the counter behind her. She hadn't heard him come in.

He raised an entertained eyebrow as she pulled off her thick rubber gloves, throwing them down onto the counter with a thud before reaching over to turn off the water. "What are you doing back here?" she huffed, "You can't be here."

He shrugged, and she could feel her heart rate rising along with the blood to her cheeks. Him cornering her, alone in the kitchen at her part-time job after all the texts they'd exchanged over the past week, had her feeling increasingly vulnerable.

He plastered on a mock pout, folding his arms as he leaned against the side of the counter. "Oh, nice to see you, too, Y/N. I'm great, thanks so much for askin'."

Y/N scowled. "Don't pretend I'm the one out of line, here."

"You aren't happy to see me?" His brow creased as he held a hand to his heart, and though she rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips twitched upward. "You're hurtin' my feelings. Figured it'd be a welcome surprise."

"Oh, of course, based on how thrilled I was to hear you rented the place out for the night?"

He grinned. "Exactly."

She huffed at his audacity, shaking her head.

"Anyway, what d'you want?" she asked as she moved to go back to where she'd been at the sink, shooing him away. However, entirely undeterred, he took a step toward her, and she took one back, nearing the corner of the room. Her eyes were wide.

"Thomas," she said hesitantly, and he took another nonchalant step toward her, slowly backing her against the kitchen wall. Her voice was shaky, her heart pounding in her ears like a warning bell. "What are you doing?"

"Well, sweetheart," he began matter-of-factly, his gaze hawklike. Her breathing stopped for a moment as he closed in on her, one hand landing on the wall beside her head and the other on her waist. His grin broadened. "I seem to remember being promised a 'next time.'"

At that, she couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh, the sound breathy. "Seriously? And you think now is a good time to cash that in? I'm working."

"So am I."  He shrugged. "Makes it more fun, doesn't it?"

"No, it absolutely does not!" Her reprimanding was losing its bite, though; his smile was apparently more contagious than anything she was going to pick up from touching the used cutlery of his unsavory voters. He leaned in toward her with a mischievous eyebrow raised. "Thomas."

"Y/N," he echoed mockingly before he dipped down, lips finding the side of her cheekbone, trailing down toward her jaw.

"There's a window in here," she reminded him, despite tilting her head to give him access to her neck. "We're in plain sight."

"Not from this corner." She could feel his grin against the side of her face. "Really think I didn't think this through, sugar?"

She let out a skeptical hum when his mouth reached her collarbone, running her hands up his chest, arching up against him despite herself. "This is a bad ide-- Ah!" She squeaked when he nipped at her skin, and his grip on her hip tightened.

"Whatever you say," he murmured into her neck.

"We're going to get caught." She let out a soft gasp as his hand on her hip traveled south.

"By who? Mira?" He pulled back to look her in the eye, a playful shine to his gaze. "She gonna fire you for stealing the attention of her favorite customer?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, pursing her lips to push back the grin that threatened to break hef stony facade. "No, she's gonna fire me for whatever health code violation this constitutes." She shoved him lightly by the shoulder, but it only prompted him to anchor her to him by the waist.

"I won't tell." The hand that rested against the wall threaded itself into her hair, tipping her head back to look her in the eye. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for any sort of reaction in the affirmative. She bit her lip.

"My kitchen shift ends in less than half an hour." His expression visibly deflated, and she gave a small, sly smile. "So you'd better be quick."

Delighted surprised flashed in his eyes; she squealed when he hitched one of her legs up to his waist, tightening her hold on his shoulders. "Well, I can't turn down a challenge, now, can I?"

With that, he reached over and flicked the sink's faucet back on, the water drumming loudly on the underside of a saucepan. She furrowed her brow. "What are you doing?"

"Drownin' you out."

His lips returned to her neck with increased fervor, and he tugged aside the collar of her shirt, biting softly into her skin. "Fuck you," she moaned, and he laughed.

"Right here, in plain sight?"

She was about to rebuke him, eyes narrowed and mouth ajar, before he began sucking a hickey into the skin of her shoulder, and he felt her whole body relax in his grasp as she let out a groan. "You're unbelievable."

"I do my best." Her eyes began to flutter shut as she lost sight of her initial task, the small tsunami of dishes becoming hardly a wave in the distance. His hands trailed further downward, and she could feel her chest heaving as she dug her nails into the thick material of his suit. She bit down on her lip, trying to remain quiet, desperate not to draw any attention, when the door opposite them flew open.

Y/N squealed, shoving Thomas away from her, but the damage was done when she met the intruder's eye.

"Lafayette?" she asked breathlessly, "What are you doing back here?"

"So it is only a problem when I come into ze kitchen?" He gave Thomas a pointed look, who glanced to Y/N guiltily. She yanked her shirt back over the reddening mark halfway across her shoulder with a huff. "I was only coming to ask where ze bathroom was, but I fear ze two of you may need it more zan I do."

"Out. Both of you." Y/N glared at Lafayette, who looked spectacularly amused by the scene he'd walked in on. Thomas, however, looked nearly as put-out as Y/N. She walked over to pull her rubber gloves back on, turned the water off in the sink. "I need to get back to work."

"It seems you should do ze same," Lafayette commented to Thomas, who straightened his tie, scowling.

"Thanks for the reminder." He brushed past Lafayette on his way to the door before he turned to leave, casting Y/N one more burning gaze that left her palms sweating.

Y/N turned back to the sink and grabbed the next dish from the stack, expecting Lafayette to follow Thomas out, but he only raised his eyebrows, joining her near the sink as she picked up a sponge and returned to scrubbing a spot of yellowish crud from the edge of a plate, grimacing when she realized it was crusted over.

"So," he started, and she looked up at him warily, not abandoning her task. "I take it my hunch as to where you disappeared to at ze fundraiser last week was not misguided?"

She closed her eyes to take a deep breath, pausing for a moment, thoroughly displeased with the hubristic smile he wore. She didn't give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. "What d'you want, Lafayette?"

She glanced in his direction as he pulled his lips into a dramatic pout. "Is my company not good enough for you to 'ave here? You hurt me, chérie."

"Right. No agenda there," she said dryly, and he shrugged, unable to contain his self-satisfaction.

"So, 'ow long have you and Thomas been carrying on in secret?"

After the momentary pause the bluntness of his question gave her, she rolled her eyes. He came around to the drying rack on her other side, apparently ignoring her peeved sarcasm. "We aren't."

"Non? Then what, exactly, did I just walk in on?"

"Give it your wildest guess." As she turned to add a plate to the stack, she watched Lafayette hoist himself up onto the counter to her left. He gave her a sly look.

"Why did you not tell me about your little liaison? It is not like it was difficult to figure out."

"'Liaison'," she snorted. "Is there anything you don't know how to make sound pretentious?"

"Do not avoid the matter at hand."

She could feel her cheeks beginning to heat as she turned the faucet back on, and it wasn't just the steam coming from the scalding water. "It's not like that, Lafayette. Seriously."

"'Ow far 'ave you two gone?"

"Lafayette!" She turned with that to glare at him, his nonchalance about her embarrassment only compounding upon it.

"What? Do you really not want someone to confide in?" She paused at his words, though her scowl didn't relax, and he took that as an invitation to continue. "I can only assume you 'ave not been 'aving zis conversation with Alexander. I can picture quite clearly how 'e would react."

She let out a huff of bitter laughter as she returned to the dishes. "Can't argue with that one. He thinks the hickey I came back from Detroit with was from you."

"Non!" His eyes shone with mischief, despite his contrived incredulity. "I am your cover story?"

"It's his theory; I didn't even give him the idea." She added another plate to her pile. "Though, a lot of my friends seem to think you're a whore, now."

"Mm, and why should I not go and tell them ze reality of ze situation?"

"Don't you dare!" she said. "What do you stand to gain from that?"

"Protecting my reputation, apparently," he said mildly. "Or, you could simply tell me what 'as been going on."

"Are you blackmailing me for gossip?"

"Think of it as an exchange."

She scoffed, turning her head to look at him. "You really are shameless, huh?" He shrugged, folding his arms as he turned to look at her expectantly, his knee bumping her pile of silverware. She sighed. "Fine. We screwed. You happy?"

"Delighted." He wore a small smile as he shifted her dishes out of his way. "'Ow many times? Only once? When was zis?"

"Lafayette!"

"What?" he asked innocently, but the exhaustion written across her face made him laugh. "Come on, Y/N; we are friends, non?"

"Seems like I'm stuck with you, so sure."

"Zen why do you not feel like you can speak freely with me?"

When she met his eyes that time, the words seemed to be in earnest, not even mocking in the slightest. He wore a small smile, and he broke her gaze after a moment, eyeing the layout of the kitchen.

"Alright. If it'll get you off my back." She sighed, shooting him a dirty look, and he nodded, pursing his lips to suppress the grin that was bursting at the seams. "It was a week before Friday. Only once. And, to be honest, I have no idea where to go from here."

"Thomas seems to have some idea where he wants to go." When she gave him a dead stare, he laughed. "I am not making fun of you, zis time. Truly."

"This time," she repeated bitterly. "I'm just... not entirely sure what I want. The whole thing feels risky."

"It certainly is risky if you are trying to get lucky in public during his campaign event." He gave her a scandalized look, but her scowl was unwavering.

"Thanks for the advice."

Her sarcasm left him undeterred. He shrugged. "But if you are careful, what is ze harm? I assure you, even the papers zat care enough to cover Thomas's sex life do not 'ave the resources to find out who is ending up in his bed."

She hesitated a moment, considering his words.

"No, you're probably right." She sighed. "The thing is... I don't know. It feels like it could become a problem."

"Ah, is there... something more you want out of zis?" The sidelong look he gave her was more concerned than she expected it to be. She shook her head, giving a light laugh.

"No, no, nothing like that." He'd begun moving the dishes to his other side by then to maintain his spot on the counter. Y/N rolled her eyes when she noticed. "My career just complicates things, is all."

Before he could respond, she took a step back from the counter, peeling off her rubber gloves despite the looming load of dishwashing she'd still have to do before the end of the night. "And as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I need to get back to making sandwiches. Head back out to the dining room."

She jerked her chin toward the door while retying the strings on the back of her apron. Lafayette frowned.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Not trying to. Kicking you out." She gave him a flat stare as she turned toward where she stood. "Some of us have bills to pay. C'mon."

He scowled as he hopped off of the counter and she waved him away, following close behind to herd him out the door. He glanced back over his shoulder at her when she did, though, and his gaze looked once again as smug as it had when he first realized what he'd walked in on. "If you insist, chérie. I understand that you must do away with me before you can carry on with your little affair. Do not let me get in ze way."

Y/N rolled her eyes at how pleased he looked with himself as he strolled back into the seating area, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. However, when she returned to the kitchen counter, she couldn't help but scan the room through the front window; who she was looking for went without saying. She found him already looking at her, and she swallowed hard.

Nothing articulable was conveyed in his heavy stare, nor in the barely-there smile he wore, arms folded as he watched her shamelessly. She bit her lip. The three seconds she held his gaze felt like hours, and when he finally winked and broke eye contact to turn to someone who'd just approached his table, she felt her stomach turn. This wasn't over.

------

Thomas's rally ended at nine, but it wasn't until closer to nine-thirty that he'd persuaded the final member of his constituency to call it a night. Mira, Orlando, Jac, and all their miscellaneous employees had gone home when their shifts ended at the official end of the event, but Y/N was stuck on the clock for another hour or longer until she finished cleaning up the mess left behind from the evening. Unfortunately, his event running over time meant that he didn't start clearing out his campaign setup until around five minutes after the diner was empty, and that his posters, decorations, and gaudily-colored buttons weren't actually gone until closer to nine fifty.

Y/N was clearing the kitchen counters all the while, knowing she couldn't begin to mop up the grayish mess of liquified dirt and matted grass scattered across the floor until they were both gone. When they seemed to be on the last load of red streamers and campaign merchandise, she emerged back toward the front counter to lock up behind them. Thomas was still out in the back when James approached her, his final box of t-shirts resting on his hip.

"Is there anything else you need from us before we leave? I don't want to take up too much more of your time."

Y/N smiled at the concerned look he wore. "Depends; have you paid Mira in full for all our troubles?" Despite her exhaustion, her tone was light, and the tension in James's brow relaxed.

"I gave her the check before she left."

"Then you're good to go." She shrugged as she went to collect another basin of dirty dishes from under the side of the counter; her annoyance at it couldn't even rise, not after the mountain of plates she already had waiting for her next to the sink. "I've got everything else under control."

He nodded. "Thank you for letting us rent out the venue. All our attendees seemed more than happy with it."

"If it was up to me, you wouldn't be here, but I'll take the credit if you're offering it." She raised a playful eyebrow, and he wore a tired smile.

"The credit's all yours."

"My gratitude is beyond words." Though the words were mocking, he let out a light laugh, and she couldn't help her wry grin.

"I'm always glad to hear it." He took another glance around the place, checking for anything that might've been left behind, before turning toward the back exit Thomas had just re-emerged from.

"What else do we still have to box up?"

James paused on his way out. "You're welcome to do a final sweep, but I believe we have everything."

"Yeah?"

"I'm fairly certain." He looked back toward where Y/N stood behind the counter once more, leaning down on the bakery case. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Bye, James." Her sleepy voice has a singsong lilt to it that made Thomas smile as he searched the dining room a final time. She'd started toward the kitchen once more to retrieve her broom, but Thomas's voice stopped her.

"Anything else I can do before I head out?"

She turned on her heel to face him, wore a soft smile when she saw how earnest he looked, eyebrows raised and his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants. "So long as you’ve gotten everything you brought here, there’s nothing I need from you."

"You sure?" When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged casually. "Just hate to leave this place a mess from our campaign event. Don't wanna leave you with all the extra cleanup."

She pursed her lips when her smile threatened to broaden. "That's sweet, Thomas, but really, it's okay. I'm on the clock for a while longer anyway. I think I can stick it out, considering I'm the one employed here."

"Feel like I remember hearin' somewhere that your shift ends at ten." He furrowed his brow, walking toward the counter where she stood. She didn't quite get his point until she turned to the clock above the doorway: it was nine fifty-eight. "'S there really nothin' I can do to help out?"

She snorted, folded her arms. "Not unless mopping the dried coffee off of the floors is your idea of a good time." When his expectant expression was unwavering, her eyebrows shot up. "You're not seriously offering your services as a janitor, are you?"

The corners of his lips quirked. "Only if it's welcome, sweetheart."

"You're wearing a full suit." The disbelief in her eyes was rigid despite his conviction.

"Don't mind. Long as I can throw my jacket somewhere." He cracked a grin. "Unless, of course, you just wanna get rid of me."

She eyed him skeptically, but he didn't seem to be joking just then. "If you're serious, I'm not turning down free labor."

"Or an excuse to spend more time with me?"  His tone was playful, and she couldn't help her spiteful laugh as she re-entered the kitchen.

"So that's your ulterior motive? Hope you don't think you're getting any when it's eleven o'clock and I'm half asleep from my seven hours here tonight."

"As, c'mon now, why's there gotta be an accusation?" he called after her, and she could hear the teasing frown in his voice. "Can't I just wanna lend a hand?"

"I'll believe it when I see it." She emerged not a minute later with a broom and dustpan to see him having shaken off his jacket and undone his tie. She quirked a brow.

"Hey, anywhere I can throw these?" His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms as he slid his tie out of his collar, popping open the first few buttons on his dress shirt, and Y/N bit her lip. The suits he wore didn't quite do justice to his physique; his jackets may have fit tighter around his upper arms, but his shirts were practically molded around his biceps just above where the veins bulging in his forearms disappeared into his sleeves. She was sure the few extra inches of visible skin below his collar were meant to draw her wandering eyes, only hinting at the toned chest she knew lay beneath the starched fabric.

When she looked back up and caught his eye, he looked predictably cocky. He wore a wide, smug grin, and she rolled her eyes before he even spoke. "You're starin', sweetheart."

Y/N shrugged, wearing the smallest of smiles. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Anything you wanna see again?" He raised a suggestive eyebrow, and she laughed.

"Tempting," she said, and when surprise flashed in his eyes, his interest piqued as he started toward her. However, she stopped him at arm's length, a hand on his chest. "But you know what would be really sexy?"

His delight in the turn of events was obvious. "What's that?"

She leaned her broom against the counter and took a step forward, pushing herself onto her toes until her lips brushed against the skin just below his ear, and his hands ghosted down to her hips. Her voice was just above a whisper. "Watching you disinfect all the dining room's high-touch surfaces."

She pulled back with a broad grin when he let out a disappointed groan. "Seriously?"

His frustration was obvious, his brow furrowed as he looked down at her, deadpan, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, yeah. Free labor really gets me going."

"Tease," he grumbled, and Y/N gave him a skeptical stare.

"Don't you gimme that; I'm not the one here under false pretenses," she reminded him, and he folded his arms.

"Now I dunno what you could be refferin' to." She raised a dubious eyebrow when a grin split his phony discontent. "But there's nothin' wrong with mixin' business and pleasure."

"Don't you dare try to derail me after taking up six hours of my time, Jefferson." She prodded his chest with a scowl. "If you're sticking around, I'm putting you to work."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." When he did grab the broom, he glanced back toward the kitchen, wearing an inquisitive frown. "I'm gonna go stick my jacket in a cupboard; is that alright? I'll only be a minute."

"Oh, yeah; do you want me to take it? We have a coat closet in the back."

"Nah, 's alright. I can find it."

Though she gave him a skeptical once-over, Y/N nodded. "Have at it."

When he wasn't back a few minutes later, her train of thoughts managed to run a full 5k -- what could he possibly be spending that much time in the back for? Was he really still trying to find a coat hanger, by then? How hard was it to find a closet in exactly two rooms? Or, really, was he just hiding out until she'd already gotten the worst of the grime off of the tile?

She eliminated her final guess when early-2000s pop music began blaring through the diner's sound system. Though she groaned loudly enough for him to hear it from where he'd located the aux input, she couldn't say this was really a downgrade from Orlando's dusk-till-dawn smooth jazz. When he emerged from behind the kitchen's swinging door and caught sight of her dead stare, he laughed.

"Hanging up your jacket, huh?" Her annoyance was contrived; the way the corners of her lips twitched up gave her away.

"Hey, I can multitask." He bit his smile back, giving her a serious look, brow furrowed. "I said I'm here to help, didn't I?"

"How is this possibly helping?"

"'Cause you need to liven up a little bit," he said matter-of-factly, and Y/N rolled her eyes. "Cleanin's only boring if you make it boring."

"You'll be singing a different tune when you start wiping down the bathroom."

"Hey, how'd I end up on bathroom duty?" he pouted, and she shrugged, turning to the shelves at the back to hide her growing smile.

"As the only one of us who actually works here, I've elected myself the de-facto CEO." She hung her dishrag up on the rack next to the sink before looking back at him over her shoulder, shrugging. "Hate to break it to you, but you're on my turf."

"But I'm a volunteer!" he protested, and she grinned.

"My point exactly."

"Now, what if I refuse to do it?" Though she was busy restocking all the cups that she'd finished washing earlier in the day, she could hear Thomas's footsteps approaching where she stood behind the counter.

"Then you don't, and you finally leave so that I can be productive."

"Sounds like I'm really the one with the power, here."

"Not when I have something I know you want." She looked up with a suggestive smile when he hoisted himself onto the counter beside her, and he raised his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest.

"And now what's that?"

"Three guesses, Thomas." She had a feeling he'd only need one of them when his gaze began to wander down the length of her body, eyes shining.

"I dunno how unpaid this labor is, sweetheart."

"Well, you won't quite be making minimum wage," she said, turning back to face him as she leaned against the counter opposite where he sat. "But I think the employment benefits will make it worth your time."

"That so?" He pushed himself off the counter's edge, hardly having to take a step forward before his arms landed on either side of her on the counter's edge, caging her in, and she inhaled sharply. His grin was wide; his hips pressed into hers as he leaned in, and she swallowed roughly, leaning back on her hands which rested on the linoleum countertop.

"I'd like to think so," she breathed, as he dipped down, wasting no time as his lips met the tender skin below her jaw.

"Mm, I think I'm gonna need to decide that one for myself," he murmured against her neck, and despite how tempting it was when his hands gravitated to her waist, falling slowly further as he bit down softly on her earlobe, she pushed him away the minute she found her last shred of willpower.

"Uh-uh." Thomas scowled as he pulled back, hands planted on the counter at her sides. She folded her arms. "I'm not gonna make even more of a mess of this place that I'll have to clean up. When the diner's shining, I'd be happy to revisit."

One of his hands rose to her jawline, lifting her chin up ever so slightly to look him in the eye, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow. "After the place is spotless," he murmured, his voice hard and his gaze fixed on her lips, "Hope you know how much you're gonna regret leadin' me on like this. You won't be tryin' it again."

Despite her effort to remain unaffected, Y/N's breath caught, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she struggled to fight the heat rising in her cheeks. Her eyes were wider than she knew, and he seemed to be reveling in her reaction, wearing a wolfish grin.

After a moment, she swallowed, took a deep breath, her voice shaky. "Last I checked, I'm still at work."

"And I wouldn't dream of hinderin' your career." Thomas winked as he took a step back, going for the broom where she'd discarded it before, acting as though nothing at all had happened. Y/N was left reeling.

