#was going through my camera roll and found a smattering of these and thought. if only I had a blog where I could share these or something

[sadquickchristmassnowman]

some community bts pictures I’ve cobbled together from different corners of the internet. for your enjoyment and mine. part 1

[rissynicole]

DTIYS Contest Prize: Rllyaangrlly

Here is the first of the one-shots promised to the three winners of the DTIYS event I put on recently. (Thank you guys for being patient with me, btw. I’m a very slow writer, and you’re seeing it in action). Just as the title states, this one is for @rllyaangrlly, based on her requests. 

This was a ton of fun and gave me an opportunity to not only shake some writing rust, but work with topics I don’t normally explore. More than anything, I was able to try to emulate the vibes Brit gives these characters in her own art/writing. I wish I had a better word for it, but I’ve always felt like Brit has a certain “aesthetic” with the IZ characters through her drawing style, the situations she puts them in, and her overall portrayal of their personalities. I’ve always adored it, and it was an honor to be able to try my hand at writing it. 

Story is under the cut.

Characters: Dib, Zim, Gaz

Relationships: ZaGr, ZaDf

Warnings: minor injuries

Words: 3,706

Absurdity

The car’s engine and the drone of its wheels on the highway were the only sounds that passed between the three. The radio hadn’t been turned on, and no one had the gall nor the desire to change that. Not Zim, who was turned almost completely towards the window in the passenger seat, nor Gaz in the backseat. They drove along in heavy silence as Dib stared stonily ahead of him at the stretch of road, hands gripping the wheel numbly.

Dating. They’re… dating.

The idea was positively absurd to him. Not only did it feel weirdly out of the realm of possibility, but it felt wrong, somehow. Like some sort of tasteless prank. When Zim had told him, he’d half expected the camera crew from Punk’d to come parading around the corner, led by Ashton Kutcher, to point and laugh at the look on Dib’s face. “Can you believe it?! Your best friend—alien best friend—and your little sister! You totally fell for it!”

That almost would have been better. Cruel and mortifying, maybe, but better. At least then, he wouldn’t be sitting behind the wheel of the car trying to make sense of it while the two pretended not to notice from inches away. But it wasn’t a prank. Hell, Dib wasn’t famous enough to be on Punk’d anyway. Maybe someday… but not today.

A little part of him had high hopes for the series of paranormal investigation videos he and Zim had strung together. Lately, that little part of him had stopped feeling so childish, too. Their following had risen significantly over the last few months, gaining more and more traction as people tuned in. Suddenly, their modest little support net of viewers was in the hundreds. Then the thousands. Then the hundred-thousands. Truth be told, Zim and Dib hadn’t really come across anything of substance in their investigations, but their newer viewers weren’t exactly around for solid proof of the paranormal, anyway. It hadn’t taken long for the two to realize that most of the channel’s appeal came from the dripping sarcasm and witty banter directed at one another.

“Chemistry” was an apt word, and it got thrown around a lot. Zim and Dib, quite by accident, had become the up-and-coming best friend duo in the paranormal community. And with each new investigation, they garnered more and more recognition.

That’s where they were headed now, towards Ottawa National Forest to investigate the latest hot spot Dib’s research had led him to. The “Paulding Light” was a strange phenomenon, appearing in a single spot in the woods and taking form of a bright glow before fading off into the darkness of the night. Though plenty of locals could attest to having seen it, no one could feasibly explain it. Dib was determined to catch it on camera. Or at least he had been, before Zim had dropped the bomb on him right before leaving the house.

Dating. They’re… dating.

His thoughts rounded back, and he felt his hands readjust themselves on the steering wheel. Behind him, Gaz sighed quietly and cross her legs. He almost swore he could sense her and Zim exchange a glance through the rearview mirror, but he really had no way of knowing. He didn’t really want to know.

Dating.

“What’s the exit?” he asked, jarring them all back to reality.

Zim paused before answering. “It’s a couple down. Not this one, but the next.”

They returned to silence. Even as Dib’s blinkers resounded through the car and they exited off the highway. Even as the smooth highway turned to bumpy asphalt, then later, dirt roads.

At last, Zim spoke. “Dib—”

“I’m not mad,” he interrupted. “I’m just…I don’t know what I am. I need to process this. Just…” He trailed off, his mouth a thin line.

Zim and Gaz glanced at each other through the rearview again.

Eventually, they pulled into a dirt lot and spilled out of the little hatchback, glad for a break in the tension that had been all-consuming throughout the entire car ride. Gaz leaned back, popping her joints before heading to the trunk of the car where the camping supplies and camera equipment was. Zim took over, gathering it up and taking inventory of what they had brought along.

Just as before, everything was done without a word. No one really knew what to say. Gaz and Zim were giving Dib his space, and the latter still seemed to be at a loss. Driving hadn’t really cleared his head as he’d lamely claimed it would; it’d just made him more flustered.

Before long, they were off. The hike through the woods was only marginally less uncomfortable than the car ride had been, but the open air helped. Dib led the way, walking along the dimming trail as dusk settled in. The plan was to find a place to set up camp near the area where the Paulding Light supposedly made its appearance. Then, they’d hike again—this time under the cover of darkness—with the cameras rolling.

As the daylight slowly dissipated and the cool air settled in, Gaz paused to unhook her backpack from around her shoulders. Her jacket was inside, probably balled up beneath all the other crap she’d packed for this little excursion. Before she could even get her bag unzipped, though, Zim handed her his own sweatshirt.

She glanced up, and a wordless argument passed between them.

Now you’re going to be cold, her glare told him.

He gave her a challenging, almost haughty glance in return. Just put it on. I’m fine.

Gaz huffed a little and rolled her eyes, but ultimately acquiesced. She bunched it up and pulled it over her head. It was an overlarge navy hoodie with their college name and emblem branded on the front in bright, almost obnoxious yellow font. Zim had been wearing it almost religiously since October had arrived and the first freeze of the year had swept through their neighborhood.

When her face appeared at the neckline, she made brief accidental eye contact with Dib. He averted his eyes quickly. His mouth was still in that tight, thin line.

They continued on, walking until they’d found a suitable place to set up camp. Just as agonizingly silent as before, they set to tidying up the area, pulling out their sleeping bags, and taking inventory of the food they’d brought.

At this, Zim reached into one of the backpacks, eyes lighting up at a bag of jumbo marshmallows. Gaz slapped it away, all pretenses forgotten for a second. “Knock it off. We still have to film,” she said.

He snagged one anyway, popping it in his mouth defiantly before chuckling at her wavering attempt at a serious expression. They locked eyes for a moment, and then Gaz finally dropped it and began laughing along with him.

Dib cleared his throat.

They both turned and looked at him, smiles dropping instantly.

“Let’s get going,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking up at the smattering of stars up ahead. “You have the camera, Gaz?”

She nodded and held it up.

Dib did his best to not look behind him at Gaz and Zim as they walked on. Suddenly, any playful or even amicable interaction between them had taken on a whole new meaning. Because it wasn’tjust amicable.

Dating. They’re… dating.

It made him feel like the last few months had been a lie. It wasn’t just him, his sister, and his best friend anymore. It was him, his sister, and his sister’s boyfriend.

He visibly shuddered as he stepped over a fallen tree branch. Ugh, he didn’t want to think about that.

About a mile in, they began to hear running water. Sure enough, only about five minutes later they came upon a fallen tree that spanned about the width of the trail. Some quick observation showed that it was acting as a sort of bridge over a shallow stream about five or six feet below.

“I guess this is sturdy enough,” Dib muttered, testing the strength of the log. He peered over the edge at the water. At this point, night had fallen proper. A small slice of moon illuminated the sky, casting down on the stream. Dark water glinted here and there as it passed over rocks.

He began to walk over it, arms held out for balance. He hadn’t said much at all, despite Gaz currently filming. She held the camera up anyway, sighing inwardly.

What a waste this trip was. Who the hell would want to watch a video of Dib moodily wandering through the woods all night?

As for Zim, he had hardly uttered a word, either. And he was usually the comic relief of their little program. The fact that Zim was quiet wasn’t just bizarre; it was unsettling.

Zim stepped up on the log, followed by Gaz, who was still holding the camera out in front of herself. The disproportionate weight made her lose her balance for a moment, which was then exacerbated when the entire log rocked along with her. On instinct, Zim reached out and caught her by the wrist.

Dib turned, still halfway across their little bridge over the stream. He glanced at the two blankly. Then, his eyes narrowed. Even in the darkness, the intensity of his glare met Zim’s eyes.

“Would it kill you to not fondle my sister in the middle of the night while we’re trying to film?” Dib muttered.

“What are you talking about, Earth-stink?” It was clear Zim’s already-thin patience was running dry. These days, nearly a decade after arriving on earth, he only pulled out the immature nicknames when he on the verge of arguing.

Dib simply gesticulated at Zim’s hand, still grasping Gaz’s wrist. Zim looked at him incredulously and then let go of her.

“Dib…” Gaz growled, “You’re acting like an asshole.”

I’m acting like an asshole?!” he said, the hours of tension suddenly bubbling to the surface. “You’re the one who decided to… to…” He was at a loss for words.

Gaz darkened nonetheless, eyes glinting. “I didn’t ‘decide’ to do anything! And if I knew you were just going to sulk the whole time, I would have stayed the fuck home! Do I even have to remind you that I do this shit as a favor to you?” She waved the camera in front of her, and Dib paled at both her words and the prospect of it slipping from her grip and into the stream several feet below them. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t even want to go camping right after my midterms?”

“A favor for me, sure!” Dib shot back. Maybe some people could be perfectly silent for hours on end and be perfectly calm. His temper had never allowed for that. He was speaking without thinking, and he could feel it. It still didn’t stop the word-vomit from coming. “You sure it’s a favor for me and not a favor for your little boyfriend over there?”

He gestured vaguely towards the “boyfriend” in question, who’s face was beginning to match Gaz’s. Before Zim could open his mouth, though, Gaz lunged forward, right into Dib’s face. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the fuck up right now!”

The fallen tree they were balanced on began to rock a little, and Zim’s eyes went wide as he clambered to keep his footing. “Gaz—”

“Stay out of it, Zim!”

“I will not!” he shot back. “Not when you’re both acting like complete—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. The log rocked again, and this time, Gaz’s balance didn’t withstand. The little hand-held camcorder slipped from her grasp, and she instinctively lurched towards it with her hands outstretched. Zim, operating on the same instinct, tried to catch her again. His foot slipped out from under him along with a crumbling of tree bark that had split off the log

“W-woah!” Dib shouted. His eyes bulged from behind his glasses. He reached for both of them, catching the sleeve of Gaz’s hoodie and Zim’s arm to try to keep them from falling over the side. He only succeeded in making the sorry excuse for a bridge rock yet again. At that point, it seemed, the log decided it was no longer interested in keeping three fully grown adults upright and out of the water. It rocked, crumbled, and then slipped from where it had been wedged between the two ends of the hiking trail.

Dib, Zim, and Gaz went tumbling off. High, clipped shouts preceding their fall, then a series of splashing.

The water below was cold, but not terribly so. It was a shallow, slow-moving stream. Almost more of an inconvenience than anything. Even so, the drop was high enough that Dib landed on the balls of his feet, skidded out, and skinned both elbows as he fell clumsily onto his rump.

He groaned, cupping one scraped elbow in his palm. Already beginning to internally bemoan his soaking-wet clothes, he turned to Gaz. His anger was beginning to return to him in place of shock.

“Great. That’s a new camera down the fucking drain.”

Instead of an onslaught of choice words back at him, however, Gaz didn’t respond. She wasn’t even looking in his direction. Instead, she was turned away, hunched over something in the darkness. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing. At her feet, Zim’s body was lying halfway in the stream, completely motionless.

Gaz whipped around to look at Dib, soggy tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks. She no longer looked angry. “I think he hit his head. Help me get him out of here!”

Dib’s eyes widened, and without thinking, he hurried around Gaz’s other side, grabbing Zim’s shoulder and hauling him to the grassy bank a few feet away. “Is he okay?” he shouted.

“I don’t know. Move!” She dropped to her knees in front of him. His wig sat like a sodden mop on his head, and she pulled it off before it could burn his scalp any more than it had. The worry she so evidently felt was plastered all over her face. Even in the darkness, Dib could see it. He was worried, too, but it was strange to see it so plainly on Gaz of all people. She had always been the more level-headed of the two, and seeing her normally morose, carefully composed poker-face fall away so quickly made Dib feel like he’d entered some alternate dimension.

Seconds later, Zim came around. With a moan, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal one contact and one overbright pink eye.

Gaz didn’t fuss or wring her hands, but she sighed noticeably in relief, then began asking him questions. (What is your name? Where are you right now?)

Zim answered in turn, seemingly fine. His hand wrapped around to the back of his head to absently massage at a growing bump, though. He groaned again and sat up.

“You need to get out of those clothes,” Dib said. He could hear a distant sizzling—the awful sound of water against Zim’s skin. Even in their days of mortal rivalry, that sound had always had a visceral effect that could pierce through any bluster and leave Dib cringing inwardly.

Gaz nodded her head in agreement. “Come on,” she said. She rose to her feet, then helped Zim up.

“I’m fine. This isn’t the first time this has happened on this filthy planet,” he muttered. The fire that had been in his voice just moments before had been snuffed out. He tugged at his soggy clothing and scratched at the rashes that were beginning to form on his arms and torso.

Before Dib had time to realize what was happening, they were walking ahead of him back to their camp. Gaz was leading the way this time. Zim managed to keep up, wincing in pain occasionally.

When they got back, Gaz beelined to Zim’s bags. While he ducked behind some brush and changed into new clothes, she pulled out a small first aid kit with the Irken insignia printed on the outside.

“He’ll need the—” Dib started. He stopped when he saw Gaz pull out the exact tube of antibiotic cream he had been about to gesture towards. She glanced at the Irken characters—Irken characters Dib hadn’t known she could read—and opened it.

“Can you hand me the bandages from your bag?” she asked.

Dib shot her a weird look but reached for the bandages anyway. “You know, his PAK heals him pretty quickly. I don’t think he even really needs them.”

“Yeah, but bandaging it up makes him whine about it less,” she said. She tried to hide the smile that had begun to form on her lips.

Dib handed it over and began to build a fire for the three of them.

Zim returned then, dressed in clean, dry clothes. While Gaz helped treat and bandage the worst of the burns, Dib kept silent. This time, however, it wasn’t out of whatever conglomerate of frustration he’d been feeling earlier. He was watching his sister coyly.

Gaz was not the maternal type. Throughout their entire lives, Gaz’s words and actions had been laced in a gruff sort of outer layer that warned others she was not to be trifled with. She kept her circle small and very rarely expressed any emotion other than cool apathy or outright anger.

The way she was acting towards Zim was a far cry from her normal self. Dib had only ever seen her like this on a handful of other occasions. When those memories drifted to him and he realized the common denominator, he suddenly felt uneasy. The tenderness in which she wrapped Zim’s forearm was with the same silent, admonishing tenderness she’d shown Dib when he’d gotten injured during his own idiotic exploits over the years.

Meanwhile, Zim sat slumped against a tree, letting her bandage him up without a fuss. While he was making an attempt at nonchalance, it was clear he was practically falling asleep where was sitting.

That was another little thing Gaz seemed to either know already or manage to take in stride: something about injuries made Zim unusually tired afterwards. For as long as Dib had known him, he’d been this way. Dib had deducted it was because his PAK was using more energy than usual, and Zim had more or less confirmed it. Even so, it was rather unsettling to see anyone sustain an injury and then drop off to sleep moments later like a narcoleptic.

That’s precisely what Zim was doing now, now. As soon as Gaz finished with the last bandage, she shook his shoulder to wake him. With the last of his energy, he shuffled to his sleeping bag and practically faceplanted onto it. Within seconds, he had dropped off to sleep.

Gaz patted his hand.

Dating, Dib thought yet again.

It was absurd. That was the only way he could put it. It didn’t make any sense. Almost…almost as absurd as the idea of him being friends with Zim in the first place.

He frowned and began to pull at the loose strings of a bracelet he’d worn on his wrist for the last year or so. Zim had an almost identical one that he, too, never removed.

Hadn’t there been a time when he couldn’t imagine himself being anything but Zim’s enemy? And now they were almost inseparable. If he could get used to that, why couldn’t he get used to this?

He glanced down at the bracelet and sighed. “You really care about him, don’t you?” he said finally.

Gaz glanced up, her face guarded. “I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t.”

“And he treats you well?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” She made a face, but it wasn’t entirely hostile. “I wouldn’t be with him if he didn’t.”

Dib’s eyes fell on Zim, who was snoring lightly. He didn’t doubt that. “Okay,” he said through another exhale.

“‘Okay,’ what?” Gaz said, raising a brow. “I don’t need your ‘blessing,’ Dib. I just want—”

“—No, no, no. I don’t mean it that way,” Dib said quickly, “I mean ‘okay,’ I will get used to this. And I’ll stop being such an asshole.” He quirked his lip upward in a humorless smile at the last part. “I’m sorry, Gaz. I could have handled that a lot better, and I didn’t.”

She pulled her knees to her chest and stared into the crackling fire. “Apology accepted.”

Zim began to stir then, one hand reaching out to scratch at his bandages.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Gaz said softly, taking the hand and moving it away. She made to rifle through their bags but was stopped when Zim’s hand closed around hers. He held her in place and began to murmur incoherently.

Gaz smiled; a sweet, serene smile Dib very rarely saw. “Just give me a minute,” she told Zim. She squeezed his hand and pulled away, unzipping the bag closest to her and retrieving what she was looking for—the marshmallows Zim had been after earlier.

She pressed one into his palm, and his fingers wrapped around it groggily.

Over the next hour, he slowly came out of whatever fog his PAK had put him through as it worked to heal him. By morning, the irritated rashes from the water would be gone and the bump on his head would be nothing but a distant memory.

Not for the first time, Dib thought about how strange Irkens were.

Over the rest of the night, the three gathered around the fire, roasting marshmallows. Even through the lulls in conversation, the tension that had practically been a permanent fixture earlier was gone. Instead, they slipped into their new dynamic. A dynamic that was, as Dib had claimed, absurd. But when hadn’t it been? Not when Zim had first arrived on Earth. Not when years and events had passed them by, and enmity had melded to friendship. And not now.

Absurdity was their specialty, and they were learning to wear it proudly.

~The End~

[toothpastecanyon]

Just Watch Me, Chapter 1

Someone is breaking into New Angeles' museums. Nobody knows where she came from. Nobody knows who she is. But they know the headlines she makes, and maybe, that's enough.

This is for the 2020 annual TAUthon! A big thanks to @feferipeixes​ for betaing this story!

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

The New Angeles Museum of Art. With its glass walls and curved steel roof striking a unique figure amongst its more conventional neighbours, it looked something like an art installation itself. Tonight, a misty fog had settled between the city blocks, and the bright lights within shone out with a ghostly glow; inside, there were still a smattering of guests wandering around the exhibits.

    The exhibits. A figure in a longsleeved shirt lingered on the street corner, holding a cigarette with trembling fingers and eyeing the jewelry kept under glass and guard. One of the guards caught her watching; she smiled at him, and he gave a quick smile back before he looked away.

    Once his eyes were elsewhere, the figure took a drag of the cigarette, and walked a little further away from the windows. She leant against a steel pillar, watching people pass by. This street wasn’t too crowded, especially this late at night, and it ebbed and flowed. Sometimes, there were gaps. Brief periods of time where no one was walking past, no one was there but the figure.

…

That gap was too brief.

That one, too.

…

A slight gap, but there was a big crowd on the other side.

The cigarette burned slowly, patiently. The figure waited, making sure to keep a smile on their face in case they caught anyone else’s eye.

…

This one, coming up. A couple college students passed by the figure, and after that… nothing. No one. No witnesses. Just the fog, and the figure, and the looming museum roof far above.

She pulled herself up from the wall, and extinguished the last of her cigarette. It sat on her palm for a moment; she stared at it, and suddenly it started compacting, crushing itself up into a tiny ashen pellet that could fit on a fingernail. She pocketed it, and then gave a grin. Cracked her knuckles. Glanced one last time down the streets, and then-

And then she jerked her arms up and launched herself into the sky. She was far above the street, far above the museum, and she started falling, falling faster, falling faster, headed right for the roof-

Stop.

    She held her hands out, and her feet stopped inches from the steel. She relaxed, and stepped down onto it without making a sound. Quickly, she stripped; underneath her shirt and jeans was a black wetsuit, and she unzipped the front to retrieve a small bag of tools she’d hidden against her stomach.

She crushed her old clothes down and stuffed them into that, and put on a pair of snorkeling goggles. Then she took a moment to check that everything was in there, located the skylight, and gave a grin.

Showtime.

She tiptoed over to the skylight, and looked down. It led into a white hallway - one that was closed to the public while they switched to a new exhibit, she knew. If she angled her head until it was almost touching the roof, she could make out a staff door at the end of the hall, and the black base of a camera on the roof.

The figure dug into her bag, drew out a thin metal wire, bent the end, and then wiggled it into the edge of the frame. It wasn’t easy; the wire was flimsy, and the tremor in her hands didn’t help, but she punched through and started running it along the edge, holding her hand out and testing it, until-

Pop.  The window was shoved down by the force of her magic, and it swung right into the camera and collided with the sound of shattering glass. The broken frame clattered against the floor, and quick as lightning the figure launched herself down the hallway. She didn’t land so smoothly this time, but she picked herself up and positioned herself behind the staff door. She grinned at the mess, at the scratched-out wards on the ceiling beside the skylight. Someone was bound to come running.

She didn’t have to wait long. Two guards burst through the staff door, and she slipped in behind them. Suddenly, the museum looked a whole lot more office-like, with grey carpet and cream walls. There was a camera facing right at her; she scuffed the wards laid down by the baseboard, and looked around in confusion when the two guards ran back in and pointed tasers at her.

“Stop right there!”

“Whoa…” She said, in a sort of dazed voice. “This ain’t the beach.”

“Put your hands up!”

“You know NLA beach, right? Where you can jump right off into the ocean?”

“NLA- what?” The guard cocked his head. “There’s no beach on-”

He aimed and shot the camera. It went off with a  bang;  sparks exploded everywhere, and the other guard jumped back

“Whoa- what the  fuck,  Jared!”

He looked stunned. “I didn’t do that!”

The figure took off screaming.

“Hey! Wait!”

She ran around the corner, and took the keycard she’d ripped from his belt. Levitating it out in front of her, she swiped it, and flung herself into the security office.

“Whoa!” Three guards jumped up at the sight of her; one moved to stop her but she collided with him and tumbled down on the far end of the office. “What’s going on?! What are you doing in here?”

“Ow…” She scooted up against the wall. “My leg hurts.”

“...Take her into custody. We need to find out what happened here.” The guard rubbed his head. “And phone Matt, we need to... need to report… need to…”

The guard trailed off, stumbled, and one by one they all collapsed on the floor, completely unconscious. The figure rose with a grin, wiping warding ink off their palms.

“Alright!” She waved a hand, and they all gently floated over to the corner. “Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, guys. I’ll be done in just a second.”

There was a banging against the door as she took a seat in front of the security system; she held it closed with a thought. The camera screens were all laid out before her, jewels in plain view, and she gave a wide grin.

“Okay, PA system… where are you… oh, bingo!” She levitated the mic up to her face. “Hello, hello, testing one two three!”

The guests all seemed to look up at the noise. She chuckled.

“Seems to be working. Hi, guys! Just here to make an announcement, that, uh, if you wanna take one last look at tonight’s beautiful exhibits, you got about fifteen more seconds before I’m taking the lot!” She ran a finger over a panel of switches. “Or, uh, however long it takes me to find the controls - just enjoy yourselves, alright? This is a chill robbery. We’re chill.”

The guests were screaming and piling through the exit. She sniffed.

“Well, I’m chill, anyway. Aha!” She found the warding breakers, flicked them all off, and sat back. “Got you! Alright, now it’s time for the real show!”

She focused hard on the video feeds. The display boxes seemed to tremble, and a high-pitched whine started up before-  bang!  Glass exploded into confetti shards all over the main floor, and about twenty alarms went off at once. She raised a hand, and all the jewelry began to rise into the air.

With a flick of the wrist, they smashed through a side window - off camera. She frowned and kept her hand out, concentrating, concentrating. She could hear police sirens in the distance, and louder and louder bangs coming from the office door; it was time to go.

She rose slowly, and walked towards the side wall. She put her free hand on it, and pushed; a person-sized section of brick gave way with minimal effort, and she poked her head outside. The jewels - they were in sight again, a disorganised hovering cloud that clumped into a neater arrangement as soon as she laid eyes on them. She opened her bag, and little more than a flick of the wrist deposited them inside. This haul was heavy; she lost her balance, and quickly launched herself onto the next building over so she didn’t topple into the alleyway.

There, she regained her footing, and saw the flashing lights of police cars pulling up to the front. She jumped back onto the museum’s roof, and started hopping across the rooftops that way, launching herself from building to building until she had to stop and take a breather.

