The AC system had been out for hours - and on a very peak summer day, of course. Melissa had been on the phone with the people from internal maintenance and facilities for a good part of the morning, but they were equally puzzled as to what had fried the machines; apparently some experiment gone wrong down at the labs with Hojo, but they were working on it.

But 'working on it' was exactly the same update she had received almost one hour before; the absence of any clear estimates as to when it would be restored was going to clearly upset Heidegger. Well, the general and most of his colleagues, she imagined; all the executives had their offices in the top floors of the Shinra Building, giving them a lovely view of all of Midgar... And also feeling like they were trapped in a greenhouse without the AC properly working.

The secretary sighed, placing the phone down and rearranging her hair up again; keeping it away from her neck was the minimum she could do to feel even worse. Melissa had opened a couple of buttons of her shirt (one more and people would start talking about how she was 'asking for it') and luckily had opted to wear a skirt on that day. At last she was not a guy in a full suit.

Sighing, she got up from her desk to be the bearer of bad news for her boss - knocking on Heidegger's door and allowing herself inside after his authorization, Melissa found herself pausing on the door when she looked at him.

Head of the army or not, he was not immune to the heat - his heavy coat had been likely discarded ages ago, and his dark shirt had been rolled up all the way to the elbows, the tie also long removed a couple of buttons also slipped out of their original positions. It was not a novel look per se - during their first business meeting Heidegger had dressed similarly after a long day of work, but on that morning... It hit her differently.

Back then (and for most of the days that followed), the secretary really had been focusing on work, delivering results, getting his affairs in order after the terrible job Brenda had done before her; but on that sizzling morning, Melissa had trouble remembering the news she was supposed to give to the man - the size of his arms, the fact that his scars were once more visible and that his build was nothing short of impressive under a rather form-fitting shirt had clearly distracted her.

It was nothing short of a miracle that speech returned to the woman without Heidegger prompting her to speak - offering her boss an apologetic smile and moving a hand through her hair (evidently forgetting she had pinned it up earlier), Melissa bowed awkwardly. "I'm sorry, sir - I just wanted to say I've called the maintenance team and there is no further update regarding when the AC will be brought back online. I'm looking into some meeting rooms with no windows in the floors below to be requested as a temporary office space, if you'd prefer to work elsewhere?"

he's been standing beside the window since ten o'clock in the morn; the pane before him as ajar as he can get it without risking falling out. his coat rested on the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and his first few buttons unpopped. one could almost see the pink of a scar across a hair-laden chest; the thick of his pecs almost bursting free from a shirt wet with sweat.

gods, it's unbearable. has him panting like a dog and routinely wiping sweat from his brow. the wax of his hair has long since lost its grip, a few strands finding their way before his eyes - only a couple, but enough to make him look the 'bad boy' he once was in his twenties. heidegger's hot. never mind hot but he's boiling - ready to undress entirely and sit back in the nude. were he not surrounded by workers and were it not highly inappropriate, shit, he'd probably do so.

discomfort is soon distracted by the knock on the door; his ever faithful secretary, the woman he hopes to hear only good news from coming in soon after he's called out in response. she herself as much a victim of the heat as he or anybody else. he notes the looseness of her shirt, the buttons undone - her hair losing its grip in the warmth of the day - the lengthy stares and the breaths that follow bad news.

were he not so distracted, he'd be responding straight away. a sigh would leave his lips, a grimace cross his features. but instead, he barely reacts. the general instead simply stares back; the brief flicker of a thought that asks

'ever seen her sweat before?'

another that jabs -

'ever wanna be the one to make her sweat?'

he breathes a heavy breath - something that sounds like a sigh but she'd not perhaps know it's anything but. he shuts his eyes, lids pressed hard in an attempt to rid another kind of heat from his form. soon enough, he's standing from his seat and walking toward her - body terribly lax for a man usually so uptight.

"i'd imagine the lower floors are cooler-" he pants, a few renegade strands brushed free of his face "perhaps we ought to scope them out." the two of them - together. they could glance an eye over each room; he could confirm it's right while she ensures it's appropriate. immediately, one comes to mind. a conference room a few floors down; enough tables to suffice a few men and a desk large enough for the many piles of paperwork himself and melissa share.

"come with me." he demands; feet taking him first, a stride (though weakened by the heat) as strong as it ever is. though heidegger fails to ever look back, he can feel her near him - hear the clack of her heals and shuffle of paperwork in her hands.

"there's a conference room, few floors down. come on-" he urges her into the elevator, tone entirely serious - expression unrelenting. whatever melissa would have on her mind would almost certainly find her distracted by the general's surliness. for now, he's serious. his mind, focused. his mind on anything to keep them cool (and keep them from melting!)

however, all would change upon the close of the elevator doors.

the sudden closeness of their surroundings, the two-second distraction of clicking buttons to a bottom floor not enough to keep him from looking toward his secretary.

they're barely a foot apart; the heat all-consuming, the warmth having him tug on his shirt and snatch a breath. his secretary, melissa, wiping a damp from her brow, playing with her hair to ensure it isn't wild. the subtle nudge of her knees as she stands, the way fingers pull her skirt ever-so-slightly down.

heidegger stands beside her, sweat creeping from his brow - a quick shift of his gaze toward her - a quick shift of hers to him. the heat has them trapped, the general's mind not far from where it could take them. the damp of her blouse has her lingerie peak out ever-so-slightly. enough for him to notice, enough for him to quickly look away.

a clear of his throat, a tap of the wall behind him.

he instinctively runs a hand from his collar to his chest - fingers trailed over a scar and across toward his back. an innocent gesture to wipe away the warmth though one that has his shirt hold him tighter.

the two of them exchange another glance; this time, a crook in the corner of his lip. not a happy smirk but rather something forced. a reassurance, perhaps? an easing that 'no, worry not - i can help myself'.

"...never known a lift to take so long-" he shrugs, words a hopeful interrupt to any tension that swells between them. "how are you handling the heat?"

"as professionally as i can-" her retort comes partnered with a smile; the sort that has him raising a brow - was she teasing?

"hm-" he's close to responding with his own. close to moving in a little more; close to embracing the heat with both hands. but then, as if by a sudden stroke of everything dangerous in the world - the power flickers and the lift suddenly stops.

"so much for professionalism..." he whispers neath this breath; a concerned look at the doors before him. a quick bang of a balled fist unto the lift. 

[ error ] reads the screen, the lights above them flickering on and off.

heidegger looks back to melissa, his body turned to face her - the closeness between them now suddenly so evident without the lift to take them anywhere. he breathes, lips wet - face a glisten with sweat.

"we're stuck" he mulls "but it's alright- i think i can-" the general turns back toward the lift doors, fingers grasping each one - a pull of his arms so strong it has his muscles bulging and teeth grinding. though tough, he manages only to open a crack in the door - just enough to show them the pipes and wires of shinra's interior.

there's no getting out of this one.

"fuck-" he sighs, a look back at her again - shirt weak and wet atop the toughness of muscles "i want to tell you that repair wont be long but..."

well, if that were the case - the fucking AC would be working.

Summary: "Steve absolutely wasn’t nervous. Compared to every intense and grueling Avengers mission he’s completed, taking care of a sick kid was a walk in the park right? Except when this sick kid was also one of the most precious things within Tony Stark’s life and if anything were to happen to this boy there’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that Tony would dump him in an instant.

So no, Steve was not nervous at all."

OR

Tony has meetings, Steve has anxiety, and poor Peter just has a fever.

A/N: It’s Sicktember 2021! Very excited for this month and to see all of the amazing works! Not to mention it gives me an excuse and the motivation to write as many sickfics as I can! And let's see if I do because writer's block is too real right now :) Anyway thank you @sicktember for coming up with this month of prompts and I hope you all like this little fic! Read it here or click the link to read on AO3! 

Steve absolutely wasn’t nervous. Compared to every intense and grueling Avengers mission he’s completed, taking care of a sick kid was a walk in the park right? Except when this sick kid was also one of the most precious things within Tony Stark’s life and if anything were to happen to this boy there’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that Tony would dump him in an instant.

So no, Steve was not nervous at all.

Tony, however, could see right through the false confidence.

“Relax, Stevie! Good lord, I can feel you panicking from over here.” Tony jokes as he enters the living room and gathers his briefcase and Stark gadgets for his day of meetings.

Steve jolts a bit as he looks up at Tony. “Huh? I-I’m not panicking.”

“You were just glaring daggers into Petey over there, hon.” Tony points out, to which Steve just shrugs with a blush. “There’s really no need to worry Cap, the kid is probably just gonna sleep and cough a bit until I’m back, alright? And if he wakes up and gets antsy or something just heat up some of the soup I made and throw on Adventure Time. Pete’s an easy kid, I swear.”

Steve stands from his chair with a deep breath and nods in understanding. Tony strides over to the super-soldier and takes his face in his hands. “There’s no one I trust more with Peter than you. Except maybe Pepper, but she can literally do everything.”

Steve laughs at that and bends down to give Tony a quick peck on the lips. They break apart so Tony can give Peter’s hair a quick ruffle. His hand pauses on the boy’s forehead as he gauges his fever. His lips quirk downward, he does not love the temperature the kids running at the moment.

With a sigh, he stands up and walks hand in hand with Steve to the elevator. “I think his fever went up, so just keep an eye on that. Friday is down for maintenance so you’ll probably want to wake him up in a bit to take his temperature manually.” The elevator doors open and the super couple shares one last peck before Tony steps in. “I’m just thirty floors down! You’re gonna do great! I love you both!” Tony calls as the doors close and suddenly Steve is alone. Well, save for the snoring spider-teen on the couch.

Steve wanders back to the living room, nervously glancing at Peter as he does. The poor kid is basically in the exact opposite of his regular state. On a normal day, Peter was a bright ball of action, seemingly unable to stop talking or moving at all. But that wasn’t the Peter he saw now.

Instead, this Peter was silent. Sick. There’s an eerie ambiance in the air and Steve hates it.

So, to quell the weird vibe, he turns the tv to TCM, (un-ironically his favorite channel as the rest of the team loved to tease him about) and sets it at a low volume so he doesn’t wake the kid.

He’s just about to the end of an old western film when he hears Peter groan and shuffle around on the couch. The sick teen sits up wearily, his hair a mess and his eyes unfocused. Not to mention his cheeks are deeply flushed with fever, which has clearly gotten worse in the last forty-five minutes.

“S’eve?” Peter slurs as he spots the super solider.

Steve’s focus quickly turns to the kid, who looks undoubtedly sicker. “Hey, Pete. How you feeling, pal?” Stupid question, Rogers. He thinks to himself.

Peter sniffs and shivers with sudden chills. “Mm, n-not v’ry good.” His voice cracks as tears fill to his eyes. His sleep-addled brain catching up to and feeling the full effect of his feverish achy body. He can’t stop his breath as it hitches and the tears spill over. It just hurts so much.

Steve’s up and at the boy’s side almost inhumanly fast, doing his best to comfort him. Unfortunately, he’s no expert on Peter care (i.e, he’s not Tony). If there’s one thing he does know, however, is that you can never go wrong playing with the kid’s hair, which Steve had quickly learned by watching his boyfriend. And while Tony was the “Peter scalp massage pro”, Peter definitely wasn’t picky about who or how. The kid simply just wanted his hair touched.

So Steve did just that. The larger man was relieved to find that the action had the desired effect—Peter had calmed almost instantly, curling up against Steve’s side— but the super soldier was quickly fulled with nerves again as he felt the nearly scalding heat coming from the kid.

When Peter had relaxed enough, Steve grabbed the thermometer Tony had left on the coffee table. Peter spots the machine in Steve’s hand and opens his mouth, accustomed to the routine after being sick all day yesterday as well.

With the thermometer under his tongue, Peter lets his eyes close as they wait for the reading to be done. When it is, Peter lightly jumps at the beep before burrowing back into Steve’s side as the blonde takes the thermometer back and reads its results.

And while Peter looks peaceful once again, Steve is panicking. 103.5. Steve’s not a scientist but he knows that’s not a good temperature for the body to be.

“Friday can you- ah.” Oh, right. Steve remembers that the AI was down for maintenance. Instead, he looks around for his phone, ready to research exactly what he should do for a kid with a near brain-melting fever.

Steve bites the inside of his cheek as he, again, remembers. He doesn’t have a phone right now, as he sat with his last one in his back pocket and it cracked in half. He and Tony had laughed themselves to tears when it happened.

Steve wasn’t laughing now.

He’s thrown back into the moment as Peter groans again, another intense chill running through the kid’s frame. Poor kid must be freezing, Steve thinks.

Freezing.

With that realization, Steve is taken back to his teen years. The years he spent consistently sick and feverish like Peter is now. The years his Ma used to keep him in bed for days, wrapped in every blanket they had in their house.

Blankets!

Steve suddenly remembers how to treat a high fever. You sweat it out, duh. With a tiny smile at the memory of his Ma, he stands from the couch carefully and heads to Tony’s linen closet. He spots a soft looking quilt beside a thick fluffy throw and grabs the two, knowing that when paired with the blanket the kid was already wrapped in they would make the perfect fever banishing covers.

Peter is almost back to sleep when Steve returns, but he hears the man's footsteps and his eyes open again. Steve makes quick work of unfolding the blankets and laying them over Peter. The kid hums, content with the warmth of the added blanked combating his chills, and falls swiftly to sleep. It makes Steve smile, pleased with his ability to care for the sick spidering.

Steve was feeling pretty confident that Tony was going to be just as pleased.

______

Tony Stark was far from pleased.

He had excused himself from his meeting after an hour, intent on checking Peter’s vitals on his phone through the watch the boy wore on his wrist.

What he saw was less than ideal. In fact, it was terrifying. 104.3 should be Peter’s physics grade after perfectly completing extra credit for fun, not his kid’s body temperature. The mechanic bolts to the nearest elevator, paying no mind to the white-collar assholes who awaited his return. They didn’t matter, not when his kid’s brain was melting thirty floors up.

“Steve!” He shouts when the elevator doors finally open to the penthouse. The blonde jumps when he hears his name and his eyes widen as he sees his panicked boyfriend sprinting towards him.

“Tony wha-?”

“Where’s Peter, Steve? Where is he— is he okay?”

Still a bit flustered, Steve just points to the sleeping boy on the couch, still wrapped in the thick blankets. When Tony sees him, his eyes only go wider.

“What, are you trying to fucking roast him?” Tony asks, exasperated. Before Steve can answer, Tony begins removing the blankets from his kid. Cringing at the heat that wafts out from them as they go.

“I-I- his fever got higher! I was trying to help him sweat it out!” Steve stumbles through his explanation.

“Sweat it out? Jesus fuck what are you from the thir- oh my god you’re from the thirties.” Tony halts with the realization. Steve Rogers was borderline a complete stranger to modern medicine and comes from an era of absolute batshit home remedies. The man smoked cigarettes for his asthma for fucks sake.

“Okay, alrighty then. Steve do me a favor and go start a lukewarm bath for me please.” Tony orders in about the most anxiously calm voice Steve had ever heard.

“Okay but Tony-“

“Now please, Steven.” Tony demands once more. Steve gets the memo, fast, and quickly heads to Tony’s bathroom.

Shit.

_____

After a quick dip in the tub and a quick anxiety attack from Tony, Peter’s temperature is back down to a less dangerous level. He’s sat back on the couch in the lightest t-shirt and boxers he owns, sipping ice water through a straw with a fever patch stuck to his forehead. Maybe it was overkill, but you couldn’t tell Tony that.

When the boy's eyes begin to droop Tony takes the water from his hands and helps him lay back down.

“Comfy, bubba?” He asked in a hushed tone. Peter just nods and yawns as he closes his eyes and quickly drifts back to sleep. “Get some more sleep bud.” He hums softly, laying a thin—thin—blanket over his kid.

Steve watches the pair from afar, afraid to step in or offer any more “help”. He doubts Tony will even want to look at him after what he’s done. Which is why when Tony stands and turns to him, he immediately tenses. He’s ready to be yelled at, cursed at, probably dumped.

“C’mere.” Tony says, opening his arms to Steve, inviting him into a hug. The blonde is shocked, sure, but he accepts the hug quickly, silently thinking it could be his last with the man he’s come to love so much.

“Again, Stevie, I can hear you overthinking.” Tony mumbles against his boyfriend's shoulder. He pulls away from the hug and takes the man's hands, looking up at him. “All things considered, you did nothing wrong, hon.”

“Tony I just-“

“You just did what you thought was right. You didn’t know any better Steve.” Tony rebuts before Steve can even finish.

“I’m just…I’m really sorry Tony. You trusted me with your most important person and— I fucked up bad.” Steve apologizes.

“Woah there big guy!” Tony’s brows shoot up at the apology. “First off, language mister.” Tony teases, it makes Steve blush and a hint of a smile ghosts his lips. Tony sees that as a win. “Second, yes, you’re correct. Peter is incredibly important to me. He’s my kid, but you are my Steve!” Tony emphasizes, shaking Steve’s shoulders a bit as if it will help get the point across. “You are incredibly important to me too! You made a mistake, and guess what Steve, that’s human— you’re human!”

Steve smiles sadly and nods before looking back at Peter’s sleeping form on the couch, just double-checking that the kid was truly fine.

Tony huffs lightly, using his fingers to softly move Steve’s head so he’s looking at him again. “Look at me, love. Peter’s fine, you’re fine, I’m fine, and we are fine. Okay?”

Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes with a smile. “Okay.” He confirms quietly. He can feel Tony’s hands move to cup the sides of his cheeks as he’s brought into a deep kiss. It quells all of his anxieties. Tony is here, with him, and he’s not going anywher-

“Eeugh, y-you guys ‘re cute and stuff, but the PDA ’s kinda makin’ me nauseous.” Peter’s voice breaks their kiss. Both Avengers turn to the kid, their faces about as red as his feverish cheeks after getting caught.

Tony snorts. “Oh come on kiddie!” Tony pulls Steve’s face closer to his again, this time just peppering kisses across his face. “A man can’t show his boyfriend some love?”

The older men laugh until they hear a legitimate gag from Peter. “N-no I’m serious Mr. Stark—“ Gag. “I’m really nauseous.”

“Steven grab a trash can.” Tony prompts, the same anxiously calm demeanor back in his voice as before.

Steve wastes no time, sprinting to the closest receptacle. “On it!”

Okay but honestly? This is how you get chronically ill people buying into snake oil “cures” or living off of false positivity until they inevitably get sick again. You give them a bunch of medicine that at first gives them hope, then horrible side affects or drug interactions bc they have to be maintenance doses, then you rip them off of them when it becomes unbearable and a) create secondary diagnoses and/or b) make them go through withdrawal which most likely will cause them to relapse or flare up anyway.

1) I got ripped off of prednisone bc it was killing my liver and I had body tremors; which in turn gave me a severe IBS diagnosis bc my intestinal lining had developed less permeability. Add Nortryptilene to stop cramping

2) I developed drug-induced Lupus from Humira injections which caused me to have severe joint swelling to the point I couldn’t move without feeling like my bones would break

3) Cymbalta x Nortryptilene drug interaction causes Serotonin syndrome and/or this is all benzo withdrawal??? Then now I have to go through the Nortryptilene withdrawal process too to be sure.

4) Semi unrelated but insurance didn’t want to cover continuous birth control so I’ve had two periods in one month which then causes IBS flare up which is the entire point of me being on continuous BC

Like. Seriously. This is how you get people going cold turkey off of all medicine and trying to pursue “natural” cures that don’t exist.

I don’t give a shit about “big pharma” (large sarcastic air quotes) I just want people to actually research specific diseases and specific medicines that work, not off-label bullshit. Doctors who research drug interactions and long-term side effects. Doctors who provide actual advice on how to properly care for yourself when you aren’t allowed to have your medication anymore.

2020-2021 has been the sickest, least-functional I have ever been, and of course there’s also a pandemic where none of us really know if we have long covid either if we never got sick. On top of losing my job, my best friend, my social circles and my health? I just hope if we all survive this that disability health is looked at more closely. I mean, it’s affecting capitalism at this point. That should be enough of a reason to look into it 🙄

Anyway my point is. Doctors, do better. Obviously some people’s body’s are just worse with medicine and that fine, but ya can’t just keep saying 🤷🏼‍♀️ and not give any suggestions for actual care. Like what would be so hard about actually creating a TEAM of doctors, nutritionists, therapists to guide the care process?

All that this has accomplished over time is a diminished sense of self, diminished ability, medical trauma, anxiety and self-advocate burnout.

Honestly? If the collective world doesn’t start paying attention to chronic illness, there’s not going to be much of an economy left after a few generations. How many young people do you know who are already on multiple drugs, recreational or prescription? We can’t keep masking the problem for capitalism. Without some sort of economic overall we won’t ever get better.

I hope this doesn’t sound desperately off, but seriously. Fuck capitalism. I’m tired of my health needs not being met bc it’s not as important as other economic venues. It should be the most important if you want capitalism to survive. You can’t have an economy if you don’t have healthy workers. If you don’t have healthy workers, they can’t afford care and die. It’s abominable.

Heyo I’d like to request a cake pls 🍰 Okay so I’m 5’4” (she/her), average body but kinda curvy lmao. I got brown eyes, light brown middle-length hair with bangs. Apparently I’m an INTP but also reaaally down to go out and party whenever possible. Also I’m the crackhead friend, funny, weird/dark humor, loyal, kinda arrogant whoopsie, realistic but I like to dream. I take care of my friends but I also love watching them do crazy shit. Also I’m the kinda friend that is always right about suspicious guys or fake friends. When you come to me for advice I’ll tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to. I’m absolutely stubborn, a perfectionist but sooo damn lazy so these things collide badly. I’m a sarcastic bitch and if you can’t handle some roasting or jokes I’m not the kinda girl for you. I’m a hard forgiver (really ugly trait of mine) and I’m the kinda person that when I forgive, I’ll never forget. I’m usually pretty shy in public or let’s say quiet because strangers don’t interest me. I love the friends that I got but I am open for new aquaintances. When you get to know me I’m absolutely crazy. I will show you my love mostly through actions not words. That’s also why I like to receive actions more than just some “i love you”. Text me, send me a meme that made you think of me, those kinda things. I looove going out and being drunk but most of the time I prefer to be alone or stay at home. Then I mostly watch anime, netflix, draw, play video games, read sth or idk just chill with friends. I mostly fall for the funny/tough guy and don’t need a sensitive boy. Sorry kinda long but well, hope that’s okay ✨

Ok so your my guinea pig for a new layout, hopefully this makes my hc a little more organized. Enjoy!