Thus began the next ninety minutes of her life. Though, to Y/N's surprise, Thomas did end up cleaning the bathrooms, putting up little resistance, he'd also managed to convince Y/N to help him. Despite there having been two of them, every subsequent task took twice as long as it otherwise would've. She'd have denied it, but Thomas's presence was a more-than-welcome distraction.

About half an hour later, he'd managed to drag her away from her Lysol bleach and her old rags in favor of taking a break to dance with him (apparently, she was underappreciating the wonder that was Outkast's greatest hit). She rolled her eyes at the suggestion but grudgingly obliged, and Thomas couldn't help but call out the small, growing smile that broke her grumpy facade. He'd seemingly done the impossible by getting her to let herself go for an evening. Neither of them was quite sure how the floor had gradually become spotless between their distracted banter, nor when exactly they'd managed to wipe down every surface in the kitchen as his playlist seamlessly ventured through every one of Britney Spears's wildest phases.

She'd just about forgotten about her fatigue as Thomas repeatedly soaked the ankles of her jeans with his mop, claiming that her being in his line of sight was just too much of a distraction for him to do his job properly. She scoffed every time, but the fact that her cheeks had grown sore from smiling made her annoyance marginally less convincing.

He eventually took off his shiny black oxfords after having spent the evening trying to hide his concern over some of the chemicals in her soaps ruining the varnish; she didn't bother to argue with his insistence that it absolutely marked a milestone in their progress that he wasn't afraid to step in any greenish gunk or black mold -- if they hadn't missed any, what was the harm? However, she did reprimand him for ransacking their fridge when she left for three minutes to put the mop away. She didn't stay mad long.

Wiping down the glass of the bakery display case took too long for her liking. As it turned out, it was difficult to focus after teasing him for the expected mediocrity of the John Mayer impression he claimed to be impeccable, as he immediately decided it needed to be proven. However, she didn't regret provoking him when the result had her sides beginning to hurt from laughing. She was just glad that they'd nearly finished cleaning.

Much to his dismay, Thomas had to cut the music after the sweet old lady who lived above the dry-cleaners next door came down, banging on the back door to chew them out. The fire behind her threats to file a noise complaint with the cops died down pretty quickly when Thomas offered her a beignet and a cup of tea, sending her on her way with a winning smile, a to-go box, and a Jefferson campaign button. (Y/N proceeded almost immediately to scold him for just giving away the fruits of her hours of labor behind a deep-fryer.)

But as the music was revoked, their animated evening of slacking off began to wind down. The only thing left for them to do was to finish the dishes, and Thomas proved to be much more helpful with this than Lafayette had been earlier in the day.

All was quiet as he washed the dishes and she proceeded to dry them, silence split only by his sporadically humming the best of the Black Eyed Peas. It was comfortable, just being together as the warm air wafted from the cooling oven not too far behind, as their hands brushed every time he passed her another plate. Her lips were pursed in a feeble effort to hide how endeared she was every time she glanced to him, his sleeves soaked past the elbow while he remained unbothered. If he noticed, he didn't mention. Finally--

"How are you so good with people?"

"Hm?" He turned his head toward her with a raised eyebrow, and she had to ignore the flecks of foamed soap that clung to his curls and his shirt. Y/N shrugged.

"I just mean..." Her smile was shy; she didn't meet his eyes. "I don't get how you do it. Mira absolutely dotes on you; you've befriended half of our staff after one night here. You just talked to my crankiest neighbor for literally all of five minutes, and suddenly, she's part of your voting bloc."

He just watched her for a moment. His stare was soft. "Can't help it if people find me irresistible."

Her loud, disbelieving scoff made him grin, but she looked far from annoyed. "That's your secret? You were just born with it? It isn't Maybelline?"

Though he laughed quietly, when she turned to him with her eyebrows raised, he shrugged. Her question seemed to be in earnest. "I dunno, sweetheart. Don't think it's anything special. People seem just as drawn to you, anyway."

"Sure, 'cause I have a nice ass, and I'm wearing tight jeans. Not the same thing." How frankly she spoke made him grin, and he shot her a wink, passing off another bowl to her.

"Can't argue with that." She rolled her eyes as she began drying the next dish. He bumped his elbow lightly against hers, gaze teasing yet soft. "But you know that's not what I meant."

She sighed. "Alright, fine, but I'm not forty-points-ahead-in-the-polls charismatic. I just... can't figure out what it is about you that people seem so drawn to."

As she concluded moments later, the uninvited smile she wore when he flashed her a warm grin could've contributed to the reason. She turned back to the plates before her, feeling her skin warm under his heavy gaze. "So you're tellin' me people don't follow me strictly 'cause of my political framework and field experience?"

"Oh, I'm sure every one of your supporters has invested hours into reading the 174-page pdf of fiscal policy your campaign published." Another stack of cups went into the cupboard below her.

"People really don't care about how taxin' it was for me to write all that? And here I was, thinkin' every American voter was out there doin' their homework." He looked with disappointment down at the salad plate he was scrubbing at present, but Y/N wasn't buying it.

"Thomas," she groaned as she turned to meet his phony pout, her stare flat. Her mild annoyance only served to amuse him further, and though she scowled when he laughed, he leaned over to gently kiss the crown of her head. She could feel herself flush despite how chaste it was; the casual affection left her more thrown than if he'd tried to rail her in the middle of the kitchen.

"'M only kiddin'," he defended, voice heavy with mirth, making her roll her eyes.

"Aren't you always?" she asked, wiping off the inside of a cup.

"'Course not." He frowned, and she deadpanned as she turned to him, arms folded.

"I'm not sure we've had a serious conversation since I met you."

"Now, that's just not true."

"Isn't it?" He put down the saucepan he was rinsing out to turn to her, matching her demeanor.

"It isn't. I know I tease, but I've never been anythin' but one-hundred percent authentic with you, Y/N."

A moment passed where neither said anything. The corners of Y/N's lips quirked at how sincere he sounded as he waited for her to react. Finally, she turned back to the dishes before her with a tight-lipped smile.

"Maybe this is what it is."

"Hm?"

"Why people like you. This whole endearingly earnest act you've got going on. I could see that being pretty appealing to voters."

"Hey, what d'you mean act?" He bumped his shoulders into hers, offense written across his face, and she laughed.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I mean. Traipsing around from state to state like some type of charismatic golden boy. Making everyone feel all special and appreciated. It's a good tactic; don't get me wrong." She shrugged as she shelved the last stack of bowls. Just a few more things to wash, and they could officially consider the diner spotless. She didn't think much of her own words, but he hung onto them. It was inexplicable as to why he took so much pride in her all but admitting he made her feel special.

"My bein' all kind-hearted and charmin' isn't some scheme," he said after a moment, plastering on a scowl, and she raised an eyebrow as he passed her a fork. For a brief moment, she was worried she'd crossed a line, but when his eyes met hers, his gaze was playful. "'M just a nice person. Maybe you should try it sometime."

Her mouth fell open in surprise, indignant but hardly disguising her smile, and she let out a huff. "I was joking, you asshole!" When he only snickered, she pursed her lips, shoving him away from her with the little comparative strength she had.

"Hey, now!" His reprimanding had very little bite to it with the laugh carried in his voice as he stumbled a step to his right, tugging the faucet head along with him. He scowled at Y/N's self-pleased smile, flicking his wrist to turn the spray of water from the sink onto her.

She yelped, jumped back from it, but he'd already managed to drench the front of her shirt. She wore an expression of disbelief as she paused a moment, watching him return to the dishes as if nothing had happened despite his entertained grin. It was then that she struck back, lunging toward the sink to retaliate, and he wasn't quite quick enough to stop her.

He could only do damage control once she'd already managed to spray a line of water across his chest, and she gasped when he pushed her back to her part of the counter.

"You're more trouble than I was expectin'," he laughed, and she folded her arms.

"You're no walk in the park yourself."

"But you're the one who decided to let me stick around, sweetheart," he retorted, giving her a pointed look, and she shrugged good-naturedly.

"You might be a handful, but you're worth having around once in a while."

He laughed at how matter-of-factly she spoke, and for once, she wore an unabashed grin. "Now you're just flatterin' me," he teased.

"Oh, of course, such high praise; you aren't always awful."

"Hey, that means somethin', comin' from you," he defended, prodding her in the side, and she squealed, jumping away.

"Hands off, Jefferson. I'm at work."

"Aw, 'm sorry. Didn't mean to disrespect your professional boundaries."

"Check yourself next time," Y/N scowled, but there was no heat to it. The pair caught one another's eyes, both wearing the same, gentle smile, and it seemed too soon when he broke her gaze, returning to the last couple pieces of silverware. She watched him another moment until he turned to pass her a ladle. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her gaze hadn't strayed.

She only turned back to the counter when she took the ladle from him, drying it off and sliding it back into its place in the drawer. All was quiet, and though they could both feel the chilled air of the spring night drifting in through the poorly-sealed back door, where they stood, it felt perfectly warm.

He glanced at her. "'S nice to see you like this."

The comment was offhanded; he didn't wait for a response, only returned to washing the spoons, but Y/N furrowed her brow.

"Like what?"

He turned back to her with a raised brow, mildly surprised at the curious frown she wore, and he shrugged, still wearing his faint smile. "I dunno." She didn't fill the silence, and he continued, "With your guard down. Always feels like you've got some kinda walls up."

She swallowed; for a split second, her gaze was absent. Ultimately, she sighed. "I guess I'm just cautious," she said quietly, and Thomas frowned at the defensive lilt that had returned to her tone.

"I get it." He reached over to finally turn off the water, and she put away the final fork he handed her. "'S not always worth lettin' people in."

His smile was tiny, barely there, but understanding, and when she met his eyes, it felt like he was seeing right through her. "It just makes it too easy to get hurt."

He nodded, eyes kind. "'M glad I make you feel like you can relax."

She hardly shrugged as he turned to her, leaning on his hand on the countertop. "Yeah." A small smile graced her lips as she eyed his expression, and she bit her lip. "I guess there are worse things, huh?"

His laugh made her nervous gaze soften. "Aw, sugar, you're too kind," he said, the mocking sarcasm in his voice balanced out by how gentle his grin was. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she said softly, and he plastered on a mock pout. "I'm not building up your ego any more, alright? I'm not sure it has any room to grow."

"I wouldn't mind you makin' me just a little bit more conceited, now."

She finally turned all the way to him, putting down the dishcloth she'd been using for drying, and despite herself, the affection in the way he was looking back down at her made her heart flutter. "If you're looking for blind adoration, you should've figured out by now that I'm not the girl for that."

"No, you really aren't, are you?" Though her words had been pointed, had come with the intention to knock him back down a peg, his low voice was far, far from contemptuous. Her eyebrows jumped when he took a step toward her, taking her chin in his hand to lift her face to his before bending down to meet her where she stood, his confident lips gentle against hers. "You're so much more than that," he murmured, not pulling away enough to even look her in the eye, their noses brushing together.

Though she hesitated, it was a moment later that Y/N took a step forward to meet him halfway, her tentative touch rising up the stiff material of his shirt and to the back of his neck. He wrapped an arm around her waist. She pushed herself up onto her toes, and their lips met once again.

The patience in his every move was new to her, inconsistent with the raw desire that usually governed his actions. When he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, her mouth parted in a soft moan, and he took the opportunity for what it was, wasting little time in pressing his tongue teasingly against hers. He was holding her close, but she was arched fully up against him regardless of it, wanting to feel the movement of his body against hers. Both her arms looped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her.

The kiss was deep, intimate, but not harsh, and when his mouth moved to the skin of her neck, she tipped her head back, eyes closed with her silent sigh as his hands moved down to grip the backs of her thighs. She couldn't help her surprise at how effortless it was for him to pick her up, to lift her onto the counter she'd been standing in front of. She groaned when his lips found a particularly sensitive patch of skin, all but going limp in his grasp.

"Thomas," she whined, wrapping her legs more tightly around him to anchor his hips against hers, grinding against his hard body.

"Come home with me," he muttered into her neck, and though she gasped at the feeling of his teeth scraping against her, she pulled back to look him in the eye, raising his head to hers with a hand in his curls.

"What?" she whispered, chest heaving, and he pressed another soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

"Come home with me," he repeated, looking into her wide eyes.

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows at her hesitance, and she took a deep breath. "Thomas, I live upstairs; if you wanna stay, I... I definitely wouldn't mind that, but--"

She cut herself off at his skeptical hum, and he said, "Listen, I almost got caught tryin' to sneak outta here in the morning last Saturday, and I'm not tryna have a repeat of that, alright? Just come back to my place." One of his hands lifted from her thigh to weave itself into her hair, holding her head by her nape as he kissed her, more intently that time. "Promise I'll make it worth your while."

She swallowed. "Pull your car around the back."

---------

It was hours later that Y/N found herself lying exhausted on satin sheets, slumped in a penthouse just across the river and high above the city. Thomas hadn't been lying about making the most of her time; his hands had seldom left her skin from the moment she entered his passenger seat, dragging her quickly past the doorman on the first floor of his building, pinning her against the wall of the elevator for a heated, fleeting moment before he'd finally tugged her the rest of the way to his apartment.

She was wrapped in his covers up to her chest, feeling just on the wrong end of self-conscious, but her clothes were rumpled and sprawled across every corner of the rooms they had to pass to reach his bed. They hadn't been overly concerned with where the outfit ended up, just that it wasn't on her skin. Every joint in her body was already sore, and she groaned as she tried to sit up, leaning against his headboard as Thomas returned to her with a glass of water.

"Thanks," she said, and he couldn't help but grin at how hoarse she sounded as he handed her the cup.

"'Course, sweetheart." He came to sit beside her as he pressed a kiss to her temple, and she took a long sip of the water, nearly draining all of it in one gulp. "You alright? Everything still feeling okay?"

"I'm exhausted, and my ass hurts like a bitch," she griped, but when he raised an eyebrow, she nodded. "But I'm all good. Might have to bill you for the truckload of concealer I'll need to cover up all these fucking marks, but I'm fine."

"Good." He squeezed her thigh lightly when she leaned against his side, her legs bent and knees pulled in toward her chest. When she rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against himself with a small smile.

"Can't believe I didn't know you live in the same building as Lafayette, though," she mumbled, and he looked down at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, he actually lives just across the hall. When he came back from France lookin' for a place to live, I thought it'd be fun if we were neighbors, and he took me up on it pretty easily."

She hummed her acknowledgment. "So that means, when Lafayette showed up half an hour late to your lunch date and I was there instead, that it would've taken you all of five seconds just to go home?"

He laughed. "Now, what exactly are you accusin' me of?"

"Being a pain in my ass two weeks ago," she grumbled, and he shrugged, wearing a small, self-contented smile and not bothering to argue with her.

"You didn't seem to mind me bein' a pain in your ass last night." He raised a smug eyebrow, and she scowled, turning her head to break the eye contact. She disregarded the heat she could feel rising in her cheeks.

"You say 'last night' as though we didn't get back here less than four hours ago."

"Don't pretend you don't get the picture."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirked when he kissed the top of her hair. She looked down at the cup she held against her chest. "Is it cool if I stay over?"

"'Course. I don't want you gettin' in an Uber with some creep in the middle of the city at this time of night."

"Mm, but you had no problem with me getting in a Bentley with some creep in the middle of the city four hours ago?"

Despite the teasing bite to her words, he grinned. "Hey, now, I'm just sayin' you gotta be selective about which creeps you're lettin' drive you around at all hours."

"I mean, you haven't killed me yet, so I'd call that a point in your favor." She yawned, reaching over to put the glass he'd given her on his bedside table. "We should get some sleep. It's late, and I'm sure you have somewhere to be tomorrow."

"Alright, sweetheart." She pushed herself forward from the headboard, laying back onto the pillow she'd been leaning on, holding it close to her head as he reached over to turn off the lamplight before joining her under the covers. "G'night."

"Night, T."

They fell asleep almost immediately in one another's arms.

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

5:17 AM

From: john.adams@exec.gov

Y/N--

I’m glad you reached out. Your writing’s excellent as always, but if there’s information you want, you’ve very much come to the right place. I’ve worked with Thomas for years, and though they left me dismayed, I’ve become quite familiar with the not-so-shining moments in his background.

I’d rather not put anything in writing should someone find this communication. Let’s find a somewhat private place to meet. Be sure to bring a recorder and a notepad. Believe me when I say you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.

John Adams

[angstyclowns]

oh man my first ask! ..so denki having an s/o and when he tells the class “oh man you should see my s/o” or “sorry can’t hang out i have a date with my super hot/cute s/o” but they don’t believe him. then later on they show up and everyone is just flabbergasted 💜

This is so cute????

Alpha! Denki Kaminari x Omega! Reader

“Don’t make us laugh Denki.”

He was used to people underestimating him all the time. 

He was among the low, like Mineta, which stung yes, but it-- for the most part-- didn’t bother him. 

He knew he was a little slower when it came to classwork, but he could read social ques and get a good read on a situation before some of his classmates could even blink. 

You pointed this out several times while running your fingers through his hair, purring when he would slowly evolve into a crying ball of anxiety and worries.

He loved you, through and through. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

You two knew each other from middle school and only got together early October. 

You were in an elite art school, doing just fine and you’re relationship was blossoming. 

Not that anyone believed Denki though. 

“You? A girlfriend? Please, Kaminari.” 

Even Mineta sneered at him, telling him to stop lying. 

His inner alpha nearly bit him. 

No one believed him which truly sucked. 

Whenever he said he had a date, he got laughter and teased. 

“Oh yeah? Is it with your right hand or your left?”

“Table for one, yet again, huh Denki?” 

Whenever he said his omega was truly one of a kind or how much he loved you, he got ridiculed. 

“Shut the fuck up, dunce. With a brain like yours, your lucky your mother loves you.”

“One of kind? Or one you made up?”

Whenever he showed pictures of you, they were brushed off. 

“Google give you this one or Bing?”

“As an up and coming hero, you shouldn’t take pictures of random girls off the internet.”

They were all good hearted and meant to be in a teasing nature, but sometimes...

Sometimes it hurt. 

It stung like a, no pun intended, shock to the heart. 

You never stopped him from complaining about it to you though, only humming and continuing to reassure him. 

He knew he would have to bite the bullet though, and continue to take the ridicule.

He would do it gladly for you though. 

Even today, this was seen again. 

He had a date with you and had to blow off the bakusquad for it. 

You always came first. 

“If you don’t want to hang out, that’s fine, but don’t lie about it, amigo.” Sero muttered, scratching the back of his neck. 

“I’m not lying, I genuinely-”

“Yeah, okay. And Bakugou is the next Cleopatra,”

“I mean with that waist-”

“Shut up Kirishima.” 

There his friends went again. 

Not believing him about his relationship or in his omega. 

God, his inner alpha was livid. 

“Alpha?”

Maybe not so livid anymore. 

Perking up, Denki excitedly shot up from his chair, chirping excitedly.

Your gorgeous face peeped in, small smears of paint decorating your nose and right temple. A paintbrush was lodged behind  your ear, along with a pencil and pen in your bun. |

God you looked adorable.

You scanned the room before your eyes landed on him. 

Aizawa let you in, knowing your appearance would throw off the entire class. 

“I won’t take long,” You promised. “My alpha forgot his lunch and his mom wanted me to drop it off.”

Denki ran over to you nonetheless, wrapping you in a hug and twirling you around as you giggled and laughed, accepting the pecks pressed to your paint covered face. 

“Thank you pretty omega.” He purred, setting the bento on his desk-- which he dragged you towards.  

In all honesty, he was just excited to prove his classmates wrong. 

You indulged him, pecking him on the cheek and allowing him to scent you before making you way back to your own school. 

He simply smirked, sitting back at his desk and slipping the bento into his bag. 

Kirishima gaped at him before bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. 

“So, that’s your omega?”

“Yep.”

“And you were never lying?”

“Nope.” 

“...Does she have any friends?” 

[lemonpeter]

STARKER, by Peter B. Parker

Chapter 7: Betrayal

A/N: !!! and the plot progresses, with this absurdly long chapter (I think it’s our longest yet)!! we would love to hear your thoughts on the story so far and any ideas you have about what’s coming in the future! - bloo & bri 💕

Warnings: nff scene in the beginning, heavier angst (it’s finally starting 😈), character death mention

Masterlist ao3

————

When they walked through the doors of the fancy restaurant with the French name that Peter didn't even want to attempt to pronounce, the couple was met with a young woman standing at the hostess station, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

Barely looking up from the little podium where she obviously was 'hiding' her phone, she glanced at Peter as she spoke, not paying any attention to the older man beside him. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but unfortunately we're full tonight. I'd love to help you make a reservation for another time if you'd like." Her eyes moved back down as she fiddled with a pen absentmindedly.

Tony didn't respond, just smirked down at Peter from behind his dark sunglasses. 'Wait for it' he mouthed. He sniffed lightly, nose twitching.

And Peter, well he just stood there and did exactly that. His eyes wandered, landing on the small, gold metal rectangle pinned to the hostess’ black button up. Hailey, it read in flowing black script.

The woman looked up, finally, when neither of them said anything. Her eyes met Peter's again and she smiled at him, raising one of her eyebrows questioningly. "Is there a specific day you'd like?" She turned to the side and began clicking through options on the computer. "We could do next Tuesday evening, at seven-thirty?”