The museum was reasonably far away now. She opened her bag, and grinned at the glint of gold before she brought out her old clothes. She hid the bag under her wetsuit again, then dressed back into her shirt and jeans and dropped down into an alleyway. People paid her no mind as she slipped back into the crowds; if anyone saw her smile as she checked her phone, they thought nothing of it.

The first news reports were coming in.

‘BREAKING NEWS: Reports of Break-in at NLA Transcendence History Museum, Shattered Glass’

‘Reported Explosion at NLA History Museum’

‘This Just In: Break-in at NLA Transcendence History Museum, Shattered Glass, Police Responding’

Okay, they weren’t very exciting yet. She’d give it a-

Her vision started pulsating. Suddenly everything was spinning. She stopped and fumbled with her phone until she had it pressed against her chest, and stood there swaying for a moment as everything was blinding and blurry, as pins and needles crept up  her legs and there was a lightness in her head like she was going to faint, going to faint right now, going to…

...slowly, slowly,  it subsided, leaving a dull, foggy ache in her mind. She felt her heart rate settle down, and rolled her eyes.

“We’re gonna be like this right now, huh.” She leaned against a building and pawed her phone open. “Fine. Guess I’ll call a taxi.”

A police car barrelled past her as she googled the number. That brought a smile back to her face, and as the taxi took her down darker streets and older buildings, she kept an eye on the news.

Disaster Strikes the Art World: Another Private Collection Reported Stolen in Brazen Heist, Police Release Preliminary Sketch of Suspect

She checked, and burst out laughing. It looked… a little rough, okay? Especially around the nose and eyes; it looked nothing like her there.

“Something funny, ma’am?”

That came from the taxi driver. She looked up sharply.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, haha. Just texting my mom.”

“Oh, nice.”

“Yeah.” Quickly she cleared her throat. “Yeah, she’s, uh, funny… So anyway my stop’s coming up, right? Yeah, it’s right over here!”

“Looks like it is.”

“Alright, sweet!” She took out a guard’s wallet and tipped him a twenty. “You have a great night, man.”

Then she stepped off, onto cracked pavements beneath flickering streetlamps. The bag under her wetsuit weighed her down as she crossed a patchy lawn, and climbed slowly up the steps of her apartment. Her room was three floors up; she reached it, snorted at the keyhole, and unlocked it with her mind.

It was a small place that she stepped into. The lights flicked on, revealing a sofa and TV crammed onto a small patch of carpet and takeout boxes strewn across her oven.

They also revealed a yellow puddle right in front of the door, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Ugh, seriously? Fluffy, come here now!’

There was no response.

“Mr Fluffington, I know it was you!” She shut the door and started looking under tables. “What, you think  I  peed on the floor? I don’t think so, buster! Get your butt out here!”

There came a hissing sound from the oven. She glanced over, and dashed over when smoke started puffing out of it.

“Hey, hey, you’re gonna set off the smoke alarm!” She opened the oven door and started waving the smoke away. “Now, what do you have to say for yourself? Huh?”

There, curled up on the metal rack, was a baby purple dragon. Fluffy was about the size of a housecat, with soft wings that barely moved when it puffed itself up, and sharp, needle-like teeth. She saw him bare them at her, and snorted as she scooped him into her arms.

“I missed you too, you grump.” Fluffy settled against her as she walked him over to the puddle. “Now, what is this? Huh?”

All she got was a low rumble.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Hm… maybe I need to take you out more?” She felt him shift, and let him scamper out of her arms. “I’ll take that as a yes. Ugh, I wish you’d fit in a dog costume.”

Fluffy padded through the bedroom door, and she rubbed her shoulder. Yeah, she wanted to take all this stuff off already… just one thing she had to do before that. The kitchen cupboards opened, and she levitated a paper towel and some cleaner into her hands.

She dealt with the puddle, took her shirt off, and struggled with the wetsuit’s zipper as she headed into the bedroom. At first glance, the mess looked just as unremarkable as the kitchen’s; there were piles of dirty clothes strewn everywhere, and bedsheets left on the floor.

But here, there were glints. Here, there were paintings on every wall, strangely large paintings with strangely elaborate frames. Here, a dragon was picking old socks off of a nest of golden necklaces; he perked up as she pulled her bag out of her wetsuit.

“You hear something, Fluffy?” The bag jangled when she shook it. “Yeah, that’s right. Sit!”

Fluffy barrelled over to paw at her legs.

‘No, sit. Sit? Si- ugh, you’re lucky you’re cute.” She drew out a chain with a thick golden pendant; there was writing on the front she couldn’t read. “Wow, this stuff… is ugly. Heh, no wonder they put it in a museum, right? Couldn’t find anyone who’d want to wear it!”

Fluffy continued scratching at her, oblivious to her very clever zinger. She rolled her eyes, and dumped the lot onto him.

“Go nuts, buddy.”

He let out an excited puff of smoke as ten or so golden chains rained down on her. Immediately he started dragging them towards his little nest, and she snorted.

“Hope that’s comfy.” She levitated a laptop into her hands and flopped onto her bed, grunted as the springs squeaked. “Probably comfier than my mine, eh?”

She laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. She could hear some muffled shrieks coming from it; probably the kids who lived upstairs. Her legs tingled a little bit, and she moved them to get rid of the pins and needles.

It was… nice, here. It was quiet enough. She looked over at Fluffy, rumbling contentedly as he arranged his nest, and managed a smile.

Today was a good day. It was.

She knew just what would make it even better.

With a flick of her wrist, she opened her laptop and turned it on. It was a tough old thing, with a thick screen and missing keys, and she tapped the side as it booted. It eventually did, loading up to a browser stuffed with tabs, and she opened one more, typed in ‘museum’, and hit enter.

A grin spread across her face as the news stories loaded. Jackpot. She clicked the first one.

Transcendence History Museum Theft Likely Connected to Recent String of Museum Robberies

It’s not an unfamiliar sight to NLA police at the Transcendence History Museum tonight. Witnesses describe a sudden, chaotic break-in at around 8:37PM when a woman, said to be in scuba gear, reportedly smashed through the building’s skylight and forced her way into the security office before setting off an explosion in the main lobby. In the ensuing panic, she made off with a number of artifacts; police are still determining what exactly was taken, but it is known that a private collection of ceremonial Alcorian jewelry was on display. The price of the collection as a whole is estimated at-

“Half a million dollars!” She glanced over at Fluffy. “You hear that? I spoil you!”

He had already fallen asleep. With a chuckle, she kept reading.

It’s a bizarre sequence of events, but not a unique one this past year to the Winged City. Just three weeks ago, a smaller collection went missing when a person dressed in a Halloween pirate costume and identifying themselves as ‘Nunya Beeswax’, locked staff out of the gallery and proceeded to try on the exhibits in front of security cameras until police arrived.

She started giggling. That was a good one.

There are many more burglaries that may read off as humourous, but it is important to remember here: these are burglaries. Real people are being harmed. Just tonight, owner of the stolen collection and CEO of FloatBus Mitchell Jark issued a furious statement to...

She bookmarked the story and clicked off, still chuckling about that pirate costume. Man, she had to do something like that again… what else were they saying about her?

In a little bedroom filled with riches, Matilda Ransen spent the night admiring her glittering headlines. She heard Fluffy’s deep rumble, and smiled to herself - he must be comfy.

He was, in fact, rather comfortable. The dragon curled tightly around one of the new pendants, which had become warm to the touch.

Its inscription, and the symbol of the Dreamer’s Star etched on the back, now glowed a deep, wrathful red.

[whockeywhore]

Skip Over It 7.5

I could smell the mint from her mouthwash as she brought her lips close to mine, bright and cool in stark contrast to her warm skin. My body ached from wanting her for the past hour and I tensed even further as I slid my hands over her ass. 

“Chloe, what- what about Raleigh?” 

“What about it?”

“I thought we- I thought you wanted to wait until we got home.” 

She bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head, waking every part of my body as she settled on my lap. 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“I... I don’t wanna wait.” 

Time stopped between us, her eyes on mine as she leaned in. She was close enough to taste and I set a hand on the back of her neck to pull her down to me. My head spun when our lips met, mine backed by all the energy I’d pent up since she’d stolen my seat on the plane. 

It had been two days since I’d had her, two days of torture, but we’d agreed to take a few days off. I had snuck out before sunrise, left her wrapped up in sheets and snoring softly, reminding myself that we’d be back in a few days. The sight of her in a short blue dress, one leg crossed over the other with a newspaper in her lap, had me desperate before we’d taken off. 

“Chl- Dr. Mitchell?” 

“Hmm?” She looked up with the tip of her pen poised over the crossword and raised an eyebrow. 

“That’s my seat.” 

“Your seat?” She stood up and turned around, bending over just enough to make me sweat. I watched her peek under the chair and then into the overhead compartment before looking back at me. “I don’t see your name on it.” 

I stepped closer and pointed to the overhead lights, spinning the cuff once before turning back to her. “Look, right here.” 

I waited for her to lean in before lunging to take my spot but she was right through me and settled down a second before I could. She grunted as I landed hard on her lap. 

“Dougie! Get off of me!” I went slack on top of her and shook my head. “Dude, get off!” 

“No!” 

“Dougie-” 

“Give me back my seat.” She refused and I sank down further, pressing my hands to the ceiling above us to put more pressure on her. “Give it back!” 

She weaseled her fingers up onto my shoulder and pinched a pressure point until I spun to get out of her grasp. Now facing her, I could see the delight under the defiance on her face. She was fighting a smirk as she held her own as I leaned in until my nose brushed against hers. 

“Get out of my seat, Mitchell.” 

“How about you make me, Hamilton.” 

I watched her mouth as she emphasized each syllable, running her tongue over her lips as she finished, and if it wasn’t for Laura clearing her throat behind us I would have kiss her then and there. 

Chloe smiled and stayed put as I stood, smug and cocky. I smoothed down the front of my shirt and moved to store my carry-on in the overhead, slamming it loudly before taking the seat across from her. She shot me a wink and turned her attention back to her crossword puzzle as the stewardess talked us through emergency protocol. 

We’d been in the sky for about ten minutes before I slid down in my seat and kicked my feet up on her lap. Her nose crinkled as she looked down at my shoes and scoffed. 

“You’re an asshole.” 

“You started it.” 

I wiggled my feet and left them on her lap for a while, watching her roll her eyes every time I moved. The plane grew quiet as the guys fell asleep and I finally sat up, reaching over to snatch her paper and pen from her hands. I wrote a pound sign in the corner and handed it back to her before holding up my phone. 

She looked around and started holding up fingers. I tapped them into my cell and returned my feet to her lap, sinking even lower this time as I texted her. 

I should’ve stayed this morning

A blush rose on her cheeks and she grinned, shooting me a quick response. 

New phone, who’s this? 

The guy who should’ve stayed this morning.

I watched her smile before answering me, raising an eyebrow and watching me as I read her message. 

You left just in time. The other guy I’m seeing showed up about ten minutes later

Is he bigger than me? She shook her head as she read it and, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but press it. Is he better than me?

Again she shook her head, this time biting down on her lip. I swallowed hard as she shifted and squeezed her thighs together. The thought of being between them had my lap throbbing and I tugged at my tie to loosen it. She noticed and my phone buzzed in my hand. 

Open this in private

The message was followed by a picture and I locked my phone before getting up to go to the bathroom. I had to duck to get in but I sat against the sink and braced myself for what she’d sent me, half expecting a goofy picture and the other half hopeful for a shot of her. The latter won out and my breath caught as she filled my screen. 

I stared for a moment, taking in her beautiful curves barely covered by her bra and panties. A lacy, delicate thong disappeared between her legs and she had one hand on her hip. I could see the hickey I’d left just under her breast and and my cock grew hard as I thought about the taste of her skin. 

From this morning? She sent me a confirmation and I popped the button on my pants, tugging my boxers down to palm myself. The thought of tasting her, of pushing aside her panties and burying my face between her folds proved too much and I began jerking myself off. My phone buzzed again and I forced myself to read a new message, dizzy at what she’d sent me. 

I want to watch 

A video call immediately came through and I accepted it to find her on the other end. She tucked her hair behind her ear to show me her headphones and sent me another quick message. 

I want to hear you

I swore under my breath and turned the camera, swearing under my breath as she grinned. The sheer filthiness had me quaking and I sat down to keep myself from losing my balance. She’d turned in her seat so her back was to the window, creating a bit of privacy for the two of us. I watched her lick her lips and groaned louder than intended. The call cut out for a moment and another picture came through, a sheer robe clinging to her body this time. I could see everything and nothing all at once and the sight pushed me over the edge. 

I bit down on the inside of my cheek as I came in my palm, sweat beading on my forehead as the room warmed. It took a few minutes to compose myself and I stood on shaky thighs, splashing cold water on my face before heading back to my seat. 

Chloe watched me as I returned, her brow furrowed in concern. 

“You feeling okay?” She leaned forward and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “You’re flushed. Clammy. Did you eat breakfast?” 

Her touch sent a shiver through my body and I fell back, pulling the shade on my window down. “I’m just tired.” 

“You should get some rest.” 

She shot me another wink before lifting her paper back up and I pulled out my phone, eyelids heavy with the exhaustion that comes after an orgasm that strong. 

You’re an asshole

She read it, smiled, and tapped a quick response. 

You started it 

I’d craved her since that moment, been absolutely desperate to repay the favor, and here she was. She took my face in her hands and looked deep into my eyes. I studied her for a minute, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the long lashes that framed her beautiful eyes. They fluttered shut as I leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, one on each cheek before I found the corner of her mouth. She’d slid her hands down my neck and onto my chest and balled them into fists against my skin. 

“I need you.

“You’ve got me, I just... just give me a minute. I just want to look at you.” 

“What?” She let out a soft chuckle and shook her head. “Why?” 

“I dunno, I just want to remember this.”

[quickspinner]

Hey Gorgeous - Under Your Skin 18

Links at the bottom to the other parts

A little NSFWish. Not smut, no onscreen sexytimes...but a lot of implying and pillow talk so, if it’s not your thing, you can skip this one. Imma go hide under a pile of pillows and scream for a while. If you just found this fic, know that it's aged up, they are college students, 18 and 20.

She’d woken up in Luka’s bed several times before, but never with him in it, until now. It was warm. Luka was like a human heat lamp. Marinette sat up, shivering a bit at the change as she moved away from his heat. Holding the sheet to her chest, she scooted away from him a little and stretched. 

He stirred a little at her movement, opened his eyes and blinked sleepily, and then smiled. "Hey Gorgeous."

Somehow hearing that nickname in his rough, sleepy voice felt as intimate as anything they'd done the night before, and sent tingles down her spine. "W-what?" she asked shyly, when he continued to stare at her with that besotted smile.

"Just rearranging my mental list of sexiest things I've ever seen," he rumbled with a lazy smirk. "Pretty sure after last night the red dress is down down to number five at least. Didn’t think that was possible but you keep surprising me. Turns out morning after looks really good on you too.”  

She flushed pink, and his grin widened. "Even better," he mumbled. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, slithering back close to her until his face was pressed against her. “Where are you going, babe?”

“N-nowhere,” Marinette sighed with a smile, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Music to my ears,” he said, rolling onto his back to give her room to lie back down with him. She nuzzled into his neck, enjoying his pleased hum and his rough hand skimming up and down her back as he turned and cuddled up to her. He kissed her with a reverence that belied his teasing. "You're amazing," he murmured into her shoulder. "I know I said it last night...like, a lot,” she felt his grin, and giggled, “But even so. I meant it every time.” He sighed. “Thanks for making my dreams come true. They couldn't remotely compare to the real thing.”

“Thanks for…”

“Hmm?”

“F-for mmmaking th-this my choice. N-not rushing mme. Y-you—sssorry, this is embarrassing.” She hid her face in his shoulder.

“You don’t have to say anything, baby,” he told her, wrapping her up close in his arms in that way that always made her feel so safe. 

“I w-want to,” she sighed, hooking her chin over his shoulder. “It’s j-just...you never p-pushed me, not even a little, and w-when I started t-to feel anxious y-you told me it was n-no big deal and we’d g-get there when I w-was ready, and y-you n-never made it feel like you didn’t w-want me. And n-not all mmy friends could ssay that about their b-boyfriends, ssso...thank you. F-for being y-you. F-for being p-patient and gentle and s-sweet and...just all of it.” 

Luka snorted. “And a little overeager,” he muttered, and she could feel the heat of his blush. “Ugh, so embarrassing.” 

“You w-were excited,” she smiled. “It was ffflattering.”

“You barely had to touch me,” he grumbled. “You were supposed to be first.”

“Y-you made up for it. I was f-fine with s-second.” She giggled. “And third.”

“Mmm, third was pretty good, wasn’t it.” She could hear his smirk. “Think we tied for that one.” Luka pulled back to where he could see her face and smiled at her. “No regrets?”

“None.” She leaned up and kissed him, burying her fingers in his hair. 

“Then it was worth every second of waiting.” He pulled her close again. “Can we stay like this a little longer?” he asked. 

“Okay.”

Marinette reached her arms around his broad back, stroking her nails gently over him in a soothing motion that made him moan and relax into her. 

“I just,” he mumbled into her shoulder, even as he arched into her touch. “Mm, that feels nice. I just, I know I talk a lot about how beautiful you are, but...I just want to make sure you know. As much as I love your body, and I really love your body, and your lips, and God your eyes…what was I saying?” 

“I have n-no idea,” Marinette giggled as he paused to run his tongue over the love bite he’d left on her shoulder. 

“I love you,” he breathed into her skin, and then kissed her. “I love you so much, baby, I love you, I love you.” He kissed her face, her bare shoulder, the crook of her elbow, lingered on the inside of her wrist. “I love you, my gorgeous Marinette.” He buried his face in her neck and groaned. “Stop me, before I say something really stupid.” 

“I l-like it when you g-get stupid about how mmmuch you love me,” she said shyly, and he raised his face to beam at her. 

“I’m absolutely a fool for you,” he said with so much tenderness that she blushed. “A complete, total idiot. I literally walked into a wall the other day because I was staring at a picture of you thinking about how lucky I am.” His face lit up. “Can I take one now?” 

Marinette’s mouth dropped open and her face turned red as she dragged the sheet up to her chin. “N-n-no! Absolutely n-not!”

“Not like that,” he said quickly. “Covered up, just us, together right now. Just for us, I swear. Let me take one and you can delete it if it makes you uncomfortable. Here, come here.”

Marinette was nervous but she let him arrange her on her side and tuck the sheet around her torso just under her arms, leaving her shoulder bare but covering her entire chest. Luka snuggled up behind her, nuzzling her temple before reaching for his phone to take the picture. 

“See?” he said softly, showing it to her. It was intimate, even a little sexy, but not at all explicit, soft with the morning light, her hair mussed and spread across the pillow, his cheek leaning on her temple, both wearing still sleepy expressions of contentment. The dark mark on Luka’s collarbone, visible just over the curve of her shoulder, and his eyes looking right at the camera, intense where hers were soft, made her body warm. “Can I keep it?” he begged. Marinette pursed her lips, considered the worst case scenario, and decided she wouldn’t die of embarrassment if, say, her parents saw it. It looked kind of like a sexy perfume ad, actually. 

“Y-you c-can keep it,” she sighed. “B-but j-just for us.”

“Promise,” he said, saving the photo. Then he kissed her neck in a spot he knew was ticklish, making her scrunch her shoulder up. 

“L-luka,” she laughed, and he leaned further and kissed her cheek. 

“Can I keep these too?” he grinned, handing her the phone. 

“You s-s-s-sneak!” she cried. How he had managed to snap those without looking, she had no idea, but they were good and still modest enough, though they made her blush. “Sssend me that last one,” she said grudgingly. Luka chuckled. “Done. I’ll put it away now, promise.” He reached over her and dropped the phone on his cluttered nightstand.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, stroking her hair back from her face.

“G-good.”

“Sore?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “It was w-worth it.”

His deep chuckle made her blush. “Babe, That was only our first try. It’ll just get better from here, I promise. And I think you’ll find,” he added, voice dropping seductively as he curled around her, “I’m a quick study.”

“I th-thought,” she teased, looking back at him over her shoulder, “That y-you c-could only stay interested if it had to do with mmmusic.” Her breath caught at the soft look he gave her. 

“Baby,” he said tenderly, reaching up to caress her face, and that tone combined with that look made her shiver, her eyes going a little wider at every word. “Gorgeous, my Marinette, haven’t you figured out by now that you are music to me?” His rough hand slid down her side to her hip and over to flatten across her stomach, and he kissed the sensitive place on the back of her neck, and the combined sensation made her gasp. “I’m gonna learn how to play every inch of you.”

He shifted so she could roll on her back, eyes shining as he kissed her with all the love and passion she felt in his words. 

His lips slid down to the hinge of her jaw and she felt his smile against her before he nipped her earlobe lightly and his hand slid up her ribs. She bit her lip and squirmed, a flush spreading down her body. “L-l-luka, I d-don’t think I can—“ 

“I’ve got you, baby, I won’t hurt you,” he purred, nuzzling her. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to do a thing, except—“

“Luka!” she gasped. 

“That.” He paused suddenly and chuckled. Marinette whined involuntarily when his hand stopped moving. 

“W-what?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He resumed his attentions, but Marinette grabbed his wandering hands. 

“N-no, really, w-w-what?”

Luka sighed, though he was smiling. “I swear I’m not making fun of you. I would never.”

“Okay...I t-trust you.”

“It’s just,” he said between soft kisses to her neck and shoulder. “You usually have a little trouble saying my name.” He pressed his fingers to her lips before she could apologize. “And that’s fine, it’s never bothered me. It’s just—“ he started to chuckle, the deep sound vibrating through her. “It’s just,” he kissed the spot next to her ear, and then murmured next to it. “You didn’t have any trouble screaming it.” 

Marinette was already flushed from his touch but she gasped and Luka’s chuckle turned to laughter at her outrage. 

Some time later, Luka sent Marinette to shower and made sure she had everything she needed. Then he went to the kitchen to get them both some coffee and nearly collided with Juleka. For a moment the siblings blinked at each other, each taking in the other’s smattering of hickeys and obvious sex hair.

They both lifted a fist in unison and bumped them together. “Should I make enough coffee for you and Rose?” Luka asked as they turned into the small kitchen. 

“Just me,” Juleka said, going to a different cabinet. “Rose drinks tea, I’ll make it.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22

A continuation of Hey Gorgeous Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Bonus Scene | Now on AO3

@thethirdwheelfriend @mystery-5-5

[coyotesongwriting]

Free Falling - Chapter 2

Avengers - Clint Barton/Reader

Chapter 2 - Decisions

Chapter Summary: Your decision is made, and now it’s time to follow through.

Author’s Note: I desperately need a beta reader, and I’m sleep deprived so if there are mistakes… oops and let me know please! haha Also, this chapter hurt me to write. Sorry? I mean, not really because I’d do it again but yeah lol

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Tag List (if you want to be added or removed let me know!):  @rorynne @proudhufflepuff77 @rhymesmenagerie @redfoxwritesstuff @darthhayber @alwaysadreamingoptimist

Previous Chapter

When your tears finally faded, you made no move to leave the cold bathroom. Thoughts raced through your head as you waited for some idea to hit you. Some way to make everything alright. Nothing came. When four am rolled around, you gave up the idea of any sleep that night and decided that you needed fresh air. You quietly snuck out of the bathroom, pausing for only a moment at the sight of Clint sleeping peacefully before you raced out.

You slowly moved through the quiet halls, pausing in the kitchen and wishing for a warm cup of coffee before continuing out to the balcony. The city lights danced below you as you sat at the railing, your feet dangling over the edge. Watching the cars drive past in the city that never sleeps, you let out a soft sigh. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, watching life pass you by when the soft whoosh of the sliding glass door opening pierced the morning, but you didn’t notice, too wrapped up in your thoughts. It wasn’t until a warm hand settled on your shoulder that you turned, smiling softly at Tony as he took a seat next to you. 

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, resting your arms and chin on the railing in front of you.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he laughed, bumping your shoulder with his own. 

“I’m not the one who got drunk earlier” you rolled your eyes, shivering as a cold breeze blew over you. Fall had well and truly settled in, and with it, the temperatures dropped.

“Well, I’m also not a doctor and yet I’m not dumb enough to be sitting out here in nothing but my pajamas” he snorted, lifting his arm up and wrapping it and the blanket around you.

You huffed, but snuggled in next to him, “At least I’m not the dumbass that lit the kitchen on fire yesterday!”

He poked you in the side instead of responding, and the two of you began to talk about nothing and everything. Quiet mornings like this were the best, no wars to fight and no need to worry about anything. You could just forget everything for a little while in the traded barbs with Tony. As the sun began to rise over the horizon, Tony got to his feet, before reaching down and pulling you up with him.

“Thanks, Tony… I really needed this” 

Tony ruffled your hair playfully, “Any time babe!”