🍰 for @nozraelart

Romantic Matchup

Kuroo Tetsurou

How yall met

Ok so you're in a lot of his classes

And yeah he thought you were pretty

But what really drew him to you was the things that would come out of your mouth

Like one day he just walked by your desk and heard you say

“All I'm saying is what if your getting choked all you need to do is say harder daddy and they'll stop”

Mans almost spit out his drink

So one day he was shocked to see you in the gym talking to the coach

Obviously, he was curious so he went over to investigate

Turns out you were going to be the new manager of Nekomas Volleyball Club

You grew quite close to him during practice which then transitioned into becoming closer with him after practice too

He asked you out after like 3 months of you managing the team

What they love about you

He loves your humor

Like yeah the dark jokes catch him off guard sometimes

But he thinks they're still funny

He loves how sarcastic you are

He has never been able to find someone who can take his jokes with a grain of salt

And not only are you able to do that but you're able to throw a jab or two right back at him

He loves that you're what he calls a “realistic dreamer”

Now don't get him wrong he's all about people having dreams or the future

Its when those dreams are very unrealistic when he gets irked

Like if someone said their plan for the future was to win the lottery and just live a happy life

Kuroo would be like 😐

But you don't do that!

Whenever you tell him about your dreams they’re very achievable and he loves that you know what you can achieve and what you can't

What you love about them

You love that he can handle your humor

Some people have heard your jokes and just decided to stay away from you cause it was too dark

Or some people have ditched you because they got sick of your teasing

But not Kuroo!

Once again he loves your sense of humor and he wouldn't change it for the world

You love that Kuroo does things to show you he loves you

From what you said it sounds like your love language is acts of service and/or receiving gifts

So lucky you Kuroo if the perfect boyfriend for that

He does little things like help you with school, help you reach something on a high shelf, he even helps you with some of your managing duties!

He also buys you things

Snacks

Drinks

Stuffed animals

You name it he’ll buy it

Favorite things to do together

Oml he's always down for movie nights

He loves nothing more than cuddling with you on the couch and watching movies

He also loves to just sit with you and read

Ok but have you seen him with glasses 👀

And this last one is more of a group activity but he likes to play video games with you and Kenma

Random Hc

He bought you this necklace

He likes to send you memes

They don't even have to be romantic

He just likes sending memes

He helps you get ready for parties

And by that I mean he makes you put on a fashion show and he helps you decide what outfit to wear

He confessed to you with the classic love note

Friendship Matchup

Kenma Kozume

How yall met

Your Kuroko's gf so naturally you became Kenmas friend

But before he knew you as Kuroo's gf he knew you as the manager of his team

He didn't really care for you at first

Until you showed some interest in video game

Then he got to know you and realized how cool you were

Why you became friends

You saw him playing his switch at a training camp

So you decided to go see what he was playing

He was playing animal crossing and for some reason, he had what looked like Kuroo in a cage???

You: “Hey I have that game back home”

Kenma: oh … that's cool

You: Is that supposed to be Kuroo in the cage

Kenma: Maybe...

You: His hairs a little too neat here try this

He handed you his switch and when you gave it back Kuroo's avatar had the craziest hair the game could offer

Oh yeah that was the start of a glorious friendship

What yall love about each other

He loves that you encourage him but don't push him yk

Like if he's practicing a little harder you'll tell him that he's doing a good job

But you won't say things like oh you should practice like this all the time

He also likes how you tell Kuroo off for taking his games >:)))

You: Kuroo give him back his switch

Kuroo: But y/n he needs to eat

You: He is 16 I think he can take care of his basic needs

You love how low maintenance Kenma is

Like if you ever need a friend to just chill with Kenmas your guy

You also love that he's not the most social person either

So if you two ever go out together at least you'll always have each other to talk to

Random Hc

Now even though Kenma seems shy

When it's just you two mans is a CRACKHEAD

And even if you told someone how he really acts they would never believe you >:(((

Your favorite game to play together is Mario kart

But be aware that this game can get a little...violent

He lets you help him dye his hair

And if you ever want to dye yours too hell help

You guys pick fun of Kuroo CONSTANTLY

Kuroo rn 🥲

The Aftermath ~ Part 9

Summary: y/n finally goes to a safe house and lo and behold, still isn’t safe. y/n, like thor, has no regard for lawn maintenance 

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, trauma

Word Count: 3744

A/N: yes i did indulge more sleepy trope, you’re welcome, but there’s a lot of angst right before it

                                                        //////////

Happy was outside of the school with a car, waiting for me, when I got out of my last class. I had to finish my chem test during lunch, but that was fine, because it was sloppy joe’s that day, and I prefer to know the kind of meat I’m putting in my body. I talked to the rest of my teachers about being gone for the week, and with Mr. Morita backing me up, none of them put up a big fuss.

“Hey, Happy.”

“Ready to go?”

“You have my stuff, right?” He nodded. “Then I’m ready.”

“Woah, you're the guy who works for Spider-Man!” Eugene stopped beside me while he was walking to his own car and his jaw dropped to the floor. “Are you taking Y/N so she can be an Avenger?”

I slapped my hand over his mouth and slowly started heating it up. “Eugene?” He looked at me. “Shut up.” I took my hand off before I could do anything more than scare him, but he looked like he was ready to piss himself. “Remember how I turned into a lava monster in London and killed a lot of people?” I whispered. “Now someone is trying to kill me for it. So I’d appreciate it if you would keep all of this to yourself, okay?” He nodded, and I took my hand off his shoulder. He hurried away. “Let’s get out of here before anyone else recognizes you, Happy.”

“Happy? Y/N?”

“Hey, Pete,” Happy called over my shoulder.

He stopped beside me. “Are you going to the compound?”

“The detectives are insisting I go to a safe house, so we compromised.” I leaned close and whispered, “One of the detectives wants Spider-Man’s autograph. Think you can make that happen?”

“I’ll practice my cursive,” he whispered back with a smile. He pulled me into a hug and said, “Take care of yourself, Y/N. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“You too, Pete.” I threw my backpack into the back seat and sat beside Happy in the front, which took him by surprise, but he just started the car and drove away.

“So, you and Peter?”

I looked over at Happy and scowled. “Nothing’s happening, no matter what Sam says otherwise.”

He just shrugged. “Hey, I haven’t heard anything. I just see the way you two look at each other.”

Despite my best efforts to keep my heart under control, it jumped at his words and the butterflies started flapping around in my stomach. Could Happy read minds? The thought had crossed my mind before, but now more than ever I thought it was true.

“Like what?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Y/N, it’s just the look.” He glanced at me again, but I was actively avoiding eye contact. I knew if I did look at him I would just start crying, and I had avoided crying this whole time. But damn it, Happy was going to try. “You doing okay, kid?”

“Fucking peachy.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought.” He pulled off the road and into a five-minute parking spot, then turned and looked at me head on. “You can’t run away from this, Y/N. Try as you might, this is the real world, and it’s scaring the shit out of everyone. Why didn’t you come to Pepper after your mom disappeared?”

“I never thought to,” I admitted. “Sure, I hang out at the compound and get to pretend that I’m a superhero every other weekend, but I’ve known everyone for maybe two months? I — it just —“ I hung my head, the tears burning the corner of my eyes. “I’m just a kid, Happy. A kid that no one is especially attached to. I still had my dad, and I thought it could be handled.” I gestured at the car and him. “Clearly that isn’t the case.” I quickly wiped away the tears that had spilled over, hoping he didn’t see.

Well, he did. And he surprised me even more by pulling me across the center console into a quick hug. “You mean a lot more to everyone than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. Bucky nearly broke my arm for the keys because he wanted to be the one to pick you up. Pepper started calling private investigators the second you got off the phone last night and had FRIDAY checking cameras. Sam was ready to fly over all of Brooklyn to look for your dad. Don’t sell yourself short.” He pulled the car back onto the road and we slowly made our way to the compound, my chest a little less heavy.

Bucky practically dragged me out of the car and into a bone crushing hug the second Happy put it in park. “Thank god you’re okay.”

“It was a two hour drive, Bucky,” I said back. But I let myself completely relax in his arms. This was probably the safest I had felt in the last three days, and my body was feeling the difference. “Can we go inside?”

“‘Course.” He let go, but kept his metal arm wrapped around my shoulders. He grabbed one of my duffel bags and slowly walked with me into the compound. “Sam has a fat stack of pancakes waiting for you.”

An equally bone-crushing hug came from Captain America, and I almost broke down completely. “You’re okay, Y/N, we won’t let anything else happen to you.”

Anything else. God, the straw that broke the camel’s back. Because he knew what had already happened, but so help him if he wasn’t going to try and stop whatever happened next. “Thank you.”

“Come on, I got pancakes burning on the stove.”

Bucky put the rest of my stuff in my room, and the rest of the evening everyone watched movies and ate popcorn and tried to ignore the mounting terror that was growing in my throat.

It was around midnight when I walked into my own room, too tired to turn the light on. I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed, jeans and all, but I felt something wet and sticky when I laid down completely. This wouldn’t have been the first prank pulled between myself and the Star Spangled Man with a Plan, but this felt different.

“FRIDAY, turn the lights on.”

I almost threw up. The sheets of my bed were covered in blood. I could feel it seeping into my clothes and hair. Who the hell got into the compound? Who the hell knew I was coming?

I started screaming — a perfectly natural response to the situation — and Wanda burst into my room. Her eyes were gleaming red and her magic was dancing on her hands. “Y/N, what the hell?”

I sat up completely and tried (and failed) to keep my voice from quivering as I said, “Wanda, can you call nine-one-one and get the officer from the patrol car in here, please?” She ran away quickly, already shouting out to FRIDAY.

I had seen enough cop shows to know not to move, because even my hair became evidence the second I laid down. “FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Y/N, what the hell, Wanda just told us —“ Sam and Bucky came crashing in, but stopped short at the sight of me covered in blood.

“Can one of you grab my phone and call ‘Detective Peralta?’”

Sam stepped forward and put the phone to his ear. “Yeah, this is Y/N Y/L/N’s phone. She has a couple things she wants to tell you.“ He put the call on speaker and held it close.

At this point, I was moving from my unbelievably-terrified phase to unbelievably-frantic phase. That didn’t make my urge to cry any less potent, but it at least helped me get through the next conversation. “Jake? Can I call you Jake? I feel like you’ve seen so much into my life in the last few days that I’ve earned the right to call you by your first name. Anyways, if you knew who you had just talked to on the phone you’d piss yourself. You’ll never —“

“Breathe, Y/N. Just shut up for a second and breathe.” I inhaled sharply, which was a bad call, because now all I could smell and taste was blood, which almost made me throw up all over again. “Okay, what did you call me about?”

“I’m laying in a pool of blood and I need you and the Nine-Nine to get here and do your fucking jobs because I’m freaking out.”

“Are you still at the safe house?”

“Yeah, and I don’t know where your patrol car officer is, but shouldn’t they be out here protecting me?” I would’ve kept chewing him and his precinct out, but Sam took the phone from my hand and gave Jake the ‘OK’ to come to the compound.

Wanda ran back with the officer behind her, both breathing heavy. “I brought. The officer.”

“About fucking time,” I muttered.

You’re acting like a bitch, Y/N.

Yeah, well, you unknowingly lay down in a pool of blood and tell me how pleasant you’re feeling afterward. ‘Frantic’ had left the building and ‘pissed as hell’ had taken full residence in my attitude. And the brunt of it was directed at the undeserving.

“Can you take some goddamn pictures already so I can get out of these clothes?”

“I, uh, should really wait for forensics.”

I groaned and looked at Bucky. “Do me a favor and give me something to throw.” He just stepped forward and held out his metal arm.

“How ‘bout something to hold onto.”

I ended up getting blood between the grooves of his plating, but Bucky assured me it was easy to clean. It took over an hour — even with all of their sirens — for the Nine-Nine to get to the compound, and another half hour on top of that for all of their pictures to be taken before I could shower and change clothes. Do you know how humiliating it is for a teenage girl to have to change and leave behind blood-soaked clothes for an entire forensics team to investigate and study? I hope you never have to know for yourself, because nothing made me want to claw my own eyes out and burn myself alive more than that.

I used Wanda’s shower, because her room was just across the hall, but I refused to sleep in a closed room anymore. I refused to even close my eyes, because it seemed that every time I blinked some other sort of shit hit the fan.

“Y/N?”

I was so fucking tired of hearing the sound of my own name.

“What’s the message this time, Jake?”

He didn’t bother sugar-coating it. He handed his phone over and I was too tired to stop the panic I felt in my throat as I looked at the barely-legible letters.

I will always find you.

“They are really milking this whole ‘five word message’ thing.” I handed his phone back to him. “It’s my blood, isn’t it?”

“You’re way better at this than you let on. Yeah, it’s your blood. Hopefully we can get something from the video footage, but given all of the connecting evidence, I’m thinking whoever is responsible will reach out in some way.” This was the part where he sighed heavily and looked disappointed in himself. “Unfortunately, because of the current state of the investigation, the FBI is going to be taking over this case. They’re already on their way to start their own investigation.”

“Of fucking course.” I stood up and started pacing, and before I knew it I was throwing pillows across the room. I reached for his glass of water and was ready to throw, but someone came up behind me and pulled my fingers away before I could cause any real damage. “Hey —“

Jess stood behind me and set the glass on the table. “Don’t start pulling that shit, Y/N. You haven’t thrown stuff since you were twelve.” Jake awkwardly stepped out of the living room, but it didn’t matter; you could’ve heard our conversation no matter where you were in the compound

I wiped at the tears on my cheeks. “Well I was twelve last time my parents left me, so, old habits.”

“Don’t go back to that, you’ve come too far.”

“Of course I’m acting like a twelve year old, that’s how I feel!” I groaned and grabbed another pillow, but this time I threw it at her. “I lost both of my parents in less than three days just when we were getting back to a good place! And all I want to do is scream and cry and burst into flame, but I have to be the adult and keep it all together when I feel like I’m dying!”

I didn’t care about how badly I was crying. I didn’t care about much of anything. I just wanted to finally have something as tangible and damaging in front of me as I did inside of me.

“Don’t tell me that I’m moving backwards, because I’m doing everything I can just to stand up straight.” I left her and ran through the front door, all the way to the edge of the property.

In Avatar: The Last Airbender, Iroh says lightning can only be handled by someone who is in balance. Well, that’s not necessarily true. Creating it, sure. But harnessing it from a different source? That’s a lot of emotion that has to be channeled into draining the power from one source and using it for yourself.

And boy did I have plenty of emotion.

I pulled the energy straight out of the sky. (Thor who?) It probably wasn’t the best idea, considering the sprinklers made everything in sight slightly damp, but I didn’t care; I couldn’t get fried, and anyone else stupid enough to follow me out here would soon learn a very important lesson.

My hands were glowing white with electricity. And I just kept pulling more and more of it out of the sky until all I could see was white.

And then I let it all go.

I screamed until my throat was raw. I screamed until I saw red. I screamed until there was nothing left in me, and then I kept screaming. The ground around me caved in and the blackened grass started smoldering and I still screamed.

And then I sobbed. I knelt on the grass and sobbed.

////////////

I was determined to just sleep outside that night, but the adult-ier adults had a different idea. It was Bucky who finally braved coming outside and getting me. “C’mon, Y/N, let’s get you in bed.” He ended up just carrying me back to the compound, but instead of going to Wanda’s room — where I thought he was headed — he skipped that hallway completely and chose the next one.

The one with Peter’s room.

He lightly kicked open the door and gently put me on the bed, but someone sat beside me on the bed. My eyes flew open, ready to attack, but when they adjusted to the darkness, I just gasped and jumped into his arms.

Peter.

“Take care of her,” was all I heard Bucky say, and I felt Peter nod, but I didn’t dare look up. For a girl who’s barely known him for a year, I’ve become strongly attached to Peter Parker, and I was realizing now that he was a constant in my life that I sorely depended on (not so good in the long run, but I could worry about that later).

“How did you get here so fast?” A part of me wanted to look at his face and know it was Peter, but I kept my head in the crook of his neck, listening to his steady heartbeat and reassuring myself that was all I needed.

“Doctor Strange. Sam called him after you ran outside.”

I did finally look up at him, and tears I didn’t even know I had left decided to make an appearance. “Yeah, you never would’ve made it past the police line.”

He smiled softly (I would never get over that smile) and then leaned back. “Get some sleep, Y/N.”

He immediately felt the affect his words had on me. My heart jumped and started racing, my breathing picked up, my fists clenched. “Hey, hey, hey.” But one reassuring hand on my neck and jaw and I calmed down. Slightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” I choked out, “because I can’t lose anyone else I care about.”

I don’t remember falling asleep. I only remember a tangle of legs and Peter’s heartbeat under my ear.

////////////

Quentin Beck was holding me by the throat. “You couldn’t stop me from killing all of those people. You couldn’t stop me from hurting Peter. And now you can’t stop me from taking your parents.” MJ and Ned and Flash and Betty and Peter and Mom and Dad all formed out of the rubble and then disappeared before I could save them. Beck squeezed my neck tighter and tighter —

I gasped awake. I couldn’t breathe deeply enough, my lungs refused to fill completely, and it was still dark enough outside that I couldn’t see anything around me. “It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.” I rubbed my hands over my eyes, trying to erase the nightmare, but it wouldn’t go away; Beck’s hands around my throat were still there, like a phantom pain.

Then a hand gently grabbed my leg and I heard a yelp as I blew a gust of air at whoever it was.

Peter landed on the ground with a thud.

I crawled to the edge and let my adjusted eyes focus on his outline. “Shit, Peter, I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed his elbow for a second but then looked up at me. “Are you okay?”

“I just airbended you off the bed and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

He stood up and sat beside me, his hand finding mine. “You weren’t breathing, Y/N. You were choking on air and it was scaring the hell out of me.”

“It-“ I wrapped my fingers around his and took a shaky breath, finally feeling like I had enough air. “It was just a nightmare.”

“Okay.” He glanced around and his eyes landed on the alarm clock. 5:13. “Want to go train?”

I was fucking exhausted. But at this point, I was taking Jake’s word and waiting for the next move. So maybe training would do some good. “Yeah, okay.”

We trained well after the sun came up. Peter kept to the higher alcoves of the gym, while I liked to stay on the ground. But we did a couple ‘blindfold rounds’ until we could easily pick each other out amongst the ‘noise.’

“One more blindfold round,” he said through his teeth. One of the bots clipped him in the side and he was leaning heavily, but he insisted. “As hard as you’ve got, FRIDAY.”

We tied our blindfolds around our eyes one more time and took our stances. At this point, we weren’t just practicing our gifts; we were (at least I was) letting go of our inhibitions toward each other. My attention was on him and the bots and nothing else. (If I wasn’t sure how head over heels I was for this guy, I was pretty positive about it now.)

“Three.”

I wiggled my fingers in anticipation.

“Two.”

Peter’s shoes rubbed against the floor.

“One.”

Don’t ask me how the tech worked. I still have no idea how they managed to create simulations that were actually tangible, but I was really grateful, because it meant Peter and I got accurate practice. I rolled forward, a shot barely edging above me, while Peter immediately went for the high ground, dodging the bots that tried to keep up.

I didn’t just try to feel them while they were on the ground, I honed in on the metal surrounding them and the electricity coursing through them. I ripped the bots to shreds and made them collapse in on themselves and caused sparks to flash across the room when I doused others with water.

Peter jumped on top of different bots and used his taser webs to take most of them down, but he threw some my way, and vice versa. The whole point of the training session was to build trust, and we were trying our best to be successful.

I couldn’t feel any more bots with electricity in the room, and Peter came down to the ground, but before either of us took our blindfolds off, I felt someone else step onto the mat. Someone I didn’t recognize.

I formed a water whip and wrapped it around the foreign person, then I ripped off my blindfold, only to see my water whip attached to thin air. Or —

“Who the hell are you?”

They were invisible. But I knew without a doubt that a person was on the other end of my whip. I walked closer and froze the rest of the water around their body with jagged edges leading to their head — at least what I assumed was their head.

“I said,” I reached my hands out and tried to find some purchase, “who the hell are you?” My fingers wrapped around what I assumed was their throat and I squeezed.

His facade gave out quickly. I didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t matter; FRIDAY was always monitoring.

“Hey,” Peter said quietly and put a hand on my shoulder, but I didn’t relent.

“Answer the goddamn question, or you’ll have more to worry about than some slight freezer burn.”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. They’re coming for you, Y/N, and they won’t stop until you’ve paid for what you’ve done.”

My grip lessened, just a bit. “When?”

“Soon.” A haggard cough escaped his lips. “You really shouldn’t have left your friends so vulnerable.”

My eyes went wide, and just as my grip slackened some more, Wanda and Sam barged into the room. Her red magic kept him trapped, and Sam put duct tape over his mouth. “FBI is already on their way. How did you know he was here?”

“I just did.” I let go completely and let the water thaw to a puddle. “How fast can we get to the city?”

Sam’s eyebrows creased. “Strange could have you there in seconds, why?”

“Something else is going to happen, and it’s going to happen there.”

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​ @yougottalovefandoms​

Bucky/Tony

-//-

Tony's been... well he's not exactly asleep or napping or anything in that category. Not exactly awake either. He's just, aware. To say the least.

He's got his eyes shut and head leaned heavily against the headrest of one of the Quinjet's passenger seats while the spy-twins fly them back home.

It's been a rough day. The fact that the day has only started - the rising sun in the horizon must mean it's barely past dawn - is spinning his head something giddy.

Unauthorized portals. Two of them. Expelling one very slimy monster into the city calling for Avenger's immediate attention at fuck-o'clock last night (this night? whatever).

They got it contained. Got Reed Richards to handle the portals and by the time they got done with the clean-up, Tony has at least 50 bruises blossomed across his body.

Almost all of him aches. His back is the worst, considering he was the monster's stick to Hulk's piñata so... There was that.

But that's not the point.

The point is that this is the nth time Tony has caught a certain super soldier staring at him.

It would not bother so much if said super soldier immediately looks away when Tony points it out or if he apologizes. Or better, if they haven't been dancing around each other as much lately; between friends and acquaintances to close friends and something in between all of that that has been driving Tony shit-crazy.

But that's what it is.

Bucky Barnes - who Tony insists on calling James despite referring to him as Bucky in his head, because in no living planet is Tony ever going to openly call someone Bucky - has been staring at Tony for the past 10 minutes. For the last three weeks, according to various video footages he has of their interactions.

The first time Tony caught him it was only a week ago. Tony asked if he needed something. But Bucky shook his head and of all cursed things, he continued staring at Tony as if it was not any form of hindrance at all. To Tony mainly because clearly Bucky didn't feel hindered in any way.