Tony took that as his chance, clearing his throat. He shifted and took a step closer to his husband, hand moving to rest on his lower back. “We have a reservation, actually.”

Hailey looked up, then, head turning to face Tony in response to the sound.

Peter had to bite back a laugh at the way the hostess' expression changed, leaning into Tony’s embrace.

Mouth gaping, she simply stared at them for a moment, eyes wide with shock. Then a deep flush overtook her face. Hailey hurried to speak, spluttering over her words as she straightened her posture. “Oh, God, I am- I am so sorry. Mr. Stark. So sorry, Let me just-.” With shaking hands, she began typing before turning to them a moment later, an embarrassed smile pulling at her lips. “Everything’s, um, all set for the private room you reserved, sir. M-mister Stark.”

“That’d be ‘Misters’ Stark,” Tony corrected, smiling down at Peter. He pressed a kiss to the boy’s temple, eyes closing briefly and making a delicate blush spread over his cheeks.

“Yes, of course. If you’ll both follow me, I’ll show you to your table.” Having reconstructed her mask of professionalism, Hailey grabbed two menus and gestured for the two men to follow her into the main area of the restaurant.

They walked through the deep, navy velvet curtains that were drawn and made their way through the dining area. There were tables scattered throughout, all occupied by people who looked like they had more money in their wallets than Peter had seen in his entire life up until that point.

He could feel all of their eyes on him, no doubt wondering who was so lucky as to be on the arm of Tony Stark. He could hear their scandalized whispers. And he’d honestly thought he wouldn’t know how to feel about the attention. But here he was, preening under their gazes. The teen loved everyone seeing that yes he, Peter Benjamin Parker, had somehow lucked out and captured the attention of the playboy. He certainly looked the part, in his powder blue button down (of which the top few buttons were undone, exposing a bit of his chest and the thin chains draped from his neck, but not open enough to give away the lingerie he was wearing underneath) and his tight gunmetal trousers, both by Gucci. He didn’t even want to know how much the outfit actually cost.

But he wanted everyone else to.

The warmth of Tony’s palm on the small of his back as they walked, his fingertips ghosting over the top of his ass, had something warm fizzling deep in Peter’s belly.

Once they reached the far end of the dining area, they were led into an alcove off to the side, separated by another dark curtain. There was a single table in the moderately sized room, set up for two. A bouquet of red roses sat in the middle of the white table cloth like a centerpiece. The lighting was inviting and intimate at the same time, and it was quiet, the conversations of the other patrons but a low murmur in the background.

Hailey sat the menus down on the table in their respective places before turning to the two patrons. “Here you go, gentlemen.” While the two of them sat down, Tony pulling Peter’s chair out for him, she reached for the glass pitcher of ice water and filled each of their glasses. “I’ll start you off with some water, and a server will be right with you. I hope you enjoy your visit with us here at La Brise Fraîche.” She shot them a quick smile before making a hasty exit, face once more taken over in a rosy blush.

Tony chuckled as he shifted his chair a bit closer to the table. Slipping off his sunglasses, he popped them into the pocket of his black suit jacket, in front of the little pocket square that matched Peter’s shirt. “She certainly changed her tune, huh baby?” He shot Peter a soft smile as he picked up his menu and gestured for the younger man to do the same.

Peter hummed in response to his husband’s teasing, following his lead and opening the menu in order to look it over. A frown soon formed between his eyebrows, and his eyes flicked from the parchment up to Tony’s face. “Tony,” he said softly, “this, uh, most of this is in French. I can’t- And there’s no prices on here. How do I…” He trailed off, uncertainly, all of his earlier confidence gone now that they were alone again. He felt extremely out of his element all of a sudden.

Reaching across the table, the older man brushed his fingers over the back of Peter’s hand. “It’s alright, Pete. What are you in the mood for, baby? We should definitely get some wine,” he said, winking.

Peter giggled and threw his head back a little. When he looked back over at Tony, his eyes were gleaming and he bit his lip, running the toe of his shoe from the inside of the man’s ankle up to his knee. “You trying to get me drunk, Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s gaze darkened, causing Peter’s breath to catch in his throat. “Maybe I am, Mr. Stark.”

Their waiter approached them, then, slipping through the navy drapery. “Good evening gentlemen. I’m Jacques, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start the two of you off with something to drink?” He smiled at them both as he spoke with a light French accent, eyes flickering between them before focusing on Tony.

The billionaire cleared his throat, not even bothering to reach for the proffered wine list. “We’ll have whatever the finest Cab Sauvignon is, and how about a Sauvignon Blanc as well?” Though he phrased it as a question, it didn’t very much sound like one, and Peter squirmed in his seat at the authoritative tone of his voice.

God, how was he going to make it through this dinner? They hadn’t even ordered yet and he was already horny.

And it only got worse from there.

The wines Tony had chosen were really strong, Peter thought to himself as he fumbled a bit with his fork, trying to twist up some of the creamy pasta on the plate in front of him. It was some sort of mushroom-based sauce, and it looked delicious. And it would be, if the numerous other dishes they had ordered and already sampled, Tony insisting that he try a little bit of everything, were anything to go by.

He was flushed from the alcohol, and inebriated enough that he was no longer bothering with trying to hold back the little sounds of ecstasy that left his mouth at each bite of the incredible cuisine.

His eyes fluttered shut once he finally managed to twist up enough pasta to put in his mouth, and the soft noise he made sounded truly indecent. He heard Tony’s sharp intake of breath and sighed contentedly as he chewed the bite of food before opening his eyes again in order to get another forkful.

Feeling his husband’s eyes boring into his skin, Peter looked up from his plate. A small whimper escaped him at the hungry look in his eyes. “Tony?”

The older man licked at his bottom lip as his eyes roved over Peter’s face. His voice was somewhat rough when he spoke, leaning forward in his seat. “You’ve got a little something there, baby,” he said lowly, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick it before reaching across the table to swipe the digit just under Peter’s bottom lip. The small smear of glistening white came off easily, and he pressed the pad of his thumb against Peter’s lips, prompting him to open.

Another whine escaped the teen as he did so immediately, granting Tony’s finger entrance. Peter began sucking on it lightly to clean the sauce off, and he hummed once the light cream dissipated and he’d swallowed it down, allowing him to focus on the sensation of Tony’s calloused skin on his tongue.

Tony groaned softly, shifting in his chair. “Mmm, that’s my good boy.” He pulled his thumb away, smirking at the displeased noise that came from his young lover as he reached down to adjust himself in his pants.

Peter caught the movement. His own cock, which had been slightly interested since they’d left the hotel thanks to how sexy he felt in the lingerie he had slipped on, gave a slight twitch. “You hard for me, Daddy,” he asked, blinking coquettishly at the man and reaching for one of his two wine glasses, bringing the one filled with the red wine to his lips. He made a bit of a show of running his tongue from the base of the goblet up to the rim, cleaning up a rivulet of the dark, blood red liquid that had dripped down while he drank.

“Always, baby boy,” Tony said softly, keeping his eyes on Peter as he took a bite of what was left of the steak au poivre in front of him.

They continued eating, and Peter continued his teasing, until their server arrived a few minutes later to check on them. The young boy was glad the table cloth was there to hide the erection in his lap, his flush intensifying as Jacques approached them. Tony, however, didn’t look phased, continuing to eat the rest of his food and sip at the full-bodied alcohol in his glass, eyes trained on his husband.

Beginning to clear away the empty plates, Jacques spoke up. “I hope everything has been to your satisfaction, gentlemen.” When they both responded in the affirmative, he continued. “Would you be interested in ordering anything for dessert? Tonight’s special is a beautiful lavender and honey posset, it’s absolutely to die for,” he intoned, making eye contact with Peter and smiling.

Tony scowled at the interaction, sniffing lightly and narrowing his eyes a bit. “Nope, I think we’re all set…” He trailed off at the pleading look Peter gave him, big brown eyes peering over at him dolefully.

“Please, Tony,” the younger man asked, foot once again moving to rub against the inside of his husband’s leg. “I’m not sure what a, um, posset is, but it sounds really yummy, and Jacques says it’s good.” He looked at Jacques briefly, who nodded, and then back at Tony. “This is about trying new things, right?” He bit his lip for good measure, just to punctuate his little performance.

With an eye roll, Tony caved, his hand wrapping around Peter’s ankle underneath the table. He squeezed it, not ungently. “Alright,” he said, sending Jacques a quick smile as he piled the last plate into his arms. “We’ll have one of the possets, then, please.”

And he’d obviously made the right choice, as he was now watching Peter suck the remnants of the custard off of his pointer finger like it was his job to ensure that the small glass jar was spotless. “That good, sweetie?”

Peter hummed around his finger, eyes flicking up to meet Tony’s, which were once again flashing at him dangerously. His body thrummed in response, every fiber of his being screaming out in want. “It’s so good, Daddy,” he whined softly, the hand not in his mouth pressing down on the bulge in his pants. “So good.”

Sitting up straighter in his chair, Tony took a deep breath before reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He flipped through it for a moment before pulling out a stack of hundred dollar bills and slapping them down on the table. Standing, he walked around the table to Peter’s seat in order to gently pull him up and closer to him.

Peter followed willingly, stepping into Tony’s personal space and craning his neck up to that his lips could meet the older man’s. He moaned softly at the feeling of their clothed erections pressing up against each other.

“Let’s go, baby,” Tony whispered into his mouth, pulling away so that he could lead Peter out of the room and through the main dining area. He paid no mind to any of the other patrons, who were no doubt scandalized by the sight of the two of them, rumpled and clearly aroused.

Peter just flushed, grinning as he made eye contact with a few people, winking at an older lady who was looking at him with wide eyes.

Yeah, he liked people knowing he was Tony’s.

When they got back to the hotel, Tony backed Peter up against the door to the hotel room as he began to lavish his neck with kisses and bites while his hands gripped at Peter’s ass. “Fuck, baby, you look so pretty tonight,” he rasped, relishing in the way his husband jerked in his hold in response to a particularly sharp nip.

“Just for you,” Peter moaned, hands fumbling to remove Tony’s jacket. He threw it to the ground as it was shrugged off, gasping when he was lifted into the older man’s arms in order to be carried over to the bed and deposited on the covers. Kicking his shoes off, he watched as Tony did the same and rolled up the sleeves to his wrinkling white dress shirt.

Crawling on the bed to kneel over Peter, Tony reached for the buttons on the boy’s shirt and began undoing them. A low growl sounded in his throat at the first peek of black lace that became exposed. “What do we have here?”

Peter preened under his heavy gaze, pushing up onto his elbows so he could slip the shirt off his arms, exposing the black bodysuit he wore underneath. “Do you like it, Daddy?” He peered up at him from underneath his lashes.

“Like it? I love it, baby boy.” Tony trailed kisses down the teen’s chest, feeling the muscles in his abdomen twitch under in ministrations. When he reached the waistband of the dark trousers, he undid the button with practiced ease and pulled them down, pausing for Peter to lift his hips and throwing them to the floor once they were off. His eyes raked over Peter’s form, mesmerized by the sight of him spread out on the fluffy comforter, the inky lingerie creating a strong contrast. He could very clearly see Peter’s erection straining against the lace, and the wet spot that was glistening with precum.

“Daddy,” Peter whined, hips twitching upward in an attempt to get some friction. “Touch me, please.”

Tony hummed softly, eyes locking on Peter’s lips for a moment before he got off the bed in order to walk over to the kitchenette area. He rifled through the drawers for a moment, ignoring Peter’s indignant noises. When he found what he was looking for, he resumed his previous position.

Making eye contact with Peter, Tony uncapped the lid of the honey bottle and squeezed some out onto his pointer and middle fingers. “Get up, baby,” he said softly. “Kneel for me.”

Eyes wide, Peter followed the request, only wobbling a little bit as a result of the alcohol in his system.

“Now open,” Tony instructed as he brought his dripping finger’s to Peter’s lips. He groaned when the digits were enveloped in the warmth of the boy’s mouth, shivering when he started suckling, not unlike the way he treated the man’s cock. “Fuck, Peter.”

Bolstered by Tony’s words, and desperate for the sticky sweetness he was desperately chasing with his tongue, Peter whined in the back of his throat before he closed his eyes and began sucking in earnest.

Eyes blazing, Tony watched in awe as the teen fellated his fingers. His other hand moved up to grab at Peter’s unruly curls, using his grip to hold the boy still as he pressed his fingers further into his mouth.

Peter’s eyes flew open as he gagged around the intrusion, throat convulsing as Tony held him there. He whimpered, eyes watering as he struggled to breathe. He gasped when Tony eventually removed his fingers, spluttering as thick saliva dripped down his chin. “Daddy- please,” he rasped, voice already a little wrecked. “More.” His eyes flickered to the honey bottle that was laying on the bed.

Smirking, Tony snatched it up. His hands moved to his belt and began unfastening it. “Want some more dessert, baby?”

***

Peter was going to be mortified when he realized that they were able to see everything that was going on. Every lingering touch or look, every...well, every time he was with Tony was being broadcasted to SHIELD through EDITH. No matter what was going on, sensitive and tame content alike, it was all being witnessed by the agents (plus, even more uncomfortably, May and Ned.)

Unfortunately, he wasn’t aware. So it didn’t seem like he was going to stop anytime soon.

So Ned was forced to suffer through every moment of it in a room full of adults. Again, including Peter’s poor aunt. Hopefully she wasn’t paying attention, though, because it definitely would have been even more awkward for her to see. Or even think about.

Just. Ew.

Personally, he was trying to figure out if the situation was illegal. After all, Peter was seventeen. And even though technically it was all in his head, it was still explicitly sexual content that they were all witnessing, starring him.

Maybe it wasn’t the best or most relevant thing to be thinking over, but Ned was trying to ignore the reality of what was actually going on. Watching his best friend make bedroom eyes at and get railed by their deceased idol wasn’t something he was particularly fond of.

He just needed to distract himself from the...activities that kept occurring on the monitors. So he tried to keep his mind away from that part of the situation, legality and all.

What he really needed to focus on was getting Peter out. It had been nearly two weeks since Beck’s announcement that outed Peter’s identity. It had been almost two weeks since Peter had run away and gone into hiding.

They hadn’t even been able to make contact with him through May for days now. He was solely focused on Tony, just as he had been since the wedding. They weren’t sure how much longer that pattern would continue. Or if it would ever stop.

Everyone was getting more and more anxious by the day.

Ned hadn’t found any real solution yet. There were no cracks in the program, no hidden door in the code that he could sneak his way through. So far, it was all sealed tightly.

Usually, that would be considered a good thing. But it just made his job that much more stressful in the moment. They still had no location for Peter. They were yet to discover a way to shut down the illusion. All they had was the ability to send May in when Peter wanted his family there. Nothing else. And there hadn’t been much family bonding time lately.

“When do you think they’ll finally stop?” Paige wondered out loud, eyes firmly on the screen as she leaned over Ned’s shoulder.

The teen jumped at the sound of her voice, head whipping around until they nearly collided. He had no idea that she’d snuck up on him. “What? Oh.” He made a face as he processed her question. “I don’t know. Hopefully soon.” Although that was doubtful, if he was honest with himself.

She hummed in acknowledgment, nodding a little. Her eyes seemed to follow the movements on the monitor before she finally glanced away, seeming a bit flustered. “Yeah. They’ve been at it a while, huh.”

Ned had absolutely no desire to discuss his best friend’s sex life. Especially considering the circumstances. And the interest in the agent’s voice sparked something in him. Not annoyance, not at her, but something very close to that. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. “They kinda have. But I’m trying to not pay that much attention to all of it. I’d like to have something of a normal friendship with Peter when he’s out. I can’t do that if I spend all this time watching him get-“

“Leeds,” Fury interrupted, standing over the two young people.

Paige instantly straightened up when she heard him, a light flush overtaking her cheeks as she pushed her hair back behind her ear.

“Yes, sir?” Ned answered, slowly looking up at the man.

“Any change? There has to be something you can do to get his attention.” The director worked to keep up his hard exterior, but was obviously uncomfortable. As was everyone else.

Except maybe Paige. But Ned didn’t want to think about why that was.

Ned sighed, fingers absently tapping at his keyboard. “No. Nothing yet, sir. I’ve been looking for a way to slip through into the program more frequently, but everything is airtight. Tony Stark knew what he was doing.” He couldn’t keep the admiration out of his voice. Which was a little annoying, since the tech and designer in question was causing nothing but issues. “And Peter too, I guess,” he added, knowing that Peter had probably input quite a bit of his own code into the program.

“Do you think he knew that Peter would use the glasses for this?” Paige murmured.

Again with the interested tone. “Probably not,” Ned supplied, clicking away from the live-feed for a moment. He technically wasn’t supposed to do that, but it would make everyone more comfortable for the moment. And it made certain that agent Oliver would have to stop watching, at least for the time being. “I mean, maybe. But probably not.”

“Stark wasn’t exactly the picture of perfect morality, but I don’t think he ever imagined anything like this happening.” Fury shook his head, face contorted in visible discomfort. “Especially not from Parker. I knew he was a devious little shit but not like this.”

Ned was pretty much on the same page. He knew that Peter had his moments, but it was never anything more than normal teenage hormone-fueled...lust felt like too strong of a word, but nothing else was coming to mind. He’d never thought that Peter was even capable of the things he had seen playing out on the screen. Although, he really hadn’t thought about it too much. Or ever.

His best friend was objectively an attractive guy, but Ned had really never thought of him in anything but a platonic way. So this was a lot of stuff that he’d never wanted to see.

“I dunno, I don’t know much about him but he seems like the closeted-kinky type,” Paige offered with a slight smile pulling at her lips. “Y’know, eager to please and all? Maybe I’m the only one that sees it.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Ned said quickly, definitely louder than necessary. The annoyed-but-not feeling was back. He adjusted his glasses just so he could have something to do with his hands for a moment. “I’d rather just focus on getting him out. Or figuring out how to talk to him.”

“Leeds is right,” Fury agreed, looking at the screen again. “It wouldn’t be my first choice, and it pains me to say it, but I suggest you turn that back on. Just to be sure nothing gets missed. We need to send Ms. Parker back in as soon as he shows signs of wanting her back in.”

None of them believed that it would be happening anytime soon, but Ned begrudgingly clicked to the feed again.

“Great. Keep checking to see if there’s anywhere you can slip through, he’s already held onto that tech for too long.”

The man walked away, leaving Ned and Paige alone again.

Ned looked at the agent, giving her a smile. “So, any ideas? We’re still stuck with what we’ve got and I feel like I’ve tried everything.” He sighed heavily, looking back to the screen.

He expected to see more of the same, ‘the same’ being Peter engaging in some insanely sexual scene with no end in sight. But it seemed like they had finally stopped, as the screen was dark, Ned’s reflection looking back at him. Something that only happened when Peter fell asleep, therefore unable to keep the tech running.

“They’re asleep!” He announced to the room. Everyone seemed to collectively relax. No more having to watch a potential lawsuit.

And sleep was good news for Ned; that meant he was able to finally get some real work done without having to constantly check up on the feed. He would have about seven hours or so (going by how long the illusion was typically down for a night of rest) to work and figure out a way to shut things down without worrying about his friend waking up and realizing it. Maybe even stopping him.

Nothing had come of the other nights he’d been able to work, but he kept hoping that he’d get lucky soon. He was determined to save his best friend. He had to.

So he started the stopwatch to record how long Peter slept and then got to work.

***

Ned worked all night, but was still stuck exactly where he had been, in terms of progress. The only connection they had was through the small gap he’d been able to squeeze his own coding into to get May through. And he had a bad feeling that his ‘solution’ with that wouldn’t last for much longer.

He kept track of what Peter (and Tony, by extension) was doing as the morning went on, instantly becoming more focused when he heard a brief mention of family.

“I think it would be nice to spend another day with them,” Peter commented through the crackly speakers, seeming to pack up the countless bags that he’d acquired over the past couple of days.

Not-Tony hummed in agreement, moving to help his- husband? (Ned wasn’t quite sure how all of it worked. It was all just pretend, after all.) No matter what they were considered, Tony began helping Peter with gathering up his bags. “I think that’s a great idea. Haven’t seen them since the wedding, we should spend some time with them.”

“Yeah, just having everyone over would be nice. We could watch a movie or something. One of those old ones you like.”

Tony made an offended noise, glancing in Peter’s direction. “Just because it came out before, what, two thousand? Doesn’t make it old. You’re just a baby,” he teased.

“Cradle robber,” Peter shot back playfully, an easy smile on his face. Like what he said didn’t make Ned’s skin crawl. They joked so easily (Peter’s mind did, at least) and yet the age gap between the two seemed to become that much more apparent in the moment.

“Oh, quiet.” Tony waved one hand. “So are you thinking that you just want to go back to the tower? Or was there another idea in that pretty little brain of yours?”

“Just home. Please.” Apparently ‘home’ was the tower, where Tony had mentioned, because he nodded and smiled after the answer.

“That isn’t his home,” May said softly from somewhere behind Ned, causing the teen to turn around.

Ned leaned back in his chair, looking up at her. “I’m hoping that he remembers that,” he admitted. “But I’m sure he does,” he corrected quickly when he saw the woman’s expression fall.

“He has to. He can’t just- he can’t leave us like this. For someone who got him killed.” May’s voice took on a slightly angrier tone as she spoke. But the anger fizzled out just as quickly as it came. “I need to talk to him, Ned. Not just within his little script. I need to actually get through to him.”