You stretched, taking a look at your watch. If you hurried, you could catch Bucky and Steve as they finish up their training. Now that you knew you were pregnant, you couldn’t spar anymore and you decided that meant it was time for your least favorite activity - running. Unfortunately, the time with Tony had only helped you realize that you knew in your heart what you had to do and it was time to start preparing.

~~~~~~ 

“Fuck you, Barnes!” You panted, trying to catch your breath as you leaned against the wall. 

His loud laugh echoed through the training room, “Come on [Y/N]. I know you can come up with something better than that.”

Steve glared at you pointedly and you shrugged your shoulders in a silent apology. 

“Come on Steve! He tripped me!” you called back

“Maybe you shouldn’t challenge the Winter Soldier to a race!” Bucky grinned, tossing you a cold water bottle as he walked up to you. 

“Maybe the winter soldier shouldn’t be a fuckin’ cheater!” you huffed, “Sorry Cap! Y’know, you wouldn’t have to hear our bad language if you were dating” your eyes dancing playfully.

“And we’re done here” he laughed, heading towards the showers.

“Hold on one sec, Steve. I was wondering if you’d cover for me this weekend? My sister’s having a party and it’s been too long” 

“No worries [Y/N]. I’ll make sure you’re cleared. Tell Nadia I said hi!” Steve grinned

You watched Steve go, your breath catching in your throat. It took a moment to catch your breath. You’d made your decision, and come this weekend there’d be no going back. The next week seemed to pass in a blur. 

The next day, you went to the aquarium with Loki, Peter, Thor, and Natasha. Which was literally one of the best days of your life. You’d managed to arrange the private behind the scenes tour since you didn’t want to draw more attention to yourselves than needed. When Loki found out that Thor was fascinated with the sharks, well, he’d sent him falling into the shark tank. After fishing Thor out of the water, thankfully no worse for the wear, your group had been banned - for life - from the aquarium.

After that, you’d worked with Tony on some coding for his next suit. At least, that was the goal. It hadn’t taken long before the two of you had devolved into just seeing who could make the best paper airplane. Unfortunately, you lost. However, Tony managed to start a small fire when the plane managed to land directly in between the wires on his next prototype. 

Friday night came quickly. Too quickly for your liking. Barring missions, you and Clint had a standing date night. Tonight was going to be your last date night, your last night at home in general and you wanted - needed - it to be perfect. 

While Clint was grabbing the pizza from your favorite place, you were gathering all the blankets and pillows you could find and bringing them to the theatre room. As you finished making a giant nest from your scavenged supplies, two warm hands grabbed you around the waist, tickling your sides. With a playful squeal, you twisted in his grasp to face him. As he smirked, you leaned in to kiss him slowly.

“So, what are we watching tonight?” he asked, settling down into the plush bed you’d made and patting the spot next to him.

“Up to you. Which I know, means we’re watching Die Hard” you laughed, the movie already starting as you snagged a piece of pizza from the box he’d set on the couch behind you.

“How did I get so lucky?” he asked, a grin lighting up his face. 

You didn’t respond, not knowing if you’d be able to trust your voice and merely snuggled in closer to him. He kissed your forehead, and the two of you fell silent as the opening scene came on. You two lay like that for the movie, no words needing to be spoken in that moment. 

As the final credits scrolled past, Clint turned to you, his eyes warm as he glanced down at your lips. You bit your lip softly before you leaning towards him. He caught your lips in a gentle kiss, which quickly became heated. He rolled on top, pinning you to the bed and began to pepper gentle kisses all over your face and neck.

“I love you, [Y/N]. I don’t know what I’d do without you” he murmured between the kisses.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer, and tears began to shine in your eyes as you stared up at him, “I love you too. So much”

A puzzled look fell over his face and he brushed your hair back with one hand, “What’s wrong? You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you, right?”

“I’m just happy” and it wasn’t a lie. You were happy, this moment? This was a better moment than you could have wished for and it was killing you that it couldn’t last forever. 

~~~~~~

The next morning, Friday’s voice woke you two, summoning you to the meeting room. There was another mission and you began to internally panic. You couldn’t go with them, you had to leave. For once though, it seemed the universe was squarely on your side.

“[Y/N], we don’t need you to come with us this time around. Shouldn’t be too complicated, and I know you were looking forward to this weekend. We’ve got this” Steve smiled, not realizing that he’d come to regret this decision later.

You smiled softly at him, thanking him and went with Clint as he got ready for the mission. When everyone was ready, you joined them by the Quinjet. The lump in your throat was painful, and you were barely holding it together. Thankfully, everyone assumed that you were just nervous that they were going without you. No one found it out of the ordinary when you hugged each and every one of the team - even Loki despite his protests.

“We should be back Sunday, don’t worry about us. I promise, I’ll see you again” Clint wrapped you in his arms and kissed your forehead.

You nodded, a handful of tears sneaking past, “I love you so much. Be safe, please. I need you to promise that you’ll be careful, always.”

His eyebrows drew together, puzzled. “Is everything -”

“Come on Clint! We don’t have time for you two” Nat interrupted, grabbing him and pulling him onto the Quinjet. 

As the doors begin to close, Clint signed to you, I love you baby girl. We’ll be back before you know it.

I love you too you signed back, watching as the Quinjet disappeared from view before you headed back inside.

Not wanting to risk them returning before you were well and truly gone, you quickly packed a small suitcase. You grabbed a few changes of clothes, but otherwise only focused on the irreplaceable things - the necklace Clint gave you on your first anniversary, the Avengers pin that Tony had ordered one night when he was drunk. 

As you looked around the room, ready to zip the bag, you picked up the photograph on the nightstand. It was taken right after your first successful mission with the team. You were standing in the middle, Clint’s arm around your shoulders as he smiled at you. The rest of the team was smattered around you, Peter giving Tony bunny ears and Loki glaring at the camera. With a shuddering breath, you added it to your bag and sealed it. 

Grabbing the black trash bags you’d hidden in the room last night, you began to gather up everything else of yours. Your clothes, notebooks, hair ties, any trace of you that you could. You brought the bags to the incinerator to the basement and burned away the remnants of this life. You needed them to know that you were gone, truly gone. You weren’t coming back, and maybe it would be easier for them if your belongings weren’t haunting the tower like a ghost.

Not knowing how much longer you could last before you broke, you quickly grabbed your suitcase and raced to the parking garage. You didn’t spare one final glance around the tower, knowing that at any minute you were going to burst into tears and you couldn’t have anyone questioning you.