The second time, Tony pointed it out and the bastard said; "I know" and he carried on. Tony bristled, frowned, didn't pout but he certainly glared. But all those expressions only seemed to amuse Bucky so he turned his back to that man and carried on with his work.

The third time, they were having dinner with the rest of the team and right there, in front of everyone else, Bucky Barnes had the gall to keep his ice blue eyes firmly fixed on Tony. Needless to say, it was discomforting. What more when everyone did notice but shrugged it off as if it was yet another ‘Tony and Bucky thing’.

Tony wanted to tell them that it is in fact NOT their thing and that he is very much uncomfortable to be under that kind of scrutiny. Also, what the fuck Barnes? Why are you doing that?

But the more he rehearsed that speech, the more he squirmed under Bucky Barnes' bold stare and the more he reconsidered because suddenly, the discomfort was a warm prickle of something else entirely.

Something else that reminded him of those rare moments he shared with Bucky when there were only both of them and nobody else.

Like when Bucky steps too close to him, his front grazing Tony's back as he helps reach for Tony's mug.

Or when Tony is doing a routine maintenance to Bucky's arm and he has to fit himself in a weird, scandalous position to pick at the wire he cannot pick at before and Bucky is too close; his breath is wet and hot across that strip of Tony's exposed skin and it's a yes and a no and big BIG YES please.

Or when they're watching a movie and Bucky falls asleep because he could never stay awake for more than 20 minutes and a few strands of his hair fall to the front and Tony just wants to tuck them back real bad. And maybe tuck himself into Bucky as well.

Yeah.

Like that.

So, Tony swallowed his words and let Bucky have his fill. That was last night and now, he's doing it again.

Maybe it's Bucky's fortune that Tony is incredibly worn out to even form a complete sentence. But he could still feel that heat of that gaze. Not a digit lesser than yesterday.

This time, Tony rolls his head to his right and meets those eyes; clear blue glinting grey under the flitting sun rays that peek through passing clouds. He's seen them a countless time, but still. As close as this, especially when they're singularly focused on him and burning –

Tony shudders. A low, controlled motion that jostles him in his seat.

He swallows, letting his own tired eyes drink in the sight before him. Bucky Barnes, still fully armoured like the rest of them are; one cheek streaked with dirt and the other, his right one, has tiny splatter of that blue slime from their fight earlier.

Otherwise, he's immaculate, except for his hair which has always stuck to its own thing.

He's handsome. He's goddamn beautiful and Tony would vouch for that any day. There is no shame in that.

The shame is only in finding passion in it.

To be passionately attracted to the man even in his most distasteful state - that. That is what is most disconcerting.

To be able to openly admire him as he is, in his least perfected form; streaked with dirt and drenched in sweat and slime, to be able to stare at him the way he stares at Tony -

Oh.

Oh, Tony realizes. With a flutter to his lashes and the softest gasp, he realises that that is what Bucky Barnes been doing for those past three weeks; admiring Tony.

It breaks his synapses. Makes them rewire themselves, cancelling all his insecurities and the barest doubts he's had about their relationship and where it has been heading lately.

It makes him swallow, throat working tightly as he lifts up a hand and he tries to brush away the flecks of slime on Bucky's cheek when he notices his still gauntleted hand.

"Oops," he lets out, breathy as an amused pair of eyes regard him coolly.

It's a testament to how close he'd let Bucky Barnes come near him and how close Bucky Barnes dares to near him, when silver metal plates shift with muted whir - accommodating an index that taps thrice at the centre of Tony's chest - that Tony doesn't even flinch.

A flurry of nanites retract into their housing unit with a blue glow trailing their ends, momentarily captivating both men before their attention snap back onto each other.

This time, when Tony reaches for Bucky's cheek, his hand is naked skin and human. He presses a thumb, ever so gently then more, and he wipes at the blue dots. But a slime is a pain in the ass after however long and Tony only manages to smear them. A thin smear of translucent blue across one cheek and he winces apologetically.

Bucky’s eyes flick once to where Tony’s fingers rest and he snorts, “You better hope that’s not dangerous,” he husks. Deep and low and Tony swallows back a sudden rush of arousal.

“Scan showed zero to .15 percent,” he rasps out. His own eyes flicking between intense blue and plush red.

“If I swallow it…,” Bucky trails, head tipping into Tony’s palm, mouth teasingly close to Tony’s tainted fingers as he exhales.

Throat dry but wit still preserved, Tony says, “We’re not having sex before shower.”

He’s barely listening to himself speak, so Bucky’s laugh when it comes in a puff of hot exhale into his hand, surprises him. Hardly a second needed to rewind and the realisation pumps a flood of warm blood to his face; tinting them a deep shade of blush.

If those blue eyes burned before, now they're a raging fire encompassed in an eerily calm shell. Tony shivers. He makes to retract his hand when cold metal snaps around his wrist. Holding him in prison.

“But after shower…?” Bucky Barnes prompts, gaze intense, grip steady; keeping Tony where he wants him to be. Where Tony belongs.

“Not even a date to precede, Sergeant?” Tony teases, despite the odd flip in his chest.

A slow smirk works across Bucky’s face; a luscious curl to one end of his mouth and he nuzzles into Tony’s hand as he makes a promise.

“I’ll order in pizza. We’ll pretend to watch a bad movie in your bed and I’ll suck you off when you get tired of it.”

Tony watches him intertwine their fingers and place them on his lap and he smirks back, just as deviously; “Sounds like a solid plan.”

021. ‘I miss the way things used to be.’

This was prompted by an awesome anon! I think my brain gobbled up your awkward and replaced it with angsty. I tried to put it back in the end, though. I hope you like it!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Background Hannor) | AU: Hanahaki (Warnings: blood and a little bit of body horror, but nothing unusual for Hanahaki)

Nines looked himself over in the mirror, picking up a few loose petals and putting them in the bin to join the rest. Then he picked up the paper towels laying around and wiped the Thirium off his lips and torso. Then he put his shirt back on and straightened his high collar. Checking his perfect appearance one last time and pushing his hair back out of habit, the android left the bathroom for the break room. He scowled as he found it filled with people. Connor stood at the coffee machine and Gavin stood at the high table sipping his. Nines swallowed as he felt his already low Thirium levels from the pruning drop further upon seeing the man. He hurried over to the counter they stored their Thirium supplies in and took a bottle, drinking it deliberately slow to mask just how much he needed it.

‘Another refill, tin-can?’, Gavin asked. ‘Advanced model’, Nines answered matter-of-factly. ‘I need more than others.’ ‘Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. Just be back on time, okay? We have a job to do.’ ‘Says the right one’, Nines muttered, getting back to refilling his Thirium. Gavin chuckled at that and Connor turned around to them. ‘You should really tell him, Nines’, he said, worry evident in his voice. ‘Tell me what?’, the Detective wanted to know. Of course, he had overheard Connor. Nines could send Connor into forced stasis for that comment alone. The RK900 stepped away from Connor, looked Gavin in the eye and, with more force than necessary, he spat: ‘I should tell you to fuck off!’

Gavin flinched, looked up at the android and straightened. ‘Okay, fine, I’m going. Jeez, someone is pissed, I see.’ But as he was about to go, Connor jumped and held him back by the hood of his pullover. Gavin yelped, as the RK800 pulled him back into the break room and towards Nines. ‘This is not what I meant and you know this, don’t have me do this!’ But Nines stayed silent. ‘Don’t do what?’, Gavin asked, completely confused now. ‘Guys, I don’t wanna be part of your weird android-brother issues, okay? Let me just go and I pretend to never have heard-’ ‘Nines has Hanahaki’, Connor interrupted and earned himself a dangerous growl from the android in question.

Gavin frowned, then laughed. ‘Good one, plastic puppy! That’s impossible.’ ‘It is’, Connor held against it. ‘Nines, show him!’ ‘I won’t do anything and this will have consequences, you-‘ Connor moved towards him and pushed into the other android’s neck. Nines speech cut out as the compartment opened for maintenance. It was stopped halfway by his collar, but the latch was opened enough to let some white flowers show on the inside.

Gavin stared at it, then up to the android, whose LED was a hot burning red. Connor knew then that he had pushed to far, as Nines fist collided with his face and send him back against the table. Then the RK900 pushed the compartment back into place and brushed off his collar. ‘Don’t ever touch me again, or I will aim somewhere more vital, Connor. I love you, brother, but I also won’t hesitate.’ ‘So, this is the real thing?’, Gavin asked. ‘Yes. But it isn’t like in humans. It won’t kill me. It just grows when I’m around this person as an extension of my thirium system. It drains my Thirium levels. But regular pruning and it doesn’t impair my functionality at all.’ ‘So, you are basically a walking talking flowerpot?’, Gavin wheezed. ‘That is not funny!’, Connor cut in between. ‘It is a serious condition!’ ‘It is not’, Nines disagreed. ‘I won’t die.’ ‘That doesn’t mean it’s healthy!’, Connor reminded him.

But Gavin had lost it already. ‘You phcking asshole’, he laughed. ‘The all high and mighty Nines has fallen in love, but boohoo, their chosen one is not returning the favour. That’s fucking funny. Karma is a bitch, I guess. Maybe you should have been more open with your feelings and less uptight all the time.’ ‘Gavin, this is not helping!’, Connor shouted at the man. A simple scan told Connor despite the refill Nines’ Thirium levels were plummeting again. ‘Oh, bite me, Connor!’, Gavin screamed back. ‘The fucking tin-can got what he deserves! Always so certain androids are superior and speaking like a dictionary on legs. Always looking down on humans because they are “complete slaves to their feelings”! That’s what he gets now.’ Nines slumped back against the counter, holding himself upright on it. He felt his Thirium being literally sucked out of his system by the plant that was growing and had already surpassed the stage it had before the pruning a few minutes ago. He coughed and wiped away the Thirium dropping from his lips. ‘Gavin.’ The plant had reached his voice box and he doubted the man had heard him. He couldn’t die from it, he reminded himself and that at least let his panic subside. The worst would be induced stasis because of the Thirium drain. Whatever cruelties the Detective uttered could accelerate the growth and push him into stasis. That was all. That was all.

‘Maybe, if there was one nice thing about you, you were actually loveable! But no one could love a heartless, cold machine!’ Nines couldn’t move. The plant had taken over his joints and filled out his hollow parts to the brim. He forced his mouth shut not to lose all dignity. Instead he opened his chest to alleviate the growing pressure in his chest, ripping his spotless shirt. He coughed again, spilling flowers and Thirium, before falling on the ground and inducing stasis. ‘Gavin, fuck off to your desk and shut your goddamn mouth!’, Connor screamed, and Nines would have smiled at his brother cursing. But that was the last thing he heard before stasis and his lips were immovable.

-

As he was reactivated, he lied on a couch and analysing the pattern of the ceiling he was in Hank’s home. He sighed and sat up. Immediately Connor was next to him. ‘I’m sorry, Nines, I shouldn’t have pressed things.’ Nines scanned his systems. Connor had cut the plant back and refilled his Thirium. ‘You were only worrying for me. I’m sorry I punched you.’ ‘No, I shouldn’t have. And I deserved that. I have no rights to open your ports without your consent.’ ‘Stop taking the blame for everything!’, Nines insisted, raising his voice. ‘It is my fault for loving this idiot. But don’t worry, I will just suffer through it. You can learn to unlove someone, it just needs time. I thought it would be easy to hate him, but apparently hate doesn’t cancel out love.’

‘I just worry for you, Nines. Everyone deserves to find someone if they want it.’ ‘I don’t know if I still want it’, Nines muttered. ‘I wanted it a few weeks back. We are a good team and I saw glimpses of a heart of gold under all this tar he bathes in. When I saw you and Hank, I thought it would be nice to have something like that. But after yesterday… Maybe I fantasised too much.’ ‘Nines, I-‘

It rang at the door and both looked up. ‘I’m going!’, Hank called from somewhere deeper in the house and hurried past them. He opened the door, and there was a beat of silence. ‘No, not you! Fuck off, you did enough already!’ Nines turned around to the door. Then he stood up and followed his hunch. He appeared in the doorframe next to Hank and looked down on the man standing on the porch. ‘Err… Hi, Nines.’ Immediately the android’s Thirium levels sunk a bit. ‘Nines, I can-‘, Hank began, but the android just pushed forwards. ‘Thank you Hank, I think I will manage. Please, leave us alone.’ The man grumbled something, but left for the living room.

‘What do you want?’, Nines asked coldly. ‘I… Err… What do I want? I… Phck! Apologize! I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have made fun of you.’ ‘No, you shouldn’t have.’ ‘Yes!’ Gavin looked like he felt guilty. He was reasonably bad at apologizing too. He meant it. A fake apology would have gone far smoother. ’Yes, I know, I’m a huge asshole.’ ‘That’s true, too.’ ‘So, everything alright?’ It sounded so damn hopeful. ‘No’, Nines destroyed that illusion. ‘No. Not after what you told me today. That was cruel and unnecessary.’ ‘Listen, okay, this whole thing was completely wrong! I reacted shitty. I’m sorry. Can’t we just go back to before this whole thing?’ ‘I miss the way things used to be, too’, Nines said. ‘But you won’t forget I’m in love with you and I can’t forget you telling me I were a heartless, cold machine.’ ‘Wait. Wait, wait, wait! You are in love with me?’ Gavin looked shocked. ‘Yes. I thought that was obvious with how I reacted to your words.’

‘Holy shit.’ Nines didn’t know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut. ‘No shit? You really love me?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Yeah, I didn’t believe it either’, Connor shouted from inside the house and Nines grinded his teeth, stepping out and pulling the door close behind him. ‘What… What could you possibly love about me?’, Gavin asked then. The android walked towards the stairs and sat down. ‘You are intelligent, you are funny, as long as I’m not subject to those jokes and very fascinating in your efforts to self-destruct.’ ‘Okay…’ Gavin spoke, pulling each sound and sitting down next to Nines. ‘Not what I would call attributes to love…’ ‘But not un-loveable’, Nines muttered. ‘Other than me apparently.’

Gavin brushed his thumbs against each other. Shit, this was awkward. ‘One could love your sense of clothing’, he tried to think of something. ‘It’s nice.’ ‘It’s Cyberlife clothing. The uniform, just without the markings.’ ‘But it looks good on you. Also… You are intimidating and throw a punch like no other.’ ‘That’s not something “nice” about me, as you put it.’ ‘Hey, as long as it’s not directed at me…’ Nines chuckled at that.

‘Listen, it had been some time since I last thought of anyone taking a liking to me’, Gavin explained, looking back at the house. ‘And I hope your weird brother is not listening right now, because shit’s personal. I accepted being alone. And I treat everyone like shit to make sure I never get that close to anyone again. But…’ He tentatively laid a hand on Nines’. ‘Maybe I could learn to love again?’ Nines looked at Gavin’s hand and shifted his to hold the human’s. ‘We can try. You to love and me to be loveable.’ ‘Sounds good.’

Stray Kids Headcanon: As Boyfriends.

A/N: I spent over two and a half hours writing this, I hope you fucking enjoy it. Requests are open. (I swear, if the fucking gifs don’t work, I’m gonna sue my mother for making me exist).

Requested: No. By Who: my fucking imagination.

Word Count: 2052.

Not proofread or edited.

BANG CHAN

extremely loyal but also a bit of a shameless flirt, so he would need a partner that is able to snap him out of that habit

doesn’t overreact in fights, is actually pretty calm and rarely loses his temper

indecisive, so his partner would nearly definitely always end up being the one picking where you two eat or going on vacation together, stuff like that

loves when you compliment him but will give you ten more for every single one you give him, he just wants to make you feel loved

I feel like he would really enjoy simple date nights at home like when you two have a movie night or cook together, it doesn’t matter what you do, he just wants to be with you

but, I also feel like he is a big money spender, so i feel like he would spend a lot of his money buying you unnecessary gifts when he travels and treating you to really expensive and fancy dates whenever it is possible for him to do so

KIM WOOJIN

impulsive, probably really into spontaneous sex, maybe even public but he wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with even if you were misbehaving (I think he’s a dom but eh, who knows, his personality seems a bit sub to me, so maybe a switch, who knows?)

easily jealous, will actually hit a guy if he won’t leave you alone, yelling at anyone who looks at you the wrong way and don’t get me started on if some dude groped you or slapped your ass, cute little Woojin is about to unleash his inner WWE wrestler

would love being near you but also needs his alone time, so sometimes he would just turn his phone off for a couple of hours, just to have a bit of time to himself and you understand that, so you’re all good, no fighting about it, except maybe the first time he does it without letting you know, making you worry for him when he wasn’t replying

gets bored easily and is probably really adventurous, so sometimes you two would just be watching TV when he’ll say, ‘wanna go rock climbing?’ or ‘I want to go on a hike this weekend, you in?’ something like that.

problem solver, you got an issue? Tell him. Will encourage you to be open with your feelings and he will try his hardest to find a solution and make you feel happy and content again (p.s. he loves your smile)

his partner will most likely plan most of the dates but he would really love them if they had to do with something active, like ziplining or ice skating, even just going through a haunted house will really excite him (but be ready for him to cling onto you whenever there is a jump scare)

LEE MINHO

wants to know everything about you, might come off as a little nosy but really, he just wants to feel like he knows you better than anyone else because that would make him feel really proud

it would probably take a bit of time for him to open up to you and also, he would probably be the most cautious member when it came to announcing your relationship to the stays

would tease you a lot but he does it out of love, sort of like a little boy pulling his crush’s hair to get her attention (except he already has your attention, have you seen him?)

wouldn’t let anyone else’s thoughts of you change his opinion, if he thinks your beautiful then he thinks you’re beautiful, if he thinks you’re his soulmate and the most intelligent person he has ever met, then you’re his soulmate and the most intelligent person he’s ever met, he doesn’t care about what others think of you or your relationship as long as you are both happy, healthy and together

I swear, he’s a psychic, knows what his partner is thinking before they do. notices when his partner is sad, even when they try to hide it. he can tell how his partner is feeling just by the littlest things and he always tries his best to make them smile and feel better

is very good at knowing when his partner is lying, will find their tells very quickly and he would be really sad if they were lying about something that could hint at them cheating but he would feel even worse if they lied about their problems as to not ‘burden’ him. he wants to know about their problems, so he can help.

SEO CHANGBIN

always wants your attention, probably a bit clingy but not in the annoying way, in the cute way, would love just talking with you, no phones or anything, just you two, focused on each other

dramatic, always showing you off and yelling about how pretty you are and about how perfect he finds you, even when you’re not there with him

i feel like he’s actually really sensitive (i mean, when chan wrote that letter, remember?), so, there’s a chance a chance that when you guys argue he would start crying, most likely after though because he wouldn’t want you to see him break down

low maintenance, you don’t need to do much to make him happy, kiss his cheek and ruffle his hair affectionately and damn bitch, you got yourself a tamed and cheery pup

would probably really like singing with you, so, look out for all of those karaoke dates, even if you do sound like you’ve just swallowed a pineapple whole, including the skin and leaves (leaves, stalks? i don’t fucking know)

will always try to impress you, showing you new dances and raps, really wants to make you proud (even though you obviously already are)

HWANG HYUNJIN

hates fighting with you, so he tries to quickly resolve fights but if he’s actually really pissed off then it would probably end up with him breaking down and you having to comfort him

probably didn’t make the first move but was definitely crushing on you and really excited when you approached him and introduced yourself

will blush whenever you kiss his cheek or doing anything affectionate, especially in public or in front of the members, no matter how long you’ve been dating

really romantic, gets you flowers all the time, always takes you out for a fancy dinner whenever he sees you after a long time, buys you cute gifts, etc.

tells you that he loves you all the time. no matter the situation, when you leave the room, come back to the room, go out, when you wake up or at just random times, he just blurts it out. you two could be paintballing on opposite teams but he would still yell those three words across the field to you.

really loves holding your hands or just touching you in general (sexual and not 😉), puts his hand on your thigh when you two are in the car, always has his arm around your shoulders, kisses your jaw head every time you hug

HAN JISUNG

for some unknown reason i feel like he would have really high standards, so his future partner better feel fucking good if he chooses to be with her

gets shit done, you need to pack? bitch it’s done before you get to your bedroom. you want food? he’s already on the phone calling the local pizza place.

would notice all the little things about you, like the way you bite your nails or pull at your hair when you’re annoyed. he would be able to easily figure out how you’re feeling because of his observations

loves planning dates with you and always has the most ridiculous but ultimately hilarious and really fun ideas.

loyal as fuck, no hoe is getting their hands on your man, probably really sassy with anyone that hits on him.

bit picky about everything but i think he would try his best to compromise with you when it comes to certain things.

LEE FELIX

Plays video games a lot which really annoys you sometimes and you tend push him off the bed if he accidentally yells at you when you unintentionally distract him.

Really talkative and has the most random conversations with you but you don’t mind because they either turn out really cute or funny as all hell. Said conversations tend to happen at 3am in the kitchen while you two eat ice cream out of a tub with you sitting on the counter and Felix standing between your legs.

Loves taking you everywhere, whether that be to events, dance practice, concerts, on tour, everything. He just wants to be as close to you as possible and refuses to let anything get in the way of that.

Tends to show up late to dates but it definitely isn’t intentional, he just loses track of time or on some occasions dance practice, recording or song writing ran late. Always makes it up to you though.

A bit crazy but I mean so are you if he agreed to date you. Dance battles, food fights and hysterical laughter are all very common within your relationship and you both adore those regular occurrences.

Something you are very jealous of is his ability to look like the human definition of a rotten egg (bitch, he could never look anything less than perfect) and then, 10 minutes later, this GREEK MOTHERFUCKING GOD walks out of the damn bathroom.

KIM SEUNGMIN

really good problem solver and refuses to let arguments get out of hand. He doesn’t want you to be yelling at him when you could be cuddling or making out or watching tv or making music or laughing (etc.) with him.

does random things for you, like grabbing your phone for you, carrying your bag, bringing your dishes to the sink, answering your phone (if you say he can because you’re busy doing something), brushing your hair and more. He just likes helping you out as much as possible even if it’s with little mediocre tasks.

is very, very honest with you. Will tell you the truth about anything, how an outfit looks on you, his feelings, what happened to your leftovers, that rash on his ass (CUNT, WHAT-).

likes easy dates, going to the cinema, aquarium or zoo, a small picnic, a music festival maybe, even an art museum.

sometimes gets insecure and needs you to help him out of that bottomless pit, like, when he had so much trouble confessing to you because of his fear of rejection, it was fine though seeing as you liked him back (obviously! Who wouldn’t?)

is randomly silent sometimes which worries you but most of the time he’s either staring at you or daydreaming about you.