The teen nodded slowly, watching her closely. He knew it was a bad idea. The mission so far was just to stick to the scene that Peter wanted and to follow his lead. Get close to him. May wasn’t nearly close enough yet. And Peter didn’t seem to be close to changing his mind in any way. “But Fury said-“

“I don’t care what he said,” May said sharply. “Peter needs his family. His real family. He needs me. Not the me he expects to play along with his little game.”

That was a dangerous thing to say, especially given how the director seemed to know everything that was going on. Ned hoped that Fury hadn’t heard her. That could possibly compromise the one advantage they had. “He does need you. But just- not yet. You have to go along with his scene right now. Just for a little while longer.”

The woman watched him, expression softening slightly. She knew that he was right. But there was nothing she wanted to do more than reach out to Peter and bring him home. To his actual home. “Okay. But I’m not going another week or whatever without him. I can’t do that shit. This has already gone on too long. He needs to be home. And if he doesn’t get it together, I’ll be bringing him back with or without SHIELD’s help.”

The last bit sounded like a threat, and it probably was. Ned knew that she missed Peter. He was her only remaining family member. And he missed him too, of course he did. He just knew that it was different because May had seen him break too many times before. And she didn’t want to see it again.

She left, presumably going back to the small room that had her setup for entering the illusion. If Peter was talking about family, she had better get ready to go in as soon as he expected her to.

She slipped the headset on and waited, heart aching as she watched Peter interacting with Tony through the screen. She’d never seen him look at anyone quite like that. With so much love in his eyes. It nearly broke her heart to think about how her goal was to take him away from that. But she felt less guilty when she thought about all she was bringing him back to.

His home. His family. His friends. Everything he needed was all here in the real world. And he’d find someone else to look at in that same way, she was sure of it. And when he did, it would be okay. Because it would be the right person and the right time.

Not a dead man who was the root of all his issues.

May held her breath as the scene changed before her eyes, transforming into the sleek and expensive interior of Stark tower once again. And as the couple relaxed in the living area, she saw how Peter’s expression shifted into one of more concentration.

And she heard the quiet ding of the elevator and knew it was time for her to slip into the fantasy again. She heard agent Oliver instructing her in the background, but she already knew what to do.

She let herself relax, getting pulled into the illusion until she was standing in the elevator with the rest of Peter’s ‘special guests.’ It still gave her an odd, sick feeling of deja vu to see Mary, Richard, and Ben all together like that. It was all wrong. But she had to act like everything was okay. Like she wasn’t horrified by being surrounded by family members (and her husband) that she’d already lost and grieved for years.

Her participation in the scene had to be perfectly in accordance with Peter’s intentions or it would all be ruined. At least that’s what she’d been told countless times. But as soon as the doors opened and she saw Peter again, every plan they’d ever discussed dropped to the bottom of her list of priorities.

She just wanted him to come home.

Peter glanced up once he heard the doors, beaming. “Perfect!” He held onto Tony’s arm gently, leaning against him. “Now everyone is here.”

They filed out of the elevator, going over to the couple. May couldn’t help but realize how off it all felt. Without Peter actively controlling the other figures, it was like they were hardly there. Nothing more than stand-ins.

It was terrifying to witness, making her that much more determined to bring the boy home. He couldn’t stay in this environment, living entirely in his mind with no real company. It would only do further damage to his mental state.

As soon as they were in a certain vicinity, the scene seemed to come to life. Suddenly there was soft chatter from the other people as they started carrying their own conversations.

May jumped when she felt a hand on her lower back, instantly wanting to bat the intruding touch away. She knew who it was before she even looked and forced herself to relax. She had to remind herself that it wasn’t her Ben. Letting herself get attached wouldn’t do her any favors. It couldn’t happen. She had to keep her focus on the goal of saving Peter. That’s what was important.

“It’s nice of them to have us over like this,” Not-Ben murmured to her. “Yknow, I like seeing Pete so happy.” He smiled a bit and May’s heart ached. There was the smile she remembered. Easy, slightly mischievous. All Ben.

“Yeah…,” she started, forgetting what they were talking about for a moment. All she could think about was her husband. She could finally have him back like this, maybe she saw the appeal-

No. She couldn’t let herself get sucked in.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been a huge fan of Tony Stark,” she whispered back, not caring about possible consequences. She had to keep her mind straight, and in that moment that required being honest.

“But he’s happy, May.” Ben’s eyes searched her face, but she knew it wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t seeing anything. And even if he did, he couldn’t do anything with the information he found. He was just another figment of Peter’s imagination.

“Yeah. For now,” she mumbled, looking away. She had to focus on what was wrong. So her brain didn’t get convinced that he really was her Ben.

He was too tall. Not by much, but just enough that it was noticeable. And it bothered her.

And he was too...muscular. Sure, he’d never been thin, but it wasn’t like this.

Then it clicked.

This Ben only existed as Peter saw him.

Of course her husband would have seemed like some big, strong man to the boy that he raised. He was Peter’s superhero. And Peter never saw anything different.

That fact shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

She fixed her expression, not letting her true feelings show. She still needed to focus on the task at hand, and that was getting close to Peter. She had to follow along with his scene and make sure everything was in place. Nothing could seem out of the ordinary from how he wanted it.

They all sat down, on a couch facing Peter and Tony.

Peter grinned at them, clapping his hands together happily. “Okay, so, I was thinking maybe we could play some games? That’s always fun, right?”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t cheat,” Ben mumbled with a smile. It was all just teasing.

“I would never! Mean.” The teen stuck his tongue out at him before laughing. “What should we play?”

“Monopoly?” Tony suggested, wrapping his arm around his husband’s waist.

“You’re so old,” Peter whined. Then he giggled, leaning into the touch. “Kidding. Monopoly would be fun, it just takes forever.” Good thing they had all the time in the world to play.

“And ruins families,” May said under her breath, but thankfully no one else seemed to catch it.

“No one has anything else going on, we can play for as long as we want,” the older man assured him. “Want me to go grab it?”

Peter nodded, smiling up at him. “Sure, baby. Thank you.”

Tony stood up to get the game, coming back only a moment later with the box in his hands. “I call being banker,” he said playfully. He sat down and started setting the game up on the table between all of them.

No one argued, just laughing as they kept joking and teasing each other about the entire thing.

As the night went on, the energy level never wavered. Everyone was happy and relaxed, excited to be around each other.

Everyone except for May.

She hid it well, playing along, but inside she was deeply bothered by all of it. Nothing felt right, no matter how the others were acting. None of them were real. It was just her and Peter.

She watched as Tony reached out for his “husband” again and her stomach flipped. She was tired of watching them behave like that and pretending it was okay.

“Don’t touch him.”

The words left her mouth before she could stop them and the guilt set in instantly. She had just ruined the whole mission.

But now she could try things her own way.

Tony’s hand pulled away from Peter immediately, the confusion clear on his face. And May knew that the expression was only reflecting what her nephew was feeling.

“May, he can touch me. He’s my husband, after all. We got married, remember?” Peter shot her a smile, cuddling up to the other man. He tried to brush it off as how protective she always was. Maybe that was just bleeding into his projection of her.

“No, he isn’t, Peter.” May’s voice shook as she stood up, trying to move closer to him. “He isn’t real. You know that. None of this is real.”

“You’re not real,” he said quietly, eyes wide as he tried to figure out what was going on. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But as much as he tried to focus, she wouldn’t go back into place. Things wouldn’t go back to how he wanted them.

What was happening?

“Yes, I am. I’m the only real one here. It’s just you and me, Peter.” She met his eyes, looking desperate. “It’s me, baby. It’s actually me, I’m here. Please come home, this isn’t good for you. You need to come home and give the tech to Fury so-“

“No,” he said quickly, seeming to snap out of his confusion. “Tony gave it to me. It’s mine. No one else’s. And this is my home.” He glared at her, moving into Tony’s arms more.

How had SHIELD hacked May into the program? There shouldn’t have been any way for them to do that. He’d worked on the security coding himself, adding onto what Tony had already designed.

“Did I?” Tony mumbled, looking like he was trying to remember. What tech was being used? It seemed like they were just in the tower, nothing out of the ordinary.

But May ignored him. She continued tearfully. “Your home is with me. Your home is in the *real world*, not this thing you’ve made up! You can’t stay here!” She was getting more frantic.

“No, May. I can stay here. Maybe you should, too.” He watched her, trying to keep himself calm. He needed to regain control over the illusion. Maybe he wouldn’t have to lose anything. He just had to convince her to stay.

“I’ll be doing no such-“

“What’s the issue?” Ben cut in, moving to stand next to May. But he wasn’t going to help her. He was looking directly at her. “You could stay, couldn’t you. Right here. What’s the harm in that?” He grabbed her hands, brushing against her wedding ring.

The one she knew was buried in her closet, amongst the other things that reminded her of him too much to leave strewn about the apartment but she couldn’t bear to completely get rid of.

But it all felt so real.

“You’re dead,” she whispered, her own tone surprising her. She sounded terrified and just as weak as she had in the time right after he died. “I can’t stay. You’re gone and never coming back. All of you are.” Except for Peter, who didn’t want to be saved.

Ben smiled at her, like he’d expected the answer. Then he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Like he had a thousand times when he was alive. “I’m here now, May. Isn’t that enough?”

She hated how real it all felt. How tempting it was. She hated how she could feel his lips against her skin and how easily it pulled her back into the denial she’d felt right after the accident.

Maybe she could stay. She could have him back, live out life like they were supposed to. They were supposed to be together until they were old and grey until finally going from natural causes. Old age. His murder couldn’t touch them here.

It would be so easy to just stay.

But she knew that she couldn’t. It wasn’t possible. It would only destroy her mind to stay with him. And if she wasn’t taking care of her physical body then what would happen? She had to go. Staying wasn’t an option. She just had to convince him of that as well.

She stepped away from Ben, ignoring how much it hurt her to do so. Then she turned to Peter again, moving closer. Maybe if she could just hold him-

His eyes narrowed more as he watched her. He pushed her away when she tried to get closer again, instantly feeling guilty. But he wanted to keep her away. She was trying to take everything from him. If she didn’t want to stay, fine. She could go.

But he wasn’t going to lose this too.

“Get away from me,” Peter snapped, staying close to Tony. He looked almost protective, although he knew that physically it was impossible for anything to happen. “This is my home. Here. With him. And my family.”

May was still shocked at how he’d shoved her. He’d never behaved in such a way before, no matter how things had gotten. And he’d never been so angry, not at her. Not at anyone.

Where did her boy go? What happened to him?

“Peter, please,” she begged. “You can’t live like this. It might seem good for now, but you’re just going to hurt yourself. Please, you’ve gotta shut it down and tell us where you are. We’ll come get you and everything will be okay. SHIELD is working on fixing what happened with Mysterio, you can-“

“I’m not going anywhere! And I’m not telling you where I am, you’ll just make me stop!” There were tears welling in his eyes and his voice was shaking despite how strong he attempted to sound.

All May wanted to do was wipe those tears away and pull him in for a hug like she’d done countless times before. But she had a feeling that was a bad idea.

She felt so helpless, watching him from afar. She was losing him and she knew it.

That hurt more than anything else.

“Baby, please,” she murmured gently. “You can come home. Everything is going to be okay. We can get you some help,” she said slowly.

“I don’t need help. I need this.” And no one would take it away from him. “EDITH, find however she got in. Patch the hole. Make sure it won’t happen again.”

“Yes, Peter,” The AI answered, almost sounding nervous. If that was even something she was capable of.

Fear flashed through May as she stared at him. “Peter, please, don’t shut me out.”

“You’re not taking this from me. Everyone has taken everything from me!” Tears streamed down his face freely. “I get to keep this one thing. I get to have them all back. And you can’t take that. No one can. I won’t let you.”

“Peter, you need to come home. I miss you, we all miss you so much, baby. Please!”

“I miss you too. That’s why I wanted you here. But you messed it all up. You could have stayed here with me. With Uncle Ben.” He wiped his eyes, trying to calm himself.

“I’m sorry, baby, you know I can’t.”

“So you have to leave.” He was informed that EDITH found the coding that had been put in and she started fixing it.

“I love you, Peter. Please, think about what you’re doing,” she begged him. She was pushed from the illusion, still able to see through her headset but she couldn’t interact anymore.

“I love you too. But I’ve already thought about it. This is where I belong.”

Her screen went dark.

She ripped the headset off and threw it, burying her face in her hands. She’d fucked it all up.

And she’d lost him. He didn’t want to come home.

He wasn’t going to come home.

Agent Oliver rushed in, wincing when the tech hit the wall. It was probably broken now, but that could be dealt with later. She’d just watched everything play out on the screen, just like the others had. May was the first priority. “Ma’am-“

“I’m going home.” She looked up, eyes red like she was holding back tears. She pushed her glasses up and sniffled. “I’m leaving. This entire operation is pointless.” She stood up, quickly leaving the room without looking back.

“Ms. Parker, please, we’ll figure out another way,” Paige followed after her.

“May?” Ned looked up from his computer, quickly wiping away his own tears. There was enough to deal with, he could hold it together. He still had to figure out how to save Peter. “Please, don’t go. Not yet.”

She looked at him, but shook her head. “I’m going home. I can’t...I can’t do this. I messed it up, you’ll be better off without me. I can’t help you anymore. I’m sorry.”

As she walked away, she heard other people calling after her. Probably Fury, some other agents. But she didn’t turn around. She needed to get out.

Unlike Peter, all she wanted was to go home.

The drive to the building was short, her brain in a fog the entire time. She didn’t let herself feel. She couldn’t yet. Not until she was in the safety of the apartment.

Her car was parked and she was going up the elevator before she knew it. She blinked, slightly disoriented. She kept her eyes closed during the ride up, almost convinced that she would see Peter again when the door opened.

Of course, she didn’t. And she walked to the door of the apartment, posture defeated. Her whole body felt heavy, weighed down.

As soon as she put the key in the lock, the door opened and Happy pulled her into his arms.

“The kid called me,” he told her gently.

Her heart skipped a beat when he said that, hoping maybe he meant Peter. Maybe he changed his mind.

“The one you’ve been working with. At SHIELD,” he clarified, seeing the look on her face.

With that, she promptly dissolved into tears.

May Parker was a strong woman. She didn’t cry often. And even less often around other people.

But too much had happened, even for her. And she knew that Happy wouldn’t go anywhere no matter what she said. That he would stay, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. So she let herself cry, not holding anything back.

Everything was falling apart. Each tear that fell reminded her of it all. The guilt, the hurt, the anger she’d felt. The reopened wound of missing Ben. The aching void in her heart where Peter was missing.

Her boy didn’t want to be saved. So what was there that she could do?

Maybe this was just another loss that she’d have to learn to live with.

[collecting-stories]

Library & Chill - Topper Thornton

Request: No

Summary: Topper and his now girlfriend explore other places to have sex on campus. *smut*

Netflix & Chill | Outer Banks Masterlist

_ * ◦ ☆ • * ☾ ⭐︎ * • ☆ ◦ *_

-We’re gonna get in trouble.-  

Topper looked down at his phone as he walked across campus to the library. You had texted him not five minutes ago saying that you were already there and now you were texting him to say that you were feeling a little nervous about the plan.  

-If you act suspicious like you did last time we will.-

You rolled your eyes at his text. You weren’t the suspicious one. He was the one moaning so loud the TA that was copying papers in the adjoining room had come in and asked, with such a straight face you felt bad for the guy, if Topper was using the school computer for porn.  

-Like I did? That was all you babe-

-We don’t have to, if you’re feeling nervous.-

You texted back that you wanted to and laid your phone down on the table in the library, pulling your textbook out of your bag and fiddling with your pen as you tried not to act suspicious. So maybe Topper was right, it was all you. The library was nearly desolate these days, hardly anyone at campus because of the latest outbreak, even your roommate had been sent home. Even now, with no one around but you and the librarian at the front desk, you had your mask on, floral print that Topper made fun of you for buying when you had three others in your bag. 

The doors to the library opened and you leaned back in your chair, peering around a shelf as Topper came into view. You pulled your mask down to your chin as he did the same, leaning over and kissing you so sweetly that anyone who saw would have trouble believing that neither of you had come to the library to study. He walked around to the other side of the table and sat down, getting books out as if he needed them.

“Are you gonna talk to me or this like a weird pre-tyst silent treatment?” You teased, so much more relaxed around him now then you had been the first time you met.

“Did you just call this a tryst? You sound like my mom.” Topper laughed.  

You sat there for a moment, twirling your pen between your fingers, just watching him look over his textbook. The fact that you were even here right now, that going to some stranger’s dorm on a request to watch Netflix had turned into an actual relationship, was kind of crazy. More than you could fathom. But you weren’t about to complain. You stretched your leg out, the toe of your shoe brushing against his sweatpants and getting his attention. If you waited any longer you might spontaneously combust.  

His eyes met yours and you smiled beneath your mask even though he couldn’t see it. Holding your pen out away from the table you dropped it on the floor, the sound of Topper’s chair scrapping back against the carpet followed immediately after as he ducked under the table and out of sight.  

Topper placed his hands on your knees, prying them apart as you playfully tried to keep them closed. The slight sting to your thigh when he slapped it making you bite your lip beneath your mask. He tugged on the backs of your knees and you slid forward just enough that the hem of your skirt caught your thighs and bunched up at your ass. The library was practically empty aside from the librarian but you still felt that rush of excitement when Topper places a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He pushed the hem of your skirt up over your legs toward your waist, the table blocking you from anyone’s view enough that they couldn’t see the lack of underwear. Topper could, and you knew that he had given the sharp intake of breath when he got your skirt up far enough. 

His hands gripped your thighs as he placed kisses along your skin, up from your right knee and down to your left without ever touching you where you wanted him to. You knew he was going to take this slow, he had so much as told you he would on Thursday during class, enjoying the attempt at composure that you tried to maintain as he watched you read his texts over zoom. 

His mouth hovered just over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, dipping his head so his nose brushed against it before he kissed you there, sucking a bruise where no one but him would see. You held the edge of the desk with both hands, trying to calm your breathing. He pulled away suddenly, hands running down to your knees again and he gave a hard tug, pulling you so that you were slumped so far down that your head touched the backrest, ass almost off the chair. 

“Topper,” you hissed, partially muffled by the mask you were still wearing. You could imagine the picture in your head, getting eaten out in the library but still wearing a mask. 

He kissed the top of your knee, smiling against your skin. “You’re so fucking hot.” His hands ran up to your thighs again, pushing them further apart now that he had more room. You moved your hands from the desk to the wooden arms of the chair, holding yourself upright in a position you knew looked suspicious, praying the librarian wouldn’t come around the corner. 

Topper leaned forward, uninterested in wasting anymore time. He kept one hand on your thigh, removing the other and dipping two fingers between your folds. He ran his fingers up to your clit, smearing them in precum, your knee twitching at the action as he rubbed his middle finger over the bundle of nerves. 

You whimpered as he pressed his tongue against you, moving his hand as he licked a path up to your clit and swirled his tongue around. The air inside your mask was starting to get stuffy and hot and you imagined briefly asphyxiating because you didn’t take the damn thing off and insisted on having sex in the library. Any thought other than Topper didn’t last long though as he sucked your clit between his lips and almost kneed the table. He pressed both hands on your knees, holding you down so hard you would have bruises from the edge of the chair on the backs of your thighs. 

He hummed against your clit, the sound vibrating just enough to have you whimpering again, biting down on your lip to keep quiet. “You taste so good baby,” Topper said, lips brushing against you as he spoke, “you gonna cum in my mouth?” 

“Oh my god,” you gripped the arms of the chair as Topper dipped his tongue inside you, nose brushing your clit as he pressed his face into you. He licked back up to your clit as he pushed his middle finger inside you, the angle you were sitting in helping him go deeper as he added another finger. His pace was faster than usual, trying to get you there before anyone noticed the position you were in.  

You wanted so badly to grab his head and keep him in place but you were paralyzed in your spot, unable to let go of the armrests you could only grip them tighter, your knuckles turning white as you bit down on your lip, grateful that no one could see the lower half of your face. Topper sucked on your clit again, harder this time than before as his fingers curled up inside you.  

“Oh my god,” you breathed out as he pulled his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue and resting his hand on your knee to keep it in place as you came, hands releasing the chair and biting down on your lip so you didn’t make any noises. Aftershocks jolted through you as Topper licked you clean, wiping his mouth on his gaiter.  

Finally, he released his hold on your legs, allowing you to sit upright and fix your skirt, pulling your mask away from your face so you could breathe for a minute. He reappeared on the other side of the table, standing up and placing the pen you’d dropped between the two of you. He had pulled his gaiter over his neck and shoved it into the pocket of his sweatpants allowing you to see the smile on his face as he looked you over.

“Hey, you need a mask on in the library.” The librarian’s voice startled the two of you and you turned to face her, standing there at the end of the shelf looking between the two of you.  

“Sorry, we were just leaving.” Topper promised, trying not to laugh as she stood there, watching the two of you gather your books.  

“Sorry,” you repeated, grabbing your bag and letting Topper take your hand as he pulled you out of the library building. You made it outside before both of you burst out laughing, “I told you we would get caught.”

-

If you wanna see the gif that inspired this it’s here it’s pretty mild honestly. 