As you settled into your car, the dam broke and you stopped fighting. For the first time since you made this decision, you allowed yourself to truly grieve. Once you could breathe again without wanting to go back, you turned the car on. There was no going back now. Resting your hand on your stomach, you pulled out onto the road.

~~~~~~

The team arrived back late that night, the mission had gone fine but everyone was completely exhausted. Clint noticed that the room you two shared seemed a little off, but you were always redecorating so he just climbed into bed and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Tony awoke to Friday’s voice.

“Mr. Stark, I have an alert for you”

“Five more minutes, Friday. Please” he grumbled into his pillow. For the first time in what felt like forever, he had actually gotten a decent night’s sleep.

“It’s about Miss [Y/L/N]. It may be important, sir”

Tony sat up in bed, grumbling to himself as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, “Go ahead.”

“Mr. Stark, Miss [Y/L/N]’s bank accounts have all been completely drained.”

Cocking his head to one side, “Well that’s odd. Maybe she’s buying something though?”

“That’s not all, sir. It seems… There are no records of her left.”

That woke him up rather quickly, “What do you mean no records?” 

“Sir, I can’t find any record of her online, in the SHIELD database, anywhere.”

“Friday, call her. Now.” Tony ordered, getting to his feet and beginning to pull on his clothes.

“I’m sorry, sir. Her number has been disconnected. However, I have just received a video from her if you would like me to gather the team she has requested I play it for everyone.”

Within a few minutes, everyone had made it to the meeting room. Clint’s face was worried, and he tapped his fingers on the table in front of him. He’d forgotten to grab his hearing aids, thankfully Natasha had known him well enough to grab them for him. Signing a quick thanks, he put them in while he waited for Tony and Friday to finish explaining.

“Play the video, Friday.” Clint’s voice was unsteady, nervous.

The lights dimmed slightly, and there you were. Sitting on a bench somewhere they couldn’t be sure where. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and there were unshed tears in your eyes as you looked into the camera. You took a shaky breath, gathering courage before you began.

“Hey guys. I’m hoping Friday let you all get some sleep, and I’m hoping you all made it back safely. I’m sorry to do this to you, especially like this. I just … I couldn't do this in person. Guess you were right Loki. I am a coward” you laughed bitterly.

“I need to go. I can’t stay here, and I can’t do this anymore. I’m not … I’m not coming back. I need you guys to let me go. Please. I need you all to know how much this time together meant to me, and God knows I’m going to miss you guys like hell but I have to go. Tony, I’m begging you. You have to sleep sometime, okay? I don’t care if that means sleeping pills or hypnosis, just get some sleep. Banner, make sure he takes care of himself. And for the love of god, make sure he stops having coffee at 4 in the morning” you paused to brush the tears out of your eyes and clear your throat before continuing. 

“Loki, Thor, you two idiots need to look out for each other, and please, get a better trick than your Get Help routine. At some point, people will catch on and you’ll be screwed. Bucky, I’m going to miss the early morning cheating. Steve please just go on the damn date. Seriously, you might like it if you tried it. Nat, you’ve been like a sister to me and I’m sorry I’m bailing on the shopping trip with you. Can you look after Clint for me? Please.”

You paused for a few beats, taking a few deep breaths before continuing, your voice breaking. “Clint … I don’t have the words to tell you what all you’ve meant to me. I’m so sorry it has to be this way, but I don’t have a choice here. Not anymore. I have to do this, and you have to let me go. The time we’ve had... They’re always going to be the best years of my life, and I’m always going to love you but you have to move on. I need you to.”

“I know you guys are probably trying to figure out if I’ve been kidnapped and am being forced into this. Or maybe you think I’m dying. I’m not. I promise. I’m doing this because I need to. I know you guys don’t understand why, and you probably never will and I can’t tell you and I’m so sorry. I told my family I was going on a long term undercover mission, so please just leave them alone. They don’t need to know the truth, it will only hurt them. 

Your tears began to flow faster now, and you were having a hard time talking clearly as you gave the camera a sad smile, “Be safe. Please. Look out for each other… I love you.” 

The video ended, screen going black.

Next Chapter ->

Find this story on AO3

[the-one-eighteen]

Sink

(read on ao3)

Everything ached. Everything.

Eddie honestly hadn’t even known that was possible.

Sure, he’d been bruised up to hell and back before. Even made a few passable attempts at bruised and bloody, with a couple broken bones, just to spice things up. But, god, that hadn’t ached.

And honestly? He blamed his age.

Twenty-two year olds didn’t seem to have a problem bouncing back from the stupid shit. The thirty he was had done the bouncing back a couple too many times and now, bouncing off the cement seemed to be testing his limits.

He hissed softly as he stepped into the hot water, sinking down slowly until he could lean back against the side of the tub and just...melt.

He knew if he looked down, he’d see skin blooming red in the heat, curling around the smattering of deep purple and green, and honestly, the mix just sounded horrendous, so he tilted his head back against the cool tile and closed his eyes instead. He didn’t need to see it. He could feel it, just fine.

That said, the heat was doing absolute wonders as it slowly but surely warmed him down to his bones, helping untense muscles that had been locked and braced since right before the heat swell had pushed him into the concrete.

Eddie startled slightly when someone knocked lightly at the door, the sound muffled in the steamy bathroom. Huffing softly, he dragged a hand down his face, grimacing at the water he’d forgotten about. Guess the heat was working a little too well if he was dozing off. “Yeah?” He called, voice low and rough with drowsiness.

“Just me.” Buck called back, before opening the door enough to peek inside. “Mind if I come in, or you just gonna snap at me again?”

And Eddie did feel a little bad about that. Buck hadn’t pushed when they’d gotten back to the station and Eddie had already been limping around like an old man, but as soon as they’d gotten home, he’d been all up in Eddie’s space, trying to get him to sit with a couple ice packs, and just relax. And Eddie might’ve gotten annoyed. Just a touch. He’d just wanted to hang out with his kid and his boyfriend without being reminded of how shit a day he’d had, and he was already in enough pain that he couldn’t not be reminded about it, and Buck buzzing around constantly bringing attention to it had just...grated. And he’d reacted like...well, like a spoiled toddler if he was being honest. He’d regretted it immediately of course, and had acquiesced when Buck had told him to go take a bath instead of moping. He’d take care of getting Chris to bed.

Groaning softly, he sinks lower in the tub. Maybe if he sinks low enough, he won’t have to answer, as he’ll be too busy with the equivalent of smothering his face in a pillow.

Buck snorts at him before slipping in, closing the door behind him. “Oh, don’t give me that face Diaz. Neither of us are exactly pleasant to be around when we’re less than 100%.” He sounds amused at least, so Eddie risks a sideways glance. Buck’s grinning at him. And he feels his shoulders relax, just that little bit. And just a little bit more when Buck slips over to sit on the ground next to the tub, facing him as he leans against the edge.

“While that’s definitely true, still, I’m sorry…” Eddie mumbles, because he has to, won’t feel right if he doesn’t.

“Mm...hey, you gonna look at me?” Buck asks, and Eddie doesn’t realize he’d looked away until Buck points it out. He looks over immediately though, humming happily when Buck leans over enough to steal a quick peck that does more to help him melt into the heat than the actual water had. “Apology accepted. How’re you doing?”

And Eddie takes a moment to consider how to answer, taking stock of everything for the first time beyond Hen’s assessment of ‘nothing’s broken, but you look like you lost a fight to a truck’. He still aches, the heat having managed to leech away the pain to a dull throbbing rather than the rolling waves it had been earlier. He can move without anything in particular flaring, which seems like a miracle in and of itself. “Remind me not to turn my back on gas leaks…”

“Right, because those are super easy to spot in a burning building. That was a pretty impressive belly flop though.” Buck says, grinning brightly at the dirty look Eddie shoots him. There’s a dullness to his eyes though that Eddie doesn’t like, despite knowing there’s not a whole lot he can do about it. He’d heard Buck’s voice cracking over the radio. They all had. Was pretty sure he’d be hearing it in his nightmares for awhile yet.

He’d also heard the broken thread to his laugh when Hen had given her professional medical opinion, and he’s pretty sure Hen had too, if the look she’d shot him was anything to go by.

Eddie had gotten ridiculously lucky today, and they all knew it. “Shame no one caught it on camera.” He says, sarcastically, instead of admitting it. And the laugh Buck barks out is harsh, but real, and Eddie’ll take it.

“Oh, buddy, they absolutely did. Remember the helicopter above us?”

Eddie blinks, then groans again, clapping his hand over his eyes. He had completely forgotten about that.

He doesn’t quite have the energy to jump when he feels a hand on his thigh, but he does peek through his fingers, raising an eyebrow. Buck doesn’t seem to notice, gently running his hand over Eddie’s skin with no rhyme or reason, looking lost in thought.

And there’s...there’s something grounding in that touch, something that Eddie’s been needing ever since he blinked that morning and found the world spinning and heard Buck in his ears in a way he never wants to again.

There’s no claim to that touch beyond a soft, encompassing gentleness that quietly presses into the blossom of bruises that stretch from his knee to his hip.

And the bath is nice. It’s doing wonders for his muscles and the bruises. But Eddie really, really wants to get out now. If only because the damn tub isn’t big enough for two.

He gently shoos Buck out, even though he feels the loss of that touch like a spike of ice directly through to the bone, tells him he’ll be out in a minute. And Buck huffs at him, grumbling the whole time - but there’s also a relaxed slope to his shoulders that Eddie hasn’t seen all day, and a quirk to his lips that looks real in the muddled light of the bathroom, so Eddie ignores him for now, and sets about hauling himself up and out of the bath without an audience.

Once he’s changed into a pair of sweats that are a little too long in the ankles, and a hoodie he doesn’t remember buying but that’s way too damn soft to question it, he shuffles out to the living room.

Buck’s already stretched out, having changed into comfier clothes for lounging around as well, and the tv’s already playing whatever movie Chim’s suggested to them last. Eddie has no idea. Knows neither of them is probably going to be awake long enough to make sense of it anyway.

He doesn’t even ask - doesn’t need to, and isn’t that a thrill, in and of itself? - before dropping carefully into Buck’s space. It takes a couple moments of both of them trying to awkwardly shuffle around long limbs and heavy forms without putting too much strain on already fragile bodies, but they manage, eventually. Eddie ends up resting back against Buck’s chest, Buck’s arms low around his waist in an attempt to avoid the worst of the bruising under his shirt, and Eddie…

Eddie can’t do anything but melt back into Buck’s heat, down into Buck’s arms. He hums when he feels careful fingers stroking lightly at the curve of his hip, the stretch of skin up to his ribs, still so gentle. Pressing no other claim but mine into skin still heat-soft and so, so damaged. He smiles, and lets himself sink.

[rachel1987]

GWCFT Part 6

It’s the night of the big show! All our favorite Wonderlandians gather to show off their skills to June Hare. What acts has everyone chosen to perform? Will Hare be able to pull off his big show stopper? And what is Rabbit’s talent, anyway?

x posted on ao3 and FF.net

Hare stood backstage, his chin tilted up, Hatter's hands tying his cape around his collar. "You need to relax…" Hatter mumbled under his breath. "Everything is going to be just fine."

"How did I let you talk me into this?" he heaved, fingers twitching nervously at his chest. He had been alright all day with his mother, the shopping and monotony of it all making him forget about his nerves. But now that he was here and everyone was bustling around getting ready, a wave of nausea washed over him. He had become so nervous and preoccupied he kept knotting his cape ties and Hatter had to step in to help.

"You're last on the set list, don't worry!" Hatter said, brushing off Hare's shoulders and smoothing out the satin fabric. "Your mother is excited to watch you and you're going to be great. Besides you've never gotten nervous like this before a show before. Don't start this now."

Hare furrowed his brow and huffed a little, making him look like a child who was pouting because his mother wouldn't let him have cookies before dinner. Hatter chuckled and gave his bunny a quick smooch. "Why don't you go check on your mom, show her the pretzel machine? I have a few more things I need to do before the show starts."

"Alright," he grumped, giving the Hatter's hand a squeeze before going to his Mother's side. She was sitting in the front row by the Queen, chatting about something that probably didn't matter.

"Look at my boy!" June exclaimed, cutting the Queen off on whatever she was saying, causing her to "harumph" to herself. "You look just darling in that cape. Oh, I knew I should have brought my camera!"

Hare blushed and bounced his head around a little, rolling his eyes. "Thanks, Mom. Hello, your Majesty. Thank you for coming to our talent show."

"Yes, well," the Queen shook her hand in the air as she spoke. "I had a gap in my schedule today and thought it would be a good idea to spend some time with my subjects. After all, one needs to have a little fun from time to time."

"How true that is, your Majesty," Hare said, clasping his hands together by his chest as he spoke. "Would either of you, perhaps, like a pretzel or a drink before the show begins?"

"Yes, I would, thank you," the Queen cut in quickly, not even waiting for Hare to finish his offer before speaking. "Who knows where that Rabbit ran off to? He was supposed to bring me a drink twenty minutes ago and seems to have disappeared."

"Right away, your Majesty," Hare nodded.

"I'll go with you, son," June said as she got to her feet. "Please excuse me, your Highness."

The Queen dismissed them with a wave of her hand and turned her attention to other matters. She was watching the Tweedles spin around, practicing their routine on the other side of the courtyard and found them more interesting than anything else going on.

The pair walked to the pretzel machine that hadn't been turned on yet and Hare ran through it with his mom. "You put the dough in here, there's a salt meter and a unit that shapes, bakes and cools them so they'll be ready to eat when they come out. And a little bell you can ring when it's done."

"What are the lights for?" June asked, enchanted.

"Those are for fun," Hare smiled. "When you push them, they change colors." He then demonstrated them.

"And how do you turn it on?" she asked, brows raised in intrigue. She held her finger under her lip in a familiar pose as she listened, nodding as she took it all in.

"This knob here," Hare pointed. "But once it's on, you can't turn it off. Somehow we never figured out how to fix that. It'll just keep baking till it runs through the dough and then it'll shut down."

"Do you think…" June paused, feeling a little sheepish and her cheeks going pink. "Do you think I can turn it on?"

Hare smiled widely and guffawed. "Of course!" he hopped excitedly. "You just crank it to the left two turns."

June bit her lip and did as she was told and the machine came to life, mechanisms beeping and lights flashing. It didn't take long for the pretzels to start popping out of the contraption and Hare started piling them into bowls that were spread around the table. She seemed very impressed as she picked up one of the first pretzels, giving it a sniff and then a test nibble.

"This is delicious, son," she commended. "Not too salty, not bland. Excellent flavor. All we need is a fondue pot and this would be perfect."

"Why hadn't I thought of that…" Hare muttered to himself, thinking of his full fondue set sitting at home that hadn't been used in ages.

Suddenly, Alice was next to them, a little bit of a flustered expression on her face.

"What's the matter, Alice?" June asked, her motherly intuition rearing its head.

"Her majesty wants to know what's taking so long to get her some refreshments," she shrugged.

The three looked over at the Queen, who was shooting daggers in their direction, arms crossed over her bosom in frustration. Hare panicked a little, fingers flexing as he rushed to get her Majesty a pretzel and a wine cooler, cape whipping behind him as he ran. June and Alice followed behind, each taking some snacks and tea from the refreshment table, going to their seats casually.

The seats were filling as more of the talent and audience arrived. Caterpillar sat himself to the right of the stage, giving himself perhaps the best view out of everyone and Rabbit appeared with a gym bag which he stored behind the curtain for later. The Cat hovered over the crowd, probably already thinking of some sick burns to throw during the show to entertain himself.

Six o'clock rolled around and the Hatter took center stage, a wide smile across his face as he greeted everyone. He was looking extra spiffed up, his usual purple coat and tails speckled with glittering embellishments that sparkled as he moved.

"Ladies and gentleman, cats and Majestys! Welcome to the talent show!" There was a smattering of applause as people settled into their seats, the chatter dying down. "We have a wide array of acts lined up for you tonight. You'll laugh! You'll cry! You might not even believe your eyes! So sit back and enjoy the show." Another round of applause followed and Hatter waited for the noise to settle before introducing the first act.

"Our first act is the upbeat dance stylings of the Tweedles!" He casually stepped to the side, arm outstretched as the Tweedles came through the part in the curtain.

Dum set their oversized boombox to the side of the stage (volume set to 11) and pressed the play button, racing to center to hit his mark before the music began. They stood back to back, arms crossed over their chests, sunglasses covering their eyes for that cool hip-hop look.

The bass boomed from the speakers and they hopped into action, poppin' and lockin', ducking and weaving around each other. They synchronized their movements to each other and the music perfectly, hitting every beat with a gesture or pose that yelled nothing but hip-hop attitude. At one point they did a little rap battle, bouncing verses back and forth off each other with ease. The audience was mesmerized and feeding into their energy, getting hyped up and sucked into the show. Soon people were clapping to the beat and the Hatter couldn't stop himself from doing some dance moves from his seat just off stage. The Tweedles did some flips and jumps, landing just as the music ended, applause filling the area. They got to their feet and bowed, waving at the cheers as Hatter ushered them offstage.

"Thank you, lads. What a great first act, am I right?" Hatter said as he applauded, a bounce still in his step from the energy he gained from the show. "Really marvelous. Such a hard act to follow. But, someone has to do it! And our next act is a dramatic reading of a new story from none other than our resident storyteller, the Caterpillar."

The Caterpillar scooted his way closer to the stage, setting just off to the right of it. There was no way he was even going to attempt to get up on that tiny stage and nobody expected him to.

"Thank you, thank you…" he said to light applause that preceded him to the stage. His lowest set of hands applauded for himself, his middle hands were holding a book tightly and his top hands were moving in a downward motion, as if to settle a crowd of unruly children. "How am I meant to follow an act like that? Well, I would say, with a story." His middle hands passed the book up to his top ones and he flipped through the pages, going to one marked with a red ribbon. This was apparently his journal that his second pair of hands worked in (his best writing hands, if you'd asked him) and it was filled with all of the stories that he was working through.

"This is a story about a boy named Carl who thought it would be a good idea to go into the haunted house alone…" He read the story aloud, bringing the energy of the room down a spell from the last act. His second and third pair of hands worked with him, pulling items from a bag that was slung over one of his shoulders to act as props or sound effects as he read aloud. He droned out the story but somehow brought it to life and everyone felt like they could almost see the tale run through in their mind's eye. The story had twists and turns and one surprise after another. There was a jump scare almost ¾ of the way through that got a lot of them, Rabbit most of all. He almost hopped into the Queen's lap, causing her to make a little bit of a scene. But the Caterpillar reeled them back in to finish the story with a grim message.

"And, in the end, Carl learned that sometimes you must heed the warnings of others. Because, if you don't, the only friends you'll have are the worms in the ground who will feast upon that's left of your corpse."

The audience didn't know how to react to the story the Caterpillar chose to read to them. It was an enthralling tale, but one that probably would have been better saved for their Halloween Campfire session.

The Cat, however, loved it and howled with laughter as he applauded enthusiastically. "The little sucker got what he deserved, haha!" he boomed, tail swishing around with excitement. Everyone looked at him with confused expressions on their faces as the Caterpillar moved his way back to his original spot, Hatter taking the stage again.

"Ooh, spooky story, right folks?" he said with a nervous laugh. He was thinking that perhaps he should have screened the talent before allowing them to perform, but it was too late for that now. "I especially liked the part where the…" he paused and cleared his throat. "Anyway, thank you Caterpillar. We will keep our eyes open for when your next book is published and I'm sure we'll all be sure to grab ourselves a copy."

"I will be selling autographed anthologies after the show," he said as he settled. "Come and see me if you're interested. Oh, and no personal checks, please," he added with the wave of a finger.

"Righty roo," Hatter said with a chuckle. "Now, on to the next act. This little guy has traveled a long way from my tea table to perform his acts of daredevilry for all of you tonight! So please direct your attention to the center of the stage as I present to you: Danger Dormouse!"

Hatter pulled on a yellow cord that was to the left of the stage and the curtain went up, revealing a miniature driving obstacle course set up on a table. It was just below eye level, so even those in the back row had some sort of view of it. The stage, however, was empty of the small mouse with a motorcycle.

From off in the distance, the put-put-put of his motor could be heard and he zoomed in from under the gate door, coming up the center aisle and up a ramp and onto the stage. He was making great speed but was still visible to everyone as he hopped another ramp onto the table, doing a wheelie as his tires screeched. That earned him a surprised round of applause, most of the audience being quite shocked that the Dormouse had this sort of act in him.

About halfway through the routine, Rabbit got a tap on his shoulder and he jumped to see the Hatter there, tilting his head to the side to indicate that he was up next. Rabbit twiddled his fingers and nodded, getting to his feet and sneaking away to prepare himself without anyone noticing.

They watched the Dormouse weave through traffic cones, do a crossing on a narrow beam from one table to another and he even did a handstand on his little cycle while driving it. Every stunt he managed to land received more applause from the audience. And when he pulled off his final trick, jumping over 8 of the Hatter's tophats side-by-side, you'd have thought he had jumped the entirety of the grand canyon by the way the audience reacted. Dee and Dum were so impressed they gave him a standing ovation, thrusting their fists into the air and hooting as the little mouse stood on the stage beside his bike, bowing to everyone.

"Alright, little guy," Hatter said as he entered the stage, applauding his small friend and housemate. The curtain had been dropped behind him and there was a scuffling sound from behind it, if anyone had paid attention to hear it. "Everyone should watch themselves with this guy on the road, am I right?" That received a little bit of a laugh and the Dormouse climbed back into his bike, kicking the stand up before looking up at Hatter. "You be careful on your drive home, alright? I know you have quite a journey to make." The Dormouse chuckled and turned the motor on, zooming away and around the side of the hat house.

"Now, this next act was a last minute addition to the lineup, so even I'll be surprised by what we're about to experience," Hatter introduced as the put-put-put of the motor died away. "Let's give a round of applause for the Queen's right hand bunny, and one of my favorite furry friends, The White Rabbit."

Rabbit took the stage from behind the curtain in a black unitard, leg warmers on his fuzzy legs, sweatbands on his wrists and no roller blades. He carried a small boombox and placed a cassette tape into it, standing upright as he addressed the audience. "I will now go through a day in the life of Rabbit… through interpretive dance." He bent down and pushed the button marked "play", waiting till an early morning music started before he started bounding around the stage, waving his arms.

Everyone in the audience was completely aghast by what they had to sit through for the next few minutes. They followed Rabbit through his day, watching him mime cleaning and cooking and the various frustrations of his life, all through dance and bunny feet shuffling across the stage. Hare couldn't help but notice that his mother's eyes never left Rabbit once. It made him feel uncomfortable and he felt badly for teasing Rabbit about it at the Market the other day.

After what felt like the longest and most agonizing two minutes of their lives, everyone in the audience applauded weakly as Rabbit stood in the center of the stage, one leg lifted up behind him, his arms above his head, the music coming to an end. Rabbit later said the dance was rather invigorating. Dee said he'd rather poke his eyes out with a pencil than sit through it again. The Cheshire Cat couldn't stop cackling to himself over it, wishing he had recorded it for later viewing.

"Well, that was something, Rabbit…" Hatter said, applauding as he entered from stage right, his guitar hanging from his shoulder. He was dragging a stool behind him as he made his way to center stage. "Thank you for sharing that with us…" Rabbit gave one final bow, his ears brushing the ground, before picking up his boombox and exiting the stage.

"After that last exciting little display of talent," Hatter started as he took a seat on the stool, flipping the guitar around to his front and resting it on his knee. "We're going to slow things down a little with a song that I wrote for the occasion." There was still a buzz in the audience about the strangeness they had just experienced and they were having a little bit of a hard time focusing on the Hatter, but his calm demeanor was drawing them in slightly. Hatter strummed the strings on his guitar lazily as he spoke, warming up his fingers to play his new song.

"As everyone here knows, we have a special guest in the audience tonight: Hare's mother June. Give us a wave there, Junie. Righty roo… righty roo… She was in the paper this morning, I hope you all saw that. And so was Hare, but that's a whole other matter…" he cleared his throat, licking his lips as he plucked the cords. "And, in seeing her with Hare over the past day or two, it's gotten me thinking about my own mother: Mother Hatter. So I decided to write a song to her and I hope you'll all be patient with me as I sing it." He paused and his foot started to tap on the floor gently as he began his song with a slow and loving melody.

This was quite a departure from the wild and crazy Hatter that everyone was used to seeing. He was calm and collected, fingers moving away over the neck of the guitar, singing a sweet song about the love of a son for his mother. Hare gasped a little at the tenderness of it, his breath getting caught in his throat as he listened. This was a song directly from the heart and it was beautiful. Even the Queen had to wipe a tear from her eye because it touched her so. His sweet song filled the dimming evening with a tranquility that was surprising to everyone in the vicinity. Every act up until this point was full of energy and excitement (except perhaps for Rabbit's strange display) and this was just plain different.

The Hatter played his song through, hitting the final cords with perfect rhythm, earning him applause from everyone. Hare saw June dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief she had taken from her purse, her makeup smearing a little under her glasses. He returned his gaze to the Hatter, who looked at him and gave him a wink. God, he loved this man.

Hatter relished in the praise for perhaps a little longer than he should have, before he tugged the stool off stage. "Thank you, thank you, you're all too kind," he said with a wide grin, moving his hands in a downward motion to get them all to settle. "Still two more acts to go, folks. Does anyone need a refill on refreshments? More pretzels, we have plenty? No? Ah, righty ho. Well, you're all taking home the extras because I never want to see another pretzel again as long as I live."

Returning to the center of the stage, he maneuvered his guitar onto his back again, clearing his throat to catch everyone's attention. "Now, for a little something by our very own Alice."

Alice took the stage with a bright smile and flashing green eyes, her hands held behind her back as she addressed the crowd. "I'm afraid that I don't have a big flashy act or anything to share with you all tonight," she said with a little bit of a shrug. "But what I did bring to share are a few of my favorite poems from my world that I would like to share with all of you!"

The audience "oohed" as Alice cleared her throat and began reciting a number of poems she had taken the time to memorize over the past couple days. The poems she had chosen were by Robert Frost, TS Eliot, Emily Dickenson and Shel Silverstein, who were not completely unknown to the Wonderlandians. She never fumbled her words or paused to try to remember the next line she had to say, saying every word calmly as if she were making them up as she went along. The Queen shone with pride at the girl's display, nudging June next to her to say that she had helped her learn the words and practice them the day before. The Caterpillar made a mental note to talk to Alice about the talent who was TS Elliot sometime.

After finishing the last of her memorized works, she gave everyone a bow and stood center stage as Hatter came to join her. "Very nice, Alice! Wonderful job," he said, applauding her happily. "Everyone give her a hand!"

The audience clapped for her as she gave them one last bow, rushing to her seat beside the Tweedles in the back row. She passed Hare as she made her way, taking the time to whisper a "Good luck, mr Hare" and give him a reassuring thumbs up before taking her seat.

Hare smiled and nodded, adjusting his collar on his cape before turning his back to the audience. Normally he wasn't one to get stage fright. But this was a whole different set of circumstances. He was performing for his mother and he lacked confidence in his big finale. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, taking a moment as Hatter wound everyone up.

"Righty roo, everybody!" the Hatter said, a wide grin on his face as he introduced the final act of the night. "Everyone, hold onto your hats! This is the act we've all been waiting for! Well, I know June has, anyway," he said, giving her a playful wink, causing her to giggle from her seat. "I give you, the man of mystery, the illustrious illusionist, the Amazing Hair-raising Hare!"

Hare forced a smile on his face and turned around on his heels, holding his arms out so his cape draped over his form just right. There was a light bit of applause, a boost of it coming from where June was seated.

"Thank you, thank you!" Hare said aloud, trying to make his voice sound as confident as possible. He kept his eyes off of his mother, focusing on the other faces in the audience to put himself at ease. He found he kept eyeing Rabbit, which was obviously making the elderly bunny uncomfortable.

"For my first trick of the evening, I will show you one that may ring a bell!" He chuckled to himself, pulling from behind his back three sets of golden rings. He showed them to the audience, running his hand along the golden bands to prove that it was a continuous piece. After some fancy handwork, the three rings were linked perfectly, Hare tugging on them to show that the rings were still solid. He displayed them to the audience, walking down to the Queen and having her inspect them.

"I know gold rings and, yes, these are solid!" she said with a laugh, clearly impressed. Maybe it was the sparkle of the gold, but her eyes glittered a little.

"But what good are three rings stuck together, am I right?" Hare asked, licking his lips a little before taking two of the rings and rubbing them between his gloved fingers. Pressing hard with his fingertips, he felt the metal slip and pulled them apart with ease. He handed the free one to the Queen, before unlinking the second pair as well. Everyone applauded and Hare felt a boost in confidence as he took the three rings from the Queen, tossing them in his magic box behind the curtain and retrieving his next magical item and tucking it away in his jacket.

"For my next trick, I'll need a volunteer from the audience! And who better than my own Mother, June Hare!"

June's eyes widened as her son came down from the stage, taking her gloved hand and leading her up onto the platform with him. She stood there nervously, hands balled up and fingers laced in front of her as she watched him closely.

Everyone in the audience grew nervous when they saw Hare take the handcuffs out from his jacket pocket.

"Don't think about it, Hare!" the Queen pouted, making everyone laugh a little, causing the Hare's happy demeanor flicker a little. His eyes looked at his mother, who was beaming so wide you could see all her teeth. He put on a brave face for her.

"Worry not, your Majesty! This trick is foolproof!" Hare gestured his arm out, holding the handcuff aloft in his other hand. "I'm so confident in it, I would risk handcuffing myself to my own mother to prove that it can be done!"

It probably didn't come out the way it had sounded in his head, but his mother didn't seem offended by the statement and everyone in the audience took it as a sign that he was serious. In fact, his mother seemed a little overwhelmed by being pulled on stage. Quickly, he decided he needed to distract her and give her something to do to settle her nerves.

"But first, I will demonstrate that I can remove them from myself. Ma, if you would be so kind…" He gave her the handcuffs and she snapped them around his wrists nervously, fingers shaking a little as she did it. He took hold of her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze before continuing. "Thank you…"

Holding his hands out in front of him, he tried to tug at the cuffs, showing that they were indeed locked onto his person. "The cuffs are securely fastened… but not for long?"

With the flip of his wrists, he twisted and turned, causing the cuffs to fall right off. Of course, all the Wonderlandians who went through the great handcuff ordeal knew how the trick worked, but Hare's mother was delighted by the trick and clapped her hands enthusiastically. Her hands reached out to inspect the cuffs for herself, eyes wide with wonder.

"As you can see, there's really nothing to it!" Hare said aloud, turning to his mother. "Now, the real test."

Hatter came on stage and assisted Hare in getting the cuffs around his and June's wrists, stepping aside to allow the act to continue.

"As you can see, the handcuffs are on tight," he raised his arm out and tugged against his mother, showing everyone that they were indeed locked and not going to move. "Now, on the count of three, the cuffs will come off as easily as they had been put on."

June watched as her son guided her in her actions without really realizing it, raising and dropping their connected arm as he counted aloud. She lifted her right arm as he counted, and on the count of three he moved his wrist, causing the cuff to rotate around hers, making them fall off easily. The audience applauded as the cuffs fell to the ground with a clatter. It seemed they were impressed that he'd actually managed to get the trick to work this time around.

Again, June clapped enthusiastically, examining her wrist as if it had been removed from her body and reattached again.

Hare ushered her off stage and back to her seat, Hatter standing on stage with a box and some more magic items when he returned.

"And now, some slight of hand!" he reached into the box and took out three small multicolored balls. With nimble hands, Hare tossed the balls up in the air, not missing a beat as the orbs did their dance. He tossed them high and low, over his shoulder and under his leg, adding a fourth ball with ease as the act went along. The audience was impressed by his skill. He was a clumsy hare and people often forgot that he was a master juggler.

"He sure knows how to handle his balls," the Cat said aloud, causing Dee to laugh out boisterously.

He continued to juggle, tossing the balls to audience members and instructing them to toss them back to him when he gave them the signal. Dum might have thrown the ball a little too hard, because Hare had to stumble back in order to get it, almost causing him to trip over his own feet. But he caught himself, adding to the suspense of the trick, a smattering of applause coming from the audience. After a little more of this, getting 5 balls in the air, he caught them all in a box and gave a short bow, mentally preparing himself for the final trick. Everything had gone well up until this point, he was feeling comfortable on stage, his nerves had gone to the back of his mind. It was now or never.

"My final trick for the evening will shock and amaze you!" Hare said, tossing the box of balls backstage and into a crate with the rest of his magic items. "Hatter, bring in… the box!"

The curtains parted behind Hare and Hatter appeared, dragging a large trunk behind himself. Hare moved around to help at the other end, positioning it in the center of the stage. Hatter gave Hare a reassuring pat on the back, before stepping aside.

"What you see before you is a plain, ordinary box!" Hare said, gesturing a hand toward the trunk in a flamboyant fashion. "This trick requires a volunteer. Alice, if you will, please come look at the box to make sure that it is, in fact, ordinary."

She looked at him and nodded, going to the trunk and investigating it. She opened it with the help of the Hatter and looked inside, tapping on the sides and the lid.

"Looks like a plain box to me." She announced.

"Wonderful, wonderful," Hare said, fluttering his fingers mysteriously for effect. "One more, thing. Did you happen to find something -in- the box?"

Alice took a peek in and pulled out a large velvet bag.

Hare's mother applauded joyously, causing Dum to lean over and say to her "I don't think that was the trick…" causing her to stop.

Hare forced a smile and took the bag from Alice, showing it to the crowd. "Now, Alice, inspect the bag for any holes or imperfections, if you please."

Alice came over and glanced over the bag, turning it this way and that and checking the inside before agreeing that the bag hadn't been tampered with.

"Thank you, Alice," Hare said aloud, taking the bag from her and placing it in the bottom of the box. "Now, Alice, stand in the bag!"

She looked at him, shoulders dropped, her jaw slack. "What?"

Hare's eyes widened and he smiled at the audience, hearing them laugh nervously, before turning to Alice. "Get in the box."

She blinked and shook her head a little, before the Hare put a hand out and guided her into the box, positioning her so she was standing in the bag.

"Now, Alice, I'm going to close you in the bag and lay you down in the box. Do not be frightened! You will come out of this, completely unharmed!" He accentuated the last bit by looking at the audience, gesturing an outstretched hand at them as if he were reeling them in, causing them to Ooh and Aah. Dee might have muttered something along the lines of "I hope Alice has health insurance" before being jammed in the ribs by his brother.

Hare helped Alice pull the bag up around her, seeing her give him a wink to signal him that she was okay, before tying the bag shut above her head. Then, with the Hatter's help, they helped her get in a lying position in the box before closing the lid.

"Now, Hatter, the lock please!"

The audience was on the edge of their seats as Hare put a comedicaly large lock on the front of the lid, jangling it around to show that it was, in fact, sealed.

Hatter came from the left side of the stage with a portable curtain on a rod. He switched it around, making it flutter in the wind, before handing one end to the hare. They walked around the box, before Hare stepped atop it.

"Now, don't look away!" he shouted, wiggling his fingers at the audience a little before lifting the curtain in front of him. Hatter stepped aside as the curtain shook and shimmered in the light, obscuring the view of the trunk from the audience. It continued to shake from side to side for a few moments, before falling to the ground, revealing…

Alice standing atop the box, arms outstretched and wearing Hare's cape.

The entire audience gasped as she was revealed, not missing a beat before they erupted into applause. Everyone jumped to their feet and roared, even the Queen had gotten swept up in the moment. They were all so impressed that they forgot to ask where the Hare went.

With Hatter's help, Alice hopped off of the box and took a bow, before taking a step aside and gesturing toward the trunk.

And nothing happened.

Alice had a strained smile on her face and Hatter was starting to look nervous. She gestured back to the box and still, nothing happened.

"Uh… mr Hare?" Alice asked, going to the box and tugging on the large lock, finding that it was still stuck shut. "Uh oh…"

There was a thumping and banging from inside the trunk as the noise died down and people started to get the feeling something had gone wrong. The box shook a little and scooted around as Hatter bowed down next to it.

"Hare? Are you in there?"

"I can't get out!" Hare shouted from inside. "I can't get the thing open."

"Oh dear…" Alice gasped, hand going to her mouth as she bent down beside the Hatter.

Hatter hit against the back of the trunk, finding that the secret door was stuck. He reached for the lock with his giant hands and gave it a yank, straining to pull it off. After struggling for a few moments, the crowd had gathered at the foot of the stage to get a better look at what was going on.

"Where is the key?" Rabbit asked, pointing at the lock. It was the most obvious solution, why hadn't they thought of it already?

Hatter patted his sides down, but he didn't have it, so he bent down and shouted at the box. "Where's the key, Hare?" he asked, holding his ear against the lid of the trunk to listen for an answer.

"It's in my pocket…" came the response.

June looked like she was about ready to either faint or pull the lid off the trunk with her bare hands. To say she was getting frantic was an understatement. "Did he just say they're in his pocket?"

Hatter laughed and shook his head. "No, he couldn't have!"

"He did, Mr Hatter…" Alice said, biting her lip.

"Oh… well, this is quite a pickle here, isn't it?" Hatter said, scrunching up his face and putting a hand to his hip. "Well, only one thing to do." He got to his feet, everyone having their eyes trained on him as he walked in through the IN door and immediately through the OUT door, holding an ax in his gloved hands. The group parted as he stood at the front of the box, lifting the ax above his head and was about to swing down, when…

"I don't think so!" June exclaimed, putting her arm out.

"But, June! How else are we going to get him out of there?" Hatter asked, still holding the axe above his head.

"A mother has her ways…" she said, raising her hands to her head and pulling two hairpins from her updo. Kneeling down at the lock, she straightened the pins and shoved them into the lock, moving them around with expert fingers. They sat for a few minutes, Hare tapping on the lid of the box every minute or so to let him know he hadn't passed out. Eventually he started making casual conversation with those outside the box, asking what the outside world was like and if the price of gasoline had dropped because it was much too high. He also asked if it would be appropriate for him to sing a song when he got out of the box (they told him no) so he started singing a song about being stuck inside it instead.

A few minutes and broken hairpins later, the lock clicked open and fell to the floor.

"She got it!" Dum exclaimed, jumping to his feet in excitement.

"I'll be damned…" Dee added under his breath as June wrenched the lid open.

She found her son scrunched up inside the box, trap door knocked off its hinges on one side, tied up in the sack.

"He did it!" Hatter rejoiced, giving Alice a hug. "He finally got inside the bag this time."

Desperately, Hare clawed at the mouth of the bag, pulling it down over his sheepish face. The view from inside the box was one he didn't think he'd ever forget. All his friends were looking down at him, expressions varied from surprise to anger to trying to hide laughter.

"Ta-da!" he shouted, with a little bit of a nervous laugh. He wanted to climb back into the box and die right at that very moment. Instead, he allowed Hatter and the Tweedles to help him get out of the box and to his feet, dusting himself off as Alice gave him back the red cape. June fussed over him, giving him a once over to make sure he was alright. If you had looked at her while she was picking the lock, you'd have thought she was keeping very calm, but on the inside she was frantic with worry. Now that her son was sitting on the lid of the box, sipping a calming cup of tea, she was starting to relax.

"Where did you learn to do that, mrs Hare?" Alice asked, very impressed with how well she dealt with the situation. And her skill with a pair of hairpins was very intriguing.

"I'm sorry, dear," June said with a friendly smile, once she realized Alice was talking to her. She was watching Hare from a distance now, just making sure he was okay. "What did you say?"

"I was curious about how you knew to pick the lock, mrs Hare," Alice said, taking a seat beside the elder bunny.

June couldn't keep the shy smile from her face. Her cheeks turned a little pink as she bent toward Alice.

"Let me tell you," June whispered to her, patting the child on the knee. "When you have a son who would accidentally lock himself in rooms as often as Hare did, you had to get good at picking locks," adding a playful wink at the end, she held a finger to her lips to tell Alice it was a secret. The girl nodded and returned with a wink of her own.

[inkjackets]

A Hunger Games AU

somehow i’ve only just now realised its @auyeahaugust and despite it being the end of the month i thought this would be a great opportunity to share something i’ve been planning the last couple of weeks

so, for Day 24: Dystopia (which i know has been and gone shh), have an excerpt from the ml hunger games au i’m writing

~~~

‘Happy Hunger Games!’ Marinette shivered as Penny Rolling’s magnified voice echoed around the square. ‘And may the odds be ever in your favour!’ The only response was the shuffling of terrified feet and an anxious cough from the back. But Penny smiled on. 

‘I can’t tell you how proud I am to be the escort for District Eight once more. There’s something about you all that holds a special place in my heart.’ She grasped her hands to her chest and beamed at the audience.

The residents of Eight stared blankly back at her.

Penny continued her speech. She praised capitol, condemned the rebels, and proclaimed how honourable it is to be picked for the games. 

Marinette felt sick.

Her eyes turned to the five previous victors sitting in a row behind the podium. They were all oddly still with smiles carefully plastered on and eyes strangely vacant.

Marinette’s eyes flicked back to Penny as her smile widened for the cameras. ‘Now that we are all well acquainted once more, we had best get on with the reaping!’

Marinette’s mouth went dry. Her heart thumped in her chest. Her hands twitched as a dreaded ‘Ladies first!’ rang out.

Her eyes never left Penny as she strode to the glass ball filled with the girls’ names. Marinette sucked in her breath as Penny's hand hovered over the slips. She plunged her hand in.

Marinette wanted to scream to release the tension pent up inside her as Penny pulled out a name and crossed back to the microphone. 

I only have ten slips, she reminded herself.

Penny unfolded the piece of paper.

The odds are in my favour. She clenched her fists tight.

‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng!’

Marinette looked up. The odds are in my favour, her mind repeated as cold denial seeped through her veins. She hadn’t been called, surely. The odds were in her favour. She must have misheard. Why was everyone staring at her?

‘Marinette? Where’s Marinette?’ Penny called again, not unkindly.

The people around her moved to the side. There was a clear path between her and the podium. But it was the cameras focusing on her that made reality hit. Her throat tightened as terror clawed its way through her.

Someone behind her gave her a gentle nudge. She stumbled forwards but failed to gain her footing and landed face first in the dust. Nobody moved to help her. She was already a corpse to them. Marinette clenched her teeth as tears threatened to squeeze out. She willed the ground to swallow her whole, but someone pulled her to her feet. A dark-skinned lady who Marinette didn’t know wiped the dirt-stained tears from her face.

‘We have to look good for the cameras,’ the lady said softly. Marinette looked at her. She had to be in her twenties, and had eyes that knew too much. ‘Go show the Capitol what District Eight is capable of.’ Marinette took a shaky breath and nodded. The lady pushed her towards the podium and this time Marinette kept her footing. She held her head high. She kept her gaze straight. She would give nothing away.

Penny embraced her when she stepped up to the stage, but Marinette could only stare numbly at the audience.

Penny stepped back and smiled warmly at Marinette. ‘Let’s give a round of applause to our first tribute, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!’

Penny clapped her hands together and the audience slowly followed suit. It wasn’t a loud applause, but every clap was a blow on Marinette’s ears which faded into a high pitch ringing. Her breathing started to quicken. She searched the crowd and found her parents. They were clinging desperately to each other, silent tears on their cheeks. She found a calmness in her father’s eyes and managed to take a deep breath to stop herself from panicking in front of the cameras. The lady was right, she can’t let the Capitol see her weak. She hoped it wasn’t too late.

‘Now, the boys!’