YANG JEONGIN

sometimes gets randomly moody but tries his best not to take it out on you and instead, walks out of the room to try and calm himself down or sometimes he just ignores you, so he doesn’t accidentally hurt your feelings, even though that would end up annoying you, lol.

Really likes receiving sentimental gifts, he doesn’t care if it’s not expensive or designer, he would definitely love a scrapbook or photo album about your relationship more than some stupid Gucci belt (can’t say the same for Taehyung though, lollll, I’m not funny).

Whenever you guys fought, he would leave because he hated the drama of it all. He would probably write you a letter as a form of apology. Speaking of letters, love letters! Or poems! Wait! Songs, he would fucking write songs for and about you, yes. Bitch!

Always sees the best in you and literally nothing about you seems like a flaw to him. In his opinion, you are legitimately perfect and bitch, if you tried to change anything, just know that this cutie would throw you over his shoulder before you even tried to change your style to look like everyone else.

He would love every second he spent with you, always taking pictures of you and everything you guys do, he’s just really fucking cute, which we all obviously already know.

If you rejected him because you were worried about him hurting you, get ready for this determined boy to prove you wrong, if he wants you, he’s going to get you (as long as it doesn’t make you uncomfortable).

Outside the front entrance of a high school dressed as maintenance people, getting all their things together. Sam: *looking toward the front entrance* Oh no.

Dean: What? What’s “oh no?”

Sam: *groans* This school has metal detectors.

Dean: Why can’t we use the maintenance entrance again?

Sam: Because it has a card reader, Dean. And all the recon in the world can’t make us actual maintenance people.

Dean: Then why the hell are we dressed up like maintenance?

Sam: Uh, maybe because we found out about this job yesterday on the way back from another job, we’re 500 miles from home, and these are the only outfits I had in the car that came close to working. You’re lucky the colors are even close enough to pass.

Dean: So you looked at the maintenance entrance enough to know it had a card reader, but not the FRONT?

Sam: Look how far back it is from the entrance! It was dark and I just didn’t see it, alright? I’m not used to schools having metal detectors. None of our schools ever had them.

Dean: That one high school in Baltimore had them.

Sam: *stares* How would YOU know? A truant officer came after you because you never set foot in that school.

Dean: 'Cause I noticed the METAL DETECTORS, Sam. Why would I go in?

Sam: *weary laugh* Okay, what about... the card reader was jammed or something. It’s the kind that could jam. You insert the card, you don’t swipe it.

Dean: They’d probably still ask to see the card. How many maintenance people are we talkin’ here?

Sam: I’ve seen three come and go, but it’s a public school, so they have at least two less than they need.

Dean: *chews lip for a second* Is it the school that actually employs them?

Sam: They’re city employees, they get assigned, but I don’t know how often their assignments change. Not just to schools, but to courthouses, the DMV —

Dean: Shit. *muttering to himself* Few enough that security might recognize ‘em, and no good reason both of us wouldn’t have cards already if they asked for them. This sucks.

Sam: *sags a bit against the car* I couldn’t mock up fake cards because I have no idea what they look like. *pauses to think* Maybe they’re not sticklers?

Dean: Can’t gamble on that. There’s NO other entrance?

Sam: If I had found another entry point, we’d be going in that one! Why do you think we’re arguing about this one? 

Dean: Windows?

Sam: The ones we could fit into have no cover, and possibly don’t even open. Everything else is too small. There’s emergency exits, but they’re only accessible if we’re already inside the school! Why are we --

Dean: Alright, alright, unclench. Let me think for a minute.

Sam: *waits*

Dean: *stares at front entrance through narrowed eyes*

Sam: *sighs passive-aggressively*

Dean: *ignores*

Sam: *faintly hums Jeopardy! timer music*

Dean: *starts to whack Sam on the arm, but then brightens* Hey. That bank in Seattle, where we were dressed up as cleaning crew? You taste the rainbow, they wave me through without checkin’. That could work.

Sam: *confused* Taste the -- ? Oh, the — *eyes widen with realization* Where I — ? NO. Absolutely not. 

Dean: *shrugs* Hey, if you had a better idea, I would’ve expected to hear it before now.

Sam: *a little frantic* There's got to be something else.

Dean: *mockingly sensitive tone* People are dying, Sam. Your breakfast refund could save lives.

Sam: *rolls his eyes, grimaces* Fine. But on the off-chance they’re not grossed out enough to let both of us pass through security, you have to lose all your weapons anyway. So put up or shut up, Mr. Anything-is-a-Weapon.

Dean: *glowers before reluctantly putting his pearl-handled gun in the trunk* You too, Ralphie, cough ‘em up. *smirks* So to speak.

Sam: *scoffs* Right, like that was your only gun.

Dean: *frustrated sound, unzips his coveralls and reaches down into them to dig around near his hip, muttering* Just gropin’ myself in front of a high school, don’t mind me.*finally presents a gun with a holster hanging from it and drops it into the trunk*

Sam: *still staring* And?

Dean: *frustrated sound, reaches in and pulls another gun out from behind him*

Sam: *suspiciously* I hope you’re wearing pants under there, or I have no idea how --

Dean: *sullenly zipping up coveralls again* Now you.

Sam: *puts his own gun in the trunk* Now the REST of yours.

Dean: *innocently* You think I have more than three guns?

Sam: No, I think you have more than guns. What’s in your boots?

Dean: *growls, bends down to pull a long knife out of his boot*

Sam: What’s in the other one?

Dean: *blandly* My foot.

Sam: *wearily* The other boot, Dean.

Dean: *cursing, bending down again to pull a silver dagger out of the other boot*

Sam: What else?

Dean: I don’t have anything else!

Sam: *eyes narrowed* What about your brass knuckles?

Dean: Don’t have ‘em.

Sam: You don’t have them? *slightly hurt* I got them for you two Christmases ago, and you don’t even carry them?

Dean: No, I mean, I just didn’t bring 'em... with me... today —

Sam: *more hurt* They have your initials engraved on them. I bought them for you. There’s literally no way they’re not on you.

Dean: *clipped* Well, they’re not, I don’t know what to tell you.

Sam: *initiates puppy eyes, level 1*

Dean: DON’T. Don’t even start.

Sam: *quietly* Where are they?

Dean: *pokerface*

Sam: *puppy eyes, level 2*

Dean: *pulls them out of his pocket and angrily throws them in the trunk* Fine! Are you happy?

Sam: Nothing else?

Dean: Nothin’ else. *pulls a mop and a yellow mop bucket out of the backseat, onto the ground, then sits down in the backseat with the car door open* Go on. Get ready for the technicolor yawn. 

Sam: Why do I have to be the one who throws up on the security people as a diversion?

Dean: 'Cause you sympathy-hoark, and I don’t feel like re-enacting that scene from Team America.

Sam: It’s the smell, I can’t help it. *shudders* This had better work. *watches Dean*  Dude. What are you doing?

Dean: *stops sharpening the mop handle with a knife* What does it look like?

Brochester Hijinks Masterlist

Fallout OC Interview

So @lookbluesoup​ tagged me to do this, and I… well I did it my own way, as ever. It’s long, so I hope you wanna stick with it. If you wanna do it, I’ll list the questions as a comment. I dunno, I don’t tag people really, do it if you want to. Particularly @bagheera-is-back​ and @wasteland-mama​, and @saltsealed, but really, I’m enjoying reading them, so do it if you haven’t already. Nate ducked through the doorway, shaking the dirt from his shoes before stepping inside. Piper grinned and gestured to the chair opposite her, and untucked a small, stubby pencil from behind her ear. “Thanks for doing this, Blue. I’m sure they’ll get sick of hearing about you soon enough, but for now, we gotta give the people what they want.”  Nate nodded, settling quietly into the chair, the leather of his jacket creaking as he lowered himself down. He hitched up his trousers at the knee, sniffed, cleared his throat. Piper smiled at him, and nodded to the table next to him. “There’s a beer, if you want it. Help you relax a little.” Nate raised an eyebrow. “You tryin’ to get me drunk, Wright? Liquor me up and hope I spill something good? Not very ethical.” He smiled, a little curl at the corner of his mouth, and Piper looked alarmed. “Oh, no! No, nothing like, that, I mean, there’s… there’s some water too, just, y'know, thought…” She cleared her throat nervously. “Shall we get started?”

She regained her composure, pulling up a chair in front of Nate, backward, and leaning her notepad on the back of it, legs straddling the seat. “So, first up, tell us some basics; what’s your full name?” “Uhm, Nathan Christopher Stahl.” “Mmhmm, and how old are you?” Nate shrugged, that little smile playing at his mouth. “Old enough to know better? I dunno, I was thirty-seven when the bombs dropped. So, give or take 200 years…” Piper flashed him a small smile. “Okay, give the readers some idea of what you look like; defining features, as you see them, what do people notice about you first?” Nate shuffled, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Uhhh, I dunno, I’m…tall, sorta gangly? Black hair, sideburns. My… my nose is kinda…” He pressed his finger to the tip, pushing it up and exaggerating his nostrils. They both laughed, and he looked away to the ceiling. “What is this, anyway, a personal ad? You tell ‘em what I look like.” “Oh don’t worry, I intend to.” She laughed. He winked at her, and she dropped her eyes to the notepad, blushing slightly. Dammit he made her nervous. “Okay, so tell us a bit about where you’re from? You a Boston native, or…” He nodded. “I was. Been here my whole life, except for, y'know, deployment. I grew up pretty near where Goodneighbor is, right by the Common. Moved over to Newton when I was about eight, nine. It was a nice place.” Piper nodded enthusiastically. “I bet it was! Things must be so different now… What was it like, growing up before the war? Can you tell us a little bit about you as a kid, what kind of things you’d get up to?” Nate sat back on the sofa, slinging his arm across the back.  “Well, my dad wasn’t around so much, he was a SEAL, so he - a SEAL was like a really, uh, highly trained soldier, best of the best – so he wasn’t around all that much, me and my mom used to spend most of our weekends with my Grandpa, over in Roslindale. He was a good guy, let me pretty much do what I wanted to do, helped me build campfires and we used to go fishing sometimes. I never had the patience for fishing, so it always turned into a sorta… life lessons in a boat. Let me have a beer, smoke a cigarette, talked to me about girls, y'know, the stuff your parents wouldn’t like. My mom found out once, when I came home with beer spilled all across my pants, and boy she was mad. He was, uh, sneakier, after that. I got a lot of good memories with him.”  “My mom, well, she had a temper, but she always did her best. I think all the time alone must have really gotten to her, especially with me, being a mischievous little bastard so much of the time. I didn’t exactly make it easy for her, but I think she was dealing with more than I really understood, at the time. My dad…” He paused, cleared his throat. “My dad and I never saw eye to eye.”  Piper let him sit a moment, just in case he’d pick up the thread, but he stayed silent, looking off into the corner of the room, over his shoulder. He turned back to face her. “What’s next?” Piper nodded, licked her thumb and flicked the pages of her notepad. “Uhm… lemme see. Why don’t you tell us a little more about your association with the Minutemen? Rumour has it you’ve been promoted.” Nate laughed.  “Nice to hear the Boston rumour mill is still in tip top condition. Yeah, I’ve been… requested to take on a more directorial role. The Minutmen are certainly growing again, there’s more and more settlements being established as a network across the commonwealth, more and more people signing up to watch each others’ backs and have more folks to rely on in a crisis. Lieutenant Garvey has been hard at work, rebuilding the Castle and the ranks are looking stronger than ever, even got a team modding power armour.” He smiled, leaning forward. “For any raiders out there reading this, that’s a real gentle way of saying don’t fuck with us.” Piper grinned. “Might have to censor that one, Blue. Don’t want to offend the delicate sensibilities of the commonwealth’s finest, y'understand. What about the Institute? There’s some, uh, talk that you’ve been inside, some questions about who you’re working with?” Nate sucked his teeth, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. “I’m not in a position to address that.” He leaned forward. “Between you and me, my Geiger counter is in the shop, and this is a bigger shit show than anyone thought. You can say I avoided the question, say I said no, whatever. I can’t talk about it.” She wriggled in her seat, flipping a fresh page, her eyes flashing inquisitively. “Okay, gotcha. So… back to Lieutenant Garvey, he’s one of the people you’re often seen travelling with, and you two seem to have a pretty good chemistry. Is he a squeeze, or is it purely professional?” Nate rolled his eyes. “Wright, this is gossip mag territory. I thought you were better than that.” She shrugged, her cheeks colouring a little. “Hey, not my fault, the people wanna know.” Nate sighed. “No, he’s not a “squeeze”. We’re close, for sure, he’s someone I trust, and we’ve saved each other’s assses plenty of times. But the same goes for Nick, and for Bobby MacCr- sorry, RJ MacCready. Honestly, Valentine is… I don’t think I’d have made it without him. He really kept me in line when I was trying to go off the rails. I owe him a lot.” Piper smiled sincerely. “Yeah, Nicky’s a real good guy. Lotta heart, for a synthetic man, huh?” He nodded. Piper took a deep breath. “So, to press the question a little, is there anyone you’re involved with, currently? Romantically involved with?” Nate chuckled under his breath. “Not exactly. There’s… I’ve got, shall we say, interests.” “C'mon Blue, spill it.” She prodded. “Give us lonely commonwealth folks some hope.” He laughed. “Well, there’s… a little guy, from out of town, he knows who he is. And, well, Diamond city certainly has it’s fair share of pretty girls. Pretty girls with plenty of attitude, girls that make the authorities a little uncomfortable. I’m a sucker for a girl who knows how to get what she wants.” He met her eyes, and Piper’s stomach leapt. He’s kidding, he’s just a goddamn flirt. “Okay, so to move on… Enemies. You gotta have a fair few of them, being in your position?” Nate nodded, drawing his lips tight. “Yeah, unfortunately. The gunners, predictably, are not exactly looking to pat me on the back. The Brotherhood, we don’t see eye to eye either, I blew them off a while back and they’re not exactly pleased that we’re establishing a force of our own with the Minutemen. I spent enough time taking orders before the bombs, I’m really not looking to join up again. I’ve seen enough combat on other people’s terms.” “Do you enjoy the fighting? What’s the wildest combat story you’ve got for us? Spin us a yarn.” Nate considered, tugging a cigarette from his pocket. “Well, there’s… Do you mind?” He gestured at the cigarette, Piper shook her head. He lit up. “There’s a few, to be honest, taking out a deathclaw inside a museum, that was a traumatising experience. That’s where, y'see the scar here?” He tapped beneath his right eye. “Those things are lethal, even when you’re out of arms reach. Threw a big fucking chunk of ceiling tile at me, busted my nose pretty good, but made it out alive.” Piper whistled. “Lucky.” Nate shook his head. “Nah, I don’t believe in luck. I’m just grateful MacCready managed to do more than just shit his pants. Can’t blame him.” He inhaled and blew the smoke away quickly. “Don’t print that, he’ll kill me. There was the Castle, too. Big bastard Mirelurk, Garvey said it was a Queen, that was a close call. If I live my whole life and never have to smell another…” He shuddered, Piper laughed. “Not a fan of the aquatic life then?” “Not particularly. Bloodbugs though, they’re the… fuck those things. Can’t stand them. Bloatflies too, disgusting.” “Any critters you don’t hate?” She smiled. “Plenty. From a distance, Yao Guai are some majestic looking things, aren’t they? And mole rats, when they’re just going about their business…” He held his hands up like paws and stuck his teeth out, imitating the rats’ snuffling sound, and Piper laughed out loud. He grinned, and took another drag. “I don’t know about you, I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for them. And, maybe this is pre-war hagover, but protectrons, y'know, I kinda love the big stupid things. I used to work for RobCo, before I was in the Navy, and I always liked 'em the best.” Piper sat forward. “Used to work for RobCo? So you’re a bit of a whizz with electronics huh?” Nate shook his head, sucking the cigarette. “Not really. I was sales, I can do a bit of maintenance, and shut things down in a pinch, but I never had the flair for that stuff. My speciality was convincing people to buy stuff.” “Ahh, more of a sweet talker, huh?” “Takes one to know one, sugar.” He winked. “Yeah, I’ve always been more a lover than a fighter, and my mouth has gotten me into, and out of, plenty of trouble. Good with my hands, too, for what it’s worth.” He flicked his eyebrows in a quick arc, a half smile curling the corner of his mouth. Piper blushed again, laughing. “I can see why. You’re a rouge, aren’t you? What other tricks have you got up your sleeve?” “Well, I’m not a bad swimmer, my aim’s pretty good, I’m pretty light on my feet, make a good steak.” he laughed. “And I might not be a brute-force kinda guy, but I can hold my own.” Piper nodded. “And how was it, adjusting to the world out here? The radiation? You must’ve been pretty shocked at the mutants, and ghouls…” Nate nodded. “For sure, it was a shock. Coming out of the vault was… I was already in a bad place, freezing and alone and… y'know, everything. When I got up to the surface, I just… my knees just went out, and honestly, I sat and cried, I don’t know how long.” He stubbed out his cigarette.  “The next… I dunno, month or two, it was hard. Even just getting up, just walking around, it felt like all my bones were made of lead, my head full of water, y'know? I made it to Goodneighbor, but I was so sick, all the food I’d been scavving was poisoning me, and I didn’t know what the hell was happening. John – Mayor Hancock – got Amari to fix me up, but we, uh… he and I had some pretty serious misunderstandings back then, so I didn’t stick around to rest like I was supposed to. Nick really looked out for me around then, but… in the midst of it all he ended up being out of action, and Mayor Hancock ended up trekking into the glowing sea with me.” Piper’s face dropped. “I know. Crazy. Trust me, it was more crazy than it sounds. But he kept me alive, and we held up pretty well considering. I’ve never seen one man soak up so many chems before, but then, I wasn’t far behind.” Piper tilted her head quizically. “Are you a fan of… recreational substances, then?” Nate looked at the ceiling and chewed his lip. “Uhhh, I dunno, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship there. I’ve… been known to enjoy myself at a party, in the past, y'know, before the bombs. Sometimes a little too much. But things are different out here, and some can really change the tide of a fight. I’m not saying you should, I’m saying it’s an option, in a pinch.” Piper nodded. “D'you ever think about life before the war?” “All the time. All the time. So many places here have bits of my life attached, sometimes it’s like a little niggle in my stomach - “gee, I could really go for an ice cream right now!” - other times it’s like the floor falling out under you.” She sidestepped the obvious sore point, instead asking; “What’s ice cream?” Nate furrowed his brow. “It was… so it’s milk, like a thick cream, and they froze it, but not like a block of ice, it was… it was more like snow, I guess, like thick, sugary snow. All different flavours, you put it on a… a kinda waffle cone, and it just melted in your mouth, or you could put it in a soda and…” He paused, laughing. “It’s a lot harder to explain than I thought. But you’d have liked it. Sometimes couples went out for ice cream, like on a date, before a movie or something. I bet you’d have liked that too. I might even have offered to take you.” She laughed, smiling wistfully, eyes bright. “Sounds… tasty. You a soda kind of guy? I can’t get enough of the stuff.” “Well, I wasn’t,” he gestured, “before the war. But the fact that Nuka Cola is practically the same as it was then… it blows my mind, and it’s a nice little slice of memory. I heard some people are trying to find the formula, want to get the bottling plant up and running again. How’s that for an achievement?” He laughed, and Piper wanted to reach out and touch him, smooth her fingers across the little lines at the corners of his eyes, put her hand on his chest and feel his voice under her palm… She smiled at him. “Speaking of achievements, what would you say is the biggest one for you?” “Uhh, not being dead yet? I dunno, helping Preston re-establish the Minutemen is… it’s a huge thing, and I wouldn’t take credit for it all, but joining them, really making things better for people and really… instigating change. That’s something I’ve always wanted. I’m glad to be a part of it.” Piper nodded, scribbling frantically. “Any regrets?” Nate swept his hand through his hair, looking away again. “I dunno, that’s a big question. Yeah. I have some. I can’t really say more. Sorry.” “That’s okay. Would… would you say you have goals?” She leaned forward. “Things you’ve learned from those regrets? What do you want, what’re you working towards for the future?” He rubbed the corners of his mouth and thought for a moment. “I… guess I want to make a home again. Not just for myself, but for… for everyone out here. Just to make people feel safe, to bring a little bit of the lightness that life used to have. To give people back that… hope.” He looked at Piper, his eyes flicking from deep thought to a mischievous gleam. “Short term, I’d like that beer, and maybe to get laid. I dunno if you want to publish that though.” She laughed, blushing, closing her notebook and hopping to her feet. “I think that’s the perfect ending; giving the people hope, just like you said.” She stepped close to him, extending her hand, and he shook it warmly. “Thanks for being such a good sport, Blue. And… if you ever want to hit the road with someone, you just remember where to find me, 'kay? I’m always on the prowl for a new story, and you seem to just… scoop 'em up, by accident. I think it’d be a lot of fun, travelling with you, and I’m not too terrible with a pistol either. You gimme a shout, y'hear?” He stood, tugging his jacket down over his stomach, and nodded, smiling. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Voltron legendary defender, Shance, "Hey Beautiful. Oh $hit, wrong beautiful!" (You don't have to censor the swear if you're comfortable using it)

THIS IS SO LATE, but your prompt inspired an au where the galra never pick up the kerberos team and now shiro has to deal with being back home, not being as over adam as he thought he was, sick again for the first time in a while, and with the WHOLE WORLD now aware of his disease because sanda is a dick! And also most definitely some adorable shance. (or at least, i consider it adorable. there will be duck videos!!!) a thousand pardons for the tardiness, i kept waiting until i finished the whole fic but i’m hella slow and i just keep ADDING THINGS instead

anyway, this is JUST the scene with your prompt in it lol

psa: i focused mostly on ms rather than polio when researching for shiro’s disease, but 1) i need to do a lot more research and 2) i have no personal authority or experience over this topic (tho i do have some experience with chronic illness), so while i am trying to be respectful and realistic about what shiro in this circumstance might be dealing with, please remember that i know nothing about anything, thank you

“Hey, Captain!” called a grinning engineer, coveralls down about her waist. “Good to see you up and about!”

Ah.

Shiro let his shades fall down, slapping against the sides of his nose with gentle pressure. He angled a grin and a wave, and said, “Hey yourself,” and was content to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket and amble on over toward a big beauty all by herself on the far side.

He had been hoping not to be recognized.