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects  @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama @louisolos  @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon @calums-betch

[h1myname1sk0rg]

Cheaters Never Prosper

Part 1 - Summer Beginnings

Pairing: Brother’s Best Friend!Bucky x OC

Summary: Bucky brings his new college girlfriend to the lake house. Old feelings arise and he has to fight to win the game he and Ace have going, but as they say, cheaters never prosper.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k

>———————————<✪>———————————<

“That’s right folks, it’s gonna be a hot one out there today! Kickin’ off the summer 37 degrees and climbing, so stay cool and safe out there!”

Music from the radio buzzed through the kitchen and into the living room, crackling occasionally. The house was dim, all the curtains drawn shut to block out as much heat as possible in the large house and Acelynn Rogers was unimpressed. Trudging her way down the tall set of stairs she wandered into the kitchen where her mom was stood, digging through the fridge. “Don’t lie to me, lady. I know you’re just trying to cool off.”

Chuckling, her mom pulled the large watermelon from the back of the fridge. “Oh hush, you’re gonna be late for school.” She reached for the knife on the counter, pointing it at her daughter as she spoke.

Grumbling something about how the school was too warm and that they should just “cancel it anyway,” because, “who needs exams”, she stuffed the laces into her dusty sneakers and walked out of the house.

The air was stuffy and damp, Acelynn seemed to sweat within seconds of stepping onto the front porch. The metal railing was too hot to touch and her thighs rubbed together uncomfortably as she scrambled down the stairs. Red braids could be seen through the bushes and right on time, the face of her best friend appeared at the front gate to her (oversized) family home. “Wanda!” she cheered, drawing out her name in excitement.

“Acelynn!” Her friend cheered back in the same tone; something that had become a ritual for the past five years they had known each other. That was the only time they used each other’s full names, often too lazy and shortening it to one syllable instead.

The walk to school was short, but not sweet. It was muggy and far too uncomfortable for any amount of physical activity. “I can’t wait to go to the summer home.” Ace sighed, absolutely delighted to go visit the mansion they visited every summer just outside a small town a few states over. 

Wanda nodded in agreement, brushing her braids off her shoulders. “Me too, I can’t believe my parents are actually letting me go, and bonus, we can drive. We are going to be in for a wild summer.”

That they were, a wild summer was an understatement though, especially considering her parents wouldn’t be joining them until two weeks later and were even going to let her drive the convertible down to the house after this weekend’s graduation ceremony. Stepping foot onto the grounds of their high school just as the bell rang, they waved goodbye, “you’re coming over tonight, right?” She called to Wanda, who in turn gave a thumbs up as she spun on her heel and jogged through the front doors. Acelynn turned the other direction and sprinted for her math exam, sliding into her seat just at the last second.

>———————————<✪>———————————<

Watching the clock tick by second by second made her want to slam her head through the desk in front of her. She had done three exams today and finished her last one with thirty minutes to spare. It was all she could do to keep from asking to go to the bathroom and just never coming back. Just as she felt herself zone out again, the bell rang. Shooting up from her seat, she grabbed her belongings: a nearly empty bag and the pen she used to draw on her leg after finishing her exam. Sprinting from the classroom, she stopped in the hallway to plan her route and, expertly, she dodged excited seniors and the leftover freshman left and right before coming to a stop in front of the front doors. 

Breathing deep, she pushed them open to step outside, but not before Peter Parker came sprinting out of nowhere and tackled her to the ground. “We’re free!” He cheered, causing laughter to erupt from Ace.

Grinning, she tried shoving him off. “That we are!” Grabbing her hand, Peter helped her to her feet and she caught sight of Ned and MJ catching up behind them. Aside from Wanda, Peter was her best friend. They shared the same birthday and were born in the same hospital. Her parents were best friends with his aunt and uncle and they practically grew up as siblings. “The invitation is still open to join Wanda and I at the summer home next week, we leave Sunday morning after grad.” 

The three friends all looked to each other and sighed, “we all got jobs last week, we’re stuck here, sorry Ace.” Peter nodded at Ned’s statement and she sighed even though she understood because her and Wanda were told to get jobs for the summer in that little town. “We’ll still make it for our birthday weekend though.” At that, Ace’s eyes lit up and she grinned mischievously.

“Alright deal. Steve said he would buy us drinks for that weekend and my parents said that they would leave early.”

The friends said their goodbyes and headed home, Wanda and Ace turning the other direction to head to their neighborhood. “So this weekend, I’ll go pack at home after grad and then come by for dinner, deal?”

Ace nodded, “that works, I still need to find out when Steve and his friends are coming down.”

“Do you think Barnes will be there?” Wanda asked, even at the mention of the last name her cheeks flushed. They grew up really close for years, with him being Steve’s best friend. Their parents called him Acelynn’s long lost brother, sometimes she pretended to hate the guy, teasing him and him teasing her back. Wanda knew she was head over heels in love with him. That being said, Ace did hate him. Hated his perfect teeth and his perfect hair and the perfect way he dressed. Hoping it would go away when Bucky left for university, she paid him no attention last summer. It upset both Steve and Bucky that they didn’t hang out much, but she covered it by working at the bakery all summer and spending as little time as possible at the summer home.

Shrugging, she tightened the straps of her backpack and set off down the cement stairs of her high school. “Don’t know, don’t care to be honest.” A lie. A flat out, dirty lie. “Even if he was, why would it matter. He’s a pompous college boy anyway, I don’t need that.”

Their bags sat uncomfortably on their shoulders and the sun beat down on their necks, Wanda stayed silent and watched Ace fight with herself back and forth about her conflicting feelings about the oldest Barnes. They passed his family home at the end of the street and like always, Ace searched for his car. Her heart pounded in her chest, but the sleek black car stayed missing in action. Swallowing dryly, she glanced to Wanda who used this silence to speak up. “Let’s go swimming. Get our minds off graduation.” The proposition brought up her newly dampened spirits and she nodded, the two jogging their separate ways to grab their swimsuits. 

Acelynn entered the house, the temperature change was welcome, but insignificant in it’s efforts to cool her down. She changed and pulled her shorts from earlier on and wiping her sweaty palms on her thighs, smeared the black pen ink. 

>———————————<✪>———————————<

The bike ride to the river was warm, too warm. Rubber bike handles came off on their hands and they were glad to see the dirt road that held access to the lake. Whipping down the dusty path, they hollered and cheered. The ride made her feel free as the breeze cooled her hot and sweaty skin. Trees passed by, light reflecting off the girl’s faces and they smiled, coming to a screeching halt at the bottom. Just as the dust cleared, they both sprinted for the dock. Wanda grabbed Ace’s waist and they both wrestled each other into the freezing cold water, their backs hitting it with a satisfying smack.

Laughing, they pulled themselves from under the water and sighed in relief as the coolness settled onto their skin. The sky was blue, not a cloud in the sky as Ace lay on her back, floating on the water and letting her blonde hair soak. Water flooded her ears and she closed her eyes enjoying the peace and quiet.

Bucky laughed as Ace splashed him, Steve jogging up the hill to get the ball that Bucky ‘accidentally’ tossed up there. Hands running over the water, Ace smiled, once again enjoying the peace of being with her brother and his friend. The peace was ruined when Bucky tackled her under the water, she gasped at how cold the water was. Having been too chicken, she hadn’t quite gotten in yet. She got used to it quickly when she realized that Bucky was just kind of... staring at her. Grabbing his face, she pulled him in, kissing him with so much passion they both had to break for air much sooner than either of them liked. Bucky, grabbed her again, pulling her in and holding her tight to his chest as they shared that moment. She took a deep breath in, shocked beyond words. Looking up at him, she closed her eyes for a moment and-

Cold water hit her face and she gasped. Wanda’s laughing broke through the leftover memory fog and she glared at her before laughing herself. “Come on, we gotta go. Your mom is gonna kill you if you’re not home for dinner on time.”

>———————————<✪>———————————<

Graduation was warmer than the sun. The gym was hot and there were too many bodies for the outdated air conditioning to manage. The small graduating class of 50 sat in chairs on the floor and parents sat up in the bleachers. Ace was bummed out, her brother hadn’t shown up and he promised to be there. The valedictorians talked about nothing and in turn, her and MJ looked at each other from across the room, shooting each other with finger guns to ‘kill’ each other. Wanda was sat in front of her and the two girls just kept banging their heads together while their principal droned on and on about how “adulthood is beautiful and everyone will do wonderfully in college.” The speech had been the exact same as at Steve’s graduation a year prior and when it finally came time to walk the stage, everyone trudged, the heat making them feel sludgy.

Wanda walked as gracefully as ever, her brother Pietro following with a light jog and a jump in the air. Rolling her eyes at the athlete, Acelynn waited for her turn, dripping in a pool of sweat in her crumby fold up chair that felt like it would collapse at any second.

“Acelynn Rogers.” Her principal said with a smile, they had gotten to know each other quite well... on many occasions. Her family cheered, and she grinned. Her grin only grew when she saw her big brother standing beside her mom in the bleachers yelling the loudest out of them all. After the ceremony concluded and students were recognized and given awards (Ace included for her impeccable attendance which should have been a joke) she sprinted out to the parking lot in her sneakers. Her mom got her in a dress, but she had tossed the heels aside as soon as the ceremony ended. 

“Stevie!” She shouted and he turned, grinning as she ran at him. She jumped into his arms and he hugged her close. 

“Acely!” He cheered, spinning her around and absolutely crushing her ribs. He set her down and kissed the top of her head, “you’re graduated!”

“I’m graduated! Are you staying for dinner?” She so desperately wanted him to say yes, but he shook his head sadly.

“Sorry, kid, I gotta go to the lake house tonight. Buck is meeting me there,” Wanda whipped her head around from where she stood with her family, crushed under her brothers arm, “and I have to let him in.”

“Oh, yeah okay. That’s fair. We’ll celebrate tomorrow though?” At that Steve nodded, sending a wink her way and she smirked in response before her mom squished them together for a picture. 

>———————————<✪>———————————<

The Rogers’ (minus Steve) and the Maximoff’s had dinner together that night. It wasn’t often that everyone got together, but they did today. Her mom cut up vegetables in the kitchen, talking about nonsense work stuff with Wanda’s mom and their dads cooked burgers on the barbecue. It was short and sweet, the humidity becoming too much for everyone so they retired early. Wanda’s parents hugged their daughter goodbye like they would never see her again even though she would see them in a few weeks when she drove back up for their own trip.

The girls spent the evening packing for the summer, passing out on Acelynn’s bedroom floor that night. They woke up early, the sound from the neighbour’s lawn mower shocking them as though cold water had been dumped on their heads. “I guess that means it’s time to go.” Wanda crawled up from her spot on the fluffy rug and stretched. Plucking a record off the wall, Ace nodded, slipping it into its covering to set in one of her many bags.

They got dressed, both just choosing a cropped band tee out of Ace’s closet and a pair of jean shorts. They ran downstairs for some breakfast and said goodbye to her parents, calling a “peace out, homie” up to her father in his office, who in turn scolded her for such informal language.

Much like the day before, the air was sticky and too warm, the garage still stuffy from having gone unopened for several days. After struggling to cram their belongings into the trunk, they finally got it organized and closed. “All the cassettes are in the front somewhere, see if you can find them before we get outta town,” Ace was buzzing with excitement. She felt as though someone took a box of popsicles and just blended it all up to inject into her. They were graduated, it was summer and they only had to pop back to drop off Wanda in three weeks. She was stoked.

Taking off across town, they stopped at the gas station for some drinks and a couple snacks before heading out. As they left town, the nice houses started to become fewer and far between, more trees than civilization. There were a few camping spots, but none really. It wasn’t a large town that they lived in, but it wasn’t a small one either. People lived their lives; some would move, many simply stayed. Families in that town ran many generations back, all intertwining as friends or relatives somehow. Although it wasn’t obvious, Ace was desperate to leave. She wanted to experience the city, live a little, do something other than sit around this little town her whole life. Ace was eccentric as her father liked to say, more outgoing than many people in town, but they all just liked her like that.

Trees and mountains grew tall beside them over the hours, sometimes the terrain flattened out. Other times it didn’t. They stopped at a diner about halfway to the “mansion”, right around one in the afternoon. They took it as takeout and drove up to one of the many beach accesses that littered the highway. There were tons of little lakes littered throughout their drive and they took a moment to stand in the fresh water and watch people swim, talking about how good their sandwiches were and what it would be like to be one of the many ducks flying overhead. With a sigh and a stretch, they got back in the car and headed out again.

They barely made it to town, having forgotten to fill up with gas for a third time. They rolled into the gas station just on time, filled up and took the rest of the drive to the mansion. The mansion sat near the lake, about twenty minutes out of town and down a back road. Her parents built it when they first got married, always wanting to have a place to escape to in the summer with the kids, her and Steve felt like they grew up in two places.

As they neared the house though, Ace found herself growing nervous. “Wan, I haven’t seen him in a year and a half… it’s dumb because I kinda missed him.

Wanda had been fully expecting this revelation, just wasn’t expecting it when they were driving along the nicely paved road lined with beautiful red maple trees so close to the house. “Of course you did, you kissed him.” Wanda stretched in the passenger seat, her legs and butt sore from sitting all day, “At least be civil. You can hate him all you want if you so choose, but we both know you’re in love with him.”

Acelynn sighed, glancing to her friend briefly before signalling to turn into the driveway. Wanda’s jaw dropped in awe, “I forgot how nice…” she trailed off, watching as Ace’s face fell. The beautiful lake house had an upper and lower porch, the upper porch extending off the bedrooms upstairs and windows adorning the house in various places. It was a beautiful home, Wanda felt it was almost indescribable, there were no words for how magnificent (and massive) it was. There was a four car garage next to the house that matched the siding. One of the doors was open, housing an all too familiar shiny black car for Acelynn’s liking. “He’s here.” Wanda murmured in an almost creepy sing-song tone.

“And so are we.” She shook her head, pulling up around the planter in the middle of the driveway and stepped out, stretching her legs. “Steven!” She called, pulling the trunk open. On cue, he came bounding down the steps. He ran for his sister who screamed and ran away, a chorus of “no” falling from her lips as he grabbed her waist and hoisted her over his shoulder.

“Barnes! We have a delivery!” He called into the house, grabbing the suit cases with his sister pounding on his back.

“Put me down!” She shouted just as Wanda spun around, wide-eyed and looking rather distraught. Before she could ask anything that’s when she saw it too. 

Bucky hand in hand with a beautiful, skinny, tall blonde, Steve’s girlfriend traipsing behind them with a similar expression on her face that Wanda had, hers more apologetic. The red-head Steve was dating, Natasha, knew everything whereas Steve knew nothing aside from the little crush.

Feeling sick, she held onto Steve’s arm a minute as he set her down. Her heart crushed on the floor, she could see it being stepped on right under Bucky’s feet and tears welled in her eyes. Why would he care? She was stupid to think the kiss meant something to him.

>———————————<✪>———————————<

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed it, this was my first tumblr fic and I’m really happy with it so far! I will be posting other parts with time (unless of course no one wants me too).

[edwin-payne-enthusiast]

Hello Logan simp ;P For requests, some logince perhaps?

Black Coffee, Decaf

Ship: Logince, slight background Moxiety

Word count: 2690 (this was supposed to be only around a thousand words what happened)

Warnings: None

Notes: My motivation has been restored out of the pure spite coming from being called a simp. I hope you enjoy

Every single morning just like the last, 5:30 AM sharp was when Logan’s alarm woke him up. He didn’t like getting up so early, he wasn’t exactly a morning person, but he knew he’d be late for work if he didn’t get up. He unceremoniously rolled out of bed, flattening down his messy hair and stretching the fatigue out of his tired limbs. Reaching out a hand he fumbled to take his glasses off of his nightstand, dropping them on the floor in the darkness. He leant down to grab them, grumbling something about the ridiculous waking time and how he needed to switch to contact lenses.

Of course, Logan could have gotten up later and still be relatively on time to work, but he didn’t want to risk it. After all, punctuality was the thing you could count on him for the most.

 One of the few reasons he favored getting up early was so that he could stop in at the café down the street from his apartment. Walking in at around 6:45 AM, he was usually on of the first customers among regular insomniacs, college student, and early birds on their way to work. His friend from high school worked there and had wasted no time in acquainting him to all the employees as soon as he stepped foot inside the café for the first time. By his first week living in the city, every barista from the café knew his usual order off by heart, which prompted him to have a sneaking suspicion that his friend had made each of them memorize it.

Logan walked through the doors of the café at his usual time, a sense of familiar comfort washing over him at the scent of freshly baked bread.

As usual, his friend was waiting at the counter for him, and rushed over with a grin on his face as soon as he stepped through the doors “Logan!” Patton yelled, scooping him up into a hug “Hey kiddo! How have you been?” Logan came to the conclusion that Patton must misjudge the height difference between them, as Logan’s feet were no longer touching the floor when he was lifted into the hug.

“I am well Patton” He said, as he struggled wriggle out of the taller man’s grip “Just as I was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that”

Patton let go of Logan “I guess I do ask that a lot, don’t I? Sorry, it just makes me feel so much bread-er knowing that you’re having a good morning” Logan groaned as Patton giggled in delight at his own cleverness. Though even he expressed great distaste at the pun, Logan couldn’t help but smile a little.

Patton wiped his forehead with his hand, smearing some flour into his hairline “I’ve got to run back to the kitchen, so make sure to say goodbye to me when you leave. Oh hey! You should meet the new barista. You’d like him, he has quite an appreciation for poetry”

Logan nods “Oh yeah? How does Virgil feel about this new person?” Virgil was Patton’s partner who also happened to work with Logan, which was probably the reason Patton had recommended applying to the same job in the city. They always got to the café before him, and usually left before Logan could properly wish them good morning. Even so, he knew them very well, and as a fellow regular to the café, he knew they had strong opinions about each barista.

“Oh, they hate him” Patton said with a light, matter-of-factly tone as he turned to walk back to the kitchen, a fond grin plastered across his face.

“And I suppose you haven’t burned my usual order permanently into this new barista’s mind yet?”

Patton turned to smile at him “Nope,” He said, popping the ‘p’ “I’ve spared him for now”

Logan smiled, amused. “Are you still coming to game night tomorrow?” Patton asked, keeping the kitchen door open on his hip and leaning on the doorframe, smiling cheerily.

Logan nods “Yes, our plans remain intact”

“Awesome!” He looked like he was going to say more, but he was cut off by a bang sounding from inside the kitchen. Patton whirled around to see what had happened, then turned to smile sheepishly at Logan “I gotta go sort that out. See ya round Lo!”

Logan waved a polite goodbye as Patton rushed off into the kitchen to sort out the issue, the door swinging closed behind him.

He sighed, walking up to the counter to place his regular order “Medium black coffee, one sugar, decaf please” He said on instinct, not bothering to wait for the barista to greet him.

“Ugh, oh my stars, how can you drink that?” Logan looked up at the barista, his own confused grey eyes meeting the distaste in the other man’s green ones.

“Excuse me?”

“Your order, it’s just…” The man shook his head, a curly piece of auburn hair falling in his eyes “I’m sorry good sir but I cannot make you that drink. It is against my moral compass” He held himself with the poise and confidence of royalty, his shoulders high and tense and his chest puffed out, performative disgust branded across his face.

The barista was handsome to say the least, in a strikingly noticeable way. Long wavy auburn hair was pulled back from his face in a messy bun, a few strands letting loose to brush against his tan skin. Against his green apron, he could see a nametag that read ‘Roman’. Red stars were drawn on around the edges of the nametag, and he had underlined his name three times in a pen of the same hue.

Logan cleared his throat slightly and hesitated, as if waiting for the punchline of a joke that never landed. When no such punchline came, he spoke up “I’m sorry, but… why do you appear to be opposed to my order?”

The man, Roman, shot him a grimace “First of all, it’s 6 AM and you ordered decaf,” he said, listing the offences off while counting them out using his fingers “You’re having a black coffee with one sugar, and you’re clearly too handsome to be ordering something so boring”

Logan didn’t allow himself to blush, though he damn near did. He decided to ignore that comment “Well, I apologize” He said, still baffled by the conversation that was unfolding.

Roman shook his head “No need sunshine, no need. I’ll let it slide this time. I suppose if you could grace me with your presence once more, I could introduce you to the world outside of the bitterness of your order?” He phrased the last sentence like a question, as if asking Logan if he would come back.

Logan nodded “I come here the same time every morning. I assume you should see me again”

Roman clapped his hands together “Wonderful! I look forward to our next encounter. For now, I will need a name for your order”

Logan looked around in confusion “I am the only one in this establishment, why would you need my name?”

Instead of appearing exasperated, a sly, intrigued look passed over the baristas face “Ah, I see. A man of mystery!” Logan opened his mouth to reply but Roman cut him off “No need good sir, I understand your motives. I suppose I will have to earn the privilege to speak your name” Once more Logan was cut off by Roman pressing his drink into his hand, smiling brightly at the other man. Logan nodded his thanks, not bothering to protest the mystery behind his name. He went to reach for his wallet but Roman stopped him “Don’t worry about it specs, this one’s on me”

“Are… are you sure?” Logan asked, becoming more and more confused every minute he spent with the excitable barista.

“Well of course I am. Besides, it’s only customary for a vision like you” Roman said, sending a wink his way.

Logan rolled his eyes but could not hide the slight blush that had made its way onto his face “Right well” Logan cleared his throat “Thank you. I should be going now. Could you tell Patton that I said goodbye?”