Marinette snapped back to the present as Penny crossed to the glass ball of boy’s slips and quickly picked one. She made her way back to the microphone.

Marinette swallowed. Please don’t be someone I know, she prayed as Penny unfolded the slip.

‘Adrien Agreste!’

A wail escaped Marinette’s lips before she could stop it. She slammed her hands over her mouth, cutting it short, hoping that the cameras hadn’t noticed. Because she hadn’t been the only one.

Screams of outrage reverberated through the residents of Eight.

Not Adrien.

Not the perfect child.

Not the only ray of sunshine that existed in this desolate, grey district.

Peacekeepers stormed in when the cries refused to die down.

Marinette didn’t know him personally but, as the son of Gabriel Agreste, Adrien was one of the most well-known people in District Eight. And because of his mother, one of the most well-loved.

Adrien being chosen in the reaping was a nasty blow to the district’s hope.

Marinette picked his blond head out easy in the sea of black. He looked shocked, but Marinette noted he held his poise and grace better than she did. Even when peacekeepers grabbed him and shoved him towards the stage, he held his head high. Though Marinette couldn’t help but feel there was something off with his expression. He was acting like he’d already accepted his fate. Like he’d expected it.

Penny pulled him to the podium, and Marinette shivered as his sorrow filled eyes met her despairing ones. But then he gave a small smile. She lowered her hands from her mouth. 

Penny stepped between them, forcing Marinette to break her gaze with Adrien and turn back to the audience. The peacekeepers had managed to quell the small outcry, but the people looked anything but subdued.

‘Please give a big round of applause for the male tribute of District 8, Adrien Agreste!’ Penny announced.

The silence that fell was deafening.

The peacekeepers raised their weapons and a smattering of applause rang out. Though everyone’s eyes shone with defiance.

An odd movement caught Marinette’s eye. A lady to the side - the same one who helped her up - raised her fists to her chest and slammed it twice over her heart. Marinette’s eyes widened when a man in front of her did the same. And another, and another. Her eye’s flickered across the audience as people scattered throughout the crowd performed the same simple movement, the dull thuds of their fists drowned out by the applause. The gesture was the sign given to a fallen comrade, an old District Eight sign that had fallen out of practice after the rebellion long ago, and it was clearly directed at the boy standing next to her. She looked at him with curiosity. Who exactly was this boy to garner such a movement? He wasn’t looking at her, instead gazing out at the audience with a resoluteness in his eye; like he were a general, knowing his army was doomed, and yet still riding alongside them to definite slaughter.

Penny threw her arms around both Marinette and Adrien. Terror seized Marinette once more.

‘Well, there you have it! For the annual sixty-fourth Hunger Games, our Tributes from District Eight: Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste!’

Penny stepped back and gestured at them both to shake hands. Marinette froze but Adrien held his out straight away and smiled. Hesitantly, Marinette offered her own. He gripped her hand tight. Marinette gasped and her eyes flicked up to meet his. His smile was confident and eyes, bright. It will be all right, his warm grasp seemed to say. And for that second, she believed it. But then they broke away and Penny stepped forward.

‘Happy Hunger Games!’ Her voice rang out as hysteria built up inside Marinette once more. ‘And may the odds be ever in your favour.’

[blancheludis]

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 20/?, Words: 110.711

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

—

Sticking to his notes during a press conference is all nice and good, but that is not enough to prevent further disasters if they allow questions from the audience after the actual statement is over. It does not matter how clever Tony twists his words or how vague he keeps his answers, someone will always get under his skin. And if it is not a single voice in the crowd, it is the thundering mass of them, full of comments and questions cutting enough to topple empires.

Tony endured his first interview when he was only four years old. He has learned to navigate them. That does not mean he will ever get used to them either.

This conference was supposed to be about the new directions they are taking Stark Industries. About their communication program with the plan to develop their own smartphone, and the vague idea of going into green energy.

They all soak that up happily, speculating about the continued stock crash or whether Tony, as the former wunderkind, can pull off another miracle. That is not why they are here, though, why they are watching him with gleaming eyes. They do not want feasible business plans or promises for new jobs. They are simply here for Tony’s personal tragedy.

“We are making advances in green energy because even as my father started this company, human lives have been important,” Tony says, keeping his tone firm and serious as if all of this is already a done deal. “Back then, weapons were needed, but today, we hope to walk into a brighter future together.”

He barely hears the smattering of applause, too busy searching for the trouble makers, the faces twisted with the anticipation of causing mayhem, while hoping to see him flinch.

“Mr. Stark,” a man close to the front is calling out. “What about the rumours that your CFO, Obadiah Stane, has been selling weapons to terrorists?”

It does not surprise Tony that the entire world knows about this business by now. There is no such thing as a quiet scandal, not with the FBI swarming his tower. Everybody has been looking at them closely ever since he announced the end of their weapons manufacturing.

“I cannot comment on a running investigation, and Mr. Stane is currently unavailable.” That earns him a few laughs, although there is no mistaking the hunger behind them. “I can assure you, however, that Stark Industries is doing everything in its power to make sure none of our products are given or remain in the hands of enemies of the state.”

Too late, he notices that is as good as an admission of guilt. He rolls with it, keeping his head high and his expression clear.

“Do you really want to pretend you had nothing to do with Stark Industries’ crooked deals?” a woman shouts. He knows her. Christine Everhart. Likes to hit where it hurts. She looks hungry in a way that tells Tony it does not matter what he answers her. She has her mind made up and he will always be the villain in it.

“I did not know and I still do not the extent of any such possible dealing,” Tony says anyway, looking her right in the eyes, cataloguing every frown and scoff. “I am sure that there is not just a single perpetrator, but I would have never abided with a scheme that goes so fundamentally against the company policy that my father instated when he founded Stark Industries.”

Howard, despite his many flaws, has been a patriot. Even if Tony’s entire world has been turned upside down, he is not going to believe anyone telling him his father knew about this and let it happen.

Everhart apparently wants to see him bleed for she leans forward, preparing for another question. “Mr. Stane is your godfather. Do you –”

“Let me stop you right there,” Tony cuts her off unapologetically. “If the allegations against Mr. Stane are proven to be true, he is not considered family anymore by me or anyone working with Stark Industries.”

That if, of course, is purely for the public’s benefit. Despite his own warring thoughts where it comes to Obadiah, Tony does not think of him as family anymore already. How could he, when everything Obadiah has ever done was lie to him?

The excited murmur of the crowd and the flashing of cameras in front of him suddenly become too much. He is used to this, he should be able to handle a press conference full of hurtful questions without losing any sleep over it. He cannot, however. Not today. Not with how badly he is sleeping. Not with Obadiah still on the run and Tony seeing him lurking in every shadow.

“We are taking no further questions,” Tony says and takes an abrupt step backwards to underline his point.

He watches the group of reporters move like a hungry beast in front of him, rearing its head in disappointment at being denied its prey. Some of them will want to strike nonetheless, always out for blood.

Thor comes up next to him and escorts Tony off the stage, ignoring the cacophony of calls and questions behind them. He cannot make out any details but there is a recurring choir of How and Stane and accusations. He does not need to hear the exact wording for them to cut deep.

He is tired. These things used to be easier when he did not give a damn, when he flashed smiles and nodded all their outrageous questions away, not ashamed of his entire life being a scandal. That was when he was out drinking all night, being seen with new people hanging off his arm every day. That was when he did not have bigger things to worry about than his own amusement.

As soon as he is inside the car and the noise cuts off, Tony sighs in relief. A headache is building that he just knows he is not going to be able to avoid.

His phone buzzes, but Tony does not want to know who it is. Probably Pepper asking about why he has bowed out so quickly. She might be concerned about the company, but she worries about him too. Perhaps it is more bad news, though, and Tony could really do without that.

When it buzzes again, he pulls it out of his pocket and throws it carelessly on the seat next to him, staring resolutely in the other direction. Whatever it is, it can wait until he has gotten his breath back.

A moment later, Thor slides into the driver’s seat but turns around to Tony before he starts the engine.

“Are you all right?”

That is a question Tony has a definite answer to, but one he cannot possibly say out loud without ruining whatever composure he is still clinging to. A simple press conference should not hit him so hard. These people and their opinions mean nothing to him. Yet, their collective readiness to condemn him is like a festering wound he cannot top prodding.

It reminds him that he is not free of Obadiah, and perhaps never will be. He cannot simply cut out a part of his life just because it hurts. He cannot forget the years of trusting a man who was holding a knife behind his back all this time.

Instead of answering, Tony says, “I need a cheeseburger.”

He is not sure where that comes from, but his entire body reacts to the very thought of it. His stomach, which was until now occupied with fighting nausea, growls in sudden interest. Cheeseburgers remind him of college, of going out with Rhodey when they both needed a break from studying, of greasy fingers and happier days.

“We can order something in when we’re back at the tower,” Thor replies and Tony does not need to look up to know he is frowning.

“No,” he decides firmly, against all logic. “I don’t want to hide away in my penthouse while the police tear apart my company some floors down. I want to sit down on a sticky plastic bench in a rundown diner and eat an honest-to-god American cheeseburger.”

What he truly wants is to not be himself for a few hours. And slipping on sunglasses and tipping some lucky waiter an enormous amount of money so they will treat him like any other customer is the closest he can get to that at the moment.

“Since I am responsible for your safety, I must advise against that,” Thor says. He has still not started the car which Tony counts as a victory for some reason.  

“Since I’m your employer, I get veto power,” Tony counters, managing a light tone that he hopes does not convey how very desperate he is to not return to the tower right now.

Looking sternly at him through the back mirror is apparently not enough anymore, so Thor turns around and studies him for a long moment. Tony does not want to know what he sees. Make-up that does not cover his exhaustion from this close. The rough patches where he has bitten his lips bloody again and again over the past days.

Whatever it is, Thor gives in with a sigh. “As long as you don’t tell Pepper.”

It is an illusion that she will not find out, of course, but Tony simply nods happily. Nothing matters as long as he gets away for a few hours.

---

They choose a random diner, out of their way, with no prior connection to Tony. That is the compromise on which Thor allows them to stop. They do not make a Google search, they do not ask for directions. It is just a random stop on a random route. Nobody could know where they are. Nobody could have prepared for this. Despite Thor’s grumbling, they are going to be safe. Killing a man while he is eating a cheeseburger is most likely high treason, anyway.

Thor circles the block another time to make sure they were not followed before he parks the nondescript car, having refused to take any of Tony’s flashier ones.

When Tony opens the car door, he can almost smell the cheeseburger in the air already and feels the tension drain out of him in anticipation. They have not made a single step towards the door of the diner, when Thor perks up and then moves faster than Tony can react, pulling them both down to the ground.

That is when the first shot rings through the air.

Tony ducks behind the car, clinging to the arm Thor is holding before his chest for a moment. With his back pressed against the metal, he breathes, trying to dissuade whether his heart is racing too loudly or whether they are still getting shot at. Pieces of glass surround him that originate from the know broken car window right above him. If they had shot a moment earlier or aimed a little more carefully, Tony might already be dead.

How could they have known? Surely, Thor would have noticed if someone had come after them, which means they must have tracked Tony somehow.

Next to him, Thor moves to peer up over the car, which is followed by another gunshot. Tony flinches violently. He cannot believe his life has turned into this.

“We need to get out of here,” Tony hisses, his voice comically high. He feels panic settling in, grabbing for his heart with an icy hand, squeezing until his breath is shallow and too fast.

Thor shifts, turning his attention mostly on Tony for a second. “You need to stay low.” He looks so calm, Tony is profoundly glad to have someone that familiar close-by. At the same time, it does not help at all to see Thor handling this as if it happens every day, while he is losing his mind.

They need to alert someone, need to call the police. Tony reaches for his phone but finds his pockets empty. Of course, he left it in the car because he wanted to be unavailable for a few short hours. He wanted to avoid being alerted of any new emergencies. Fate must be laughing at him right now.

All is silent for a few precious seconds, in which Thor gets out his gun. The click when he releases the safety is almost as deafening as another shot. Mostly without looking where he is aiming at, Thor fires once himself, then chances another look. His expression, when he sits down again, is grim.

Tony’s brain, which is slowly regaining the ability to think instead of simply cowering, calculates the odds of Thor being able to keep whoever has been following them off with just the few bullets in that gun and no real vantage point. Their chances are not looking so good.

“Nothing is keeping them from closing in on us if they think we can’t defend us,” Tony says, trying to come up with a way they can get at least to the diner without being riddled with bullets on their way there. Although that would put civilians in danger, and Tony is not ready to add that to his conscience.

Thor does not pay him attention as he is trying to adjust the side mirror of the car to help him see what is going on. “And we can’t defend us if we don’t have cover.”

That is true to a certain point. One car, while being sturdy and at least bigger than Tony’s usual vehicle choices, will not keep them safe for long.

When his eyes fall on the way Thor’s fingers curl almost elegantly around his weapon, with nothing of the urgency Tony feels, he has an idea.

“Do you have another gun?” he blurts. Another magazine or two would be helpful too. He wonders whether there is a bodyguard protocol for being ambushed in a parking lot with an employer. If so, he would love to be clued in on it.

“What?” Thor abandons the mirror and looks at Tony, his gaze heavy but at the same time reassuring enough that Tony can take a deep breath and calm himself into thinking more rationally.

“Another gun,” he repeats with some urgency. “I used to make them, remember? I know how to use them too.”

Howard thought it would be a proper bonding experience to take his five-year-old son to the shooting range. While it did not help their relationship at all, it helped take Tony’s fear of the weapons they were building. He has shot at targets plenty of times. This is different, of course, but he will feel much safer with the means to defend himself.

“Have you ever shot at someone?” Thor asks. It does not sound like it is meant to discourage, just like he is carefully calculating whether the risk of getting another gun will be worth the benefit.  

It is questionable whether they will even see more than shadows shooting at them, so the chances of Tony actually hitting something are rather low.

“I’ll schedule my moral crisis for later,” Tony replies. His tone is just a little shaky.

Relief floods him when Thor nods. “It’s under the backseat. Stay where you are and take mine for the time being.”

Within nary a second, Thor hands his gun over to Tony, which weighs more than it has any right to, more than it ever did on the range, Scolding himself for his reaction, he tightens his grip around it, carefully angling it away from himself, ready to turn around and use it.

Meanwhile, Thor moves closer to Tony to be able to open the backdoor. Instead of just reaching in, it looks like he is about to climb into the car. Tony’s hand shoots out and holds him back, gripping the fabric of Thor’s shirt hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“You can’t go into the car,” he says. It is a hiss more than a tempered argument- Even the few feet it would take Thor away from Tony and further within reach of the attackers are too much.

As if in answer, more shots ring out, making Tony flinch.

With a patience that does not fit their situation, Thor faces Tony. “I can’t hold them off on my own either.”

There is nothing Tony can say to that. It was his idea, but Thor has obviously come to the same conclusion that only one gun and no way to properly aim at whoever has come for them are far from ideal circumstances.

Tony nods tersely and watches as Thor slowly moves into the car while trying to not expose himself. He thinks about simply shooting over the car, but does not want to startle Thor or waste their precious bullets, so he stays quiet, waiting for some kind of resolution for this.

“Get my phone too,” he tells Thor in an urgent whisper as if their attackers are going to hear.

With his phone, he can call JARVIS who will send help and maybe find out more about who is pinning them down. If there is a camera nearby, he could even find out where they are. That would probably take too long, but Tony can dream of being helpful in any way while cowering against the side of his car, while waiting for Thor to emerge from it again.

It is taking too long. Looking at the gun in his hand, Tony attempts to calm his shaking fingers. Then he glances around the side of the car, too quickly to offer a good target. He does not see anything either, but another shot rips through the air. The bullet hits the pavement a few feet to Tony’s side but he knows how to take a warning. He stares at the hole it has left, unable to tear his eyes away.

Finally, Thor comes back out, clutching a gun and a full magazine in one hand and Tony’s phone in the other. He leaves the phone at Tony side before settling back against the car. He breathes more heavily than that manoeuvre warrants, especially since he still seems too calm. Only now does Tony notice that Thor moves strangely carefully like he has bruises. Beneath the suit jacket, he catches a hint of red.

“You’re bleeding,” Tony says, the words leaving his mouth before their meaning catches up with him.

Red means blood means Thor has been shot. He is going to have to watch a friend die right next to him before Obadiah’s men inevitably take him or kill him too.

“It’s nothing,” Thor says, although he does not quite manage to keep his tone even. “I’m not going to pass out on you.”

That does not help to calm Tony down at all. His mind turns from blank and frightened to racing and terrified. Thor is bleeding and there is nothing Tony can do. They are pinned down and exposed.

“You were shot,” Tony says, high-pitched and not even trying to stay calm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Now that he has seen it, Tony cannot look away from the spot of read spreading over Thor’s side. Shifting, Thor tucks his jacket over it, but Tony does not think he will ever get that red out of his vision again.

“We’re a bit preoccupied at the moment if you hadn’t noticed,” Thor says, an urgency in his tone that finally reaches Tony.

No time to panic, Tony tells himself, even while his breathing turns shallow and his knuckles turn white around his phone and the gun. He needs to think of something. Something that will get them out of here and Thor into a hospital. Something that will end this.

He exhales, glances up at the splintered car windows as if he needs the reminder that this is real.

“All right,” Tony then says, much calmer than he feels. He turns to Thor, carefully keeping his eyes away from the wound. “Shoot at them. Don’t show yourself and you don’t need to be too accurate about it. I need a few moments.”

“What?”

Thor is not going to like this plan. Tony does not like it himself, but Thor’s wound does not leave them with many options. They definitely do not have the time to argue about it.

“Just do it,” Tony says and gets to work.

With practised movements, Tony takes his phone apart and gets out the sim card before putting it back together. He really should have invested in a portable panic button, but for now, this will have to do. Pulling off his left shoe, he hides the card inside his sock. It is far from a good hiding place but he does not have a fake tooth at hand or time to sew the card into his clothes.

He slides the phone over to Thor before looking up at him. This plan, he knows, is pure madness, but the occasional shot is not going to keep the bad guys from closing in much longer. The police might be right around the corner – someone has hopefully alerted them by now – but they do not have time. Thor is bleeding but alive for now. Tony wants to keep it that way.

“I need you to play dead,” Tony says, his voice a careful monotone. He keeps his eyes on his phone for a moment longer, unable to meet Thor’s gaze.  

“What are you talking about?” Thor asks, his incredulity mixed with just a hint of pain. That only reassures Tony that this has to be done.

Taking a deep breath, he elaborates. “I’m going to surrender and –”

“Like hell you will,” Thor cuts him off. The sharpness of his voice mollifies Tony somewhat, even if it does not actually make him reconsider. “This is what you hired me for. We won’t have to hold out for much longer.”

Tony refrains from asking how much longer Thor can hold out, Already, his mind is throwing numbers about gunshot wounds at him. Also, he does not think for a moment that their attackers do not know too that help must be on the way. They will hardly wait that long.

“I don’t think they want to kill me right here.” They could have thrown a small grenade or taken a higher calibre to shoot right through the car. Obadiah will not profit from a public execution and he has shown that he does not care for casualties. At least that is what Tony has to believe to get his legs to work.

“I have the chip, so JARVIS can track me. If you play dead, they should leave you alone. And then they’ll lead you right to Obadiah.”

As far as plans go, this has more holes than their car at the moment. Despite the risk, Tony needs to get Thor out of here. He does not care whether he hired Thor as his bodyguard, whether he should be the one that gets protected here. Thor is a friend, and he is Bruce’s soulmate, and he deserves better than to die for Obadiah’s stupid vendetta against Tony.

“You can’t –” Thor says, but Tony does not let him get any farther.

“Thank you, Thor.” Tony manages a smile, glad that this horrible situation at least gave him another friend. “Don’t let them shoot you again.”

Not wasting any more time, Tony holds up the hand with the gun, biting his lip as he waits for the inevitable bullet. Nothing happens, so he raises the other one and then, slowly, gets to his feet.

“Tony,” Thor hisses but stays down. “Stop this madness.”

“I surrender,” Tony calls out instead of answering. He does not have to put any effort in sounding shaken. He steps to the side, fully exposing himself. The hand with the gun trembles terribly as he puts it down on the ground for everyone watching to see.

For a long moment, nothing happens and Tony is sure he has miscalculated. They might line up the perfect shot to take him out at once. Then, someone moves out from behind a car on the other side of the street. They are masked and clad in dark clothes. It is not Obadiah.

“Tell your little friend to come out too,” the man calls, sounding cocky and cruel in a way that promises nothing good for Tony’s immediate future.

“He’s –” Tony looks to the side but aborts the movement halfway through. He feels Thor’s glare bearing into him, but Tony guesses he is going to follow the plan since he remains quiet. “He’s stopped moving.”

The man contemplates that for a moment before he nods. He has likely realized that they will be able to take Thor out no matter what.

“Come over here.”

Tony does. It might be the stupidest thing he has ever done but he is still not hearing any sirens and he feels like Obadiah is within reach for the first time in weeks. He just wants all of this to be over.

He walks. Small steps. He is barely able to feel the ground beneath his feet, but he sets one foot in front of the other towards the man who has a gun pointed at him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see more movement now, more people coming out from behind cover. It looks like they really wanted to get him this time.

When Tony has almost reached his destination, he sees a sudden movement but by then it is too late to move out of the way. Something hits him in his upper arm. It was not a bullet, there is too little pain for that. Before he can reach up or take a step back, he feels his thoughts growing heavy and uncoordinated. Darkness wells up in front of his eyes. Then he is falling.  

[sapphicscholar]

Happy birthday, @sralinchen! Figured you could use some pre-canon Sanvers meet cute fluff with a side of exploring adventures to brighten your day!

Chapter Text:

“Hello?” Maggie’s voice was swallowed up by the forest, and after a few moments of silence, she shook her head. Too many true crime shows late at night making her paranoid—that was all. Besides, she’d heard those noises for a few days in a row at that point; if it was a murderer, surely they would have come for her already. Still, she flexed her arms and pushed out her chest, trying to make herself appear a little more intimidating. No need for her would be murderer to think they’d have an easy go of it.

As she traipsed through the woods, Maggie pulled out her old camera, pausing to take pictures of anything interesting she found. It had all started with the photography course she’d taken to fill a requirement in college. Not that she’d done particularly well in it. Apparently taking photos of the things she liked most did not guarantee that her professor would think they met the terms of the assignment. She did, however, enjoy getting a private lesson or two with one of the older students in her class—a cute butch she’d seen volunteering at the LGBTQ Center a few times who happened to be “a natural” at capturing the “gritty reality of life,” or at least that was what the professor had told Maggie when he suggested she try accompanying Meg one afternoon to learn a few things. Outside of their first afternoon together, Maggie hadn’t learned much about photography, opting instead to learn about what it felt like to be held in those muscular arms and kissed more softly than she’d imagined would be possible up against the side of a junky abandoned car stripped of half its parts that would become part of Meg’s final project. But, barely eked out B’s aside, Maggie had come to enjoy taking photographs and the excuse the class gave her to spend time off campus and away from the bustle of student life.

Even though she was a few years out of school at that point, she still liked wandering around and exploring whenever she got a chance. And the cop badge did wonders for the few times she’d had security show up asking why she was poking around what she had assumed was an abandoned warehouse. The woods, though—they were easier. No one really cared why she was in the woods, assuming she was just another wannabe nature photographer on the days she had her camera or some exercise fanatic on the days she showed up with little more than her phone and keys.

Over the past couple of weeks spent out there, she’d grown more confident, learning where certain paths ended or where overgrown brambles made certain areas unpassable. Finding the stream she had heard was in there no longer required listening for the sound of running water; instead she knew exactly where to turn for what was become a well-worn path to it, and she ended up down there most days, if only to spend a few minutes watching the shimmers of small fish darting in and out of the stream.

With all the confidence of a woman who knew exactly where she was going, Maggie shook off any lingering sense of unease at the noises she thought she had heard and set forth for the stream, promptly snagging her boot under a branch she knew hadn’t been there the day before and falling forward, scraping up her palms as she caught herself before she could face plant into the twigs and potentially crush her camera. When she pulled herself back up, a twinge of pain radiated out from her ankle. “Motherfu—”

“Are you okay?”

“Who’s there?” Maggie yelled, making her voice as low as she could as she hopped around on one foot.

A woman who looked to be about her age, maybe a little younger, poked her head out from behind a large tree. “Um, hey. I just…I heard you yell and thought you might be hurt.”

Maggie sized her up. She was taller than Maggie, but only by a couple of inches. She looked more willowy than muscley, and her clothes didn’t exactly scream “experienced hiker” or “homicidal woods dweller.” She sort of looked like she’d just finished a run. Or a yoga class. “I tripped,” Maggie grunted.

“Is anything broken? Sprained?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’m sure it’s fine.” Of course, Maggie couldn’t help but wince when she turned and put weight on her injured ankle.

The woman jogged over. “Here, let me help you. There’s a down tree just over there where we can have you sit so I can look at it.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re gonna aggravate it even more if you walk on what turns out to be a broken ankle.”