More than that, he had been hoping not to be recognized in direct correlation to his disease. It wasn’t as though it weren’t a part of him, obviously -- he had to deal with it, he had to adjust the world around him to factor it in. It was there, always. But there had been a reason he’d kept it so under wraps. Shiro preferred when it was only ever acknowledged as an afterthought -- he wanted people to see him, not some version of him distorted by sickness.

At least the ‘ships were still beautiful and the summer breeze nice. He made it through the rest of the ‘yard without incident, taking a slow, curving path toward what looked to be a Corona Class vessel. Bulky, heavily shielded, made to withstand longer bouts of radiation than most of the fighters. Her cargo bay was a massive belly on the back half of her fuselage; she had to be hell on turns. And she was just as beautiful close up as she’d been at a distance. Even with his sunglasses on half of the ‘ship was a glare of sun on metal too bright to see through. It didn’t bother him; he knew a good freighter when he saw one.

Shiro came to an unsteady, grateful stop in the shadow of her nose, trying to ignore the way the world had slowly started spinning lopsided on its axis on the way over. He really should have brought his cane, but also: fuck his cane.

“Hello gorgeous,” he called up to the cockpit, nearly as bulbous as her cargo bay.

To his surprise, a voice called back: “You flatterer!”

Startled, Shiro took a step backward and nearly lost his footing, muscles not quite responding how they ought. Damn. He hadn’t realized there was anyone here. The ‘ship had been quiet the whole way over, and -- oh.

That was a torso and head rearing up from the cockpit, the top of which was apparently popped.

Shiro hadn’t been able to tell with the sun shining through the quartz glass at this angle. Ohhh shit, Shiro thought, embarrassed, as the person leaned down over the side of it and laughingly said, “I could say the same to you, Captain! I did not expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t mean you,” Shiro muttered, but he had a feeling his voice had carried with the wind because the shadowy blob nearly twenty feet overhead snickered a little. So Shiro said, louder, “I was talking to the ‘ship. I can’t even see you.”

“Just a minute and I can fix that!” the voice said, cheerily enough.

Shiro squinted through his shades, still embarrassed, and watched as the figure disappeared back into the ‘ship. The cockpits on freighter class vessels were only released for maintenance or in the case of critical emergencies out in the black. That high up in the air it wasn’t feasible to get in and out of in anything less than zero-G. A moment later and the cargo door dropped open with a creaking groan beneath the ‘ship’s high-mounted tail.

Shiro considered turning around and wandering off the way he’d come. But --

He had left the apartment because he couldn’t stand to be there, trapped. He had never felt trapped inside a spacecraft, though, even one that was grounded. And what was one person versus a whole Garrison full of them, which he’d have to traverse again if he wanted to leave. He’d been stopped only once on the way out here, yes, but there was no telling how many might stop him a second time.

And besides. He was pretty certain he wasn’t going to be able to make the walk without issue, if the numbness spreading through his shoulder, now, was any indication.

Fuck, this was awful. What was the best option here? Suddenly he felt tired all over again, weary and worn down, hating how something once so simple had become so complex. He’d just wanted to see the damn spaceships. Fuck this relapse, and fuck himself for not putting on the damned pump when his doctor had told him to.

“Hey, Captain!” the voice called once more, peering out at him, crouched absurdly halfway down the lowered ramp. “Do you want to check my girl out or not?”

The grin smudging against the corners of his mouth in response to that casual, boasting question was all the reason Shiro needed to feel better about staying right here, at least. Hands in his pockets, Shiro carefully ambled on over to the back half of the ‘ship, working hard to keep it natural looking. “Corona Class, right? I recognize the body type, but I didn’t realize there were any still in active use. There were only, hm… three? Before I left for Kerberos.”

“Yup. Helen’s the last one standing. And she’s been refitted, too, so she’s super sexy. I bet you’ve never seen anything like her.”

Snorting, Shiro finally came around aft and put a cautious foot up on the heavy metal of the cargo door, converted into a ramp here where it had thumped into the ground. “I bet I haven’t,” Shiro agreed peaceably enough. He always enjoyed it when pilots were a little in love with their ‘ships. Somehow it made him trust them more.

“Come on, come on, get up here! I never thought I’d get to show off for Captain Shirogane, I’m about to pee myself in excitement here, come on.”

“Whoa,” said Shiro, brows skyrocketing and finding a hand thrust down to help him up the ramp. The sight made something tighten inside his chest, and it was on the tip of his tongue to protest that he didn’t need any help, thank you, he knew his way around a fucking freighter. But then he followed that hand up to the man it apparently belonged to and recognized him.

“Oh,” said Shiro, startled. “You’re -- Ensign Maine, right? From the uh. The press conference?”

The ensign had risen from his crouch and come to stand sideways, staring back into the belly of the ‘ship. His hand was wiggling in impatience, and considering his past experience with this particular ensign, Shiro had the sudden, strong impression that it hadn’t been held out in deference to Shiro’s potential delicacy, and instead simply because he was eager to get Shiro in and started on the tour and this was the compromise to coming down, grabbing Shiro by his jacket, and hauling him bodily up the ramp.

Huh.

Shiro was about to go ahead and take that hand, because he could probably use the help even if he didn’t want it, and this kind of offer was far more palatable than his first assumption. But at the question, the ensign squawked, swinging around to face him. Standing farther up the incline as he was, it put him taller than Shiro, and his eyes were dark and wide, mouth gaping open in ridiculous, dramatic affront. “Maine,” he said, indignant. “That -- totally not my name, oh my god. Have you thought -- ? Agh! And all this time I’ve been so excited that I actually talked to you and you didn’t even know my name, what --”

Shiro reached up and snagged the ensign’s hand in his, tugging hard, just to get him to shut up. And also maybe because he wanted to. Just a little. Smirking, Shiro said, “I still remember you. Sorry I got the name wrong. What is it?”

He would have looked for himself, but for whatever reason this ensign seemed determined to make it impossible to see the damned name sewn onto his clothes. He was in orange again today, but this time it was a dirty coverall, the upper portion shrugged off to revealed toned biceps and forearms and what appeared to be a firm chest beneath a too-tight white undershirt. Happily, it was still just bright enough on the ramp that Shiro hadn’t had to take off his sunglasses, so the guy wouldn’t be able to tell where Shiro’s gaze was lingering. He let himself appreciate the way the ensign’s bicep bulged like a softball as he took Shiro’s weight, standing firm.

Nice.

“McClain,” said the man, now grinning down at him. It was a very white grin, big and bright in a lean, handsome face, and Shiro finally reached up to twitch his sunglasses atop his head, because Ensign McClain was officially pretty enough for eye-candy and -- yep, those eyes were blue, dark and a little wicked with that glint in them.

“Nice to meet you, Ensign McClain,” Shiro said.

McClain waggled his brows and drew Shiro a little closer, up half a step onto the ramp. “The pleasure, Captain,” he teased, “is all mine. Trust me on that one.”

Venom Movie Prompt: Reader is a Life Foundation scientist part-time that had been taking care of the Venom Symbiote and talked to it to pass the time and to monitor it's behavior. Unaware of what Carlton Drake had really been using them for she hears about a suspected break-in at work. Carlton is furious and wants his Symbiote back, starts to realize the secrets and is not sure if she wishes to stay there. She then gets a visitor that takes care of her like she did for them. -threshprince

Oh my, this turned out longer than I planned. I am incapable of writing short things, apparently. Haha.

I hope this is good enough  @threshprince It kinda got away from me at the end and turned into a bit of fluff, haha.

It had been your dream job.

You’d never thought that a paper you’d submitted to your University professor would have gotten you a part time job, never mind one at the Life Foundation itself!

But by some chance, some shining star, you’d gotten an interview with Carlton Drake himself. You’d been nervous, sure, but not so nervous that you’d made a fool of yourself, not if the part-time job you’d landed in his genetics department was any clue.

Learning that there was bonafide proof of alien life had rocked your world. Learning that you’d be one of the few allowed near such life while running genetics tests on it? Mind-blowing.

The first time you’d seen the alien ‘symbiote’ in it’s glass canister, you’d been surprised. You’d honestly been expecting something more out of the movie genre that you’d been low-key obsessed with during your teenage years. Alien goo, that wasn’t something that you had been prepared for. Well… was the Blob alien? You couldn’t remember.

Either way, it was weird.

Still, as you and your fellow geneticists studied it, you quickly came to a realization that it had some sentience. It definitely flinched away from the probes that were used to take some of it’s physical makeup, banged against the canister in an attempt to get loose, and the high pitched ‘scream’ that left it when one of the scientists quelled it’s escape attempts with the electric shocks had almost made you cry.

It raised some serious problems with you. You’d even mentioned it to the other scientists, but they had waved you off, laughing at you. You were too young, apparently, seeing things that weren’t there.

Your moral compass was starting to go off kilter.

You were unable to really do anything - you needed the job. You had so much debt to pay off from putting yourself through school, and the Life Foundation payed handsomely.

What you could do, however, you did.

A familiar screech reached your ears one day, and you looked up from your computer, scowling at ‘Adam’ a fellow geneticist with a mean streak a continent wide. He loved nothing more than to shock that poor alien for the slightest reason. Another thing that made you think the symbiote was sentient - it tended to hiss at Adam and press itself as far away from the man as possible whenever the Adam went near it.

“Adam, what the hell are you doing?” It was a dangerous thing, to stick your neck out with Adam around. He was a bully, in every sense of the word. He was constantly complaining to Carlton Drake that you were on the team, trying to get you fired.

But the screaming, it sent shivers down your spine. You were certain Adam used to torture small animals when he was a kid.

When Adam didn’t answer, you snatched your pepper spray out of your purse and rose off your chair, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you stomped over to him. “Goddamn it, Adam, stop torturing the poor thing!”

The heavyset man eyed you darkly, and you locked your knees to keep from running at the hate in his eyes. “Oh, fuck off. It’s not like it actually hurts it.”

“It’s screaming.”

“Hah. Sounds like singing to me.”

Oh good lord he was a sick fuck. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

That hit a nerve, because he rose his thumb from the security panel that controlled the instruments used to both subdue and take samples from the alien, then turned towards you, brows drawn inward in a glower.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Well shit, you’d poked the wasps nest. “It means that I think you’re torturing the poor thing because it’s helping you get your rocks off. Probably the only way too, can’t imagine any woman with a brain going near a bully like you.”

He snarled something and took one menacing step forward, pausing when you stuck your can of pepper spray in his face. His eyes literally crossed as he stared at it.

“Touch me,” you growled. “And I will empty this entire thing into your eyes. If there’s any justice in the world, then it’ll probably fucking blind you.“

He breathed heavily, like a bull ready to charge, but took a step back. You kept the spray raised, stance ready in case he lunged or reached for you, but Adam merely glared at you a moment longer before snarling a curse.

“You just lost your fucking job, bitch. Threatening a senior employee and bringing a weapon past Security, you’ll be lucky if you’re not arrested.”

“Just fuck off before I figure out how to rip the shock mechanism out of this panel so I can electrocute you,” you snapped. Adam glared at you a moment longer, then turned and stomped back to his separate office space. “Jesus, how the hell did he pass the psychiatric screening.”

Sighing, shoulders slumped, you turned towards the canister, and the symbiote held within. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, daring to reach out to press two fingers to the glass. “I can’t– Adam’s right, I’m going to get fired. I needed this job, but if you’re as smart as I think you are, then it’s worth it. I’m sorry he keeps hurting you, and I’m sorry that you’re trapped here.”

There was a moment of silence, where the symbiote undulated in it’s prison - because it was a prison, you’d realized. It was a prisoner, and you and the others had been experimenting and cutting off pieces of it. Jesus.

You were about to pull away when it moved, pressing up against where you were touching the glass. You blinked, staring at it for a moment. It was the first, non-aggressive move it had made to date. Usually it thrashed and shrieked and tried to attack anyone that came near it.

Then again, if situations were reversed, wouldn’t you?

Figuring that it was your last day at the Lab, you decided that finishing your current DNA breakdown of the latest sample taken from the symbiote would be a waste of time.

So you pulled up a chair and kept your hand pressed against the canister, merely talking to the symbiote for the rest of your shift. Babbled about your classes as the University, and why you’d taken the job at the Life Foundation, then tangented your way to talking about little things. Your hobbies, dreams, your family. Told it about the City in case it ever got free, about the dangers and the beautiful things and the people that weren’t complete assholes.

When it was time for you to leave, you gave the symbiote one last look, then used your body to block your movements as you lifted a maintenance panel on the computer panel that controlled the shocking and dissecting instruments, feeling for the needed wires and yanking them out.

“There. No more shocks. Not until they realize it’s broken, anyway.” A sigh left you as you stared down at the imprisoned symbiote, fully convinced that it was staring back. “I’m sorry I can’t do more. I really am–”

Noise from the direction of the elevators made you frown, and you huffed when you heard Adam’s voice raving at someone, someone who turned out to be a security guard. “Looks like I’m going to be escorted out of the building too. God how I loathe that man.”

Shoulders slumping, you went to leave your lab coat on your chair, then grabbed your purse, pausing by the symbiote again before leaving the Lab. “If you see a chance to escape, no matter how small, take it. I don’t know what Carlton Drake has in store for you, but it can’t be good. If you need help–” You rushed to whisper your address as the security guard opened the glass door to the Lab.

“Ma’am? I’ve been ordered to escort your out of the building.”

“Never been happier to be fired from a job,” you spat in Adam’s direction as you stormed past the guard, flipping Adam off as you headed down the hallway. Smirked when you heard the guard tell him to back off - poor baby had a short fuse.

The next week and a half went by as boringly as possibly. You easily fell back into the rhythm of things before the Life Foundation job. Balancing school and waitressing at a bar was old hat by now, you could do it in those sleep deprived moments called ‘unconsciousness’.

It was while bringing drinks to a group of frat boys that you saw the headline - a massive explosion at the Life Foundation. Fifteen dead, more wounded. Carlton Drake was on damage control, saying that it was an accidental electrical fire that had spread to one of the labs and ignited some samples, but you knew better.

“Good for you,” you murmured under your breath. Stared at the TV screen a little too long if the look from your boss was any indication, and you quickly went back to work. This job, you didn’t want to lose. It didn’t have the questionable morality that the other one had. That, and the tips were good.

What you weren’t expecting was to find Carlton Drake waiting for you at the end of your shift. The man - dressed in a suit that probably would have set you up for rent for a year - was flanked by two muscled guards that quickly herded you towards, and into, the alleyway next to the bar.

“Where is it?!”

You blinked and played stupid. “Where’s what?”

Drake glared. “Don’t play dumb. The symbiote it’s gone! Attached itself to some guy and killed half the staff and security before vanishing into the damned City.”

You eyed the guards by his sides before huffing. “Well how the hell should I know?“

“Because you are the only one that seemed to have a rapport with the alien. I saw the security footage of you defending it from Mr. Harrison. Honestly, if you’d simply told me that he was torturing it instead of threatening him, you’d still have a job.”

“A job where I’d be dissecting a sentient creature. Pass. Hard pass. Some of us have this thing called ‘morality’.”

”Which is why the symbiote responded to you,” he pressed. When you stayed silent, he rolled his eyes and pulled out a business card. “If it comes to you, contact me. I’ll reward you handsomely. You’ll never have to work at a dump like this again. One call, and I’ll have an entire security force at your side in five minutes and a check in your hands in ten.”

You hesitated. That much money…. But the memory of the symbiote screaming in pain made you shake your head. “No thanks.”

Drake stared at you as if he couldn’t understand the words that had come out of your mouth. Finally, he glowered and shoved the business card back into his pocket. “Stupid girl. Fine, have it your way. You’ll be watched from now on. You won’t see them, but I’ll have people following you twenty-four-seven. If…. when the symbiote comes to you, and I have a firm belief that it will, I advise you not to get in the way.”

You glared at his back as he turned away, his two goons following a step behind him as he walked back to his black Cadillac, the driver holding the door open for him. The urge to run over and score the Caddy’s paint job with your keys rose, but you didn’t fancy a bullet to the head.

For the next three days, you had the firm sensation of being watched. It made your skin crawl. As Carlton Drake had said, you never spotted your tail, but you knew it was there. Hoped beyond hope that the symbiote had the sense not to come to you, because you really didn’t want it to get caught.

You wished you hadn’t told it where you lived. But hindsight was twenty-twenty.

One night, after a double shift at the bar, you were in your apartment studying, books open on the small kitchen table as you tried to put together something coherent for paper due in a week. The coffee was brewing strong - you were on your second cup, late hour be-damned.

All the windows were covered in thick curtains - new curtains that you’d bought to hide yourself from the prying eyes you knew were there. You’d even added two new security locks to the front door, and had an aluminum baseball bat nearby in case you needed to bash any asshole trying to get in. It was all you could do on a meager student’s budget.

You knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Which was why, when you heard a knock on the door, your first instinct was to snatch up that bat and get ready to bash some heads. You sidled up to the door and rose on your tiptoes to peer through the spy-hole, blinking at the guy on the other side. Tall, muscled, blue eyes, short brown hair, wearing jeans a shirt and a black leather jacket. Who the fuck was he and why was he at your door at…. You blinked when you realized it was one in the morning. Fucksakes you had classes at eight.

You rose your voice so you’d be heard through the door. “Who is it?”

“Uh, hi? Our– My name’s Eddie Brock. I, um, look I know it’s late and this is weird, but I have a…. friend who knows you.”

“Good for you. That tells me nothing at all about why you’re at my door at one in the morning.“

There was an amused tone to his voice when he spoke next. “If I were to tell you, you probably wouldn’t open the door.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, now that all my red flags are up, this is the point where I tell you to fuck off.”

Silence stretched on for a moment, before mumbling was heard on the other side. Something that actually sounded like arguing. Oh goody. You had a crazy person on the other side of your door.

Eddie spoke up again a heartbeat later. “I’m not going away until you talk to me.”

“Then enjoy sleeping in the hallway. Also, if you’re still there in the morning, I am, presently, in possession of a bat. Which I shall happily use on you if you make me late for class.”

“You got a chain on that door?”

You scowled. “Two. And a bat.”

“Then you don’t have to let me in. I just want to say my piece and then I’ll leave. Scout’s honor.”

You waffled over that for a moment. Maybe too long, because there was a curious ‘hello?’ from the other side of the door. “I’m thinking!” you called back, pushing away from the door and pacing a little.

Crazy man outside the door, assholes keeping watch, and you had a bat. Yeah, you were going to die.

Sighing, thinking perhaps, lack of sleep had made you stupid, you slid both chains into place, then unlocked the door and opened it enough to peek out. “Talk fast.”

He blinked at you. “You’re prettier than he said you were.”

“Okay then. Closing the door now.”

“Wait, wait! I’m sorry. Please don’t go. He’s been driving me nuts for days trying to get me to come here.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And who would ‘he’ be, exactly?”

“He calls himself ‘Venom’.”

“Uh huh.”

Eddie rose a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I’m fucking this up. Look, I’m a reporter. I was trying to expose Carlton Drake and his Life Foundation for experimenting on homeless people and– Are you alright?”

You felt like throwing up. He’d been doing what?! God, it was so much worse than just torturing aliens. It took everything you had to keep from having a mild panic attack. “Sorry, Mr. Brock. I don’t do interviews.”

“Oh, no. I’m not here for that. I got too close to the truth and he… Look, long story short, I know about the symbiotes.”

Plural. There had been more than one. Your brain latched onto that and didn’t let go. “There was more than one?!”

He frowned. “You didn’t know?”

“No! I— Wait. Why the fuck are you here then? Who the hell is your ‘friend’ and why would…. they….” Your voice trailed off at the familiar blackness that extended from his ‘jacket’ and reached out to touch your hand. You’d thought it would feel sticky or wet, but all you felt was a coolness as the symbiote curled around your fingers. “Holy shit. Holy shit! You shouldn’t be here! You can’t be here! Drake, he’s got people watching me! You have to run–”

A darkness flit across Eddie’s eyes. “They won’t be a problem for you anymore.”

You went still. That hadn’t been Eddie’s voice. 

Well, at least your hunch that the symbiote was sentient had been proven. Take that Adam.

Eddie blinked a bit, the blue returning to his eyes as he met your stunned gaze again. Even quirked a smile at you as you watched the bit of symbiote retreat from your hand and vanish into his ‘jacket’. “We promise, we won’t hurt you.”

You felt like babbling incoherently. Instead, you slid the chains off and opened the door fully, stepping back as he entered. Kept a hold on the bat, mostly because you felt too numb to let go of it as you mechanically closed the door, locking it.

He was eyeing all the open books and scattered papers on the kitchen table when you turned to look at him, and Eddie glanced up when he felt your stunned stare. “You’re not going to pass out are you?”

“Don’t get snippy, I have a bat,” you mumbled as you staggered past him, going to sit down on the edge of the couch. “So, it– the symbiote. It is sentient.”

Eddie moved to lean on the wall opposite you, thankfully giving you the room you needed to process things. “Painfully so. Can’t get it to shut up half the time. Ow! Goddamn it!” You looked up to see him rubbing at the side of his neck, where a tiny bite mark was visible. “Quit it!”

“You bonded with it.” You and the others at the Lab had guessed that it would be possible for a human to ‘host’ the symbiote. It hadn’t been proven, merely an educated hypothesis. But you knew now that Carlton Drake hadn’t been merely ‘studying’ the symbiotes. He’d been experimenting on them, and on people.

“Yeah. Drake…. Bastard caught me while I was snooping around and used me as an experiment. He expected it to kill me, not bond with me and use me to escape.”

“Use you?”

“Wasn’t exactly planning on bonding with an alien,” Eddie drawled with a tired smirk. “It’s been…. hard. It– Venom. It’s predatory as hell. Kill first, nevermind the questions, y’know? But I can be a stubborn bastard too. And apparently symbiotes prefer willing hosts rather than ones they have to constantly fight with. So we came to an…. understanding. I honestly didn’t expect him to drag me here. Or that he even knew anyone else in the City.”

You tightened your hand on the bat at the curious tone of his voice. “I had a part time job at the Life Foundation. I didn’t know about…. most of what you told me. The human experiments, the other symbiotes…. I’m just a geneticist, fuck I’m still in University…. I’m basically a glorified lab rat. I thought it was a good job but….”

“But you figured out the symbiote was sentient.”

“Yeah. There was another scientist that liked to torment it, and I threatened him into backing off….” You rose your gaze to Eddie, who was watching you calmly. “Is it alright? It’s safe with you?”

“Kinda more like I’m safe with it.” He let you digest that for a moment before pushing off from the wall. “He wants to talk to you. Is that alright?”

You blinked. “It… it can do that?”