Roman nodded and grinned “I’ll see to it that your message is received. I do hope you have a lovely day mystery man. I’ll see you here around this time tomorrow?”

“Right, yes, I suppose I’ll see you then” Logan nodded politely and walked quickly out of the café, quite bewildered by that whole experience. He sighed, surprisingly content even after his confusing interaction with the barista. Looking up at the sky, the sun in his eyes and a song in his mind, he let a good mood take over him. His mood however would soon be deflated, as when he looked down at his watch, he realized. For the first time in two years, Logan Sanders was late to work.

 Logan walked into the office far later than he would have liked. Late! How could he have let himself become so distracted?

Virgil was sitting at his desk when he walked in, their feet up on the desk, eyes closed with a lazy smile pressed onto their face “You’re late” They say, as if sensing his presence “For the first time in two whole years, you, Logan, are late”

Logan sighed and leaned against the edge of his desk “There was a… hold up at the café”

“You met the new barista?”

Logan hums in confirmation and Virgil laughs “Yeah, he’s a handful isn’t he? Pat adores him” They said with an eyeroll “I ordered iced coffee with five shots of espresso when I got there, and he looked at me like I was a monster”

Logan scoffed “Anyone in their right mind would assume the worst at the words ‘five shots of espresso’”

“What do you have against it?”

“It’s an abomination unto God” When his response was met with a mere shrug Logan sighed “Now, are you going to get out of my chair?”

 The day passed by slowly, seconds creeping steadily into minutes as time seemed to drag its feet to the end of the day. To put things in perspective, Logan worked at a publishing company. Though he had been working there for two years, he saw it as temporary, at least until he had finished writing his own novel that he had been working on for quite some time now. This job was practical, it allowed him to have good connections in the publishing industry, gave him an adequate understanding about what needed to take place in order to publish his own work. Any other day, he was completely focused on his job, so why was he so distracted today? Oh, that’s right. That peculiar barista in the café. He seemed to have chosen to reside in his mind and refused to leave. That was fine, he reasoned with himself, he would just distract himself, was the conclusion he drew. However, by the time he was ready to leave after a day of work, Roman had refused to take leave from his place in the epicenter of each of his thoughts.

He walked home instead of taking the commute and found himself outside of the cheery café that he visited countless times before. He hardly remembered walking here, he hardly remembered why.

It was busy in the café, and the smell of bread no longer held the warm freshness that it had in the morning. Still, it was comfortingly familiar, even with all the noise of strangers talking and moving inside.

He walked over to a table in the corner, away from the hustle. A beam of sunlight streamed through the window, a sign of the dying light customary to the late afternoon. He stared at it, looking away and blinking rapidly as even the evening light was strong enough to hurt his eyes.

He turned his eyes away to look around the café. He doesn’t know what he hoped for, perhaps a familiar face? Patton was probably busy in the kitchen, Virgil had taken the commute home, and Roman… oh what did he care? He was just a guy, just a guy in a coffee shop, who damn near refused to make his order. Roman who he had known for, what? All of forty-five minutes? That counted for nothing.

Logan nearly jumped in shock when someone slid into the seat beside him. He turned to tell him that the seat was taken, or that he would rather sit alone, or… something, but the words died on his tongue at the sight of a familiar face.

“Back so soon specs? You really miss me that much?”

Logan went quiet for a moment “You’ve already called me that”

“Huh?”

“Specs. You used that this morning”

Roman paused, then his face split into a smile and he laughed “Oh, I suppose I did! I’ll have to think of some new material pocket protector”

Logan rolled his eyes in distaste at the nickname, but a small grin worked it’s way onto his face. Roman’s gaze softened “I don’t want to overstep here, but you really should allow yourself to smile more. I do like seeing your smile”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to give me a reason to smile” Logan said, turning his gaze back to the patch of sunlight, as he would rather hurt his eyes than allow Roman to see the blush on his face.

“That sounds like a plan, nerd” There was a moment of silence before Roman tapped his shoulder “Hey, I have something for you”

Logan turned to him as Roman pressed a cold drink into his hands “It’s my off menu specialty, just for you”

Logan hesitated for a moment before bringing the drink up to his lips and taking a sip. Delicious sweetness burst over his tongue. He could taste lemon, ginger, cinnamon among other things. It shouldn’t have worked, but it tasted incredible.

Logan nodded. His face only appeared very mildly impressed, but his eyes gave it away. He was utterly charmed by Roman.

He glanced at his cup, hoping to see the ingredients listed on the side. His eyes widened for a moment, then he laughed “Cliché"

"Bless you"

"No, I mean-," Logan's brow creased in confusion but he smiled, amused "You wrote your telephone number on the side of my cup" He said, turning the cup to show Logan's name in lovely cursive with a phone number written underneath.

"Yes, I did, Captain Obvious" Roman said with an exasperated look.

“Why? You don’t even know me”

“Patton does” Roman said, as if that explained everything. When Logan didn’t respond, Roman sighed “After you came in this morning, Patton asked if we had gotten to know each other. I told him how our interaction was less than ideal mostly due to the fact that you have horrible taste in coffee and that I didn’t even get to learn your name. So, naturally…”

“Patton told you everything he knows about me”

“Patton properly introduced you to me” Roman corrects “And I like you Logan”

Logan decided he loved the way his name sounded in Roman’s voice.

“So… will you call me?”

Logan smiled, standing up and taking another long sip from his heavenly drink “Yes. Yes I believe I will”

“And yet you are leaving” Roman said with a pout.

“I need to go home Roman, and besides, you will see me here tomorrow morning”

“Every morning?”

“Surely you can’t be working a shift at 6 AM every morning”

“If that’s what it takes” Roman said, pressing a hand to his heart.

Logan stifled a laugh with his hand “Goodbye Roman”

“Goodbye Logan”

And with that, Logan stepped out of the café. Breathing in the afternoon air, he began a steady walk home, a soft smile never leaving his face. As the lights started to dim and the sun began to set, Logan thought to himself that he might be making more frequent visits to the small café than he previously thought.

[yuusa]

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟑

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒𝟕𝟑𝟖

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟑

You slurped on the small carton of strawberry milk you had recently bought from the vending machine, your back was against the tree as you stared up at the sky. Some of the leaves were brushing against the wind and falling towards the grassy floor.

You knew that Tohru had invited you to sit with her during lunch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to forcefully put yourself into her life after one dinner meeting. The family was odd. They seemed dysfunctional yet connected in some way, you questioned the reasoning behind your thoughts. It didn’t seem like Tohru or Yuki lived with their parents, and you highly doubt Shigure is one either. You gnawed at the tip of the straw, Tohru looked like she was the only one keeping them together. 

You were a bit envious. She seemed so happy and carefree, almost as if her problems were solved by simply being nice to others. You couldn’t understand her. Perhaps she didn’t want to bring up her own problems so she could stay happy. You tapped your pen against the paper as you heard the sound of your straw sucking up nothing but small droplets at the bottom of the carton.

“The eagle would think that if they tried their hardest to convince God, they could unite the other zodiacs,“ you bit your tongue at the memory. What a joke.

“Why are you looking at me with those eyes. . . You. . .” She gripped onto your hair tightly as she brought you up to her face, “Who the hell do you think you are? I hate the look in your eyes.”

“Bring my daughter back to me!” She screamed.

You wondered if it was possible to rid yourself of those memories. It seemed like so long ago that you left the household and chased after a part-time job. You were lucky to have attended the middle school of Kaibara in order to transfer into the high school section. 

You dropped the carton onto your side and pushed your knees towards your chest. You wanted to know what your family is doing at this moment, would they still be mad at you? Was it worth finding them again? Did they want you now? You leaned your forehead against your knees, your face covered by your body as you clutched your hair, your sharp nails digging into your scalp.

“My poor wife, she’s been suffering every since that spirit came to the house after the death of our daughter.” He pulled at parts of his hair as he spoke with the businessman, “we had to lock up that room because it was haunted. My wife still opens it once in a while to pray though.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. . . Have you contacted a shaman to take care of the spirit?”

“Not yet, my wife is insisting that God can take care of the spirit. The first week she wouldn’t stop crying, I feel bad for her, I’ve been trying to comfort her every single night but she keeps wailing.” 

You pressed your nails against the wooden door, your teeth gritting in annoyance and frustration. Your throat was coarse and you were in desperate need of water. You breathed heavily before sliding down the door and falling to the ground.

Why are you talking about me when I’m right here?

Why are you lying to him? Father?

You gasped as you snapped back into reality. You gripped your chest tightly as you tried to stabilize your breathing. Underneath your nails were smears of blood while you quickly packed your things. You lifted your hand to see the wretched color staining your hands. Your breathing becomes heavy again and your stomach clenches itself.

“Damn it!” You punched the tree roughly, the coarse bark ripping the outer layer of your skin. The pain sparked a sense of adrenaline, while the feeling of disgust was still coursing through your body. You huffed before quickly leaving to attend your next class.

“I hate their voices.” You mumbled, kicking a medium-sized rock towards the other side of the concrete as you stared at the ground. No matter where you go to hide, memories resurface like the sick feeling in your stomach.

“Is something wrong (L/n)-san?” You halted your steps and turned around, seeing the same grey-haired friend accompanying you by your side to class. From afar you spotted the micro-banged student glaring at you but you decided to ignore her.

“Not really.”

“You were glaring at the floor pretty intensely.” You flinched before pulling your eyes away from him to focus on somewhere else but him.

“Sorry then.” You scoffed, clearly displeased as your mood has been spoiled. The two of you silently tread through the school to your next class. What luck, you had the same schedule. 

Yuki eyed you quietly before speaking up.“Would you like to exchange numbers?” 

The air seems a bit tense and awkward, “what for?” 

“We’re friends aren’t we?” 

“W-Wha? O-Oh, mhm. . .” You fumbled around in your bag and took out your cell phone. A small charm was dangling off of the side, it was a small white rat keychain with a single sakura flower. When Yuki took out his phone he had the exact same keychain. 

“What a coincidence,” he smiled “we have matching keychains.” Your cheeks felt hot as you quickly unlocked your phone, “they didn’t sell any bird ones. . .” 

“Hm. . . I got mine from Honda-san, I’ll be sure to find you a bird one too then.” 

“Y-You don’t have to! It’s really embarrassing.” You held out your phone screen which displayed your number, “hurry and put it in already.” 

He raised an eyebrow at your statement to which you quickly pulled your phone back as your cheeks felt even hotter. “I-I-I didn’t m-mean it like that! Quickly! Put my number in your phone!” 

“Yes yes. . .” He sent you a text to notify you. You opened up his contact and started to fill out his name, from above you, Yuki noticed that he was the only contact in your phone. He wondered why your phone seemed so blank despite you saying you had a job, did you simply answer any calls you were given or did you not use your phone?

“Do you not have anyone else on your phone?” He asked.

You clutched your phone to your chest as you flinched, “I-Is that bad?” 

“No no no, I’ll just give you Honda-san’s number too so you can talk to us anytime.” 

“I-Is that fine? She wouldn’t mind right?” He shook his head.

“I’m pretty sure Honda-san would be more than happy to talk to you more.” 

You turned your eyes away from him in order to type in her number. “Why are you guys being so nice to me?” 

“Hmm. . .” Yuki stared at the ceiling in thought. 

After he had come home that night, Tohru asked him about whether or not you had a phone to talk to her with. She seemed really insistent on gaining your friendship after you had talked to her during the after school clean up session. 

She mentioned how you would silently help her during class like picking up her fallen items, which Kyo only described as being generally nice, but Tohru seemed to have other thoughts. Yuki didn’t know whether or not Tohru saw something within you which sparked her interest in you, but part of the reason why he wanted your phone number was to talk to you outside of school without having Akito finding out about other people coming into the Sohma family’s home. 

“She was happy to have another friend.” You parted your lips to say something only for them to close momentarily. 

“I-I see. . . Thank you then.” You typed in her number and also changed her contact. 

“Now you have two people in your contact.” He smiled. “Are you feeling better?” 

You realized that the whole reason for him asking you about your phone was to distract you from your sour mood. He continued to smile at you, almost as if he was trying to communicate some sort of idea to you. He really was quite kind-hearted.

“Yes. . . You wanted my number to cheer me up didn’t you?” 

“Mhm,” Yuki slid the door open to the classroom for you, “it seemed like you needed a distraction.” 

“Oh, thank you Sohma-san.” You held your cell phone close to you before making your way to your desk. 

“Ah! (Y/n)-kun!” Tohru waved at you from her desk as you hooked your bag onto the side. “How was your day?”

Perhaps there is something more underneath the surface, Yuki thought. He watched as you interacted with Tohru, slightly hesitant as you tried your best to keep the conversation going. With the way you talk to Tohru, it seemed like you were genuinely trying to make friends. 

You threw your bag across the room and flopped onto your bed. You felt the poking sensation from one of the loose pens and you tossed it behind you. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you smothered your face against the soft, cool pillows. You flipped yourself over so that you laid on your back. 

You felt so tired after school and your shift ended. Physical Education did a number on you when it came to running laps. After the experience you had during lunch, you needed to blow off some steam during PE. You found that it was a bad choice considering the fact you had to work at the cafe for the rest of the day. You were quite drowsy when it came to serving customers today. You made a mental note to write in your journal but for now, you will rest in bed until you regain your strength and energy. 

The sound of a ding interrupted your moment of peace. You groggily picked up your phone and saw that you had two new texts from Tohru and Yuki. You swiped in order to view the full messages. 

“(Y/n)-kun!! You should join us for dinner!” Tohru sent you a photo of the table full of food, you wondered how they obtained so many ingredients to cook so many dishes. Did they have a party?

“(L/n)-san, Honda-san is begging me to text you to join us for dinner, will you be coming? Our cousin came over.” You typed a response to Yuki first. 

“Sorry, I’m just feeling exhausted tonight. Please Tell Tohru-kun I can try to come over the weekends.” He starts to type a response, the three dots appearing on your screen. 

“That’s fine, are you doing okay after PE?” He types quite fast actually, it feels weird having someone to text with and you were glad knowing that Yuki has always tried to make some sort of conversation with you. 

“Just a bit tired.” 

“Just a bit? I heard you ran a bunch of laps and tripped halfway.” He sent a cute rat emoticon. 

You fumbled around with your phone, “really? You remember that part? Whats with the emoticons?”

“It was funny. Honda-san uses a lot of emoticons, I thought it would be fun to try it out.

“Oh, I see. I thought you were going to eat dinner with everyone else?

“Our cousin accidentally broke the table and we’re waiting for Honda-san to come back for another dinner.” You stifled a chuckle. “We spent a lot of time cleaning up and she hasn’t come back yet. Kyo is thinking about getting take out.”

“Does Shigure-san know you’re texting someone?”

“Nope, I’m texting you behind a book.”

“You’re quite sneaky for someone who is suppose to be a good student.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Another rat emoticon. “For someone whose quite fast at running, you sure do trip a lot.”

“Shut up,” you sighed, “just a little clumsy.”

“Right,” he sent a rat emoticon with a question mark. “Are you feeling better though? You seemed down during lunch.”

“I’m fine.” You continued to tap against the screen, your eyes slowly drooping downwards in exhaustion, “you shouldn’t have to worry about me, we just met.”

“It feels as if you’re still bothered by something, but I won’t press on it too much. Since Honda-san isn’t back yet, what is your favorite animal?”

“. . . An eagle? I guess a white-tailed eagle is interesting.”

“I heard that the Crowned Eagle is strong. They’re also a bit clumsy when it comes to flying, reminds me of you.” You pressed your lips together.

“What is yours then?” 

He sends another cute rat emoticon. “I think it would be a bit obvious.” 

“Cute.” His texting paused for a moment after your text and you think Tohru-kun came back home. “Did Tohru-kun come home?” 

“Oh, yes she just did. Our cousin is cooking again and she says it would be hamburger.” 

“I see, that’s nice.” You sighed before sitting up from your bed. 

“Have you eaten?” 

“No, not yet.”

“I can bring you food in a bit if you would like, our cousin made extra.” 

Your eyes widened before you furiously started typing, “You really don’t need to visit me you know.”

“It would be a good way to escape this chaotic family for a bit, it’s also nice to talk to you.”

“Then. . . If you don’t mind.”

From the Sohma household, Yuki smiled and hurriedly finished his meal. He was slightly pleased to know that he was able to come over to your house. Although you had recently met barely a day ago, he was curious about you. Tohru looked over at him and grinned.

“Are you going over to (Y/n)-kun’s house?”

“Yes I am, she says she didn’t have anything to eat but is tired, do you want me to give her something from you?” He responded.

She only waved her arms around to dismiss the idea, “no no, just tell her I said hi!”

“Then I will.” He packed up the food and waved the rest of the family a quick goodbye as he made his way to your apartment.

Kyo turned to the door in annoyance before scoffing, “don’t you think it’s weird he’s interacting with that other girl?”

“What do you mean Kyo-kun?” Tohru asked.

“Think about it, they just barely met and he’s coming to her house already? Sheesh.” He flipped himself onto the floor, “don’t you think it’s strange?”

Tohru stared at the closed door, her hand up to her lips as she thought about your interactions with Yuki.

She didn’t know much about you other than the fact you sat next to her in class, but there were moments when she could see the look in your eyes that she sees every day when Yuki is there with her.

Your eyes looked so sad.

When she sees you in class, you always fidget with your fingers underneath the desk, or how you would tap your pen against paper whenever you encountered a puzzling thought. When you talk to her, you sound like you’re forcing yourself to come up with a conversation. She couldn’t forget the look in your eyes when she saw you. You would tighten your fists like the way Yuki clutched his left arm, the two of you would divert your attention away and space out at times as well.

That day, when you both stayed after school, she felt something towards you. A desperate cry for some sort of love underneath the facade you held, yearning for something that was never there for you, reaching out for a distant dream in hopes of a cure.

Tohru gripped the edge of her shorts as she wonders if you had a similar past to Yuki. Your eyes looked as if you were constantly on watch and anxious, yet it held a hint of loneliness and sadness hidden behind your sharp irises.

Maybe the reason why you got along so well was because of something in the past.

“I know that, Kyo-kun.” She mumbled. “But she looks like she really wanted friends.”

“You came here quite fast.” You peered from behind the door, seeing Yuki hold up a bag of food. 

“You should know that we’re both fast runners in the class.” You reached out to unlock the chain and opened the door. 

“S-Sorry, my room is a bit messy right now, we can eat over here.” 

He looked around the room, seeing a lack of photographs or any sort of decorations hanging on the wall. When you opened the door to the rest of your apartment, he was greeted with the scent of lavender and camellias. Interesting choice of flowers. Your bed was still quite messy despite your efforts to bring yourself to clean up, there were some books spread across the ground and he noticed the piling laundry basket in the corner of the room. You were wearing a simple white button-up and one of your favorite pants. 

“My room is gross, sorry.” You apologized again, trying to stack the books onto your shelf as he sat down on the wooden floor. 

“No no, my room is like this too.” He continued to admire the interior of the room, despite it being a small apartment it seemed very cozy. “Does it always smell like lavender in here?” He commented. 

“O-Oh, yes. My coworker said it’s supposed to help with sleep and relaxation.” Once the books were neatly stacked you walked over to the miniature kitchen. “I only have green tea with me, will you be okay with that?” 

“That would be fine, thank you for having me over.” He smiled while you turned away from him, your cheeks becoming warm as you turned on the stove with a filled kettle. You struggled with tying the back of your apron, your arms extremely sore from overworking yourself earlier. You groaned in frustration as you continued to try to tie a knot behind you while exerting yourself. 

“I can get that for you.” You flinched as you felt his hands tightening the strings and pulling them together, looping them into a bow before stepping back. “Are you normally this tired after work?” 

“Customers can be hard.” You huffed, pulling out a separate bowl and your wooden whisk. “They ask for a lot from us and it’s difficult when you’re just a student.” When the kettle was getting to the boiling point, you poured the water into the bowl and set your whisk inside. “It’s the only job I currently have which pays enough for rent.” 

You pulled out a packet of ground matcha and sifted it into the bowl. Your fingers were delicately working at the tea while Yuki admired you from the side. As you vigorously stirred the mixture in a zig-zag motion, you looked over your shoulder to see him still smiling at you.

“W-Why are you smiling?” You poured the matcha tea into two cups and set them down onto your wooden tray. 

“No, I was just impressed by your skills. Did you learn that at your workplace?” 

“O-Oh, I did. I learned quite a bit from working there.” You carried the tray towards the table and set them down while Yuki sat across from you. “Is your family going to be okay with you being here?”

He shook his head, “I’m pretty sure our cat is happy knowing I’m out of the house for a while.” By cat, you assumed he meant Kyo. 

“I see, do you dislike him?” You awkwardly avoided using his last name considering the fact that he and Kyo came from the same family, and you weren’t quite ready to even say his first name. 

“Dislike is far, it’s more like I hate him.” He brought up the cup to his lips and took a small sip, “everything he does makes me angry.” 

You unwrapped the food and admired the careful packeting of it before digging in with your chopsticks, “is there a reason why you hate him?” 

He set the cup down, “hmm. . . It runs quite deep.” He peered down at the small air bubbles which sat at the top of the tea. “You could say that I’m a bit envious of him.” 