After a moment, Maggie relented. She didn’t really want to spend weeks on desk duty with nothing but paperwork to fill her time all because she insisted on trudging back up the hill on a  busted ankle. And she was fairly certain she could take the girl in a fight if it came to it. She might not be able to outrun her, but she figured she could probably hit hard enough to knock her down and get a good head start.

“I’m Alex.”

“Maggie.” Somehow the name helped her relax a little, even if she knew there was a chance it was a fake name.

“What hurts?”

“Uh, I cut up my hands, but I’ll wash them once I get back. But it’s mainly my right ankle.”

Alex nodded and moved to Maggie’s side, reaching out an arm and bending low enough that Maggie could sling an arm over her shoulders. “Try to keep weight off that foot, okay?”

“Okay.”

Together they hobbled over to the tree Alex had mentioned, and Alex set Maggie down, flipping over her palms and brushing away the larger pieces of dirt and rock that had gotten lodged there. Alex’s hands were warm and soft, and Maggie couldn’t help but notice that she was rather pretty. Up close, she could see a smattering of freckles across her cheekbones and flecks of gold in her eyes. She watched as Alex reached into a bag she hadn’t noticed before, pulling out a bottle of water and pouring it over Maggie’s palms to rinse away the worst of the dirt. “You’ll still want to get these properly sanitized when you get back.” Maggie nodded. “Now let’s look at your ankle. I’m going to be as gentle as I can, but you need to let me know if I do something that really hurts, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Alex carefully lifted Maggie’s foot, maneuvering it around until Maggie let out a hiss of pain. “So not there then…” After a few minutes, Alex nodded. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“That’s good.” Maggie felt herself relax until a thought struck her. “Wait, why should I trust you?”

“Oh, uh, I’m in med school. So, ya know, not a full doctor yet, but I’m not just guessing or something.”

“Oh. Lucky you were here then, huh?” Maggie didn’t normally have such good luck. With her luck, it really should have been that homicidal woods dweller that found her.

Alex shrugged. “It could have happened pretty much any day this week, and I’d have been here.”

“Wait. Are you the one who’s been making noises?”

The corner of Alex’s mouth quirked up into what Maggie thought was an unfairly attractive smile. “Guilty.”

“Why didn’t you say anything when I yelled out and asked if anyone was there?”

“I don’t know. You sounded gruff. Could’ve been a murderer.”

“A murder who announces herself?”

“You never know.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes and stared at Alex.

“Besides”—Alex ducked her head down, busying herself with something in her bag—“I was out here to avoid talking to people. Why would I go yelling back at one?”

“Mm, that I get.”

“I think you get the fear of murderers too.” Alex’s mouth twitched at Maggie’s spluttering. “Your voice definitely isn’t as deep now as it was when you were yelling.”

Maggie could feel her cheeks warming slightly. “Well, you know, you could have been a killer too.”

“I could still be a killer.”

“That is true,” Maggie conceded. “I should have you know, then, that I’m a cop. And you know that whole thing about blue blood runs thicker than water or something.”

“All blood runs thicker than water.”

“Okay, whatever, there’s definitely some saying. We protect our own or some shit.”

“You’re clearly very invested in that mentality.”

“Whatever. Just don’t kill me, alright?”

“You’re the one with all the cop training. I think I should be the one reminding you not to kill me. Cause, you know, I’ve got classmates or something who would notice I was missing.”

Maggie’s brow furrowed at the way Alex wouldn’t quite hold her eyes. “You okay?”

“What? I’m fine.”

But Alex’s voice was tight, and her hands shook a little. “You sure? I mean, I know I’m not on duty, but if you needed to, like, talk to someone…I can help find you a qualified person.”

“No, it’s not—not like that. I just, if I’m being honest, I don’t think any of my classmates would actually notice if I disappeared. Not for a while, at least.” Alex didn’t look at Maggie as she spoke, rummaging in her bag instead and pulling out a well-worn gray t-shirt. “I’m gonna wrap your ankle to keep it steady, okay? I think you just twisted it or rolled it, but it’ll be good to keep it in place. When you get home you’re going to take some advil, wrap it up properly with an ace bandage or a sleeve, and elevate it, okay? Try to keep weight off of it.”

“I’m sure they’d notice.”

Alex shrugged, her hands keeping busy as she unlaced Maggie’s boot and tore the shirt down the middle to make a better wrap.

“You care enough to stop and help some stranger. Pretty sure that makes you the kind of good person people notice.”

With a dark laugh, Alex shook her head. “It’s nice that you think so.”

Maggie fell silent then, her mind working as she regarded the woman kneeling in the dirt in front of her, ruining her own shirt to help a stranger, all the while insisting that she wasn’t a good person.

“Alright, your boot’s going to be a bit snug now, but I’m still gonna tie it tight enough to keep you from slipping all around in it.”

“Got it.”

Once Alex had laced up Maggie’s shoes again, she stood, throwing her bag over her shoulders and holding out an arm for Maggie. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Over the course of their walk back to the car, Maggie nudged Alex. “How’d you end up finding the woods?”

“Honest answer?”

“I think I want to know the dishonest answer first. They’re normally more fun.” Telling too, though she didn’t add that.

“Mm yes”—Alex cleared her throat, affecting a serious air—“well I was perusing through my copy of Walden and decided it was high time that I throw off the chains of society to go live in the woods.”

Maggie snorted. “Did you know his mom still did his laundry?”

“Aww, give him a break. Living in the woods can be rather tiring,” Alex chuckled. “Sometimes we all need some help.”

Maggie gestured at her wrapped up foot as she limped forward. “Clearly.” After a few minutes of silence, Maggie asked, “So what’s the honest answer?”

“Uh, I was out for a run after a night of drinking and thought I was gonna be sick. Didn’t really want people to see me out on the road so I took off for the woods.” Maggie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Calm down, I ended up being fine. Didn’t mess up your precious woods. Just sat there for half an hour until I felt ready to drag my hungover ass back home.”

“And then you came back because…?”

“I don’t know. It was…peaceful. Reminded me of being a kid again.”

“Yeah?”

Alex nodded, a wistful smile tugging up the corner of her mouth. “Did you ever read Bridge to Terabithia when you were little?”

“Yeah, and I fucking bawled my eyes out.”

“Right,” Alex chuckled. “It does tend to have that effect on people.”

“You don’t say.”

“Well, um, the first half or so of the book—back when they go discover Terabithia and make it their own—I loved that. I wanted to have one of my own, you know? And Leslie was one of my favorite characters.”

Maggie hummed, nodding in understanding and glancing over at Alex, seeing her in a new light. Alex blushed under the weight of Maggie’s attention. “Classic.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, you know, we cling to all the tomboy characters we can get—the ones who haven’t been forced to ‘grow up’ and get girly and find a husband yet.”

Alex swallowed heavily.

“Really, it makes sense that she’d be the first in a long line to go dying in some unexpected freak accident.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I—I’m just bitter, that’s all.” With a shake of her head, Maggie laughed. Realizing they were already coming up on the entrance to the main trail, she gestured in the direction of her car.

“Anyway, um, one of my friends from the neighborhood, she and I would go out and explore the woods by our house in Midvale. We liked to pretend we’d found Terabithia and go climbing trees and jumping across this tiny little creek that was way too small to actually need a bridge, but in our imagination, it was just as big as their river.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“It was.” Alex blinked, her mouth twisting as she looked up. “I don’t know, it was one of the last times things seemed…simple. Easy. It just, it made sense, you know?” Maggie nodded. “And the few times Vicki and I went back in middle school, things that had gotten so complicated and weird and messy felt easy again. Like we could be us and hold hands and laugh without caring if we snorted and boys heard or whatever. But then, you know, by high school it wasn’t cool to go play in the woods anymore—not unless you were sneaking in with some lukewarm beer and a boyfriend your parents didn’t know about.”

“I get that,” Maggie whispered.

“And it’s not the same here—not at all. But it kind of…it’s nice. It’s quiet. No one here wants to know how my research is going or whether I wasted another night at a bar or if I’ve called my mother recently or whether my little sister is going to have any sort of good example to look up to, Alexandra.” Alex shook her head, swiping at her eyes. “Sorry. I don’t mean to unload on you like that.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to hear your answer.”

Alex narrowed her eyes. “You from the Midwest or something?”

Maggie tilted her head to the side. “What?”

“The only people I’ve ever met who’ll ask you how you’re doing and actually want to hear the answer are originally from the Midwest. Apparently it’s a thing down South too, but I’ve never made it down there—just the coasts, really.”

“Mm, so you’re a California native?” Maggie nudged Alex then, gesturing at the street coming up. “Left here.” They headed down the road towards where Maggie had left the beat up sedan that had carried all of her worldly possessions from Nebraska to Gotham to National City.

“I could have been from the East coast.”

“Not a chance.” Maggie laughed at Alex’s furrowed brow. “First of all, you’re wearing too much color.” She gestured at Alex’s purple shirt. “And second of all, even if you apologized for doing it, you still answered my question instead of telling me to go fuck myself.”

Alex laughed loudly then. “I’m sure they’d resent that stereotype.”

“Really? I feel like New Yorkers kinda take pride in the attitude. Like, yeah, I pay two grand for a closet without air conditioning an hour away from my office and it smells like rotting garbage all of July and August and I watched Elmo beat the shit out of Cookie Monster over a photo last night, but dammit, we’ve got great pizza and we don’t care whether or not you like it here.”

Alex wiped tears of laughter away from her eyes, her whole body shaking at Maggie’s rather terrible impersonation of a New York accent. “Maybe…but now I’m kinda worried about my little sister’s internship there next summer.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She’s, uh, very bubbly. Super nice. Charms everyone she meets.”

“Well who knows? Maybe it’ll be like Elf and she’ll charm all their cold, dead hearts.”

“If anyone could do it, it’d be Kara.”

“You’ll have to fill me in on how it goes.” Maggie gestured at the car. “That’s me.”

“You gonna be okay to drive with that foot?”

“What? Um, yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“And do you have something to sterilize the cuts on your hand? And an ice pack for your ankle?”

Maggie tried to think of what was stuffed in the recesses of her medicine cabinet. “I’m sure.”

“And make sure you eat something with your advil.”

Maggie’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t trust me to take care of myself.”

“No, I, um, I just want to make sure, you know, you’re alright.” She shrugged, a pink flush climbing up her chest. “For someone to share the woods with, you’re not so bad. Don’t need to find out you and Leslie met the same fate all because you were too stubborn to let someone help.”

“That your way of offering?”

“What? I mean, I just, I…I could. If you wanted help.”

Maggie bit back a smile at the spluttering answer. “How about this, I’ll order pizza so you can see that I’m getting food. The best shop in town is right next to the pharmacy, so I can buy myself a wrap for my ankle and some rubbing alcohol or whatever. And, as payment for your troubles, we could split the pizza, maybe have dinner together?”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t you want to know about how I found those woods? There’s less drinking and nausea, but I promise it’s a good story.” She lowered her voice, glancing around. “It even involves a streaker.”

Alex snorted. “Well with a lead like that…”

“You couldn’t say no. So c’mon, hop in the car.”

“I’m really having to trust that you’re not a murderer here.”

With a chuckle, Maggie unlocked the car, pulling out her badge and flipping it open for Alex. “Alright, showed you my proof of real existence. Maggie Sawyer, NCPD. Now show me yours.”

Alex rolled her eyes, but she fished through her bag anyway, pulling out a tattered wallet and holding up her student ID. “Alex Danvers, National City University.”

“Well then, Alex Danvers, let’s go get pizza, hmm?”

[megaphonemonday]

Would you look at that? I came back for her

A what-if where the Chicago trade went through and Mike comes back to retire as a Padre.

It took a long moment of Blip standing expectantly to the side of Ginny’s treadmill for her to realize he had something to say. Punching down the speed just a touch, she shifted her headphones and raised a brow.

It was as clear an invitation as he was going to get. It was all he needed.

“Today’s the big day,” he observed, leaning an elbow on the console of her machine. 

Ginny pushed him off, eyeing the slight spike in her heart rate. She shrugged anyway, and Blip didn’t call her out. Probably because she didn’t stoop to playing dumb. “So I heard.”

“You seen him yet?”

She shook her head and powered down the treadmill. “Doubt anyone will ‘til after it’s all over.”

Blip handed her a towel. “Well, he’s giving the performance of his life if you wanna catch the end of it.”

She scoffed and wiped the sweat off her brow. “I’ll catch the replay on ESPN.”

“Suit yourself.”

Five minutes later, though, found Ginny slipping into the back of the press room. She tucked herself behind Livan’s shoulder to avoid unwanted attention. He glanced back at her, and it said a lot about how much he’d grown at her that his knowing smirk didn’t make her want to sucker punch him.

She was a little too busy drinking in the sight of her captain. Well, former captain.

Sure, she’d seen him since he went to Chicago toward the end of her rookie season, but it was different now. Now, he wasn’t her opponent. Soon, he wouldn’t be a ballplayer at all.

So, it wasn’t inappropriate to notice that Mike Lawson was looking good. His beard was lush and thick, with more than a smattering of gray sprinkled in at his temples and around his mouth, the rest of his hair artfully mussed. He’d ditched his habitual flannels for a well-fitted suit. Very well-fitted. Even with a charming grin aimed at the pool of reporters arrayed before him, Ginny was sure Mike was itching to ditch the jacket and roll up his sleeve.

She couldn’t blame him.  

“It’s time,” he was saying as Ginny turned her attention to the reason Mike was back here at all: His retirement press conference. “Obviously, I wish it weren’t. If I could, I’d play another ten years, but the guys have told me they’d put me in a home before that.”

A smattering of laughter, polite from the journalists and a little more raucous from the line of Padres at the back, filled the room before the next question.

“You won a World Series with the Cubs, plus another NLDS. What made you come back to San Diego to retire?”

Mike pushed back from the table, tongue probing his cheek as he thought. His light blue button up stretched across his chest, and Ginny was almost too distracted by the strain his buttons were under to pay attention to his answer. 

But only almost. 

“Chicago gave me a ring, yeah, but San Diego gave me everything else. I got my start as a Padre, became a captain as one too. I've always known the only way I’d leave the game was as a Padre.” 

“So you’re going to stick around town?”

“Yeah. Definitely. San Diego’s my home. Everything I love is in San Diego. And everyone.”

Unerringly—Ginny hadn’t realized that he’d clocked her entrance, he always had played well for the cameras—Mike's eyes met hers. He stared at her for a long, charged moment, communicating so many things they’d left unsaid while he was in Chicago, before turning his attention back to the press pool. 

Mike might be able to switch gears like that, but Ginny felt like all the breath had been stolen from her body. She slumped against the wall at her back and struggled to get her lungs working. 

They didn’t really start up again until after the game had been played and Ginny opened her changing room to find Mike already waiting. Almost before the door was even closed, she was in his arms. And by then, it didn’t really matter if she could breathe. 

Ginny could go without a little oxygen if it meant she got to kiss Mike Lawson.

[butterflysuki77]

06. The B.P.P. - Kim TaeHyung Fanfic

AN*  So I ran across this “Bed Sharing AU” prompt list with 8 prompts and thought it’d be a great exercise to explore writing fanfics again. This is the 6th in a series of oneshots(links to others listed below). I’m using all 8 prompts with different members.  8 prompts, 7 members… the 8th will be a surprise.

A special thanks to BTS… for giving me inspiration and re-igniting my passion to write again. (Gif credit to original poster.)

01. Kim NamJoon - Must Have Energy

02. Kim SeokJin - Mama Mo’s,  

03. Min Yoongi - You’re Mine

04. Jung HoSeok - My Hope

05. Park Jimin - Awkwardly Perfect

07. Jeon JungKook - Call Me Kookie

08. BTS - Hawaiian Thunderstorm

The B.P.P.

Prompt: We’ve had this tradition as besties to have a sleepover once a year but this year….it feels different…were your pajamas always this cute??…did I always have butterflies???

 Pairing: Kim TaeHyung x Reader

 Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut-lite, Food Play

 Word Count: 6.2K

  Kim TaeHyung sat in his car outside your apartment complex, waiting for you to get back.  He’d just driven 250 miles, and was ready to get out of the car.  Tonight was the night, or the entire weekend rather. Finally, after having to skip it for a couple years, you were going to have your “Bestie Pajama Party.”  Well, more like Bestie Pajama Weekend.  It’s something you’d both done since elementary school.  Your parents thought it was as cute as Tae did.  Even through high school, nothing ever got weird, and your parents really didn’t care.  

 It was nice… having a girl who was just a friend… who didn’t expect anything out of him more than friendship and fun.  He got enough of expectations from the girls he randomly saw in college.  He dated here and there, but nothing was ever serious.  Nobody ever felt…quite right… And there was definitely nobody right now… He sighed.

It was a long weekend too… and he’d finally been able to come visit you.  He hadn’t seen you since your families had gotten together at Christmas, and it had been so nice.  You’d played pranks on your older cousins, helped the kids bake and decorate sugar cookies, and most of all… you’d just been together.  Tae had missed you… a lot. Your insight into his dating life… your laugh… your willingness to participate in his random wacky ideas… He’d almost stayed over then, but your house was full of visiting relatives.  You’d sworn that the “BPP” would happen, and you made him promise to finally come visit you.

 And he had.  Asking off work had been tough… but he’d made the effort.  And now here he was... worn out and you weren’t home yet.  Tae sighed and opened the car door to step out.  No need wasting gas letting the car run when he wanted to stretch his legs anyway.  The day was beautiful…not too warm with a smattering of clouds in the sky. He leaned on the hood of his car and checked his phone.

Still no message from you beyond the, *You’re here!!!  I’ll be there in a few minutes!  Yay!* he’d received about 15 minutes ago.  It was odd, because your car was definitely in the lot… He recognized it almost immediately and thought you’d been home. 

He sighed and pushed off the car’s hood.  Walking between two buildings into a small courtyard, he breathed in the smell of the flowers planted along the sidewalk.  He opened the camera on his phone and took a picture. TaeHyung was glad you lived in a nice place.  When he found out you were leaving the dorms last year and moving into your own place, he’d been worried.  What if it was a bad neighborhood?  What if the place was rundown and you had maintenance issues? But looking around at the crisp light blue siding on the buildings and white trim around the windows, he couldn’t help but smile at how well it all fit you.  He took a few pictures of the buildings.  He was happy you were happy.

And he couldn’t wait to see you…

He was about to take a selfie with the lawn ornaments when he heard tires screech to a halt.  He jerked his head toward the parking lot and heard a door slam.  Walking over he saw a bright yellow Hummer parked diagonally in the two spots next to his old silver Camry.  You were walking away from the passenger side when the driver door opened and a blonde guy yelled your name.

“Shut it, Kyle… I don’t need this right now.  Just leave.” You said, not noticing Tae as he watched. 

“Y/N… you’re seriously gonna just sleep with this guy and expect me to be ok with it!?” 

“Yes!” you answered angrily as he walked up to you. “We’re FRIENDS and always have been… besides, it’s not like you and I were serious or anything.” 

“Not for lack of trying…” he said sarcastically. “I thought you were a prude or something, but here you are sleeping with a guy and expecting me to deal with it…” You rolled your eyes and started walking away from him, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you against him.  

“Let go of me,” you said, twisting your arm out of his grip.  “Leave. Now. And don’t even think about calling me again.  Consider your number blocked.”

“You were just a little slut the whole time, weren’t you…” he said angrily.  “What, were you just being a tease til I was man enough to take you?”  The guy actually grabbed your ass and you slapped him. Kyle’s face darkened and he raised his hand.

TaeHyung’s vision went crimson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You felt yourself pulled back suddenly and when you looked up, you were in shock.  You didn’t know how Tae was suddenly between you and Kyle but there he was.  He was actually in Kyle’s face, gripping his wrist tightly and staring him down.  You were stunned.  TaeHyung wasn’t a fighter, and he wasn’t all that strong either… he…. Was he…?

“You have ten seconds to get into your oversized hunk of metal and leave…” Tae said in a deep low growl that you felt in the pit of your stomach.  Kyle’s eyes widened and he tried to pull his hand free, but Tae kept a tight grip on it, the veins in his forearms showing with the exertion.

 “Oh really?” Kyle tried to act nonchalant but you could tell he was rattled.  “What are you-”

 “And if you touch her again…” Tae’s voice was menacing as he cut him off, “…you will regret it….5….4….3….”  Kyle tried to pull his arm away as Tae counted, but TaeHyung wouldn’t let go until his third attempt, making it painfully obvious who was in control. Kyle laughed nervously and walked back to his Hummer.  Tae backed up until he was touching you, then his hand slid into yours.  Kyle pulled out of the parking spot, rolled down his window and yelled.

 “Screw you, Bitch!”  Tae’s face smiled as he raised a hand and flipped the guy off.

 You were in complete shock.  You’d never seen TaeHyung like that before.  He was…scary.  Tae was never scary.  If you’d made a bet an hour ago as to who would win in a fight, it would have definitely been Kyle.  Kyle was a bastard who you’d gone out with a few times, only lately realizing he was a bastard.  The guy thought he was entitled to sex because he’d paid for your coffee a couple times.  He’d tried to get you drunk at a party last night, and you’d had words.  Today he’d tried to apologize, but when you mentioned TaeHyung, specifically to get the guy to leave you alone, and he’d become livid.

 You felt Tae’s hand squeeze yours and looked up to see a soft smile on his face as he looked down at you.

 “You ok?” he asked, letting go of your hand to touch your shoulder.                                    

 “Yeah…” you answered softly.

 “Good…” he said, his hand going to the back of your neck. A shiver ran down your spine as his worried expression turned to a smile… and you realized your mistake too late as Tae pulled you into a headlock.  “What the hell, Y/N!?  Who was that? You were dating that!?!?”

 “Tae let go!”  You wrapped your arms around his waist and lifted with all your strength, barely getting him off the ground.  It jostled him enough to loosen his hold and you slipped out, grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm behind his back and lifting.

 “OW!” he yelled, “I give, I give!”  You let go of him and he turned to you with that large rectangular smile on his face and enveloped you in a tight hug that had you struggling for breath.

 “Tae!  Let go!” you whined.  But instead of pushing him away, you returned his hug.

 “I missed you so much!” he said as he lifted you off the ground.  You squealed and squeezed him tighter.  He set you back down, and while his hold lessened, he still didn’t let you go. You breathed in his woodsy TaeHyung scent and sighed.

 “I missed you too…”  You buried your face in his chest.  “…and…thank you.”

 “My pleasure,” he smiled down at you, and his smile turned menacing.  “Don’t ever see him again, ok?”

“You don’t have to tell me…” you said, as you pulled back. Tae let you go and the joke was back in his smile again.  “Go get your stuff!”  You reached forward and mussed his hair, and he scrunched his face in that cute puppy way of his before returning to his car to grab his suitcase.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TaeHyung smiled through the tour of your apartment…he smiled and laughed as you told him about how classes were going… he smiled and hugged you back when you embraced him, telling him how much you missed him.

Inside… he wanted to punch a hole in the wall…. He wanted to scream at you for letting that guy even think he had a chance with you.  Was that the kind of guy you were into? Was that the kind of guy you let touch you?  Just the thought of that douchebag’s hands on you had Tae seething…. Inside. He couldn’t let you see how rattled he was.  You’d think he was jealous or something… which he wasn’t…

He wasn’t…

“I was thinking we could just camp out in the living room…. I mean… we don’t have to.  We could always just start there and take it to the bedroom later…”  Tae’s eyes betrayed nothing of what that sentence just did to him.  Your bedroom…. Had Kyle been in your bedroom? No…. he hadn’t… he’d called you a prude… but how far had he gotten?  Had you kissed him?  Had he touched-

“Tae?”  TaeHyung jerked his gaze up to you and smiled.

“I’m really up for whatever!” he said, hoping that answered whatever question you had been asking him.  You leaned onto the kitchen counter, your forearms resting on the countertop… Tae took you in… the position of your legs and your… the slope of your back… as you bent over the counter… “…up…for whatever…” he under his breath, his mind going fuzzy.

“Here I am rattling on and you must be exhausted…” you said turning your head and meeting his eyes.  Your eyes were mischievous, challenging him.  The fog lifted and he smirked.

 “Far from it…” he stretched.  “I’m just starving!”  You stood up and went to the fridge.  Tae followed.  You opened the door and he rested his chin on your shoulder as you both perused what you had. It was an automatic gesture… something he’d done often in the past… but something was different.

“I have chicken…” which you grabbed. You backed up a bit, your back settling into his chest. “…spinach…” which you also grabbed, “…and…….”  He couldn’t breathe… it was everything he could do not to put his hands on your hips… not to turn his head just slightly and- “Onions!”  You bent forward, your ass pressing into his crotch and Tae eyes closed for a split second before jumping back as though you’d hit him.

 What the hell was going on?!

 Tae took some deep breaths to calm himself.  Sure you had always been cute… well… beautiful… but you were his friend!  You’d cuddled and slept together in the same bed for years!  Well… once a year for years…. But not the last couple years…. TaeHyung could feel himself starting to hyperventilate as his entire world seemed to be shifting.  You were in the “friends and family” column… not in the “girls TaeHyung wants to bang” column…  Granted, that particular column had been empty for a while, but come on!