“With a host, yeah. Just…. don’t scream.”

“Scream? Why would I–” Your eyes widened as blackness encompassed Eddie. It cocooned him, growing bigger, easily growing to seven feet tall, massive shoulders and arms, hands tipped with wicked talons. Pale eyes opened to peer at you, a long tongue curling out from a large fang filled maw to lick at it’s lips.

Okay, yeah. You felt like screaming.

Barely managed to stay quiet, merely clinging to your bat. A bat that the creature in front of you could probably use as a toothpick after it killed you and ate your corpse.

It - Venom - seemed upset at your fear, a voice like dark, predatory, rolling thunder filling the small apartment. “SHH, LITTLE MORSEL. WE WOULD NEVER HARM YOU. DON’T BE AFRAID.”

Afraid? Oh, you were beyond afraid. “To be fair, you’re…. very different,” you grated out. “And big. Very big.”

“HEH. THAT WE ARE. EDDIE IS A GOOD HOST. IF A LITTLE ANNOYING.” Venom walked across the room, crouching in front of you and reaching out to place a massive hand against your face, cupping your cheek. “WE WOULD HAVE KILLED HIM, BUT WE REMEMBERED YOU. REMEMBERED WHAT YOU SAID, THAT NOT ALL HUMANS ARE LIKE DRAKE OR ADAM. THAT SOME ARE LIKE YOU, KIND, BRAVE.”

Your breath left you in a trembling sigh. “Not that brave. I didn’t want to leave you there. I really didn’t.”

“THEY WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU, WE KNOW.” He rumbled, brushing his thumb across your cheek before pulling away, tilting his head as he regarded you. “WE WANT TO KEEP YOU SAFE. WE TOOK CARE OF THOSE STALKING YOU.”

“Stalking– You mean Drake’s men? But, he’ll know you’ve been here!”

A chuckle left him, low, baritone, predatory. “WE KNOW HOW TO COVER OUR TRACKS, MORSEL. THEY’LL NEVER FIND THE BODIES.”

You didn’t know if that was a comfort or not. Finally decided that you didn’t much care. Drake and his assholes could rot in hell. “Thanks. I didn’t much like them shadowing me all the time.”

“WE KNOW. WE WERE IN THE SHADOWS WHEN DRAKE OFFERED YOU MONEY FOR TURNING US IN.” At your horrified and shocked expression, he rumbled again, soothingly this time. “WE KNEW YOU WOULDN’T SIDE WITH HIM. BUT WE COULDN’T MEET YOU UNTIL WE TRACKED DOWN HIS MEN. THERE WERE MANY.”

“Do I even want to know how long you’ve been tailing me?”

A hissing laugh left him. “PROBABLY NOT.”

“Alrighty then.” Your hand cramped from clutching at the bat as tightly as you were, and you winced a bit as you forced your stiff fingers to uncurl from around it, setting it aside. Venom seemed pleased that you’d set your ‘weapon’ aside, a happy sort of murring noise leaving him. “So…. why did you track me down?”

“WANT TO KEEP YOU SAFE. AND….” You blinked at the tired grumble that followed. “EDDIE SAYS THAT WE SHOULD LEAVE, NOT INTRUDE, BUT WE HAVE NO WHERE ELSE TO GO.”

Did you really want an alien crashing on your couch? A sigh left you as you gave that some thought, but, in the end, you knew you’d cave. You had told the symbiote to track you down if it needed help, and it had. Hadn’t expected it to drag someone else along with it, but that just made things more complicated.

“Alright,” you murmured, smiling a little at the happy rumble that left Venom. “You can stay. You can sleep on the couch.”

He blinked and offered up a curious hiss. “NOT WITH YOU? YOU DON’T TRUST US? WAIT– EDDIE IS COMPLAINING AGAIN. BOUNDARIES?”

A soft laugh left you. “Humans don’t usually share beds with people unless they’re in a relationship with them.”

Fangs were bared in distaste. “THIS IS MORE WEIRD, COMPLICATED, HUMAN THINGS, ISN’T IT?”

“Yup.” You sent a glance at a clock, sighing when you saw it was past two-am. No way you were going to get any work done on that paper now. Class was at eight, and you had to be up and out of the apartment by seven. Five hours sleep…. ugh. “Look, I’m tired, and it’s so late that I’m going to skip my classes tomorrow. Lemme get some sleep, and I’ll let you ask all the questions you want about us weird, complicated, humans. Deal?”

“HEH. DEAL.”

Two hours later, you woke up to the feeling of a large body slipping into bed behind you, now-familiar cool tendrils curling around you as large arms encased you in a hug.

A low rumble sounded in your ear. “COUCH WAS LONELY. AND TOO SMALL.”

Absolutely no clue about boundaries.

That’s not why I’m going (27)

Let’s enjoy ourselves, dammit

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 3,700 (let me know if the ‘keep reading’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This picks up where we left off, as Hana, Maxwell, and Olivia arrive at the cabin, starting with Amara’s POV.

*****

Amara, Hana, and Maxwell jump up in the air, shrieking, for a good thirty seconds, until they realize that Liv is behind them, looking annoyed as hell. Without thinking, Amara wraps Olivia in a tight hug.

‘Liv! It’s so good to see you, girl!’

‘Ugh,’ Liv says, disgusted, ‘keep your hands off of me, Suarez, before some paparazzi thinks we’re having an affair.’

Amara lets her go, and looks her in the eye. ‘Are you ok? Like, for real?’

‘Yeah,’ Liv responds, rolling her eyes. ‘I was told this would be relaxing. Clearly it doesn’t mean for me.’

Drake pops his head through the door. ‘Of course you can relax, Nevrakis. Come on in guys. Amara made drinks, and there’s a shitton of food.’

Maxwell comes in first, and wraps Drake in a bear hug. Amara feels like her heart might explode. ‘Thanks for having us, Drake. We missed you guys.’

Hana hugs Drake too, and chimes in, ‘It’s true! What would we do without Dramara?’

Liv rolls her eyes and sighs. ‘Walker, where’s the drink you were talking about?’

*****

Liam glances at his phone, finally a text from Drake.

Hey, sorry I missed your calls, I’m tied up at the cabin and reception is terrible, catch up tomorrow? Hope all is good.

Dismissive, but it’s something. Liam sighs. Only five minutes until his next meeting. In the end, he’s glad Bastien talked him out of going to the cabin unannounced. Bastien was right, he wouldn’t have had enough time to make it back to his meetings, and he had one with the Ambassador of Greece.

He feels silly all of a sudden, being so needy towards his friend, after they had such a complicated few weeks. Sure, he’d been there for Drake after Jackson died, but who wouldn’t have? Plus, Drake had been there for him countless times before, and after that. So, really, he doesn’t know why he’s counting points right now. He types back.

No worries. I’ll see you in Portavira tomorrow.

Typing bubbles.

Why don’t you come by the cabin for lunch? I’m having the Beaumonts over, Hana, Liv, and Amara.

Liam catches himself sighing in relief. He wasn’t being completely iced out. Maybe Drake was really busy, maybe there was some maintenance problem at the cabin, maybe it was all in Liam’s head. He replies as fast as he can, before Drake changes his mind.

I would love to. Is noon ok? We have to be at Penelope’s estate at 3.

The bubbles come back.

Perfect. See you then. Don’t bring anything.

Heh, Drake knows him well. He was already thinking about which vintage bottle of wine to bring. Liv will be there, which he’s thrilled about. He’ll get to see how she’s doing, without having to do it one-on-one again. Less awkward.

A knock on the door. One of his butlers, George, peeks his head in.

‘Your Highness, Miss Ioanna Papadakis, Assistant to the Ambassador of Greece.’

Surprised, Liam promptly answers, ‘Let her in, thank you George.’

*****

Drake puts his phone away and joins the crowd outside on the patio. Everyone is already moderately tipsy, thanks to the strong margaritas prepared by Amara.

‘Guys,’ Drake announces, ‘Liam said yes to lunch here tomorrow.’

Maxwell nods, ‘Good, I’m glad you two touched base. He was distressed today.’

‘Thanks for telling me,’ Drake says, grabbing his glass again. ‘I can’t believe that Bertrand covered for us. I’m in shock.’

Hana swallows her sip of margarita. ‘It was glorious, Drake, you should have seen it. He lied for you, just like that! And thank goodness, because Max and I were at a loss for words, and Liam looked very suspicious.’

‘It doesn’t matter if you manage to cover it up or not,’ Liv says, breaking her silence. ‘when it comes out, and it will come out, Liam will be furious.’

Drake doesn’t know what to say to this. She’s probably right, but he doesn’t need this right now, and neither does Amara. He looks at her, she’s nodding and frowning, staring intently at her glass. Finally, she speaks.

‘You’re probably right, Liv, but what do you suggest, then? That we stop living our lives? That we break up? That we just jump out the window?’

Drake didn’t expect Amara to react so viscerally. Upon hearing her say ‘break up’, his heart shattered. No, he certainly doesn’t want that. He glances at Liv, who went even paler than usual.

‘I’m sorry, Suarez,’ Liv finally says. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I know, things are shit, but it doesn’t mean that we stop ourselves from living our lives in the meantime. Let’s enjoy ourselves, dammit.’ She raises her glass and says ‘It obviously pains me to say this, but cheers to all of you guys, who are...pretty decent people. I guess.’

Amara finally breaks into a smile and clinks her glass to Liv’s. ‘Very heartfelt, Nevrakis. I’m almost tearing up.’

‘Shut up,’ Olivia replies. ‘Before we all get super drunk and Beaumont inevitably forces us to play Never Have I Ever or some shit--’

‘Ohh, good idea,’ Maxwell whispers.

Liv glares at him. ‘I was saying, before we get shitfaced, there’s something I want to say. I’m ok. Don’t worry about me. I’m dealing with all of this, and I don’t need to talk about it.’

Amara smiles and nods, until she finally talks. ‘You know we’re here for you, if you need, though. But before we change the topic, can I ask you an inappropriate question?’

Liv sighs. ‘Yes.’

‘How is Ilya coping? I mean, his dick was under everyone’s plate.’

Drake almost chokes on his margarita. Olivia chuckles, and responds, ‘You know what’s funny? I hadn’t even wondered about that until Rashad asked me. To me, Ilya was never anything more than, well, his dick. Never occurred to me that there might be a man attached to the genitals.’

Amara raises her glass and her eyebrow. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

*****

‘Wait, so you mean there’s someone out there blackmailing everyone?’

He doesn’t know how they got here, drinking whiskey in the middle of the afternoon and talking about his life. He simply had offered her a drink, and next thing he knew, he was pouring more than whiskey. There was no stopping the flow of words, and Ioanna was not even attempting to make it stop.

‘Well, I wouldn’t really say blackmailing,’ Liam responds, ‘because so far, no one has asked for anything in return. Just revealing private things about two of the contestants, and hopefully it stops right here.’

Ioanna whistles, and says, ‘Forgive me, Your Highness--’

‘Liam. Please call me Liam. Our official meeting is over.’

She nods. ‘Sure. Liam. I don’t mean to be indiscreet, but do you know who that might come from? Maybe one of the contestants who is trying to keep your favors?’

‘Could be. Honestly for right now there’s not much I can do, I put my bodyguard and the security team on the case, they’re looking for clues.’

‘Wow,’ Ioanna says, shaking her head.

It felt good to talk to someone, even a complete stranger. He had met Ioanna before, he recognizes her, but they’d never talked. He’d always talked to the Ambassador, but today he had the stomach flu, so Ioanna filled in.

‘Thank you for listening,’ he says, smiling brightly. ‘I didn’t mean to bore you with my life story.’

She dismisses him with a hand gesture. ‘Please. Your life story is everything but boring.’

He chuckles. ‘Thanks. I don’t know if it makes me feel better. Oh, and thank you for filling in today. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy the Ambassador’s company, but it was lovely to get to spend some time with you.’

She laughs lightheartedly. ‘I’ll be sure not to tell him that, and just so you know, I enjoyed our meeting too. Thanks for having me.’

They say their goodbyes, and Liam lets his next meeting in.

‘Bertrand! Hello again.’

Bertrand looks stressed. He is dressed way too formally, even though Liam told him this morning that it was going to be more of a friendly chat regarding Barthélémy Beaumont’s legacy. Bertrand is wearing a black tuxedo, and underneath, instead of his usual sweater vest, he has a bright blue cumberbund, embroidered with satin in the shape of little squids. Liam wonders for a second whether he lost his top hat and his monocle.

‘Hello, Your Highness,’ Bertrand responds formally, curtsying. ‘Thank you for having me.’

‘Thanks for coming, come have a seat, and maybe let’s have a little drink, huh? We’re just gonna have a friendly chat, so you can relax.’

Bertrand nods and sits down, visibly a tad relieved. ‘Yes, well,’ he says, still nervous, ‘I would like to seek your council on the best way to announce that my father loved a man, without harming his memory. My brother and I talked about it, we researched Father’s long-time partner, and as it turns out, he passed away last year. Maybe we could do something in their name, like a donation to an LGBTQ foundation?’

Liam smiles broadly. ‘Wow, Bertrand, that is extremely thoughtful. I don’t think any of this would ever harm your father’s memory. Maybe you and Max could draft a statement, I can take a look at it when it’s convenient, and we can put all that in place together. We’ll call an official announcement.’

Bertrand’s smile relaxes slightly. ‘That would be great. After you left this morning, Maxxie and I drafted something already. Here’s a paper copy, and I will send it to you via email as well.’

‘Wow, you guys are efficient,’ Liam says as he pours the scotch.

‘Ha! Well, we want it done as soon as possible. I’m itching to fire that… that weasel Albert, who’s been blackmailing all of us for years. I want to do that once we have made the announcement, though. We don’t want Albert twisting the truth or taking over the announcement.’

Liam nods, ‘Of course. Let’s get this show on the road, then.’

*****

‘Never have I ever slept with a woman!’ Liv slurs, pleased with herself.

‘No fair!’ Maxwell squeals. ‘I never win either way in this type of thing.’

Hana reluctantly has another sip, although she definitely is tipsier than ever and does not need any more alcohol. After he finishes drinking, Drake says, ‘Don’t take the bait, Max, it was a ploy to make us all drink except Amara. These two are going for a face-off.’

Amara laughs, and takes her turn. ‘Never have I ever… owned a squid suit!’

‘Amara!’ Maxwell yelps. ‘You betrayed me, you little bastard.’ He drinks another big gulp, and pursues, ‘I never thought my beautiful squid suit would be the death of me.’

‘Alright Max, your turn,’ Amara says, laughing.

‘Hmmm,’ Max hums, in an exaggerated thinking pose. ‘Never have I ever had sex on these very lawn chairs.’

‘Come on, Max,’ Hana giggles, ‘that’s too specific, and who would do that outsi--Oh…’

She interrupts herself as she notices both Drake and Amara taking a huge gulp from their drinks, all the while trying to contain their laughter.

‘Sorry hun,’ Amara says, after finishing her sip. ‘I promise we cleaned them, though.’

Hana laughs, blushing, ‘Oh, good to know. I mean, get it girl, or, like Bertrand would say, Yass Kween.’

Liv lets out a throaty laugh. ‘What? Bertrand said what?’

Max snorts, ‘Yeah, I made him watch Queer Eye and now there’s no stopping him! He’s going full Jonathan Van Ness on us!’

‘Wow,’ Liv continues, ‘he’s gotten woke ever since he found out that your dad liked dick.’

‘Olivia!’ Amara cries out.

Max smiles sadly. ‘It’s ok, Amara, we might as well laugh about it, right? I knew when I told Liv, that there would be no stopping the jokes, so here we are.’ He takes another sip. ‘Bertrand is coping well, actually. I’m proud of him.’

Liv nods, visibly flushed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound this crass. I know it must have been weird to deal with. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t tell anyone, and I won’t. I’m only talking about it because everyone here knows.’

Max shrugs. ‘I know, Olivia, it’s fine. I appreciate that you feel comfortable enough to laugh about it, I prefer it this way. As for Bertrand, he’s always been a bit stuck up, but he’s only been this bad since Dad died and he was left in charge. Before, he had a very sweet side, which I’m starting to see again, little by little. It’s nice to have my brother back.’

Amara’s eyes flutter down, just like every time someone says something like that. She feels Drake’s hand on her knee, discreetly comforting her.

It’s all different now. Someone is there for her.

Several someones. She looks around and feels her heart filling with love, and curses herself right away for being too sappy. Her new, close friends around some drinks, teasing each other and dropping truth bombs. That’s exactly what she needed.

Maybe that’s why she came, after all. That, and the handsome, brooding man from the bar. And to think it was the end of her shift, too. She’d have to thank Daniel for bailing on her that night. Bless his Grindr hookup, really.

Feeling a tear escape from her eye, she takes a deep breath and gets up. ‘Let me refresh your drinks, guys. I’m the bartender after all!’

She disappears into the kitchen with the tray of glasses, and preps some more margaritas. She’ll make them frozen this time. They need a serious buzz.

‘Hey, you ok?’

She turns around and sees Drake approaching her, and soon enough, his arms are around her waist. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t look fine,’ he says before kissing her neck.

‘Gee, thanks!’

‘Heh, I meant you look wistful. Was it Max’s brother comment?’

She shakes her head. ‘Oddly, no. I mean, it triggered me a little. Fuck, I would give just about anything for Sergio to be here with all of us.’ Her voice breaks. ‘I miss him even more when something good happens to me, you know. But I don’t want to be the weirdo with the dead brother, I don’t want Max to have to tiptoe around his relationship with Bertrand when I’m here.’

He kisses her neck again. Damn, that’s efficient. ‘You’re not a weirdo. You’re an awesome badass bitch, and you’re hot as hell.’

She giggles. ‘And you’re a hot, drunk mess.’

‘I’m fine, just giggly because of the tequila. I’ll probably have to be supervised while grilling. You changed the subject though. What made you tear up?’ She stays silent and he continues, ‘I saw it, Amara. I know you more than you think.’

She sighs. He really does. ‘I feel stupid saying it. I’m just happy to have met all of you, and, well, remember when I made you watch Jane the Virgin?’

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner to signify that he hated it, but she knows that he secretly loved it. ‘Yes Ma’am.’

‘You know when her heart glows when it’s full? Well, I felt the same out there, just now. I’m happy to be here with you, and I don’t want it to stop.’

He sniffs her hair, probably wanting to be sneaky, but she hears the sniffing loud and clear. He says, ‘I get it. I feel the same. I’m happy we’re all here, and I hate to say it, but it feels like a last hurrah. Like something bad’s gonna happen.’

‘Exactly. I don’t know if it’s gonna be in Portavira tomorrow, or this weekend at the Decision ball, but I’m not feeling good about the near future.’

He flips her around, and takes both of her hands in his. ‘Do you feel good about the future-future?’

She chuckles, ‘What?’

He shrugs, and brushes his thumb across her hand. ‘I don’t know. Maybe this week is just a bad storm that we have to get through. Maybe we could see it like that. Maybe if we hold on really really tight, during that shitstorm, maybe then, we’ll be ok?’

She throws her arms around his neck and places a long kiss on his lips. ‘I love that. Let’s hold on really tight.’

*****

Liv gets up to go to the bathroom, and realizes to her surprise that her legs can barely carry her. She didn’t have all that much to drink, did she? Well, Suarez’s cocktails are deceptive. They taste good, but they’re all kinds of strong.

Not like last night’s vodka. It tasted like pure alcohol, and it got her just as drunk as she thought it would. The only surprise in all of that, was Rashad.

Why is she even thinking about Rashad right now? She doesn’t have time for this bullshit. She has to watch her back. What if he’s in on it? What if he’s one of the people who exposed her?

Meh, she thinks. She would be really, really surprised. Not because he couldn’t, but because he really wouldn’t have a proper motive. He doesn’t give two shits about court, as long as he can conduct business.

‘Ew, gross,’ she says as she stumbles upon Suarez and Walker making out in the kitchen. ‘The cook and the bartender sucking face, that’s hygienic.’

Suarez laughs, ‘Well you’re a delight.’

Liv shrugs. ‘Do you think I hurt Beaumont’s feelings?’

Walker chimes in, ‘I don’t think so. You didn’t mean anything offensive by it, and it’s Max, not Bertrand. He wasn’t shocked.’

Olivia snorts, ‘True, he’s also very much into dick.’

‘Don’t push your luck, Nevrakis,’ Suarez replies.

‘Alright, I’ll stop. Where’s the bathroom?’

‘There’s one right there, near the stairs on the right.’

‘Thanks.’

On the short walk to the bathroom, she notices a family portrait of the Walkers as kids, and the parents as well. She almost forgot what Jackson Walker looked like. She’d always esteemed him. Honorable guy, willing to lay down his life to save the King’s. Tragic for his family. She thinks of her own, for a split second, just like she does several times a day. She realizes she can’t really remember what her own parents looked like, not without the aid of a photo. She remembers smells, voices, smiles. Not entire faces.

As she washes her hands, she looks at her face. Her makeup is a fucking mess, she’d need to fix it. Or maybe it’s not necessary, it’s just them. No one to impress here.

In one swift motion, she removes her lipstick. It stains the side of her mouth. Dammit, she thinks, in all movies, women are able to remove their makeup seamlessly, why not her? She wets her face until it disappears. She removes the tiny dagger that holds her hair up, until it curls down her shoulders. A while since she let her hair down, literally.

She stares at herself for what feels like a brief moment, but it must have been longer than that, because when she gets out of the bathroom, Suarez is outside, a worried look on her face.

‘Everything ok?’ she asks.

Olivia wants to be annoyed. She wants to tell her to mind her own fucking business. But she can’t. She’s actually touched that she cares. ‘I’m fine. You need the bathroom?’

Suarez shakes her head. ‘No. You look pretty with your hair down.’

Liv stifles a smile. ‘Thanks. And you’re glowing. You two must have fucked like rabbits.’

She laughs, ‘Well, you’re not wrong. But it was a little more elegant than that, I like to think.’

Liv smirks, and walks back to the kitchen alongside Amara. She looks at her pouring the frozen margs into the salt-rimmed glasses.

‘Suarez, you sure we can handle so much booze? I have to admit I’m a little...shitfaced.’

‘Ha! Me too. But Drake is firing up the barbecue, it won’t take long for the burgers and hot dogs to be cooked. He’s setting the table outside, there’s potato salad, coleslaw…’

‘You got yourself a nice little house boyfriend, huh?’

Suarez smiles in a sweet way, completely ignoring what was meant to be a dig. ‘You have no idea how much I’ve been enjoying this. It feels real. Shopping with him, cooking together, being outside in nature--’

‘Fucking outside in nature.’