“It must be hard constantly comparing yourself with him then.” You bluntly said, cutting a piece of the hamburger and chewing on it, “but, don’t you have good qualities as well?” 

“Well, it’s hard to say.” 

You hummed. “You’re kind and mature Sohma-san,” you picked up your own cup and brought it to your lips to drink, “I don’t think anyone would simply come over to your house and give you food.”

“Other than Honda-san of course.” You giggled slightly but coughed to drive his attention away from the sound. He continued to drink his tea while you ate.

You silently eyed him, realizing now that he had long eyelashes. You could see how some could mistake him for the wrong gender, but you wondered how a boy such as him is blessed with so many great qualities. You stopped chewing, instead, biting on your inner cheek when you realized how attractive he was. Even his eyes were much prettier than yours. They were the right shade of grey and they held kindness and innocence within them.

You frowned as you thought about your own reflection. Your heart sinks to the ground as you felt yourself wanting to leave this place. The cold air of your room sunk into your bones as the chills ran down your spine.

“I hate the look in your eyes.” She sneered.

Yuki quickly set his cup down and reached over to you, “are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”

You instinctively retreated back slightly, your eyes widening as you stared at him. His hand twitched before he pulled himself back. His eyes reflected your own while you cowered in fear. You could feel the beads of sweat beginning to form on your neck as you adjusted yourself.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You peered up at the clock on the wall, “it’s getting late. You should start going home.”

There was an awkward pause of silence growing between the two of you.

“Sorry, if I offended you.” Yuki pulled himself off of the floor. You bit your lip as you watched him pack his own things to leave, feeling guilty for your own actions. As he was beginning to turn towards the door, you quickly stood up and grabbed onto his wrist.

“A-Ah, umm. . .” He stared at you while you struggled to form coherent words, “I-It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean to drive you away, I-It’s fine if you want to stay a little longer if you want to though.” You mumbled.

You looked up at him with your (e/c) eyes, “I’m sorry.”

He reached out to pat the top of your head, “then, I’ll stay for a bit longer. Let me call Shigure-san about this.” He excused himself from the room and went out to the hall to phone Shigure.

You breathed out a sigh of relief before cleaning up the table and going to wash the empty cups. As you scrubbed the surface with soap and water, you wondered if you had driven him away from you. Your heart felt heavy seeing his hurt expression pull away from you.

You knew all along that you weren’t the best at making friends.

This encounter was starting to make you feel paranoid, your hands starting to freeze up while the burning sensation of the water unfazed you. You were starting to worry that Yuki might not want to be your friend anymore after this. The way he stared back at you with those hurt eyes made you want to crawl into your nest and bury yourself into it. You blinked away the small formations of tears at the corner of your eyes.

You winced when you realized you have been running your hand under boiling hot water for too long, the skin turning a bright red color. You gasped when you stared down at your hands, your stomach feeling sick as your body began to tremble, your eyes focusing on the darkening color.

Her nails dug into the surface of your hand as you began to feel your skin split, the crimson liquid oozing from your skin. You tried to grab onto her hand to pull her away with the little strength you had. You could feel yourself being roughly thrown back into the room, the thick fluid smearing onto the cold floor as the door slammed shut.

You tightly shut your eyes as you blindly ran past Yuki towards the bathroom. His worried glances followed your figure as you made your escape.

“(L/n)-san, are you okay?” You fumbled with the cabinet trying to unlock it but to no prevail, your breathing became heavy as your body almost collapsed onto the ground. Your hand couldn’t find the lock at all and you were starting to feel woozy.

You felt the feeling of his hand grasping onto your shoulder gently, “(L/n)-san, you burned your hand, is your medical kit in here?” He gently knocked on the material and you nodded in response, your eyes still closed as you tried to calm your breathing.

You should hear him unlock the cabinet, his hand reaching out to pull on the medical tape and wrap the material around your fingers as you breathed a sigh of relief. Although it was dark, you felt comfortable at the moment. Your fingers twitched as he carefully wrapped it around your hand.

“Did you burn yourself while I was gone?” You frowned as you nodded again. You felt him rip the end of the tape with his nails before tapping on the back of your hand.

“You can open your eyes now (L/n)-san.” You cracked open one of your eyes and saw the slightly clumsy wrapping made by Yuki. Slowly, you brought your hands to your chest, feeling your heartbeat beginning to calm down.

“I’m sorry for troubling you tonight Sohma-san.” You said.

He only responded with his gentler voices, “you don’t need to apologize. Are you scared of something?” He asked.

“The color. . . Red.” You whispered, almost inaudible as Yuki had to take time to process your response.

“Does closing your eyes help you?” You mumbled a short yes.

You thought he would judge you based on this childish fear, but he seemed to stare at you with those kind grey eyes of his. It seemed unrealistic to have someone as caring as he was. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were simply dreaming.

“Would you like to go back to your room? I can stay for a bit longer here.” You gave him a short nod and he held onto your hands, careful not to apply pressure onto the surface as he guided you back into your room.

“Do you need help with that?” He pointed at your still tied apron.

“No, I’ll try to do it myself, I’ve troubled you enough.” You tried to reach the knot but with every single movement from your joints sparked a burning sensation. You hissed at it but Yuki grabbed onto your hand and pulled it away.

“It’s okay to ask for help (L/n)-san.” He tugged onto the end of the knot and slowly pulled off your apron before you could even protest.

“Don’t you feel bothered?” You mumbled. “I’m causing you so much trouble and it's a hassle to do these things don’t you think? We barely know each other and here you are at my house.”

“Not really.” He started to fold the material, “it’s not really a problem at all.”

“You don’t seem to want to ask for help either, Sohma-san.” He grew silent before he guided you towards your bed, forcing you to sit down on the sheets as he stood over you. 

He brushed the side of his hair back, his eyes avoiding yours. “Did you know all this time?” 

You reached out to his hands with your bandaged ones, pulling on them as you leaned forward, feeling the cold sensation on top of your forehead as you closed your eyes. Yuki could feel the heat trailing to his cheeks as he felt you brush yourself against his hand. 

“We’re similar, Sohma-san.” You could only hear the small audible hum coming from above. 

[concealeddarkness13]

All's Fair In Love And War (Especially When It's Both) Chess meets Miro

So, you know how I have story ideas then promptly seem to forget them? Not this one. This is the scene where Chess meets the son of the leaders of the country, and she becomes a national sensation overnight. Here is the info post. Content warning: kissing but not nsfw. Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @merigreenleaf, @maple-writes, and @pen-of-roses!

The music of the club pounded in my ears as I sipped my second drink. I had just gotten to a new city, and I was looking for someone to be with tonight. It had been a while, and I was tired of sleeping in the cold alone.

This was a club that didn't really care about someone's background. I could let my prosthetics shine in the pulsing lights, and no one said anything. It wasn't like people hated cyborgs, just certain ones. I didn't really get it, since we were victims. Or, I was pretty sure we were victims. I didn't remember anything of my time in the mysterious cyborg experiments. Or before that, for that matter.

People were dancing and laughing all around me. I would be out there too, but I had already danced for two hours with different partners, and I was fucking tired. It was looking like I wouldn't find anyone tonight.

Just as I thought that, someone approached me, and I turned to him with a smile. He had teal hair pulled back in a ponytail and purple eyes. And he was smirking at me. "Magpie! How are you?"

The smile slipped from my lips. "Excuse me? I think you might have mistaken me for someone else."

He looked confused for a few seconds before he shook it off and sat down next to me. "I just think you should be Magpie, because you just stole my heart."

I burst out laughing, and he joined me. In between gasps of laughter, I was able to speak. "That's one of the cheesiest pick-up lines I have ever heard!" When I did stop laughing, I leaned back and sipped my drink again. "Kudos for originality, though. I don't think anyone has ever called me Magpie before."

He bowed his head. "It was meant as a compliment, I assure you. So, what's your name, or should I just keep calling you Magpie?"

I leaned forward, closer to his face, but he didn't back off. Good sign. "Magpie suits me just fine. It's so much more mysterious that way. May I call you Raven?"

"I would be honored." He leaned closer too, so that our faces were inches from each other. "And may I ask what a beautiful Magpie is doing in a place like this?"

"Looking for a Raven who collects shiny things." I gestured at my prosthetics, and he grinned wider. "But only for a night. A Magpie must keep flitting from place to place, as you know."

He nodded. "Understandable." His eyes flitted to my lips and back to my eyes. "A Magpie should not be caged, after all."

"What a gentleman! So understanding." I brushed my hand lightly over his shirt, and he smirked. I dropped my voice low. "Let's go somewhere private then."

It was so dark outside, and I backed him up against the wall, and he held me so close that there was no space between us. I hadn't been so close to someone for a few months, but in my defense, I hadn't felt safe for a few months. I had been trying to find a place people didn't know me on sight, but that was harder than I had realized. So, finally, finally, I wouldn't be alone tonight.

He kissed me deeply and passionately, and my thoughts stopped wandering as I just focused on him. He slowly, carefully turned me around so I was against the wall, and he didn't cringe away whenever his hands touched my prosthetics. And it was wonderful.

We kept kissing when we could as we headed to a hotel, and he paid for the room, and when we got there, we kissed and I purposefully fell on the bed, and he laid over me and kept kissing me. I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and when I had finished, I placed my hands on his chest, but then he pulled away from me.

I frowned and sat up after he moved away. "I'm sorry. Do you not like that?"

He shook his head and took my hands. Oh boy. "It's not that, my Magpie. It's just that...there is something I need to tell you." Oh joy. "I'm the son of the leaders of this country. Callum Miro Rey. I'm not supposed to take a relationship too far unless I'm promised to them, and if my parents found out that I did, there would be consequences for you. I'm sorry."

I clenched my jaw. Well, shit. What was I going to do now? "Well then I should probably leave." I stood up. An alleyway it was then.

He snagged my hand, and I looked back at him with a frown. He looked ashamed, at least. "That doesn't mean you have to be alone." How the fuck did he know that? "Please, spend the night with me."

I didn't pull my hand out of his grip. Shit, I really didn't want to be alone. "How do you know I'd be alone?" I paused, but he didn't say anything. "Also, Raven, what's the point of picking up shiny things if you're not gonna use them?"

He cocked his head. "We could still have a good time. And anyway, there's more to a relationship than the physical."

"Bullshit." I rubbed my face with my free hand, probably smearing some makeup. But this was just ridiculous. "Not for a Magpie that never stops moving." I paused. "But it would be nice." Shit. I was too soft.

He smirked. "I promise I won't disappoint." We got in bed, with clothes on. And it was nice. We still kissed and embraced and stayed close. And he held me so tenderly. I wasn't used to such gentle touch. I was actually able to fall asleep in his arms without any confusing dreams. 

*

Of course, the next morning, when I woke up, he was already gone. I made myself look more presentable before I walked outside and was greeted with my worst nightmare.

News stories screaming from every corner that the son of the leaders had been with a lowly girl from the mysterious cyborg experiments and how much of a scandal it was. Pictures of me kissing Raven up on every screen. 

I stared in disbelief. What the hell had he done? That idiot should have really known better. I would never be able to show my face here again.

But before I pushed away the thoughts and started hiding my face and leaving the city, a fancy car pulled up right in front of me. Oh shit. I sprinted away, down alleys and through tiny, crowded streets that surely would keep them from following me.

I even made it out of the city, but when I stopped to catch my breath and release a little of the smoke that had built up (yeah having fire magic because of fancy prosthetics that I knew nothing about and couldn't get rid of actually affected my body), the car was back. A man got out of the driver's side, and he walked over to me and bowed. "Director Rey and his wife would like to meet you. Please, don't resist." 

Shit, what had that Raven gotten me into?

[themurphyzone]

PatB Nova Ch 6

Ch 6: Eccentricity

AN: Loved some of the PatB shorts more than others (You know my eternal hatred for THAT one). But that’s a story for another day. I’m sticking to the 90s versions of these characters though. For now. I might have a gander at the reboot versions someday. You never know!

Ch 6 FFN Link

April 22, 2015! Narf! You’ll never guess what happened, Mickey Mouse. I met the Brain! Well, I’ve only known him for about four months, or less than two days, depending on how you wanna look at it, but if anything happened to him, I would make myself watch Shyamalan’s The Last Airbender!

Tomorrow, I’m going to the mall and buying a hat. Can’t root for Farfignetown (I have to ask her how she spells her name!) at the Derby without a super fancy hat!

Love,

Pinky.

PS: Tell Minnie I said hi!  

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky stepped back to admire his handiwork, the tip of his blue glitter gel pen pressing under his chin as he leaned against it. He did his best to copy Brain’s messages, but he was probably gonna have to write only the first letters only in the future. He didn’t want to take up the entire calendar page again.

His ears twitched at a scraping sound behind him. The sparkly gel smeared against his fur as he turned around, leaving a blue streak across his chest. Egad, if he continued to cover himself in the stuff, he’d look just like one of the Blue Men!

Brain pushed a heavy textbook across the counter, finally stopping underneath a light panel on the ceiling. Then he flipped it open, climbed up, and began to read.

It wasn’t the same book he’d started reading after they’d shaken hands to seal their new friendship either.

“Whatcha reading, Brain?” Pinky asked, slinging the gel pen over his shoulder. “I thought you were reading about jeans! So, find anything good? I think I like the flare type best. Skinny jeans make me chafe.”

“I have no idea what you’re blathering about, Pinky,” Brain said, not looking up from the page he was on. His head shifted from side to side as he read on, and Pinky imagined a giant, fluffy marshmallow making the same movements.

His stomach growled, and a marshmallow dinner sounded heavenly. With cheese fondue and rainbow sprinkles and a light dollop of whipped cream on top…

Wait, no, no. The kitchen didn’t have Gruyere cheese! Processed American cheese wouldn’t provide that proper creamy texture at all.

What kind of host was he? Unable to serve proper cheese fondue to his alien guest?

Then Brain hopped off the book, growling to himself as he pushed up on the hard cover and the few pages he turned. The pages slid into place, but he wasn’t tall enough to get the cover to close the entire way.  

“Do you need help, Brain?” Pinky asked. He dropped the gel pen and grasped the cover’s edge, but Brain smacked him sharply on the wrist, forcing Pinky to let go. Pinky flicked his wrist, and the sting quickly disappeared.

“Don’t patronize me! I can get it myself!” Brain snarled. He pushed on the cover again, and it rose a couple inches in the air, only to land against his fingertips. He growled and spread his feet, jumping as he pushed on the cover once more. This time, the cover slammed into the pages with a heavy thud. “Your sources of information are woefully lacking with your livable yet rudimentary conditions. Penumbra had a much better database, and it’s been dilapidated for a long time.”

Pinky had no idea what dilapidated was. Probably something to do with laps though.

“Oh, well if you need more reading material, I’ve got just the thing!” Pinky said, motioning for Brain to follow him over to a tiny side table where all the magazines were stacked. “Let’s see, we’ve got Vogue, National Geographic, Reader’s Digest…ah, here we are! This one’s my favorite out of all the Zoobooks! Lots of pretty horses to look at. Zort!”

Pinky thumbed through the magazine until he found his favorite page, which had gorgeous art of a white horse running on grassy hills. “This one’s my favorite,” he said as he pressed the magazine into Brain’s hands. Brain nearly went cross-eyed just trying to look at it, but he held out his hands and pushed the pages back until they weren’t so close to his face. “I named her Pharfignewton after Pharfignewton! Isn’t her mane just the flowiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Including or excluding your mind in that comparison?” Brain asked. He closed the magazine and set it on top of the stack. “Your choice of reading material is peculiar, but I suppose brushing up on this planet’s ecology wouldn’t hurt.”

Pinky grinned. “If you think those are good, remind me to show you David Attenborough’s work sometime! His documentaries are amazing!”

Brain tilted his head, his antennae bobbing with the motion. “You’ve mentioned someone named Pharfignewton multiple times. An acquaintance of yours?”

“She’s not a quail, Brain. She’s a horse, of course!” Pinky laughed at his little rhyme. “Oh right, I’ve never showed you pictures of her, have I? Where are my manners? Anyway, I left them in the cage. It’s right this way! Or left this way. I can never tell which.”

Pinky ran back to the cage and squeezed through the bars, Brain trailing behind at a much slower pace. As Pinky slid his right leg through the bars, he realized just how dirty the cage was. There was a small puddle by the water bottle, and straw was scattered all over the place. Crumbs littered the floor around the food bowl, and his wheel had a stain shaped like a pomegranate.

It just wouldn’t do at all!

“Sorry for the mess!” Pinky called to Brain, who was watching him curiously from outside the cage. “I didn’t know I’d be having a visitor today!”

But Brain didn’t seem to care about the mess. Instead, he prodded the locked cage door.  

“Nicholas and Mr. Button, you’ve gotta wake up and help me clean!” Pinky said, shaking them frantically from where they were tucked into the straw. “Narf, you two were up talking late again, weren’t you?”

They were too asleep to respond though.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you sleep for now, but tomorrow I’ll be going over proper cagesitting behavior with both of you,” Pinky sighed. He carefully rolled up the photo of Pharfignewton he kept near the straw bed, hugging it close to his body as he slipped through the bars again.

“Pinky, those are inanimate objects,” Brain said, bending a paper clip until it was completely straight. He poked one of the sharp ends and winced.  “They won’t respond to you.”

“They’re real life objects, Brain. They’re not animated,” Pinky said. “Whatcha doing with that paper clip?”

Brain pressed his ear against the cage door, carefully maneuvering the paper clip into the lock. It slipped a quarter of the way in before Brain yanked it out again, his eyes darting around the room as if something would swoop down on them.

When nothing happened, he went back to inserting the paper clip. “Nothing to disable here. There’s no alarm system on the door,” Brain said, turning to Pinky. “I thought you were squeezing through the bars to avoid triggering it.”

“I’ve never had an alarm before. Do you think I should get one?” Pinky asked. “Just so nobody tries to burger my wheel or water bottle? Hmm, what would a burger with those ingredients even taste like? Not very appetizing, probably.”

Brain only stared at him, the paper clip almost slipping from his hand in surprise. “Don’t tell me the only reason you haven’t used the door is because you can’t unlock it.”

Pinky nodded. “Okay. I won’t tell you the only reason I haven’t used the door is because I cannot for the life of me figure out how to unlock it.”

Shaking his head in dismay, Brain reinserted the bent paper clip until it was halfway in, then turned it clockwise (or was it counterclockwise? Pinky always got them mixed up).

“There,” he said, letting the door swing open. “Now you can enter and exit as you please like a civilized mos.”

“Egad, that’s brilliant!” Pinky stepped inside the cage, then back out. In and out again, and again, and he almost started dancing the Hokey Pokey, which would’ve been a whole lot of fun, but Brain still hadn’t seen Pharfignewton’s photo!

Now that was a real tongue twister there!

“This is Pharfignewton, Brain! Isn’t she pretty?” Pinky asked, pressing the photo into Brain’s hands.

The photo had been taken two weeks ago, when her owner had hired a professional to photograph Pharfignewton as she sprinted around the field. Pharfignewton had given Pinky her personal favorite, one that showed her hooves flying through the air and her gorgeous mane streaming in the sunlight. She was having the time of her life, and she couldn’t have picked a better photo to give him.

“There’s certainly an uncanny resemblance,” Brain admitted. “And the size discrepancy between you and her is incredibly blatant. Not to mention the species difference.”

Pinky crossed his arms. “Oh, don’t be so intolerant, Brain. She’s big cause she’s a horse, and I’m small cause I’m a mouse. But we make it work.”

Pharfignewton would be gone for the next two months, possibly more when she achieved the Triple Crown. It would be lonely, but he could manage.

“You mentioned she was far away when I interrogated you.” Brain set the photo down, smoothing out a corner though it didn’t have any wrinkles.

“She’s still on the road to the Derby, I think. Can’t really get in touch with her though. Phones are kinda tricky with hooves, you know.” Pinky said. “She’s wanted the Triple Crown her entire life. So that’s why I gotta make a giant hat and root for her when she races!”

“I don’t understand how a hat factors into all this,” Brain said.

“Zort! I dunno,” Pinky shrugged. “You can’t have a Derby without horses, hats, and My Old Kentucky Home. Otherwise it wouldn’t be much of a Derby then, would it?”

Brain folded his arms. “I’m currently debating if I should take your words at face value or not. Your customs make no sense whatsoever.”

Pinky thought they made perfect sense, and cents, and all of the five senses really, but his stomach growled and that thought was soon forgotten. Brain never had Earth food before, had he?

Definitely a job for a genetically altered Earth mouse to show him the ropes!  

But first, Pinky had to clean the gel off his fur. It was starting to clump into spikes, and that wouldn’t do at all.

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky rinsed himself in the sink, sticking out his tongue to lap up some of the cool water as it trickled out of the faucet. Thankfully, the gel hadn’t settled into his fur and was very easy to wash away. And flicking the water around the sink with his tail was loads of fun too!

Brain stayed on the outer rim, pulling on the stopper and handles by the sink out of curiosity. He edged closer to the stream of water, almost touching it with a gloved hand, but decided against it. But he wouldn’t stop staring at it either, like he’d never seen water in his life.

Maybe he hadn’t?

The moon was made of cheese and not water after all. Water would make the cheese all soggy and mushy and wash away the cheesy taste that made cheese so delicious.