 You stood up and peered over your shoulder at him, arms full of ingredients, completely oblivious.  He forced a smile.

 “Need help?” he said reaching for the chicken.  Your eyes widened.

 “No!” You held all of the ingredients tightly to your chest, protectively.

 “Why not?  I can help,” Tae said, smirking.

 “You are not allowed in the kitchen while I’m cooking…” you laughed.

 “But I can help!” Tae teased. “I’m good at helping!”

“You’re good at being a pest and making things take twice as long,” you said smiling at him.  “Go turn on the TV or something and rest a bit while I cook…  We’re pulling an all-nighter tonight!”  Tae bounced out of the kitchen and into the living room where he plopped down, sprawling, onto the couch.

Out of your sight, his eyes widened and he took a few deep breaths.  This was just because of that guy… He wasn’t attracted to you… His protective instincts had kicked in, that’s all!  He looked over at the coffee table and sighed, picking up the remote.  If he didn’t get himself under control quickly, and back into the right frame of mine where you were concerned, it was going to be a loooooooong weekend.

 “Actually, why don’t you go ahead and change into your pajamas!” 

He bit back a groan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat across the dining table from Tae, eating the dinner you barely remembered cooking.  What was going on?  It…it had to be the thing with Kyle.  It was still getting to you.  The way TaeHyung had looked as he’d face him down, his face serious and threatening.  And when Kyle actually backed off and Tae had taken your hand, you’d practically melted. The whole situation had felt… primal.

 Then, once in your apartment, you’d babbled on and on about nothing, trying to calm yourself, until Tae’s eyes had glossed over with boredom.  When he put his chin on your shoulder as you were looking through the fridge, all thought had left you.  You had instinctively let yourself lean against his chest…. God, it felt good…No! Stop it!  To keep yourself from completely going insane you’d jumped forward, bent down and bumped him backwards with your huge ass.

 The last thing you needed was him being ‘helpful’ in the kitchen.  ‘Helpful’ to Tae usually meant fooling around, tickling you, pretending to help while otherwise causing destruction and chaos. Beautiful, endearing, fabulous chaos. You needed to breathe!  But you had been surprised that he gave up and went to the couch so easily.

 He must have been tired…  While waiting for the chicken to cook, you’d also changed into your pajamas… a purple tank top with a giant cupcake on it, and a pair of white shorts with multiple small cupcakes.  When you’d come out and seen Tae in a pair of loose red shorts and black sleeveless shirt, your mouth had gone dry.  Since when did Tae have…muscles?  And the way he looked at you… as if you’d actually been a cupcake he wanted to eat… There was a moment…

 But it was probably all in your head.  You took your last bite of chicken as Tae watched you, having finished his food way before you.  He’d been chattering away like nothing had happened.

 Nothing HAD happened…you kept reminding yourself.  Nothing had happened.

 Then why did it feel like something had?  Your eyes met as he talked, and you smiled.

 “That’s when Jimin totally started getting cozy with her on the couch…” he said with a smirk. “Seriously, that kid needed some help…” Tae smiled and stood.  “Thanks for the meal! I’ll do the dishes!”

 “And I have ice cream for later!”  You said, standing and handing your plate to Tae over the counter. When he reached out and took it, you saw the veins in his forearms again and had to catch your breath.  Since when had TaeHyung gotten so… so…

 “What kind?” You came back to yourself and lifted your eyes to Tae’s. 

“Huh?” 

“What kind of ice cream, doof?” he smiled, hands in the sink.

 “Strawberry Cheesecake,” you said, turning and walking to the couch.

 “That’s a separate dessert, not an ice cream,” he laughed.

“So you always tell me!” you answered over your shoulder.  You had to keep things normal.   

You had to.

“I’m almost done!” Tae called from the kitchen.  “You getting the movie ready?” 

“Yep!”  BPP tradition called for Lord of the Rings, and since Tae was staying for a few nights, you’d planned for an extended edition marathon for the weekend.  No one but you, TaeHyung and Aragorn for the next…three and a half hours…  You ignored the tingling in your body as you got the movie ready and sat back.   

You jumped as Tae actually leapt over the top of the couch to land beside you.

“Did I scare you?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, hitting him with a throw pillow.  He reached past you for the remote and there were his arms again… Since when were you so obsessed with forearms!?  He pressed play and settled back, looking at you expectantly.  The movie started, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.  He seemed to be debating something before he spoke. 

“Just get over here already!”  He reached for your arm and pulled you to him.  You were leaning almost completely against his chest and his arms wrapped around you.  “There… that’s better…” he said softly.  He leaned down to your ear.  “Relax… I don’t bite…” he whispered. “Much…” and he snapped his teeth. 

“You’re such a pain, Tae…” you said, finally relaxing back. You rested your head back on his shoulder and everything seemed to settle down.  Your breathing calmed… Tae was just being Tae… This was normal behavior for him.  For the both of you.  You’d snuggled on the couch like this many times… it didn’t feel different this time… it didn’t feel more intimate than ever before…

It didn’t… 

Not much happened during the first part of the movie… You and Tae were comfortable… you both quoted the movie easily, and everything was… nice… companionable.  You’d both gotten more comfortable on the couch.  You now sat between Tae’s legs, his arms still wrapped around you.  So what if it tingled where his bare legs touched yours on either side?  It didn’t mean anything…

“You are such a Hobbit!” Tae said, laughing against your hair. 

“I hardly think I’m short…” you laughed back. 

“But you have huge feet!” he said, kicking your foot with his.  “And you have an odd obsession with jewelry.”

“Oh yeah?  Well, pretty boy Tae is most certainly an elf…” you said.

“It’s because I’m so handsome,” he said squeezing you.

“Actually… more like the big ears!” You laughed, and his hands dug into your sides, tickling you.  Your hands flew to his, grasping them as you squealed and writhed in front of him.  He stopped almost immediately, and you captured his hands in yours, wrapping them back around you.  Tae shifted a bit, uncomfortable.  Had you hurt him while you were moving around?  “You ok?” 

“Yeah,” he said low, and under his breath.  “Forget it… I’m fine.”  He wrapped his arms tightly around you, squeezing and pressing his head into your shoulder. 

“Seriously… are you ok?” you asked.  His answer… went right along with the movie. Over Arwen’s voice, in the Elvish, he whispered in his soft deep voice against your ear…

“A si i-Dhúath ú-orthor… Ú or le a ú or nin.”  You shivered as you read the translated subtitles on the screen. 

'The Shadow does not hold sway yet… Not over you and not over me.'  

The music turned romantic, as did the scene in the movie. Arwen and Aragorn stood facing each other… and Tae’s hands slid slowly up your arms to your shoulders…  He kept speaking in Elvish, over both actors…  He pulled your hair back from your shoulder, exposing your neck as his breath tickling your ear. 

“Renich i lú i erui govannem?” Do you remember the time when we first met? you read on the screen. 

“Nauthannen i ned ôl reniannen…” I thought I had strayed into a dream… His hands slid back down your arms to your hands. You fought to keep your breath steady… 

“Gwenwin in enninath... Ú-'arnech in naeth i si celich.” Long years have passed...You did not have the cares you carry now. One of his hands reached up to stroke your cheek as Arwen was doing to Aragorn… You could feel yourself leaning into his hand and bit back a whimper. 

“Renich i beth i pennen?” Do you remember what I told you?  His hand slipped down to the base of your throat, right where a necklace would be if you were wearing one like Arwen’s.  His fingertips traced a pattern there. You had to be imagining that his nose was nuzzling your hair… 

In a shallow whisper… you spoke the answer in English, along with Aragorn. 

“You said you would bind yourself to me…”  You froze.  You couldn’t actually believe you had said the words.  TaeHyung’s arms tightened around you, and he buried his face in your neck.  You tried to breath.  “Tae?” Why wasn’t he talking?  “Tae…” you said a little louder.  And then you felt it. 

The shaking. 

“Tae… what are you…”  You moved away and he let go of you easily.  When you looked back, you saw him, mouth spread and open in a wide grin, eyes closed… shaking in silent laughter. 

“What the hell, Tae!?” you yelled, hitting him with a pillow.  Through bursts of laughter, which were bringing tears to his eyes, he responded. 

“You…you were just so…” he breathed quickly, between giggles… “…into it!”  He looked up into your eyes and smiled.  “Why aren’t you laughing!?  That was hilarious!”  You were almost shaking from anger, frustration and confusion.  You hit him again with the pillow before walking to the kitchen.  “Hey!” he yelled after you, concerned. 

“I need some ice cream!” you said, a little too loudly. You heard him pause the movie as he stood from the couch and ran after you.  You opened the freezer and reached for the carton when his hand reached around you and touched yours, keeping it back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. “Were you…really into it?”  You shook your head and made excuses. 

“No, of course not!” you said, forcing a laugh. “I just… I don’t know… was worried….” You shivered. 

“Worried?”  He grabbed the ice cream out of the freezer and shut the door.  He didn’t look at you now.  You had to fix this… and fast.  You had been too into it.  His hands on you had driven you wild, and you had barely kept yourself from moaning and touching him back. 

“Worried… that you were too into it!” you said quickly.  His head popped up, eyes wide as he looked at you.

“Me?” he said, laughing.  “Don’t worry about me… Nothing I do is serious… right?” The smile on his face looked almost bitter… but it was dark in the kitchen.  You didn’t answer, and moved to turn on the light while he opened random cupboards looking for bowls.  You pulled two spoons out of the drawer, as well as the ice cream scoop. 

“You always get weird flavors…” he complained, taking the lid off and digging into it with the scoop.

“Strawberry Cheesecake Ice Cream is not a weird flavor,” you laughed.  The energy was weird though.  There was a tension that you’d never had with TaeHyung before. You were both fighting it… but it was there.  He seemed… angry… but you were too.  Not quite angry though… not upset…

Frustrated.

Tae ate some of the ice cream off the scoop after putting some in your bowl.

“Weird…” he said, mouth full.  He swallowed and slowly licked his lips.  “Deliciously weird…”  He winked at you and continued with scooping ice cream into his own bowl.

“You’re deliciously weird…” you said laughing.  You took a bite of ice cream and closed your eyes.  “God this is good….”  The look on his face when you opened your eyes was…strange… dark. Without warning, he booped your nose lightly with the ice cream scoop, getting ice cream on your nose.    You laughed and wiped at it with the back of your hand.

 “Now your face is deliciously weird…” he laughed.  He put the ice cream back in the freezer and came back to pick up his bowl. You shot your spoon out to his wrist, wiping ice cream on the back of his hand.  He laughed, raised his hand to his mouth and licked it off.  The look in his eyes was making your heart race.  The next moment, he picked up his bowl and started walking back to the couch… the look gone.

 You both sat down, a foot apart, and Tae started the movie again.  Without warning, you jumped as something cold touched your thigh.  You looked over at a smirking Tae… he wasn’t looking at you but his smirk told everything.  You wiped the ice cream off your thigh with your fingers.  Turning back to the movie, you put your fingers in your mouth and sucked the ice cream off.  Your eyes looked over at Tae to find him watching you with an odd expression.

 “Just watch the movie…” you said, ignoring the look that had your heart pounding in your chest.  He smiled sadly and turned again.

 This should stop now…  you should stop now…

 You didn’t stop.

 You dipped your finger into your bowl, and like a flash, you’d wiped a glob of ice cream onto Tae’s neck.  He laughed and backed away.

 “Geez!” he said, “Well, now you’re just wasting it!” It was at an odd angle, and you could see him trying to figure out how to wipe it off.  You laughed.

 “Fine… I won’t waste it.  Here…”  Without thinking, you leaned over to him, angled your head, and half-licked, half-sucked the ice cream off his neck.  You hadn’t been thinking.  TaeHyung was frozen…

 Then TaeHyung erupted. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d been trying to hold back for the last two hours. With everything in him, TaeHyung was trying to preserve your friendship.  He was trying his best to picture you covered in boils and smelly…

And then you had come out of your room in…that.  Since when were your legs so long?  You obviously weren’t wearing a bra with your tank top… and it was low cut… and sitting across from you at dinner had been torture.

 But having you nestled up against him during the movie had been the sweetest kind of torment.  He was holding you… smelling the light citrusy scent of your shampoo in your hair mixed with the richer sweetness of your perfume.  Tickling you had been a huge mistake.  He thought it might get rid of some of the tension, but it had backfired.  Having you wriggling around between his legs, laughing and touching him… He’d had to calm down fast.  The last thing he needed was you feeling how aroused his was…. And he was…  But he couldn’t let you go.

 When he felt you shiver in his arms while he spoke Elvish to you, he wanted to devour you right there.  But just the thought of your shocked and horrified face at his attempted weird nerdy seduction had made him burst out in laughter.  He had to cover it… he had to cover for the electricity he felt when you actually responded with ‘You said you would bind yourself to me’ and his heart had felt like it was about to burst open.  But you had to be joking….  You had to be…

 But you had gotten angry…  why?  And now here he was watching you sucking ice cream off your fingers like some kind of pervert.  God, he loved your mouth…. How could he have never noticed your mouth before?  It was small… delicate… perfectly shaped lips… would he even fit in-

 Your eyes met his and Tae couldn’t breathe.

 “Just watch the movie…” you said with a smirk.  Well, if that wasn’t a bucket of cold water to the crotch…  He smiled at you and turned back to the movie.  It was over now… this tension.  You’d just put a stop to…it…  Tae gasped at the cold wet sensation on his neck.  You couldn’t be serious!  He laughed, scooting away from you.

 “Geez!  Well, now you’re just wasting it!”  He wasn’t sure whether to wipe it away with the back of his hand… or if he had to put down his bowl to really get it all off…

 “Fine… I won’t waste it… Here…”  Then he felt your lips… your tongue on his neck… the warmth of your mouth… your perfect mouth… contrasting with the cold creaminess of the ice cream…  The sensation of your lips… softly sucking to get every bit of cream from the spot. All the blood left Tae’s head… all thought… only sensation.

 He dropped his bowl and spoon onto the coffee table with a clatter and he was on you in a moment.  His hands pinned your wrists, and he straddled one of your thighs as you stared up at him with wide eyes.  He looked down at you, knowing his face was tormented.  He needed you in his life… he needed you… to be his friend… to be there for him… he needed you…

 But damn… he wanted you…

 “Tae…” your whisper shook him… but he didn’t waver… he’d made his choice.  Without taking his eyes from you, he reached his fingers over to your bowl of ice cream where you’d left it on the coffee table… and scooped out a small bit of ice cream.  Your eyes looked to the ice cream then back at him… you were curious, but not scared… He wiped the ice cream onto your neck… in that spot just under your earlobe and behind your jaw…  You gasped at the sensation, a small nervous smile coming to your lips… “Tae… what are you-” You broke off as Tae dipped his head, pressing his mouth to the cream.

 The sweetness of your skin mingled with the strawberry cheesecake flavor, making him want to moan.  He sucked, darting his tongue across your skin to get every bit. Your back arched slightly, and the moan that left your mouth made Tae shudder with pleasure.  He breathed against your ear as neither of you spoke… both waiting for… he didn’t know…  He noticed a bit of ice cream had gotten onto your earlobe and he pulled it into his mouth with his teeth and sucked.  You whimpered, your free hand fisting into his shirt as your other struggled under his grip.

 He leaned up, not loosening his grip on your wrist. You weren’t fighting him off… on the contrary… your lips were slightly parted and you were breathing heavily. When he met your eyes, they were dark and hungry… just like his…  He looked back at your lips.  They were slightly pink… delicate… Out of nervousness your tongue darted out and licked them, making him hold his breath.  Keeping his eyes on your lips, he reached for the ice cream again.  This time, he wiped a smear diagonally across your mouth.  When your tongue licked his finger as it passed he halted… his finger in front of your mouth.  Looking into his eyes, you pulled his finger into your mouth with your tongue and sucked.

 TaeHyung groaned, pulled his finger from your lips and covered them with his own.  The release of tension was overwhelming.  It was like the moment when the rollercoaster reaches the top of the first drop and hovers slightly just before plummeting.  Your mouth, the ice cream, the taste of you… the sensation of you kissing him back just as passionately… of you opening your mouth to let him devour you… it was a rush unlike anything else he had ever experienced.

 His hand left your wrist and his fingers threaded into yours, gripping tightly and still pressing you down.  He could barely breathe, but breathing meant pulling away from you, and he couldn’t do that yet.  He needed more of you…  His free hand roamed your body, sliding down your chest, stopping at your breast for a few delicious moments before continuing to your waist, down to your hip and thigh.  Your hand reached up to grab his hair and he growled against your lips.  The sounds you were making were driving him crazy. As he continued his desperate kisses, he reached up for you hand in his hair, threaded his fingers through yours… then slammed it down on the couch next to your other hand.

 He finally pulled back to look at you… your lips red and slightly swollen… your chest rising and falling in your tank top… your eyes dark pools of liquid honey staring back at him.  Both of you were breathing heavily as you took each other in. What had he done?  You were his friend…his best friend… and he’d just practically attacked you with a dairy product!

 Then he saw it… your lip curled in a slight smile… He almost didn’t know what to make of it, his mind being so clouded with indecent things he wanted to do to his best friend… but your hand escaped his and reached up to touch his face.

 You were gentle, very gentle, as you cupped his cheek.

 “Come here…” you said, pulling him back to your mouth. If the first kiss was a passionate rush… this kiss was heartbreakingly tender.  Tae couldn’t believe how completely right it all felt… when it was supposed to feel wrong.  He slowed the kiss to a halt and rested his forehead against yours.

 “…what’s happening?” he asked in a whisper.

 “…I think…” you said softly against his lips, “…we’re making out…”  He laughed.

 “I think…” Tae said, kissing your lips, “I like kissing you…”  He trailed his mouth down to your collarbone where he nibbled a little bit, making you squirm underneath him.

 “That’s just because I taste like ice cream…”  You leaned forward to nibble on the top of his ear.

 “You taste like fucking sunshine,” he growled before his teeth slowly, painfully slowly, sank into your neck.

 “This never happened before…” you said, hand threading through his hair.  You whimpered as he sucked… He had to mark you…  He had to claim you.  “What…how do we…” Tae’s mouth left your neck and he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

 “We make it work…” he said softly.  His eyes met yours looking up at him, disbelieving… hoping… “Hell Y/N… if you think this isn’t about more than right now, think again.”

 “Tae…” you whispered.

 “If I wasn’t ready for more... If I wasn’t sure this is what I wanted…”  You pushed up to sitting position and threw your arms around his neck.  He held you tightly against him, his hands spanning over your back.  You both adjusted your legs and were kneeling in front of each other.

 “Me too…” you said against his ear.  Tae’s hand dug into your hair and pulled you back to his mouth.  His hand went under your tank top and caressed your bare back making you shiver. Somehow you were straddling his thigh, and when you ground yourself against him, he groaned.

 “Baby, this weekend just got a whole lot more interesting…”  He grabbed your ass and helped you grind against his thigh again. You whimpered, and he could feel your heat through his shorts.  You stopped and backed away.  Tae’s face turned into a puppy’s as he watched you stand from the couch.

 “This is real then…” you said seriously.  “We’re together…”  He nodded, then smirked.

 “Unless you think Kyle’s the better option…” Tae said, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip.  You laughed, but turned serious again.  TaeHyung stood up and cupped your face.  “This is real…” he said kissing your forehead and pulling you against him.  “This is the new normal… the new us…”  He kissed you again, and it quickly heated again.  You pulled back, earning a moan from Tae.

 “Then… come on…” you said, your hand sliding down his arm and hand to squeeze his fingertips.  You walked toward the hallway, looking over your shoulder. “I’m not planning on camping out in the living room tonight.”  

 “But you said we were gonna pull an all-nighter,” he said teasingly… hopefully...

 “Still the plan,” you said over your shoulder.  TaeHyung smiled as he watched you saunter down the hall to the bedroom in those little white shorts.  “You coming?”  Tae grinned wickedly.

 “Only after you… of course…”  You smiled and disappeared behind the doorway.  TaeHyung had never felt so exhilarated in his entire life… so absolutely wonderfully happy…  He never knew that being with you would be so… perfect.

 And yet it felt like he always knew.

 What was he doing still sitting here?  He started walking slowly down the hall… but he turned back quickly.

Grabbing his bowl of half melted ice cream from the coffee table, Tae turned back and made his way to your bedroom, a wicked grin on his face.

 “Don’t want this to go to waste…”

 It didn’t.

  The End.

*As always, any comments appreciated!*

[trbl-will-find-me]

OTP Q & A

More prompts from @realizin-g

(aka Fluff! Lots of fluff! Jane belongs to @commanderweir. Lizzie’s just on babysitting duty.)

4. Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

[During the EU/EW invasion]

His datapad buzzes. Go to bed, the message reads.

Can’t sleep, he types. Might as well be up getting something done.

There’s a pause, and it buzzes again. You just ran a 22 hour shift on 4 hours of sleep. Productivity can wait.

You wanna itemize the expenses?

Council can shove it. Expense reports can wait. Get some sleep.

I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.

…Do I have to come tuck you in

8. Which one spends all day running errands, and which one says “you remembered [thing], right?”

[Pre-EEAE]

In general, she is the one with time to spare. On sabbatical from the university, her time not spent in meetings is her own, leaving her to do as she sees fit

Today, she rolls out of bed sometime around 10, gets dressed, and picks up coffee cake and apple cider at the café on the corner. . She picks up their dry cleaning, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the woman behind the counter, and runs it back. She picks up produce from the farmer’s market, and wanders for a while, munching on strawberries she rinses off with her water bottle. She stops in the bookstore, emerging with some Dashiell Hammett novel and a handful of postcards to send to her parents: Look guys! This is what location-stable living is like!

It is all going so well, until she checks her phone: Don’t forget, we have that dinner tonight.

She texts him back. Why must you ruin my afternoon? I have strawberries.

Duty calls, Regan … but save some of those for me, please.

11. If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through laser and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

[Pre-EEAE]

“Why?” She groans at the movie on the screen. “Why don’t they ever think heists through?

“Is this really a conversation you want to have in public?”

“You’ve got Dress Blues on, and we’re stuck on this plane for another two hours. We’re fine. But, seriously. Why. That’s so much extra work. Just cut the power to the building and go in like that. Much less effort. Besides, how are they gonna get the painting through the lasers?”

“It’s a matter of pride, not taking the easy way out.”

“Oh god, you’re the one with baby powder and spandex suit, aren’t you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

13. Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

[Pre-EEAE]

It’s fine, he tells himself, signing the receipt. This happens sometimes.

The story goes like this. He’d asked her for something to write with for a meeting, and she’d passed him the most perfectly weighted, cartridge-based fountain pen he’d ever used, a fact he had mentioned upon returning it.

Two weeks later, one showed up in his mailbox, along with a smattering of inks. Life’s too short to use boring pens, the note said.

He’d found the earrings, tiny paper cranes folded in a bright red paper, when he’d stopped to get coffee somewhere and found himself wandering around the small shop attached while he waited. Into the mail they’d gone.

It had only escalated.

He’d come home the week before to find a pair of silver cufflinks shaped like D20 dice in the mail. Turns out Chicago wasn’t a total bust, the note says.

The necklace is dendritic agate, which he supposes might be more meaningful if he had any idea about gemology. All does know is that it looks like flowers pressed beneath glass, a whole landscape in two inches.  

Well, that, and where it’s going.

23. Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

[Pre-EEAE]

There are certain things he has come to expect in Regan’s apartment: stacks of books, mail from whatever exotic locale her parents are stationed, a collection of shoes scattered throughout the hall, the contents of her purse upended on an otherwise unused dining room table, her coat shrugged off and draped across the couch.

The dog is new.

“I never pictured you as a German Shepherd person,” he says.

She shrugs. “Me either, but she’s a good girl. Not mine, but a good girl.”

“I was gonna say…”

She shakes her head. “I’m watching her for a friend.”

The dog uncurls herself from the couch, and trots over, nuzzling against Regan. “Hi, pretty,” she says, kneeling down to offer a scratch behind the hears. “Have a good day?”

The dog answers her with a lick. Satisfied, it moves onto him, offering a greeting in much the same fashion. He scratches under her chin, and is rewarded with a wagging tail.

“I always wanted a dog,” she says, wistfully. “Having Jane around just makes that worse.” She shrugs. “Maybe after things settle down…” She looks up at him from her position on the floor. “Think I could talk Curran into giving us one?”

“There are things even you can’t pull off.”

She contemplates this for a moment. “Hey,” she grins. “You never know.”

24. Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

[Pre-EEAE]

Her heel breaks with a dull thud, and suddenly she is standing lopsided in the  lobby. The giggles follow swiftly thereafter.

“How?” He asks her, surveying the damage.

“You know, I thought they were wiggling earlier, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Wiggling?”

She nods. “Heels sometimes do that before they break.”