‘Yeah, that too. But, the normalcy, you know. It did something to me. Made me realize some stuff.’ She stops herself and shrugs, chopping a lime to put some slices on the glasses.

‘Suarez?’ Liv asks hesitantly.

‘Yeah?’

She takes a deep breath. Damn you, margarita. ‘You know when you said that I might have been too focused on Liam to see anything else?’

‘Yeah, I remember saying something super insightful along those lines. Go on.’

Liv chuckles. ‘Well, I… Don’t make a big deal about it, and don’t run your big mouth. But um, last night, I think I had a moment. With someone else.’

Suarez looks up from her cutting board, her eyes widening. Liv worries that she might cut herself until she puts the knife away. ‘What? You met someone in just one night? As Bertrand would say, apparently, Yass Kween!’

‘Calm down, bitch. It’s not like that. Nothing happened, it was just a nice moment, but when you said being here made you realize some stuff, I thought of last night. It did the same for me.’

Suarez nods, and breaks into a broad smile. ‘I’m happy for you, Liv.’

She shrugs. ‘Well, it’s probably nothing, but it made me feel good.’ She pauses. ‘Valued.’

‘That’s great. You deserve this much, and more. Do we know this gentleman?’

Liv sighs. She has no idea why she’s telling her all that stuff. ‘It’s Domvallier. Rashad.’

Suarez’s jaw drops. ‘What? Liv, he’s hot!’

‘Shh, come on. I said don’t run your big mouth. Nothing happened, he showed up in my room with vodka and pastries, he wanted to cheer me up. He didn’t expect anything from me, he just...wanted to be there. It was nice.’ She steals a glass and drinks from it. ‘We watched Killing Eve.’

Suarez raises her eyebrows several times and shimmies her shoulders. ‘Oooooh, Killing Eve! Did all the murders make you horny?’

Liv rolls her eyes. ‘Shut up.’

*****

Taglist:

@andy-loves-corgis @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @jovialyouthmusic @mariahschoices @drakesensworld @thequeenofcronuts @alesana45 @notoriouscs @drakewalkerisreal @nikkis1983 @simsvetements @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love @drakewalkerwhipped @drakxwalker @drakewalkerrosenberg @bryclahela @drakelover78 @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @carabeth @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

Hey Itsuki!

This warning isn’t going to work at all, because I’m not actually talking to you, but it’s the only contact information I have, so it’ll have to do.

I’m coming back to Japan.

And more importantly, I’m looking at baseball teams. Most importantly, I’m looking at the BayStars.

I’m also looking at the Giants, because they made an offer and I’d be stupid not to take them up on it, right? They’re one of the biggest names, and they offered the most money. On paper, I should definitely be trying to join that team.

But the BayStars. Obviously, you play for them. You’re not the only reason I’m considering the offer. Building a team from scratch in America was hard work, but more fun than I could’ve imagined. I wouldn’t even have to do that here. You’ve done a lot, and that new manager of yours seems to have some good ideas. But you’re on the rise, or at least I think you are, and that has more appeal than I would’ve ever believed.

So yeah. This is your heads up, I guess, even if you’re not going to read this. I have to get on a plane now, so we’ll pretend I’m not a little offended that the Swallows are so pleased with Kazuya and Sawamura that they didn’t even make an offer, because come on, Sawamura isn’t that good.

Mei

Mei closes his phone, sits back, and sighs. This whole triumphant return to Japan he planned out is getting off to a bit of a rough start. He managed to make it to California just fine, but his plane across the ocean is delayed again, and he’s been sitting in the airport for three hours now. Ueda went to Japan ahead of him to start laying the groundwork for a new contract, which means Mei is here on his own, trying to find a way to pass the time.

He’s spent at least two of those three hours writing and rewriting that email to Itsuki.

It doesn’t matter, or it shouldn’t. Itsuki never responds, has probably never even opened one of his emails. Mei could’ve just said hey coming to see ur team lol and it would make no difference.

But this is different, somehow, from Mei spilling everything he feels, everything he still wants to tell Itsuki. This time, he’s affecting Itsuki’s life, the one he’s built without any input from Mei. He deserves a warning, even if he’s not going to read it, and he deserves the nicest one Mei can send him.

“Japan Airlines flight number 67 is now boarding.”

With a sigh of relief, Mei climbs to his feet, stretching out his shoulders. He’s in for a long, boring flight, and though a part of him can’t wait to touch down with a goal of permanence, most of him is nervous.

It’s not just because of Itsuki, although that’s a big part of it. Whether Mei ends up choosing the BayStars or the Giants, or another team ends up making an offer, being back in Japan will mean Mei is a lot closer to Itsuki, and it will be impossible for him to not try to make things right. He doesn’t know if Itsuki will let him, and doesn’t know how he’ll convince Itsuki to let him try.

But it’s also that Mei has been gone for the better part of a decade, and although Japan is home and will always be home, America is too. This trip is the beginning of the end of his time there, and Mei is going to miss the country that he’s made his home for all these years, the teammates and friends that have earned places in his heart, the city that, despite all its flaws, is still one of the coolest places Mei has ever lived.

And of course, there’s that fear that the Japan in his memories won’t match up to what he’s returning to. That childish fear that without looking at something, it will shift into an entirely unrecognizable thing, foreign and unknowable. Or that his memories, full of nostalgia, brimming with the rosy glow of being a high school baseball star, will be warmer than the reality.

Mei almost feels like he’s passing through a portal when he walks down the hallway to board the plane. Like this is a save point, and he won’t be able to go back once he passes through. It’s ridiculous, of course, because if he does get cold feet, he’ll be able to turn back.

But he doesn’t think he will.

For once, Mei manages to sleep on the flight. He even went to the trouble of selecting a window seat just to make sure he would have something to look at the whole time, and it doesn’t end up mattering. Mei falls asleep halfway through the first inflight movie and doesn’t wake up until the plane jars from landing. He blinks sleep out of his eyes, groggy and confused, until he realizes what happened.

All that time he was supposed to be preparing for this, and he just slept it all away.

Ueda’s waiting for him when he makes it through the twisting hallways to the front, and he gives Mei an approving nod. All that walking woke Mei up, and after sleeping for so long, it feels like Mei has caffeine soaring through his veins. He’s so awake he’s almost jittery.

“Do you have a checked bag?” Ueda asks.

“Yeah,” Mei says. “How’s it looking over here?”

“Mostly good news, so far,” Ueda says. “Negotiating with Japanese is a lot different than negotiating with Americans.”

“Unrelenting politeness?”

“I never thought I would ask for American rudeness back,” Ueda complains. “All this indirect talking around each other is exhausting.”

“I believe in you,” Mei says.

“I did manage to find a new agent for you,” Ueda says. “She seemed a little too timid for you at first, but she won’t let you get away with shit.”

That is, perhaps, the hardest part of this whole endeavor. Mei will no longer have Ueda as his agent. Ueda will be staying in America, after all, with his whole life built there, and Mei will need someone in Japan. Ueda can’t do it from across the ocean, and Mei would never ask him to move just for this.

“Ready to have me out of your hair?” Mei asks, only a little teasing. Just about any player would’ve been less high maintenance than him, and he knows Ueda’s done a lot for him over the years.

“You know, when I first met you, I thought I would be,” Ueda says. “You were like breaking into this business on hard mode.”

“Harsh.”

“But I’m not,” Ueda continues. “I’m actually really going to miss you.”

“Aw,” Mei whines to hide how touched he really is. “I’ll miss you too.”

“Talia says you’re always welcome to visit,” Ueda says. “And what she means is, she expects you to visit every so often.”

“How else will I turn your child against you?”

“I will revoke your uncle status, don’t test me.”

They’re out of the airport now, heading for a car that’s waiting for them. They didn’t plan anything for today, expecting Mei to be entirely wiped out from not sleeping on the flight, so Mei has an unexpected stretch of hours to kill. Once Ueda gets him settled into the hotel, he spends it wandering the streets, looking for pieces of the Tokyo he remembers. He’s much farther into the center of the city than he spent time in before, but he sees a few places he went with friends. Snickering at the memories, Mei turns back to the hotel before it gets too dark. They have a meeting bright and early with the Giants.

It’s a standard boring business meeting, and Mei only sort of pays attention. The most interesting part is his new agent. He and Ueda didn’t arrive in time to do more than hurried introductions, so Mei isn’t quite sure what to think of her yet.

Konoe An doesn’t seem like much at first. She’s pretty enough, about the same age as Mei, and not all that remarkable. After introducing herself, she’s just been quietly taking notes, letting Ueda lead the conversation. Still, if Ueda recommends her, there must be something special about her.

The best part of the day is when they let him test out the Giant’s catcher. Abe is also the captain, and he’s more than competent. Mei doesn’t have a single complaint about how they work together, and he hopes it doesn’t show that he’s waiting for something more.

“Not bad,” Konoe tells him after they’re done talking it out. “I saw your performance in the Olympics, but still, having so many different usable pitches is impressive.”

“You know about baseball,” Mei says. He’s not sure why he’s so surprised. If she’s an agent, she should know something about the sport.

“My ex was a pitcher,” she says. “He was pretty into college ball, so I was pretty into college ball.”

“What happened to him?”

“Dumped him for a catcher.”

“I like your style.”

They spend another week in Tokyo letting Mei familiarize himself with the team and talking out contract details. Mei sees his family, and his dad and sisters are overjoyed at the possibility that he might be coming back. His mom is the best, though. She’d accepted, all those years ago, that he was leaving for good, and she never expected him to return.

Then, when Mei’s anticipation and anxiety starts to peak, they make the short trip down to Yokohama.

He’s not sure how Itsuki will respond to him, and at this point, that will make or break this trip. He’ll be coming into Itsuki’s team, unannounced, and trying to find a place for himself there. At the very least, he hopes Itsuki’s coach let him know what’s coming.

Mei’s heart jumps into his throat when he sees Itsuki for the first time like a teenager with a crush. He tries to prepare himself for the disappointment he’ll feel when Itsuki looks at him coldly, like he did when they first met for the Olympics.

But it doesn’t come.

“Hello, Mei-san.” Itsuki doesn’t look thrilled to see him, but he also doesn’t look upset, and Mei counts that as a victory. Itsuki’s coach must have warned him after all.

“Hey Its…Tadano,” Mei corrects himself quickly. He doesn’t know if their old deal is still in place, but he’s willing to respect it anyway for as long as he has to.

“Ready to pitch?” Itsuki asks, holding up his mitt. Mei grins.

“Always.”

Abe of the Giants was good enough that Mei had no complaints, but now, with Itsuki, Mei has only praise. It’s nothing like their first practice for the Olympics had been. If anything, it’s closer now to how pitching felt in high school than anything else has ever been. Mei is so pleased he must be glowing.

“Much more impressive,” Konoe tells him.

“I agree,” Ueda says. “I was worried you might have the same issues as last time, but they’ll have nothing to complain about for you here.”

Mei might be thrilled beyond words that he and Itsuki can still work together, but he needs to talk to Itsuki before he can really get into contract negotiations. Unfortunately, it’s not until nearly the end of his week in Yokohama that Mei even has a chance to speak to Itsuki alone, and it involves Mei dragging Itsuki away from a practice and Ueda distracting the coach for him.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Itsuki doesn’t look all that upset about being dragged away from practice, just curious.

“I won’t sign if you don’t want me here,” Mei says, trying to get the biggest points out in a rush.

“What?”

“I’ll go to another team if you think you don’t want to work with me,” Mei says.

“You can do what you want, Mei-san. I’m not in charge of you.”

“No, that’s not…” Mei sighs in frustration. “It was your team first. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here. If me being here would make you feel that way, I won’t.”

Itsuki considers him very carefully, and Mei thinks he’s about to be told to leave. It wouldn’t be so bad, he supposes. He can still sign with the Giants, and he’ll be back in Tokyo, and plenty of his old friends live there, and it’s familiar and good. He could be happy there.

“It’s fine,” Itsuki says. “You could join this team. I would be fine with that.”

Mei gapes at him.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Itsuki rolls his eyes, and it almost feels like high school again. “What are we, teenagers? We’re both professionals, we can be on the same team.”

“We almost couldn’t,” Mei points out. “We didn’t click at all when we started the Olympics.”

“I think that gold medal proves we can work together anyway.” Itsuki considers him again, and then, slowly, raises a fist to Mei’s chest. “See you at spring training?”

Mei grins, heart in his throat, but for all the best reasons this time.

“See you.”

Later, Ueda and Konoe will go over all his options, will show him the money he could make and the deals he could secure, but Mei’s mind is already made up. He knows where he belongs now.

Every Little Thing

Read on Ao3

When Charlie returned to the bunker after her LARP weekend, the last thing she expected was the chaos and disarray that greeted her. Boxes and books laid spread out in the War Room, rendering it claustrophobic and useless. She picked her way through the mess to the hallway that led to her room, determined to find someone, anyone, who could explain what the hell she missed.

After dropping off her duffle bag, she came across Sam in the library. Stacks of books surrounded him, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in a few days. “Yo, Sasquatch. Fun weekend?”

Sam looked up briefly from the book in his hands and offered a small smile. “Hey, Charlie. Not as fun as yours, I’m sure.”

“What’s all this?” Charlie swirled her finger around, gesturing to the influx of books. “Huge yard sale?”

“Not exactly.” Sam huffed out a chuckle and closed the book in his hands. “Jack found a hunt. Witches, over in Kansas City. Easy enough to stop. They were just improving their luck, but it turned sour on them. They wanted out. The demon they were using to improve their luck? Didn’t like that they wanted to stop.”

Charlie nodded in understanding. “Ok, but that doesn’t explain the sudden increase in the bunker’s inventory.”

“Dean said, and I quote, ‘Find anything suspicious and grab it, we’ll inventory it at the bunker.’”

“Ok?”

“Jack was with us.”

“Say no more.” Charlie picked up the book nearest to her. “Blood Types and Their Uses. Quite the topic.”

Sam grabbed the book out of her hand. “I kind of have a system going. I’m sure Dean or Rowena could use your help. Dean’s got the objects and Rowena has the spell books.”

“Point me in Dean’s direction. I know Rowena is a master, but I don’t want to disrupt her casting any spells.”

“Follow the loud complaining and griping. You won’t miss him.”

“Right. I’ll go search in the storerooms. Have fun?”

While Sam had not been kidding about Dean’s complaining, he neglected to mention the sheer amount of frustration emanating from their older brother. Charlie knocked on the door frame, “What’s up trouble?”

Dean pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and groaned miserably. “This is all shit.”

“It does look like I walked into an episode of Hoarders.”

“Shut up. I said, ‘See if there’s anything worth taking.’ I wanted to make sure nothing dangerous could fall into the wrong hands. Jack thought everything was dangerous.” He threw a cassette tape at Charlie. “Look at that. The Police. It’s an abomination, yes, but it’s not something for us to lock up and keep out of the reach of the public.”

“You’re just upset that you weren’t clear with Jack. That is no one's fault but your own.” She looked at the tape in her hands. “Dude, this is Ghost in the Machine! Easily their best album.”

“Forgot you like that crap. Keep it.”

Charlie stuck her tongue out at him. “And here I was going to ask if you wanted help organizing this…” she pointed her fingers around the room as she thought of a word, “disaster. Guess I’ll go find Ro and hope she doesn’t accidentally change me into a frog.”

“Pretty sure Sam sent her to the Arsenal. That way she could blast the training mannequins down there if she came across anything interesting.” Dean looked up and smirked. “Won’t have to hear your lame attempts at flirting either.”

“Jerk!” Charlie flipped him off before turning and walking out of the storage room.

“Brat!”

Charlie walked nervously through the hallway, tapping the tape to an unknown beat in her head. It wasn’t that Charlie regretted telling Dean about her crush on the witch, but she regretted the moments when he could tease her about it. Going to see Rowena right after being teased was causing her heart to beat a mile a minute.

She turned the corner into the arsenal to see her fellow redhead pouring over an ancient tome. A cup of tea was perched next to her, not surprising Charlie in the least. Rowena looked up at the sound of Charlie entering the hall and flashed her a soft smile. “’Ello Dove, come to keep me company?”

Charlie tucked her hair behind her ear. “I came to see if you needed any help. But I can keep you company too.”

“Yer brothers think they’re clever.” Rowena chuckled as she patted the seat next to her. “Come on Dove. I’m glad for ye.”

“Quite the haul of books they grabbed, huh?” Charlie asked as she sat. “I know Sam was pulling his hair out.”

“I think he has the harder job. Those wannabes, they were such droll housewives. Lots of Harlequin romance novels and gossip rags.” Rowena pointed at the cassette in Charlie’s hands. “What ye got there Dove?”

“Oh, this? It’s just a tape that was found at the house.” Charlie shrugged. “Dean declared it trash because he doesn’t like the band and I do, so he gave it to me.”

Rowena laughed heartedly, sending a warm shiver down Charlie’s spine. “Does that boy like anything besides that stuff he calls music?”

“Some of his stuff is good too. He’s just stunted in his musical growth.”

“Well, shall we see how much better your taste is in music?” Rowena pointed to a tape deck on the other side of the room. “Castiel left that down here. He listens to some sort of tape that Dean made for him when he’s on maintenance duty.”

Charlie blushed. “You’ve heard of The Police, haven’t you?”

“Aye Dove, but ye seem to forget how old I am. Go put it on. It cannae be worse than Dean’s music.”

“Okay.” Charlie got up and walked to the tape deck, removing Cas’ tape and putting in hers. She pressed the rewind button to make sure that it was queued up at the beginning and turned to look at Rowena. The witch was already looking back in her book, but unlike before she was smiling. Charlie hoped that was because of her. The tape deck clicked, signifying that the tape finished rewinding, and Charlie hit the play button. She waited a few moments for the music to start, but no sound came out. “Huh. That’s strange.” She hit the fast-forward button.

“What’s the matter, Dove?” Rowena perked up and closed her spell book.

“It’s not playing. There must have been a magnet or something nearby to wipe it.”

Rowena stood and walked over next to Charlie. “Charlie. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, then I should stop it.”

“I dun think ye should touch it.”

Charlie reached in to press the stop button as Rowena grabbed her wrist to block her. As the tape came to a stop the lights in the bunker shut off. Shouts of surprise could be heard echoing throughout the hallways. Sam and Dean scrambled to get the lights back on. As the lights finally flickered back on, the brothers were shocked to find that the bunker was suddenly short two fiery redheads.

“Charlie?! Please wake up, Dove!” The younger redhead found herself gently rocking in a warm embrace. Fingers were running through her hair as someone whispered soft and sweet words over her.

“Five more minutes?” She snuggled into the embrace. “I’m comfy.”

“Charlie!” Rowena’s relief-filled voice was clear as a bell. “Ye scared me.”

Charlie shot out of Rowena’s grasp. “I’m sorry.” She looked around. “I don’t think we’re in the bunker anymore. Where are we, Ro?”

“I’m not sure. Where did the boys say the case was again?”

“Uh,” Charlie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, “Kansas City, I think? Yeah. Sam said that Jack found a coven of witches in Kansas City.”

“Dean dinnae do a very good job checking those items. That tape was cursed, Charlie.”

“Ok, then.” Charlie reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. “We just call the boys, and have Dean come pick us up since this is on his ass anyway.” Charlie swiped on her phone before lifting it around and waving it in the air. “This is strange.”

“What’s the issue?”

“There’s no signal.” Charlie stood up and offered a hand down to Rowena, pulling her up to her feet. “Like none. I hacked my phone myself. I should be able to get a signal anywhere.”

“Did the spell damage yer phone?”

“I doubt it.” Charlie showed the screen to Rowena. “It’s doing everything else just fine.”

“Well, we should get moving Dove. We can ask to use a phone at a business or something.”

Charlie nodded then looked around. “Which way do we go?”

Rowena closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Charlie watched as the witch spread her arms out slowly. She turned as her arms came together, pointing in a direction. “That way, Dove.”

“I love watching you do that.” Charlie internally kicked herself. “I mean like. I like watching you do that.”

Rowena started walking in the direction her spell pointed her. “Ye know I can teach ye. ‘Tis not a hard spell and would be easy for ye to pick up.”

“I’m not a witch Ro. We’ve been over this.” Charlie followed. “And before you start, yes, I know I can do the stuff with the ingredients and what not, but so can Sam and Dean. That’s like cooking with exotic ingredients.”

“I’ve told ye before. There’s magic running through yer bones.”

“And I’ve never been able to do anything Ro, ever. I don’t know why you can read magic in me. Maybe it’s residual from Oz.”

“Aye, I can feel that magic on ye Charlie. But there’s more to ye than that.” Rowena walked up next to a building and looked around the corner. “The bloody hell?” She stepped back and walked around the corner.

Charlie chased after the witch, running into her when she was distracted by the obnoxious neon nights of the night club, they were near. “Sorry, Ro.” She looked up at the sign. “Silver Compass? This place went of business when I was in elementary school.”

“Yer familiar?”

“Yeah. It was a night club that was popular in the late 80s, early 90s.” Charlie added extra emphasis on both instances of the word was in her sentence. “It got shut down hard. Several churches in the area teamed up against it, calling it Satanic. Then two young girls died back to back within a week of each other. It never recovered. Some people bought into the churches’ rhetoric while some people thought the churches set up the club.”

“What do ye think, Dove?”

“I think I was six when everything went down and don’t remember much.” Charlie crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought they tore down the building.”

“Charlie?” Rowena looked over in surprise at the other redhead. “What if that cassette didn’t just transport us to another place?”

Realization lit up in Charlie’s eyes. “No.” She shook her head. “You think we went back in time too?”

“It makes sense. Ye have no signal on yer phone.” Rowena ticked her fingers. “There are bright obnoxious neon colors everywhere. A club that has been shut down for near 30 years is open. A building that was torn down is standing again. We might be in Kansas, but it’s when we’re in Kansas.”

“How do we get back?”

“We find the witches who cursed the cassette.” Rowena pointed to the night club. “And ye’ve already told me where to start.” Rowena started walking to the door.

“What are you doing?!” Charlie gently grabbed Rowena’s arm. “I know you’re powerful, but I can’t protect myself. I have none of my stuff with me.”

“We’re just two girls going to the club, Dove.” Rowena placed her free hand over Charlie’s. “Show me a good time?”

The hunter looked at the witch, lost for words and nodded. She looked down at where she had grabbed Rowena’s arm and finished sliding her arm through, linking them together. Charlie looked into the smiling face of the other woman before letting Rowena lead her to the entrance of the club.