“C’mon, Brain! Poit!” Pinky pushed his fingers together, trying to send a squirt of water up to Brain, though it missed his nose by a mile and landed on a small crumb on the slope of the sink instead. “The water’s just fine!���

“I’ll have to decline your offer, Pinky,” Brain said. “My information about water is rather lacking, and I’d rather not cover myself in a substance without knowing more.”

“I guess water would leave the moon cheese not very tasty to eat, huh?” Pinky asked. He braced himself and shot out of the tiny waterfall, and he was very glad for all the focus he’d put into leg exercises recently, because his running start was enough to get him over the rim on his first try. “Well, all you need to know is that water is wet, it splishy-splashes all over the place, and it’s fun to play Marco Polo in!”

Brain didn’t look convinced though. He removed one of his black gloves and touched a puddle, rubbing the water between his fingers curiously.

Pinky turned off the water, then dried himself off with a fluffy towel. He double checked his chest to make sure the gel was completely gone and patted down his fur.

“This way, Brain!” Pinky called, jumping off the counter and onto a spinny chair. The seat twirled around for a bit, making him slightly dizzy, but it was all in jolly good fun. Brain carefully climbed down, gripping the drawer handles and moving slowly. He slipped on the last handle and landed awkwardly on his right leg. He grimaced for a moment, his nose scrunching up rather adorably. “Blueberry bagels and cream cheese, here we come!”

“Your sustenance on Terra, I assume?” Brain asked. He followed Pinky through a corridor and into the kitchen, his large head turning every which way to take in all the sights of ACME Lab. Now that it was daytime, there were more colors than just shadowy blue. Pinky wondered if Brain would try to name the colors he saw. Pinky tried once, but there were just too many pretty colors streaming in from the window pane above.

“They aren’t consonants, Brain. They’re delicious and all, but they wouldn’t fit with the alphabet. A little bit of a mouthful, don’t you think? Poit!” Pinky climbed up the cherry-print towel hanging on the refrigerator door like he’d done a million times before. He braced himself against the fridge door, pressed his legs against the handle, and pushed with all his might, feeling that familiar strain of his stomach muscles.

The door opened with a satisfying pop. Breathing heavily, Pinky tumbled more than he climbed down the towel, landing on the cold floor of the refrigerator.

“S-surely there has to be a more e-efficient way to open a door than your method.” Brain’s teeth chattered together, his ears flattening to avoid the sudden chill. He took a few steps away from the open fridge, his arms folded in front of his chest. “Is it a-always this cold?”

“Oh, I haven’t even opened up the freezer! If you think this is cold, you’ll really feel like a mousesicle in there! But it’s worth it if you wanna get to the strawberry ice cream with the cute little mini spoons! Maybe some other time though. Right now, it’s important to get a daily serving of cheese!” Pinky exclaimed as he pushed two small tubs of cream cheese from a middle shelf. They each landed on the floor with a thud, and Pinky jumped down and retrieved them, closing the fridge door behind him with his foot.

Brain sighed in relief as soon as the door was closed, his arms dropping to his sides.

“They keep the blueberry bagels by the bagel warmer,” Pinky said as he led Brain out of the kitchen and into a room that had been marked with a yellow and black caution sign. The bagels were so delicious they even had to warn everyone to take caution! “Oh, now that’s a tongue twister. Blueberry bagels by the bagel warmer. Boobelly beige by the baguette warmer...oh, that’s a toughie. I’ll work on it.”

The bagel warmer was an oddly shaped toaster, with lots of wires and bulbs sticking out along the sides and top. It even had a conveyor belt running through it, but Pinky thought it made this toaster really unique among toasters. Why, he’d even been toasted in this toaster himself! Though it wasn’t as much fun as crispy pieces of bread made it seem. He just remembered a lot of smoke and electricity. And there’d been a lot of narf inside too.

Pinky set the tubs of cream cheese on the floor, then climbed up to the conveyor belt, which was propped on metallic cylinders.

“This is so much easier with two mice!” Pinky crowed. He peered down at Brain, who curiously poked at a red wire on the floor. “I don’t mind eating bagels by themselves, but there’s something about toasty bagels that just warms the heart!”

“If they’re truly that delectable, I suppose there’s no harm in trying it,” Brain replied.

“Did your file thingies say anything about Earth food?” Pinky asked. Because Brain sure didn’t seem to know much about tasty things.

Brain shook his head. “The Selenians didn’t bother with information about the lifestyles or cuisine of Terrans. It was irrelevant to their cause.”

Oh. Pinky tried to imagine being an alien who didn’t know anything about cheese, but came up blank. He’d eaten cheese and food pellets his entire life. He couldn’t imagine a world without them.

“Pinky, are you aware that machine is also apparently a gene splicer?” Brain asked, pointing to the letters along the side.

ACME GENE SPLICER AND BAGEL WARMER, it said.

“So it does. But the only things that go in are bagels and lab mice. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone try to splice a pair of jeans. Oh, that reminds me!” Pinky snapped his fingers. How could he have forgotten something so very important? The silly machine was on the gene splicer setting! Pinky pressed a conveniently labeled button that said ‘press here for bagel warmer setting’. How nice of the scientists to label their stuff!

He was so glad he discovered that before sending the bagels through. The gene splicer setting would’ve made the bagels extra crispy, and while Pinky didn’t mind, extra crispy bagels were a taste one had to get used to first. Nope, it was better to start Brain off lightly!

“Can you please get two blueberry bagels from the bag, Brain?” Pinky pointed to a bottom cabinet where the bagels were kept, grinning at the new tongue twister he’d come with. Egad, he was good at this! “They’re the tan circles with a hole and blue specks in them! Kinda like a donut, except without the frosting and sprinkles. Zort, Brain! You’ve never eaten donuts, have you? Oh, I am definitely making a list of foods you need to try!”

Pinky hopped onto a tall table and neatly tore a paper towel off its roll, then laid it flat on the conveyor belt. Following Pinky’s instructions, Brain retrieved two bagels from the cabinet and passed them up to Pinky. Brain still seemed rather confused about the gene splicer and the bagel warmer being one and the same. Pinky carefully separated each bagel so that he had four half-bagels with the inside lying face-up and arranged them on the paper towel so they would all be nice and toasty.      

Then Pinky realized he’d forgotten another thing. Namely, that he didn’t know how to turn the bagel warmer on.

He scratched his head.

That could be a real issue.

“Pinky, do you actually know how to work this machine?” Brain’s voice sounded oddly strained. Pinky turned around. Brain was hanging onto the side of the conveyor belt, his legs wrapped around one of the metal cylinders. He’d tried to climb up himself, but his arms were too short to get a proper grip, and if he leaned over anymore, he’d fall right on his chubby head.

Pinky reached over, grasping Brain’s wrists and trying to haul him up, only for Brain to be resistant to help. He wouldn’t budge, his wrists feeling oddly tense under Pinky’s hands. His pink eyes were wide and apprehensive, pointed ears flattening against his head.

“Brain?” Pinky said. “I’m just gonna haul you up. Could you relax a bit please? It’ll be much easier.”

Brain didn’t move for a second, searching Pinky’s eyes warily. Pinky just gave him an encouraging smile. Brain looked away, his brow furrowing, but some of the tension left his wrists.

Pinky pulled him onto the railing of the conveyor belt, Brain’s feet scrabbling in the air briefly before settling firmly on the metal.

“Thanks,” Brain muttered. He walked over to the various buttons and levers, examining each one curiously.  

“You’re welcome, Brain!” Pinky brought one hand to his forehead in a salute, only to remember that Brain was an honest-to-goodness alien, and probably didn’t know that particular gesture. So Pinky tried to make the Vulcan salute instead, but it was kinda tricky with only four fingers instead of five.

“This is very intriguing,” Brain breathed, pressing his face against a small closed window that offered a look into the gears and wires within the bagel warmer. “Yes, pure lithium power source, proton accelerators, and automatic anti-inertia capabilities? The use of nanoplasmic charges leaves a lot to be desired of course, but to have the rest of these things in one machine at your fingertips…”

Pinky didn’t understand anything Brain just said, but the alien’s fingers were twitching in excitement, his nose smushed against the glass. It was the first genuine smile Pinky had seen from the alien since they first met, and Pinky thought it looked really good on him. Even nicer than the jumpsuit, which was already really fashionable. “If you figure out how to turn it on, that would be really great!” Pinky grinned. Brain pulled down on a nearby lever, and the conveyor belt began to move. “Egad, brilliant!”

“The lever was labeled, Pinky.” Brain waved him off, pointing to the word ‘on’ stenciled next to him. But his head tilted up and his chest puffed out too. He seemed to like that word a lot. “Wait, you figured out the machine was on the wrong setting, but you can’t turn it on?”

Pinky shrugged. “It’s not really my type, Brain.”

“Never mind,” Brain sighed, the tips of his ears turning as red as his nose. He turned back to the machine window. “I want to observe this process.”  

“Me too!” Pinky exclaimed, and he hopped over to the window, smushing his nose against it just as the bagels were swept into the machine. Blue electricity sparked and jumped all around the metal structures inside, and the glass warmed beneath Pinky’s hands.

It was a beautiful sight, and Pinky licked his lips as the bagels crisped from the heat.

Beside him, Brain watched the electricity intently, murmuring a bunch of smart words Pinky didn’t understand, but definitely enjoying the show too.

Within several minutes, the bagels gained an extremely nice golden brown crisp, and the conveyor belt moved them out of the bagel warmer. Brain pulled the lever up and the conveyor belt stopped moving, the thrum of the machine beneath their feet slowly fading away.

They weaved around long, multicolored wires as they made their way to the other side, where the bagels awaited them.

“Troz! Looks positively dee-lish!” Pinky exclaimed, poking at one of the bagels. Firm and flaky, just how they were supposed to be. His mouth watered in anticipation.

“The scent alone is quite appealing,” Brain agreed, taking several sniffs of the bagels. “I’ve never smelled anything like this before.”

Pinky grinned at him. “Oh, just you wait, Brain! The real magic is just starting!”

Sliding down the cylinders, Pinky retrieved the two cream cheese tubs they’d left on the floor and passed them up to Brain one at a time. His lower leg strength had improved a lot in the past few months, and it was easy for him to hang on while he passed the tubs up.

“Show-off,” Brain grumbled as he took hold of the second tub.

Pinky just laughed as he fetched two plastic knives from a drawer and carted them back to Brain and the bagels.

“Here you go! Bon appetit!” Pinky said. He gave one of the plastic knives to Brain, who gingerly ran his finger across the toothed edge as he examined the flat, see-through handle. “Oh, be careful with those, Brain. You don’t wanna cut yourself.”

“Not to worry, Pinky,” Brain said. “We have knives on New Selene. But I’ve never seen one with this particular material before. And much duller too.”

Pinky peeled away the cover of a cream cheese tub, drooling over the gorgeous smooth white surface inside. Brain copied him with the other tub, pulling off the cover completely. The alien took off his gloves and sniffed the cream cheese a few times, swiping one fingertip through the cream cheese. Then he tasted it.

Brain’s eyes widened immediately, his antennae perking up. He licked cream cheese off his fingertip four more times before he realized Pinky was watching him. Brain ducked his head and fiddled with his sleeves.

“That was…even better than I anticipated,” Brain admitted, his voice full of wonder.

“Aw, you don’t have to be embarrassed if you like it, Brain. I’m glad you think so, cause blueberry bagels and cream cheese is my favorite. Well, so are food pellets. And marshmallows, especially the puffy kind. And smiley face lollipops and…poit! I have a lot of favorites, it’s so hard to choose just one! Zounds, mac n’cheese too! You really need to try mac’n cheese, Brain! That one’s definitely going on the list. Anyway, if you think the cream cheese alone is good, try this!”

Pinky dipped the knife into the cream cheese. Once he got a good coating, he spread it across the surface of the bagel, took the largest chomp of the combined food he could manage, then swallowed. It went down a little rough, but it was delicious all the same.

“Scrumptious!” Pinky exclaimed. “It’s like a party in your mouth!”

Brain copied his actions again, and while he preferred to rip off chunks of the bagel and slather cream cheese onto smaller pieces, his enjoyment of the food wasn’t any less than Pinky’s. He made some funny ‘mmm’ noises in the back of his throat, his eyes closed in bliss as he worked his way through the first half-bagel.

Pinky started on his second half, licking cream cheese off his lips. This was a nice way to spend the evening.

“Brain, you’re welcome to share my cage if you’d like,” Pinky offered. “Mi cage es tu cage, you know.”

“Are you sure, Pinky?” Brain swallowed, thumping his fist against his throat to make the bagel go down. “I know we’re in a mutual partnership, but I wouldn’t want to impose in your living space.”

“You’re not imposing,” Pinky said. “Besides, plenty of unmarried people share living spaces these days.”

Brain was silent. He continued spreading cream cheese across a small portion of bagel, even though it was completely slathered at this point.

“Snowball and I were in neighboring cages. Aisam had to be housed alone because of their inclination towards territorial aggression. We had separate quarters for the journey to Terra as well.” Brain nibbled on a corner of his bagel. “Point being, I’ve never shared a cage before.”

“Sharing is caring,” Pinky smiled, finishing the last of his bagel. “Besides, it’s one more new experience for both of us. Isn’t that just dandy? I just hope Mr. Button and Nicholas didn’t leave too much a mess.”

“Very well. But we’re moving that sponge bed I slept on last night into your cage. It was much less aggravating for my back than the usual fare,” Brain said. “So…thanks for that, Pinky.”

“You’re welcome, Brain,” Pinky replied, rubbing circles into his belly, his hunger satisfied.

Beside him, Brain seemed satisfied too. And there was nothing better in all the world than sharing blueberry bagels and cream cheese with a new alien friend.

AN: OK this one’s more of a breather chapter since the last 5 were like wham bam nonstop stuff for the characters. Sorry it took so long to get this one out. Next chapter will have Pinky finally getting his hat and Brain’s first mall excursion!

[rwby-sk]

Pieces of my Fic, Part 3: Date

“What are you doing?” Cinder leaned over Neo’s shoulder as she was applying makeup from her scroll’s camera. “Can’t you just make yourself look however you want with your semblance? It’d be so much easier.” 

Neo opened a blank message and typed her response. *I felt like doing it myself.*

Cinder scoffed. “Where are you going that even needs makeup?” 

She typed up the next message after finishing her eyeliner. *I have a contact in Mantle that might be able to get us more supplies.*

“Fine. Just do it fast. We need to stay ready in case Ironwood slips up. He nearly doubled his patrols, he must be getting paranoid.” The witch went back to pacing around the room. 

Neo turned away to roll her eyes and leave. She turned herself into a maintenance worker and hid Hush as a toolbox. She might need it today. 

Finding transport to mantle wasn’t that difficult. Cargo came up to Atlas at all hours of the day, which meant empty shipping containers were taken back to Mantle regularly as well. She snuck aboard a cargo ship and enjoyed the ride, staying on her feat without a safety harness wasn’t all that difficult for her. When they were low enough to the ground, she opened a side hatch and landed gracefully onto a rooftop. 

She waited for Jaune at their usual booth in the diner. It had been just over a week since their movie date.  Date. 

She was still conflicted on the idea. Being around Jaune made her feel lighter and happier than she had been in a long time. But everyone she gets close to have a way of leaving her all alone. She wondered what Roman would have thought about it. 

She rested Hush across her lap as she sipped her tea. 

Jaune arrived right on time, like he always did. He was wearing his armor again with his sword sheathed at his side. And his hair was styled up. Otherwise he looked rather dashing. She would have to do something about that. 

“Hey! What’s that side-eye for?” He asked as he sat down across from her. 

*Your hair. It’s better down.*

“The stylist said it was a popular way to do it.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him. *They were wrong.* 

“Hey, I don’t say mean things about your hair!” 

*That’s because you like my hair, remember?* 

They couldn’t keep up their fake argument and broke into smiles. 

“You look really nice today. Are you trying something new with your semblance?” 

Neo pulled an eyeliner pen from her pocket. *Makeup, actually.* 

“My sisters did my makeup once. I looked like I belonged in a boy band.” 

Neo tried but just couldn’t imagine it. She put away her pen and went back to her tea, smiling into her mug at the thought of it. *Are you ready for today?* she asked. 

“I brought my gear with me, if that’s what you mean. Where are we going?” 

*It’s a surprise!*

They finished their meals and this time Neo lead Jaune through the city. They eventually came to stop at a line of warehouses. She counted the metal panels on the side of a building and knocked on the seventh one. 

A voice on the other side of the wall called out. “Who’s there?” 

Neo made a sour face and knocked again. 

A panel shifted so the person on the other side could look out. “Oh, its you! Sorry about that. Who’s this with you?” 

She gave him a condescending stare. 

“Alright I guess it’s fine if he’s with you. Just don’t let him break anything alright?” The guard opened another side panel like a door. 

Neo lead Jaune through the warehouse and down into a storage basement. *This is a smuggling warehouse. That guy back there is a fence I used to work with a lot. I just needed to borrow his exit,* she explained to Jaune as they followed a hand-dug tunnel out of the basement. 

He had to slouch in the low ceiling. “Where are we going? And why do we need our weapons?” 

*You’ll see! Now stop asking, we’re almost there!*

 --- 

She pulled him through the rest of the tunnel and out into the open tundra of Solitas. The air was brisk, but their auras would keep them warm. They ran across to the nearest hill and looked out past its peak. A frozen lake opened into a valley before them. The morning light glistened off the snow like the whole world was made of light. 

“Oh! Yeah it is pretty hard to get out here without going through a military checkpoint.” He looked out onto the pristine landscape, then stared back at her. “The view is worth it though.” 

She blushed and pushed him over into the snow. 

Jaune laughed as he picked himself up and brushed himself off. He collected the snow from his armor and formed it into a ball. He tried to hit her with it, but she was too fast. 

Neo bit her lip and stared him down. “I hope you know this means war,” she signed before scooping up a large clump of snow into a massive ball. 

Jaune pulled Crocea Mors from his waist and extended the shield. “I’d have it no other way.” 

Neo tossed the clump of snow and he smashed it against his shield. He tried throwing a few more balls but she dived out of the way before they could hit. Neo attempted to run around Jaune to get behind him, but he was too fast with his guard. The two of them were locked in a stalemate neither could break. 

He resorted to taunting her. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to win! I heard you were quick but I guess Yang was wrong.” He dug his shield into the snow in front of him, pointing its flat surface at Neo. They stared each other down as she made more snowballs and he smugly leaned against his weapons. Suddenly he activated the gravity dust in his shield and launched a wall of snow at her. 

When the powder settled, he found her hidden behind her parasol, not a single snowflake on her outfit. She covered her mouth in mock surprise. 

Jaune grinned, impressed and speechless. 

He had been too good at protecting himself from a distance. So, Neo decided to get in close. She ran straight towards him as he scrambled to make another snowball. Just as she approached his shield in the snow, she used an illusion to make him think she was running around it. Jaune pivoted and threw his hastily made snowball at the fake image. It shattered apart. He had just enough time to turn back as the real her leapt off of his shield and tackled him into the snow. They wrestled down the hillside before she pinned him to the ground, straddling his waist. 

Jaune closed his eyes as he braced for her to pelt him in the face with a final snowball. Instead, she smeared it onto his hair in an attempt to wash out the gel. They both smiled as they tried to catch their breath. 

“Okay,” Jaune finally panted, “I lost.” 

Neo smirked. *What do I win?* 

Jaune looked up at her, secluded in the pink and brown curtain falling around them as she leaned over him. He slowly sat up to meet her. 

She froze and gave him a concerned stare. She didn’t want to repeat what happened the last time. 

He stopped short and gave her a slight, silent nod before drifting closer. 

She trusted him. More than anyone in Remnant; she trusted him. If he thought he would be alright, then she was all too happy to oblige. 

His lips were warm and soothing in the tundra air. Every muscle in her body relaxed as she sank into their kiss. He cupped her face with one hand and pulled her closer by her waist with the other, all without breaking their lips. She wasn’t willing to be the first to break it either. It was too special, too delicate. If she pulled away it could all disappear in that instant like none of it had ever happened. So, she clutched him closer and was resolved to never let go. 

Of course eventually they had to. 

Jaune laid back down into the snow. “That’s what you win.” 

She held his hand against her cheek; savored the feeling before falling into the snow beside him. Her face burned as she realized what she had just let happen. How far she let herself go. She tried to ignore the fear growing in her stomach. 

Jaune rolled to his side to face her. There was something enchanting about his eyes. Something in their deep blue that eased her fear; made the knot in her stomach relax. 

She suddenly wanted to give him something more of herself. *I’ve always loved the snow,* she started.  *Winters on the farm were hard. We didn’t have the money to buy food, so we mostly ate what we had canned and jarred over the fall. But every night we’d sit around the fireplace in the main house and tell stories. And every day I would play out in the snow with the Putnam’s son, Basil. We’d build snowmen and ice forts. We didn’t have our auras yet, so, of course our mothers were always so upset with us. But we didn’t care. Those were my favorite things in the world, back then.* She let out a long breath. 

“Everyone kind of avoids talking about the people we’ve lost. If you ever want to talk more about them, I’ll listen. It’s good to remember them.” 

Neo buried her head into his chest and nodded. She didn’t know how to reply to that. 

He brushed a few clumps of snow out of her hair. “We should probably get out of the cold soon.” 

She curled closer to him. 

He moved his hand to wrap around her shoulders. “Okay. We can stay here a bit longer.”