He gapes at her. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Physics was never my strong point.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not like you can just walk through the driveway like that.”

“It’s not like I’ve got a lot of options here.”

“If you think I can’t piggyback-carry you out of here, I have news for you.”

Her eyes light up. “What a Boy Scout,” she grins.

--

From: Curran, HC To: Bradford, J

Lieutenant Commander, kindly explain to me why there is a photo of you in Dress Blues carrying Dr. Regan and what appears to be her shoe through the lobby on the Washingtonian’s story on last night’s festivities? We are all very curious to hear what might have necessitated such a display.

(P.S. Dr. Regan’s parents will no doubt be as interested in her explanation. I’m sitting across from her sufficiently appalled mother as I write this.)

26. Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

[AU: Get Out Early While You Can --- Bradford & Regan make an Exit, Stage Right from XCOM a few months before the invasion]

They don’t have a lot of pictures together. The meetings, dinners, and functions that made up the bulk of their life under XCOM were not the kind of spaces that permitted casual photography, and their time outside of that was such that he was often too engaged in the moment to remember to stop and capture it. 

They’ll have time now, though.

He still can’t quite believe they’ve left. XCOM had brought them together, had sent them all over the world, had given them the time to fall in love. To walk away feels strange, even though he knows he would make the same choice. She is worth it. A future together is worth it. There is the story they’ve written, and they story they’ve yet to write; he cherishes the former, but can’t wait for the latter.

There is a ring box in his pocket. One of these days, he’ll get around to opening it for her, asking her the question, and seeing what kind of response he gets.

In the meantime, she is asleep on his shoulder, the rise and fall of her chest slow and steady. His arm is around her waist, holding her close. In his other hand is his phone.

He unlocks it, and taps the camera.

Better late than never, he thinks.

[lyricalt]

[ovw] on your mark (3/??)

Rating: T Pairing: mcgenji (sort of) Summary: McCree is a Deadlock mechanic and Genji is a literal motorcycle. 

Note: McCree’s autoshop is actually Zed’s Garage on Route 66 in this AU, ahaha.  It’s still called Zed’s Garage though. :)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

It was less than a week later when McCree got what was coming for him in the form of six masked people barging into his garage, motorcycles roaring and guns firing.  He had enough time to throw Genji an accusing stare before ducking behind the counter as a smattering of bullets flew over his head, but Genji appeared equally surprised and confused.

“I didn’t do anything,” Genji said, wheeling next to McCree with an awkward tilt.  If a motorcycle could crouch, then McCree figured that was what he was probably doing.

“You sure ‘bout that?” McCree snapped, patting beneath the counter.  His fingers brushed against cold metal and then Peacekeeper was in his hand in a comfortable hold.

“I haven’t given you any money yet, have I?” Genji said.

McCree pursed his lips, flicking the chamber of his revolver open to check for ammo.  Three bullets.  

“Well,” he began, much to his chagrin.  Genji hadn’t come up with any money at all for his parts, which only left McCree to conclude that Genji hadn’t bothered getting into trouble in the first place.

Another wave of bullets interrupted his thoughts, followed by a hollering shout that sounded very familiar to McCree’s ears.

“McCree, get your ass out of there, you Deadlock trash!”

McCree winced.  The neighboring folks were up to no good again, though it looked like they were finally dragging the fight straight to his shop instead of the usual neutral territories.

“Deadlock?” Genji said, and had he been in his humanoid form, McCree could imagine his faceless stare pointing downwards to look at the skull decal on McCree’s robotic forearm.  "You're in a gang?"

"I'm a mechanic. I have customers,” McCree replied curtly, knowing he was dodging the question.  Genji must have seen the territorial graffiti around town.  He spun the chamber shut. “Most happen to be Deadlock, and some people really don’t like that." 

“What sort of people?”

“Oh, the Red Grits. And a couple of others.  But right now the Red Grits.  They’ve been fixin’ to recruit me for a while now.”

And since McCree had no intention of joining them, it seemed like they were going to try and scare him off.  It was a good plan, solid sense on their part. Scaring off the only mechanic in the area would leave the Deadlocks a whole lot weaker.

Good thing McCree didn’t scare so easily. Trouble was that the rest of his ammo was at the other end of the garage.  From outside, he could hear more of the Red Grits circling the front.

“I will distract them.  You can escape from the back door,” Genji said, most likely hearing the same thing.  His engine gave a little purr that sounded way more threatening that it ought to be.

“What’re you gonna do? Run all six of them over?” McCree muttered, pushing aside one of Genji’s handlebars to point his wheel away from the counter.  He wasn’t sure if guns would do much to hurt Genji, but a bullet through a panel of electrical wiring could do enough damage to any motorcycle, cyborg or not.

“Perhaps,” Genji said, turning his handlebars with enough force to hit the side of McCree’s head.  

Seeing as his choices were limited and Genji was willing enough to do the favor, McCree simply nodded, rubbing his smarting forehead.  He peered over the counter, satisfied that the six Red Grits were warily keeping their distance, taking cover between the shop’s shelves and firing every so often.  Good.  As they should.

“I can get the two on the right at least,” he said, ducking back down as an enterprising soul tried to take a lucky shot at his head. Bits of drywall sprinkled over his hat, dust falling over his shoulders.

“You will get in my way,” Genji replied, scoffing.

McCree raised an eyebrow, finger sliding to the trigger.  “Oh-ho, you don’t know a thing about me.”

“And you don’t know me,” Genji said with a growl, and left no more room for argument by leaping out from their hiding spot.

McCree made a disgruntled noise.  A flying motorcycle was bound to surprise anyone so he made sure to take advantage, standing from behind the counter to shoot at the two Red Grits to their right, true to his word.  It was certainly less messy and more quick than running them over.  McCree didn’t even have to blink in between the shots.

He turned around, more than ready to use his last bullet, but a gurgling shriek snapped his gaze to the left.

“Holy m-” he began.

Genji hadn’t run anyone over at all, or at least, not more than one victim.  McCree could see two other bodies on the ground and only one of them looked mildly crushed by a half ton of metal.  The other was bleeding out from a nasty looking slash across their chest, labored breathing already starting to slow.  

The Red Grit that had been hollering was in the process of being run through by Genji’s sword, green static snaking over the length of the blade.  Genji’s arm retracted, humanoid body releasing steam and smoke, and the Red Grit fell to the floor.

Genji glanced behind his shoulder, visor glowing briefly as he sees the two Red Grits McCree had taken out.  A bullet ricocheted off his shoulder, jolting him a step back, and he whirled around to his new attacker, sword raising.

McCree’s trigger finger ended up being faster, his last bullet going right between the eyes.  

“What are you doing?” Genji snapped, running past the fallen body and reaching for one of the shelves.  His hand knocked around a few items, oil bottles and rusted cans, before grabbing a couple of small boxes, each no bigger than his hand.  He tossed them over to McCree. “Go!”

“Yeah, and you’re welcome too,” McCree said, a little annoyed, but he caught both the boxes, extra bullets rattling between his palms.  It looked like Genji had taken note of a few items no ordinary mechanic would carry during the week he had spent cleaning the garage.  

He shoved them into his back pocket—no time to organize them into his belt—and took off towards the back door.  He figured Genji could really distract the rest of the Red Grits now, fancy swordwork and all.

There was only a single Red Grit outlaw waiting for him in the backway, creeping along the wall just outside the door.  McCree’s mechanical arm found the man’s throat, grip automatically set to choke, and he swung with his revolver into the man’s skull until their eyes were rolling back.   

McCree reloaded, letting the body slide against the wall to the dirt ground.  Inside, he could hear Genji wreaking havoc and drawing the attention of the rest of the gang into the garage.  It sounded like Genji was holding his ground fine enough, but McCree knew enough about the Red Grits that backup would eventually come in some overwhelming form or another.  

He hurried around the outside of the shop, crouching past the windows as the occasional bullet flew through, glass shattering and wooden boards splintering, depending on which windows had been fixed.  This wasn’t the first shootout that Zed’s Garage had been through.  It was hard keeping up with repairs sometimes.

A Red Grit came flying through one of the opened windows.  McCree absently stepped over it, looking ahead to the empty road.

Sweat dripped down his neck, the bright afternoon sun making him squint.  He doubted he’ll be returning to the shop.  For now, he could only think of getting a better place to shoot from, somewhere higher.  Maybe the closed bar across the street, a few shots to let Genji escape from the shop.

And then, and then—

McCree stopped in his tracks, a feeling of determined resignation washing over him as he saw more approaching motorcycles in the distance, each one decked in Red Grit crimson.  Jumping off one the cliffs would give him a better chance of surviving at this point.  He patted his back pocket, reassured by the feel of the bullets.

He aimed his gun, sighting down the first Red Grit outlaw leading the pack.  A stay pebble bounced off the brim of his hat, stopping him.  He glanced up, gun clicking as a green blur dropped down in front of him.

Genji landed with a quiet crunch over the gravel, nearly making McCree jump out of his skin.  His shot would have hit Genji square in the chest if it hadn’t been for his blade deflecting the bullet to fly elsewhere.

They stared at each other, speechless, and Genji gestured at him with his glowing sword, tip of the blade pointing to Peacekeeper.

“What are you?” Genji asked in disbelief.

“What are you?” McCree exclaimed in return, using Peacekeeper to point back at the sword.

Unfortunately, there was no time to answer.  The rest of the Red Grits were fast approaching, loud gunshots ringing wild through the gorge.

Genji hissed, more steam jetting out from his vents.  He turned around, staring at the incoming attackers, and it wasn’t until he sheathed his sword that McCree noticed he had been holding a helmet in his free hand.

“Here,” Genji said, shoving the helmet into McCree’s chest.

McCree glanced down.  The helmet wasn’t just some random piece of merchandise Genji happened to pick up in the wrecked shop.  It was his helmet, painted red and black to match his cruiser bike. McCree took off his hat, dropping it to the ground.  He put on the helmet, a feeling of trepidation crawling up his spine.

McCree snapped the black visor up, just in time to see Genji transform, slick as liquid, bright like a camera flash.

"Get on!" Genji said, engine roaring to life, suddenly vivid green in his eyes.

McCree almost hesitated, but he wasn’t stupid and he certainly wasn’t up to dying anytime soon.  He swung his leg over the seat, hands resting over the handlebars.

He looked down at the controls, knowing the mechanics were the same as any other motorcycle.  Fixing Genji up had shown him that much and driving him should be second nature.

McCree felt Genji shift gears, felt the throttle turn on its own beneath his hand, and he barely had time to tighten his hold before Genji sped off down the road in a cloud of dust.  

There was no driving Genji, of course. McCree knew it the moment he had hopped on.  

“Take care of me, please,” Genji said, his voice a shade mocking.

They were speeding straight for the Red Grits, and somehow McCree wasn’t surprised.  He carefully sat up, legs hugging either side of Genji’s form. He didn’t have enough trust in himself or Genji to let go with both hands, but he had fired his gun plenty of times while riding a motorcycle.  He had always been a decent shot while driving, but there was still no comparison to not having to worry about steering.

The first two Red Grit motorcyclists were picked off with ease, bodies skidding over the road, but McCree found his aim getting less and less accurate as Genji weaved around to avoid getting either of them hit.  It was hard to predict how he would turn, and more than once McCree had automatically tried to steer Genji towards one side of the road, unthinking, but the handlebars remained stubbornly locked.  He checked back his gun, not wanting to waste what limited bullets he had.

“Lean on my right side, we are going past them,” Genji said, either ignoring how McCree had tried to control him or too distracted to notice.  

McCree’s heart pounded, eyes watering as dust got into his eyes.  He knew Genji would run fast, but this was breakneck, faster than any speed he had pushed his own motorcycle. He flipped his visor down, no choice but to do as Genji said.  Already a bullet had grazed his left thigh and McCree was becoming an increasingly easier target to hit by the second.  He ducked down, body sliding towards Genji’s right side.

The heat from Genji’s engine was searing through his shirt.  McCree’s right hand was becoming slippery with sweat, but his mechanical arm was enough to hold on to one handlebar.

The sound of gunshots were next to him, though Genji kept hugging the right side of the road to prevent him from being hit.  It only lasted three seconds, tops, but Genji was alarmingly unbalanced, listing to one side from McCree’s weight.  

Genji wavered, and McCree felt the heat from the road, a quick brush of hot pavement across his jeans as he got too close to the asphalt, and he straightened back onto the seat proper, whether or not Genji was ready for him.

By the time he looked back up, the Red Grits were behind them.  The road ahead was clear.

McCree twisted around, taking aim, and picked off one more of the Red Grits.  He could still hear the motorcycles roaring, still too close and outnumbered.  Genji was fast, no doubt, but at the cost of his missing parts and trying to work around McCree.

McCree sucked in a breath.  He counted six more of the outlaws catching up behind them.  

“Six left,” he reported, since he wasn’t sure if Genji could see.  “I’m gonna reload.”

“Do it then.”

McCree wasn’t sure if he got the real point across—what he really wanted was for Genji to not make any sudden turns, and Genji didn’t slow down, but the road ahead was straight for now.  He let go of the vice grip over the handlebar with his left hand, quickly reaching into his back pocket to fish out a fresh set of bullets.  The Peacekeeper was vibrating with Genji’s engine, his fingers jittery with the extra movement as he shoved the bullets in. 

One, two, three, four—  

Genji’s gears shifted, and it was the only warning McCree had before flipping Peacekeeper’s chamber shut.  He swayed, the last two bullets slipping from his fingers as he held on.

“Fuck.” McCree watched as the bullets pinged off the pavement, disappearing into silver specks. Genji had swerved into a backroad, leaving the main highway.  It was a move McCree would have agreed on, if he had been warned first.

“Sorry,” Genji said, voice carrying by the wind.

"Stay steady," was all McCree could say without revealing too much of his frustration.  He took out two more bullets from his pocket, reloading his gun in full.  The Red Grits had seen them take the backroad.  He glanced around, rocky cliffs doing a lot to give them cover, but also block their view.  “Can't get a shot over the slopes.”

"I will get you a vantage point," Genji said, confident as he navigated the bumpy and winding road. 

"There isn't any higher ground! I know this highway like the back of my hand," McCree shouted, holding on tight.  With the backroad this unstable, he doubted the accuracy of his aim and his ability to actually stay on Genji.  

"Not higher ground," Genji said, slowing down for the first time.  "Getting air."

McCree stared ahead of them.  The road wasn’t a dead end, curving into a sharp turn around a rocky cliffside, but Genji was speeding up again, his steering locked and pointed straight.

They were going to drive off the ledge, right over the gorge itself.  

McCree was one second away from jumping off Genji right then and there.  He was half sure he’d rather take his chances facing the Red Grits on foot himself.

"Fuck, no. I ain't done these kind of BMX shit nonsense,” he said, but even as the words left his mouth, he found himself turning in his seat, riding backwards like the idiot he deserved to be called.  McCree raised his arm, gun ready, even when he felt like he was the exact opposite. “How the hell do I hold on?"

"Don't hold on—shoot!" Genji yelled with one last burst of speed, right over the ledge.

And they were flying.

For a moment, McCree found himself suspended in the air, no longer riding on Genji.  He felt motionless, everything becoming quiet and still along with him.  The Red Grits were all lined up down the road, suddenly the easiest targets in the world for him. 

He only needed a second to aim, let his breath come out slow, a bullet through each head six times.  His last glimpse of the Red Grits was a row of dead men, motorcycles crashing across the road.

And then he was falling, feeling the shock of his backside hitting Genji's fenders once.  McCree’s stomach turned, gravity catching up with him, and then suddenly he was in the air again, the cybertronic buzz of Genji shifting loud in his ear.

Metal arms wrapped around his chest, drawing him close in a tight hold.  McCree’s helmet bounced against Genji’s chest, stunning him for a second as they hit the ground together.

He landed hard on Genji's cyborg form in a cloud of orange dust, the breath knocked out of him.  Genji’s mechanical hands were holding the back of his head and neck, shielding him from the rocky ground.  The ugly sound of metal screeching was all around McCree, but they had rolled in such a way that McCree didn’t think his body ever scraped too long against the dirt despite Genji’s smaller frame.  

They skidded to a rough halt. McCree groaned, sprawled ragdoll on top of Genji.

"Itai," Genji muttered, arms falling back.  His exhaust vents opened to jet out steam.

McCree felt Genji's chest armor heave under him, strangely human for what he was. He rolled off, wincing as Genji’s hot steam grazed his bruised arm, but that was a small price to pay for surviving an entire fall of a cliff.  He stood up, footing still a little wobbly, and stared down at Genji.

"Couldn’t you have transformed into something softer? Like a mattress at least?" McCree asked, exhausted.  He pulled off his helmet to gulp down some fresh air and held out his hand, the skin of his knuckles scraped raw and bleeding.

“Hah. Very funny,” Genji replied, easing up from the ground.  He glanced at McCree’s bloodied hand, head tilting, but his grip was unwavering as he stood up with McCree’s help. 

An impressive shower of dirt fell from his body, a dusty orange coating over every inch of his armor.  McCree reached over, absently brushing the crumbling dirt from Genji’s back.  He wasn’t sure how to check for damages when Genji was in his humanoid form but everything seemed intact.  Genji’s left arm looked a little off, the angle a little crooked. He grabbed it without a second thought to inspect it.  

“Can you move it?” McCree asked, looking down at it.  He had no clue how he was going to fix something like that.

“Yes.”

He didn’t notice how Genji sidled closer until his arm was pressing against McCree’s chest and Genji’s faceplate was inches from his nose.

“Any damages on your end?” Genji asked, joking, and pulled his arm away.  He transformed back into a bike, quicker than a blink, and McCree noticed how the hovertech was not quite aligned.

Needs a reinforced chassis, McCree thought before he could stop himself. Better framing.  Gotta modify the alignment right this time, he drifts too much his left.

God, if he could get Genji really fixed and fully outfitted, Genji would be a downright terror on the road.

“Oh,” McCree said, still breathless and not liking where his thoughts were heading.  “Oh no.”  

“What?” Genji asked, his handlebars turning side to side, testing it.

“Nothin’,” McCree mumbled.  He rubbed his forehead in a futile attempt to wipe any enterprising ideas from his mind.

Genji made an impatient noise, like gears grinding against each other.  “Fine.  Let’s go then.”

McCree sighed, limping back over to Genji.  He was going to need to lay low for a while, possibly head out to the big city while things cooled down.  Deadlock would be looking for him, making sure he was all right, but McCree was reluctant to be in their debt again.

He took his seat, securing his scuffed helmet back on his head.

“Can you still run?” he asked.

“Of course,” Genji said, revving his engine.  It sputtered for a hot second, though McCree assumed it was more from Genji’s indignant response than any malfunction.

“Okay. Well, I know a place—” McCree began and almost bit his tongue when Genji started to speed back towards Deadlock Gorge.  "What are you doing? We need to get away."

Genji swerved to a halt, surprised.

“No,” he said.  “We are getting your shop back.  How many bullets do you have left?”

McCree blinked, thinking about the mess they had left behind.  The shop was going to be in shambles.  He laughed, bending down to clunk his helmet against one of Genji’s handlebars.  God, he was too tired for this.

He lifted his head back up, not bothering to check his back pocket, and grinned.

“I’ve got enough.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]  

[newtie-patootie-bootie]

Always and Forever

Summary: Having been married for fifty years, you and Bucky had seemingly the perfect marriage, but even after those long years, you still felt inadequate with yourself and questioned your worth to be with him.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel or anything associated.

Warning: Angst, sensitive topics (so I suggest if you are sensitive, then don’t read) and lots of fluff.

Bucky x Reader

||Please don’t repost or plagiarise||

Crying.

That’s how he found you.

Seated opposite the window, the sun shining down on you as you sobbed over an old photo album, you were hunched into the photos as you wiped at the tears unsuccessfully with a wet tissue as an old instrumental song on one of his old vinyl records played on the electric gramophone loudly, to drown out your broken sobs.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” His voice was full of concern as he crossed the room in long strides, before falling to his knees in front of you as his hands lifted to cup your face, but you batted his hands away, the slight clink of metal from your rings pushing against his metal hand resounded in the bedroom, “please, baby, tell me.” He begged.

You wiped at the tears with your liver-spotted hands, your rings slightly twisted as you sniffled, looking down at your worrying husband with such sad eyes. “Why do you stay with me when I’m such a burden?”

The sudden question shocked Bucky to his core, blue eyes widening, making the lines in his face that more pronounced and despite the pain in his knees and back, he leant up so he was face to face with you, looking deep into your watery E/C eyes. “You have never been a burden. How could you ever think that, after fifty years of marriage?”

“Look!” You shrieked, pushing the album against his chest, hiccuping, a lock of greying hair slipped from its place and fell into your line of view, but you didn’t push it back, “look at those photos and you tell me if I’m a burden or not! I should look at these memories with happiness and joy, but all I feel is sadness and regret.”

“Sweetheart. .” Bucky sighed, looking at their photos, their memories, his fingers gently running over the photo of you on your wedding day, you weren’t dressed yet, but your hair and makeup had been done and you were lounging on your bed, still tied into your silk emerald green robe, smiling at the camera warmly.

Another captured memory was of you and Bucky enjoying your first dance as husband and wife. Bucky had lifted you closer to his body, his arms clasped around your waist tightly, smiling up at you, your head had fallen back, eyes closed as you laughed up toward the ceiling at Bucky’s antics as he lifted you, your hair falling back as he twirled you around the dancefloor. His blue eyes showed nothing but love for you, his full lips parted, showing white straight teeth as he smiled at your happy form.

Another photo was of the both of you laying in the hospital bed, you had taken a selfie with Bucky’s phone, documenting the momentous occasion of your newborn son cradled in your arm with Bucky’s normal hand gently running through the thin smattering of dark hair that adorned his little head. Both of you were crying and smiling brightly, having defied the laws of nature.

Turning the page, he looked over the photos of you and him, going on dates, watching your children grow with you as you matured and wizened beyond your years.

“I thought I had stopped those thoughts, baby, but obviously not.” Bucky sighed, sitting on the window seat, opposite you, opening the photo album for you to see. “You see that woman? I married her, despite everything, despite the odds and all the naysayers.” Bucky pointed to a photo of you lounging on a beach in Hawaii.

“I married a woman who proved everyone wrong and changed a broken man, I married a woman who gave birth to my three children and gave me a family, something I wanted when I was so much younger. I married the woman of my dreams.” Bucky turned the page to show a picture of you when you first met your husband per the arrangements of the online dating app you both had initially met on.

“When I met that beautiful woman, she was in a long black skirt with a floral off the shoulder top, she wore only a little bit of makeup and her hair was neat. She didn’t stand to greet me, but she did something more astonishing.” You sniffled, tears rolling down your cheeks as you cupped a hand to your mouth, trying to reign in the sobs, “she rolled out from behind the table and stopped in front of me, she wound her hand around the tie I had hastily tied around my neck and she pulled me down until I was barely inches away from her face and whispered, ‘don’t worry, darlin’, I won’t need my legs to make you feel good.’ In that moment, I could feel myself falling for this beautiful, flirty and sassy woman that turned my world on its head, a wonderful woman who had been in a wheelchair all her life. Do you know who that woman was?” Bucky asked, leaning forward and wiped your tears away.

He didn’t wait for your answer, “it was you, baby-girl. I’ve carried a torch for you for over fifty years. Just like I carried you for our first dance on our second date, carried you all the way to the beach, carried you to your bedroom on the third date, carried you up and down the altar and I held you in my arms as we danced for the first time as husband and wife, carried you over the threshold of our home, carried you to our marriage bed and you know something else?” Bucky slowly stood up from the window seat, bent over you so his arms wrapped around your waist and he lifted you out of the chair, ignoring your protests as he held you bridal style, his old body straining but he ignored the pain in his back and knees. “I will continue to carry you, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your aged faces inches apart, “Bucky. .”

“You could never be a burden on me, do you understand, Y/N? Never look at those memories with negativity, because I’ll always be there to pick you up. I love you.” 

You sobbed once, letting his unwavering love and loyalty wash over you as you pressed your lips to his gently, “I love you too, James.”

Smiling, he twirled you around, the sound of your laughter echoed in the room and for the moment, you were young again, feeling just as youthful as your wedding day as you shared a passionate and loving kiss, bathed in the warm sunlight glow.

“Always and forever, doll. Always and forever.”

Neither of you heard the front door open, or footsteps coming up the stairs, or your shared door opening as your eldest son stood in the open space, tears in his blue eyes. James was a spitting image of his father with as those same glittering eyes looked over the sunbathed room, the echo of your joined laughter echoing as the song ended and your dusty wheelchair slowly stopped spinning, the dust particles lazily drifting up in the air. His eyes drifted over the open album on the window seat and the pages turned to the back to the front page until the cover lifted and gently closed the album.

James sighed, wiping his tears as he walked into the room, his heart not racing like it normally would and he put his hand on the back of your chair and gently lifted the album off the cushion.

Looking out to the window, his shaky breath calmed, “he came to carry you away, didn’t he, Mum?”

Fin.

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Thank you for reading!!