The line for admittance was short, and before long the two ladies were in the club, enveloped by strobing neon lights and the warm melodies of one-hit wonders from the 80s.

Rowena sighed annoyingly. “I honestly hoped I would never see this decade again.”

“Really? Remind me to get rid of your cans of Aqua Net when we get back to the bunker.” Charlie winked.

“Ye wouldna dare.” Rowena feigned offense. “How else am I going to keep my coils perfected?”

“Wait? You don’t use your magic for that?” The barely taller woman joked. “I thought the Aqua Net was Sam’s.”

“We share.”

Charlie let out a snort and covered her mouth as she giggled at Rowena’s quip. “Not that this is the ideal situation, but I’m glad that if I got stuck here with anyone, it’s with you, Ro.”

“Aye, Dove. ‘Tis always my pleasure to spend time with ye.” Rowena stopped suddenly. “Did ye feel that?”

“No?”

Rowena pulled Charlie over to an alcove “Dove, listen to me. I need ye to clear yer thoughts. Almost meditate.” Rowena looked around the club. “There’s some strong magic at work here. I need ye to see if ye can feel it out.”

“Ro, I’m not– “

“If the next words out of yer mouth Charlie are ‘I’m not a witch,’ I’ll turn you into a salamander myself.”

Charlie’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’ll try?” Rowena nodded in acceptance and kept a lookout while Charlie took in a deep breath through her nose. She closed her eyes slowly exhaled, trying to ignore the bass and beat around her. A tickle of energy traveled up her spine, but she didn’t know if the feeling was her nervousness, or if she could feel the magic. “Ro, this isn’t working.”

She felt Rowena grab one of her wrists. “Focus, Love. I know you can do this.” Charlie inhaled through her nose again, focusing on the warmth of the witch’s hand on her skin. She allowed the beat of the music to embrace her as she exhaled, grounding her as she tried to feel for anything unfamiliar to her.  The shiver from before was stronger and pulled at her.

“Charlie?”

“Do I follow it?” Charlie opened her eyes and looked at Rowena, both frightened and exhilarated by the string tugging at her sternum.

“Yes. But stay at my side. I couldna take it if something happened to ye. There is powerful magic at play here.”

“Ro, may I?” She slowly slid her hand up into Rowena’s.

She felt a reassuring squeeze. “Aye, Dove. I much prefer this. Now, lead the way.”

Charlie inhaled deeply again and let the imaginary string pull at her chest. She started walking back towards the rear of the club when Rowena stopped her.

“Dove, yer positive that’s where we need to go?”

“That’s where it’s pulling me. Do you think I’m doing it wrong?”

“Nay, I think yer spot on. Look above the door.” Rowena nodded towards the door.

“Are those sigils?” Charlie squinted, trying to read them. “I can’t read them from here. Are they obscured, or is it just me?”

“Yer magic is taxing ye, Dove. I know what they are though. They block unfriendly magic. If we go through that door, we’re both without power.”

“So, what do we do?”

“We destroy the sigils over the door, get in, find the cassette here in this time, and destroy it. It won’t exist in our time, and we go back.”

“I don’t think it works that way, Ro. I think we’d be stuck here. And I don’t want to make a time paradox.”

Rowena sighed and squeezed Charlie’s hand again. “Then we find the spell we need, get the reagents we need, and we send ourselves back.”

“Sounds better to me. Now, how do we destroy the sigils?”

“I need ye to drop the tracking spell.”

Charlie exhaled and looked at Rowena. “How? I barely understand how I got it to work.”

“What does it feel like?”

“The spell? Like a string pulling me.”

“Good. Imagine scissors,” Rowena mimed a pair of scissors with her fingers, “and cut it.”

“Just like that?” Charlie closed her eyes after Rowena nodded and pictured a pair of scissors. The first time she tried imagining them cutting the string, she felt no different. The second time, she copied Rowena’s actions and mimed the scissors with her finger and cut the imaginary string at her sternum. The tension disappeared, and Charlie found herself breathing easily, not realizing the toll the connection had caused her.

“Good, Dove.” Rowena gently caressed then patted Charlie’s cheek. “Ye dunnae happen to have a knife on ye, do ye?”

After a quick pat of her pockets, the taller redhead nodded. “Yeah, I have one. Are you thinking, what I think you’re thinking?”

“I cause a distraction and ye mar the sigils?”

Charlie nodded. “Yep. That’s what I thought you would say.” She rubbed her free hand over her eyes before pinching the bridge of her nose. “What are you going to do?”

Rowena laughed. “Yer picking up Dean’s habits. I’ll head to the bar, ask for a drink, and cause a commotion.”

“Your favorite wine not on the menu?”

“Too easy, Dove. Now, go get over by the door.”

“I can’t be that obvious.” Charlie listened for a second before pointing up to the ceiling. “Besides, this is a great song to dance to.” She started swaying her hips to the beat of China Girl. “I’ll make my way over. I promise.”

Rowena smiled and winked appreciatively before heading over to the bar. Charlie continued dancing, attempting to blend in with the rest of the club goers. She watched as her witch – could she call Rowena her witch? – ordered a drink then turned to watch her. There was a smile on the other woman’s face, and it set the butterflies in Charlie’s stomach to flight.

The bartender brought Rowena’s drink to her, and after she took a sip, she nodded to Charlie to start moving towards the door. Charlie nodded and started dancing towards the door. She forced herself to not look over towards the bar as she heard Rowena cry out and the commotion that followed.

As she made it to the door, she took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching her. She pulled her pocket knife out and flicked it open. She couldn’t reach the sigils just standing and reaching with her blade. She turned to look again, and upon confirming that no one noticed her, she jumped and swiped her blade across the five sigils over the door.

Each one flashed upon their break, and Charlie quickly pocketed her blade. She moved towards the bar, putting on a concerned face. “Ro? M'eudail?”

Rowena pushed through the crowd and collapsed dramatically into Charlie’s arms. “Ye wouldna believe what they’re tryna do, Dove!” She feigned hysterics and clung onto Charlie’s shirt.

“I’m sorry miss.” The bartender came over to the pair. “Let me help you get her into a booth.”

“What’s going on?”

“Charlie! It’s terrible!” Rowena’s sob was pitiful, and it took of all Charlie’s willpower to not laugh.

The bartender gently helped Charlie walk Rowena over to a booth. She slid in first, Rowena sliding in next to her, curling against her.

“Another patron made a move on your girlfriend.” The bartender explained apologetically. “The patron wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“And ye all did nothing to stop him!”

Charlie gently carded her fingers through Rowena’s hair before turning to the bartender. “Is that person still here?”

“No, he’s been escorted off the premises. The manager has advised me that any drinks you ladies want are on the house. Is there anything I can get you now?”

“We’ll be ok for now. I’ve got her.” Rowena faked another sob, causing Charlie to sigh. “Actually? Two waters, please.” The bartender nodded and walked away.

Rowena looked up at Charlie once they were alone. “Did ye break them, Dove?”

“Yep, all five.”

“Good. Now, when we get back home. Remind me that I have a serious question to ask ye.”

“Can’t you just ask it now?” The bartender returned with two glasses of water and set them in front of the ladies before leaving again. “I mean, no time like the present.”

“Aye, Dove. But we’re in the past.” Rowena sat up and took a sip of her water. “I want to have this conversation at home. Where I know we’ll be safe.”

Charlie nodded. “Ok. So, what’s the next step then?”

“We go in. Drink up.”

“Just like that?” Charlie played with the rim of her glass. “We don’t know what’s in there.”

“That’s the fun part.”

Charlie sighed and drank her water. “Let’s get this over with?”

“Aye.” Rowena slid out of the booth before leaning in and taking Charlie’s hand. “We can do this.”

The younger woman smiled and climbed out of the booth. She gently squeezed Rowena’s hand and followed her to the door. She had faced down evil witches and flying monkeys in Oz. She could do this with Rowena.

The two women paused in front of the door and Charlie checked over her shoulder. Rowena checked for any residual magic that would negate hers. “We’re good, but I think they’re expecting us. Stay behind me, Charlie. Please.” Rowena opened the door slowly.

A honeyed voice surprised both of them. “Do come in. We’re not going to hurt you. Yet.”

Rowena looked up to Charlie and nodded before swinging the door open confidently. She walked in with her head held high and her shoulders squared. “Good Evening.”

A blonde witch to their left spoke first. “Who are you, and why do you think you can destroy our protections?”

“My apologies, dearie,” Rowena spoke, her Scottish Brogue heavier than usual. “I dunnae like to go anywhere I cannae use my magic.”

“We can disable them from our end. You needed only ask.” A grey-haired witch to the right responded. “You’re far from home. In more ways than one.”

“A pair of witches far from their coven. Ha!” A male witch hidden within the shadows laughed.

The blonde witch moved forward and examined Charlie. “They’re not like us.” She leaned in and sniffed at Charlie’s neck. “They smell different. Here to judge us?”

The male witch stepped out of the shadows. “Here to kill us?”

“They want to go home.” The grey-haired witch spoke up. “Perhaps we can strike a deal.”

Charlie leaned forward and whispered in Rowena’s ear, “Is that the demon, Ro?”

Rowena let out the smallest of shrugs that only Charlie could see before addressing the grey-haired witch. “What do ye know of our home?”

“That it’s not a matter of where, but when.” The other witches in the room snapped their attention to the grey-haired witch. “Tell me. Which item brought you here?”

“Tell us how to get home.”

The grey-haired witch signaled to the blonde witch, who lunged at Charlie. Charlie, expecting an attack, stepped back and wrapped her hand in the witch’s long locks, snapping her head back and holding her in place. She reached down to her boot and pulled out her witch killing blade from Oz, causing the grey-haired witch to stare in awe.

“You’re a traitor to your own kind?” She turned her head to look at Rowena. “Did you know your lover owns that toothpick?”

“Of course. She is the one who killed the Wicked Witch of the West. Ye wouldna know that yet, cause it hasn’t happened yet. She helped free Oz of the tyranny of evil witches. Trash. Like. You.”

The male witch stepped forward, but Charlie spoke up. “Don’t come any closer, Romeo.” She held pressed the blade against the blond witch’s cheek. “She won’t be the first witch I’ve killed, and she won’t be the last.”

Rowena smiled at Charlie before turning to face the grey-haired witch. “Now. I’ll tell ye which item brought us here if ye tell us how to get home.”

“No.”

Charlie pressed the blade more firmly into the blonde witch’s cheek, causing her to whimper in pain. The male witch looked back and forth between his coven mates, helpless.

“You honestly think I believe that you killed the Wicked Witch?” The grey-haired witch stood up from her seat. “A pathetic runt like you?”

“Charlie– “

“I don’t care if you don’t believe if I did it or not. I doubt you’ll be alive in thirty-some years to find out. You keep coming closer though?” Charlie moved the blade to the blonde witch’s chest, the tip pointed at her heart. “At least I’m merciful.”

“Your lover will be so frightened of you if you kill my coven mate. You realize that, right? Don’t you feel the way she’s pleading for you to spare her?”

“Charlie.”

“I know, Ro.”

The grey-haired witch laughed. “See? Just let her go.” She walked up to Rowena. “You two are each other’s weakness, aren’t you?”

Rowena’s eyes flashed purple. “Now, Charlie!”

The grey-haired witch tried to move but found herself frozen in place as Charlie started chanting in Latin.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas omnis incursio infernalis adversarii. Omnis legio! Omnis con potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii. Omnis legio! Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica! Ergo, Draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te! Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii. Omnis legio! Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica! Ergo, Draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te!"

Black smoke poured out of the witch’s body before burning out and scorching the floor. She collapsed to the floor, her body shaking and convulsing.

“Mother!” The blonde witch struggled against Charlie, who let her go. She ran to the grey-haired witch and pulled her into her arms. “What did you two do to her?”

The male witch spoke up. “Was she possessed?”

Rowena nodded somberly. “Dearie, I know ye dunnae know us or trust us. But let me see if I can at least get her breathing a little easier?”

The blonde witch nodded, while the male witch came over to Charlie. “Which object?”

“I’m sorry?”

“We each placed a spell on an object. Siobhan, our mother, placed a spell on a locket. Erin, on a snow globe.” He offered his hand. “I’m Sean. I placed it on a cassette tape.”

Charlie tentatively shook his hand. “You realize you were just about to attack us, right?”

“My mother was a demon. I never agreed to that. It’s like a fog has been lifted.” He looked over at his mother and sister. “Which item?”

“Yours. The cassette tape.”

“Damn, and here I thought I was clever that no one would figure out how it worked.”

“It was an accident?” Charlie offered. “We didn’t think it was cursed, and I’m a huge fan of The Police. And when I didn’t hear music, I pressed the fast-forward button while it was playing. Which is what triggered it, I assume?”

Sean nodded. “Yeah. The music shouldn’t be wiped though. What year are you two from?”

“2019.”

“That’s thirty-three years from now. While I’m glad to know the magic lasted, I’m flabbergasted.”

“Can you get us back?”

“Yeah. Let me go talk to Erin.” Sean walked over to his mother and sister and Rowena came and joined Charlie.

“Dove, we messed with time. Remember the story ye told me?”

“Yeah. I figured. Good news is Sean said we can get back. We can see how bad we screwed it up.”

Rowena softly cupped Charlie’s cheek. “I need to say something, just in case.”

“Hmm?”

“I promised myself I’d never love again. And on the chance, we get back, and things are completely different. I need ye to know, Charlie.” Rowena closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before looking in Charlie’s eyes again. “I broke my promise for ye, Dove.”

Charlie smiled and rested her forehead against Rowena’s. “If somehow the world is that drastically different when we get back Rowena, I will find you. There’s no way that my heart can forget this.”

“Ladies?” Sean called over. “I hate to interrupt, but it’s now or never to get you back.”

Rowena took Charlie’s hand and squeezed it gently, leading her over to the three witches.

Siobhan spoke first. “I understand that I need to thank you, Charlie. I’d been trapped by the demon for so long, that I didn’t know how to fight anymore.”

“We can get you home,” Erin frowned, “but it comes at a price.”

“Each of us tied a piece of our soul to the object in question,” Sean explained. “When you triggered the spell, it brought you to the closest possible time and place to its casting.”

“Ye used soul magic?” Rowena scoffed. “Chuck Almighty, they’re as bad as yer brothers and the angel!”

“Angel?” Erin and Sean asked at the same time.

“Long story.” Charlie put her hands up to stop them from asking more questions. “So, you split pieces off your souls to put into your spells, to make cursed objects. I’m assuming we’re going to need pieces of our souls to go home?”

“No,” Siobhan spoke up again. “I have enough soul left to send you both back. My soul is destined for hell, so might as well use it up so they can’t have it.”

“We can’t leave you here soulless.” Charlie shook her head in defiance. “We’ve known too many people that way.”

Erin spoke silently. “She won’t survive the spell.”

“And it’s my choice, Erin.” Siobhan looked between Charlie and Rowena. “These two are going to shut down the club and lay low. They have promised to practice white magic strictly after this. And, if they’re still alive in your time, you can count on them as allies. They are bound.”

“We are bound.” Erin and Sean confirmed in unison.

“I have a lot to atone for, for what I did while under the demon’s control. I’m sorry to pass this burden onto you two.”

Erin looked away while Sean squeezed his mother’s hand. “We should have been more diligent and recognized what happened.”

“That wasn’t your job. Now, go prep the spell. I want to talk to these two briefly.” Siobhan waited until her children walked away. “I don’t know how your future will change, but I hope that you two are still together the way you are now.” Siobhan smiled. “Don’t think I didn’t see that little exchange between master and apprentice.

“For what it’s worth, I wasn’t aware that I was making a deal with a demon. I thought I was talking to an attractive man in a bar. Sean and Erin never made a deal. We’re pure born, like the both of you. I don’t know if they’ll find you, but I hope they do.”

Sean walked over and interrupted. “Sorry to interrupt. We have everything.”

“Time is of the essence.” Siobhan held her hand up to her son, who easily pulled her to her feet. “Once their incantation is done, you both will have only moments to go back to your time. Do you remember the date and location?”

“Aye,” Rowena responded, “but does the exact time matter? I’m not familiar with this kind of magic.”

“It doesn’t,” Sean explained, “two versions of your soul cannot be in the same place at the same time. It’s a paradox. So, the spell should put you back to a time after your soul came here.”

“I hate soul magic. No offense.”

“None taken.” Sean nodded at the two women. “When you two are ready, Erin and I will start the spell.”

“I need one second, I’m sorry.” Charlie slipped her hand out of Rowena’s and pulled a pen out of her pocket. She scribbled something on her hand before turning to Rowena. “Give me your hand, Ro.” She took the other woman’s hand and wrote something on the palm before closing it. “Open it when we get home.” She slid their hands back together. “We’re ready.”

Erin forced a smile. “Both of you need to think of the exact date and the location of where you two were.” She turned back to her mother. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, dearest. Be strong. For both you and Sean.” Siobhan turned to her son and smiled. “Watch out for your sister.”

Sean nodded. “Love you.”

The siblings began casting their spell, and a portal opened next to them. One of them yelled “Go!” loudly, signaling for Rowena and Charlie to make their move.

Charlie woke up in her bed in the bunker. While she didn’t feel completely different, she knew that life was different. She opened her hand to look at her palm.

Even though my life before was tragic

She smiled, knowing that she remembered writing those words and why. The question that plagued her was if Rowena still returned those feelings. She sat up and rubbed her eyes before looking around her room. While it was still very obviously hers, she noticed items in the room that didn’t belong to her. Her heart pounded in her chest, nervous to find out who those items belonged to.

She got out of bed and looked at the books on her desk. Her favorites were still there, but alongside them were several spell books that she found she could read. Charlie couldn’t read spell books. She needed Rowena to translate them for her.

Charlie wrapped herself in her robe and walked out of her room and down the hall to the kitchen. Dean and Cas were sitting at the table drinking their morning coffee. Dean looked up and smiled. “Hey there, Kiddo. How you feeling?”

“Little bit of a headache. Slightly confused.”

“Well, considering what Rowena explained, that makes perfect sense.” Cas offered. “She did want us to tell you she wanted you to come find her when you woke up. She said you were so peaceful this morning, she couldn’t do it herself.”

“She was in my room?”

“Uh, yeah Kiddo.”

“Dean. Remember what Rowena said?”

“Yep, better let the two lovebirds go figure it out.” Dean winked at Cas before looking at Charlie and smiling. “She’s in the library with Sam. He’s interrogating her, so your damsel probably needs a rescue.” Charlie heard a thud. “Ow! Dammit, Cas! That was right on the shin.”

“Right, the library. Thanks.”

Charlie exited the kitchen and made her way to the library. As Dean had said, Sam was tossing question after question at Rowena, asking about what had happened the day before.

“Samuel! Ye already asked that!” Rowena pinched the bridge of her nose. “I swear, if I dinnae need to know the changes in the timeline, I wouldna’ve told ye anything.”

Charlie cleared her throat, causing Sam to jump and Rowena to look up and smile. “Need a break, Ro?”

“Aye, but I’m not letting him at ye yet.” The smaller witch pointed at Sam. “Out. I need to talk to Charlie. Alone.”

Sam threw his hands up in defense and chuckled but walked over to Charlie and gave her a bear hug before walking out of the library. Charlie walked over to where Rowena was sitting and sat in the chair next to hers. “So, the stuff in my room?”

“Aye, tis mine.”

“And us?”

“Per Samuel, we’ve been together since shortly after the issue with Amara.”

Charlie squeaked with excitement before composing herself. “Any other major changes?”

“Another witch lives here.”

“Did Erin or Sean find us?”

“Erin chose to break the bond her mother set. Sean came to warn us. While he does not live here, he is a very valuable ally that we trust. Jack is also very fond of him. Apparently, he brings the best sweets.”

“You sound like a jealous auntie.” Charlie laughed. “Seriously though. Who is the other witch?”

Rowena tapped Charlie on the nose. “Did ye not listen to anything me or the other witches said? Did ye forget what ye did when we were trapped back in time? I told ye. Ye had the power all along.” Rowena smiled. “According to Castiel, after the business with the Mark of Cain, I took ye on as my apprentice. Yer strength is in nature and healing magic.”

“Really?” Charlie stared at Rowena in awe. “I knew something felt different when I woke up, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

“Well, Samuel is more than happy to talk to ye about the past few years, the scholar and librarian that he is. But he does want to ask some questions as well.”

“That’s fine, I mean, it makes perfect sense. We tell them that this happened, we screwed with the timeline. They’re going to want to figure out if we really screwed the pooch on something.” Charlie giggled. “I’m rambling.”

“Aye, but I’m used to it. ‘Twas always endearing.” Rowena carded her fingers through Charlie’s hair. “’Tis probably a moot point now, but when we were in the club, you called me M'eudail. When did you learn that?”

Charlie turned bright red. “You heard that?” Rowena nodded. “I looked it up. I was trying to build up the courage to tell you how I felt. So, I thought if I knew terms of endearment, then perhaps I could call you one and it would get the point across.”

“Like how I call ye ‘Dove?’” Rowena smiled playfully.

“I’m sorry I’m oblivious. At least I’m not as bad as Dean, right?” Charlie asked with confidence, that abruptly shattered when Rowena laughed. “What? No. Please, Ro. Don’t tell me he’s less oblivious than me in this timeline.”

“I’ll let ye ask yer brothers that.” Rowena took Charlie’s hand and opened it so she could read it. She smiled warmly. “Charlie?”

“Yeah, Ro?”

Rowena opened her hand and showed her palm to Charlie.

Now I know my love for her goes on.

Employee of the month

Movie:Star Wars

Summary: Somehow you had found your way, however unwillingly, on Starkiller base. Barely recovered from this unforgivable disruption of your life General Hux starts taking notice of your defiant actions against fellow colleagues and a certain black clad Sith: That’s gonna be fun!

Starkiller base, the pride of the whole first order. Here you only found the best, of the best in their respected fields. Technicians who fixed any arising problem as soon as they laid hands on their ‘most holy tools’. Stormtroopers decorated for their services, and in peak physical condition. What you usually didn't expect to find was:

Boredom. Utter, crippling boredom. You were transferred here against your will to your utmost horror -your former superior, bearer of the bad news, probably still hadn’t regained all of his hearing. Though, it wasn’t the boredom in your job as a radar technician that was the cause of your anxiety - you were used to your job not posing a challenge: but the people. Three thousand four-hundred six to be exact. Just thinking about the astronomic number caused your stomach to plunge way down onto the perfectly cleaned floor, the maintenance team was the best of the galaxy as well. At your old station you had to fight awkward conversations and sleepless nights just dealing with one hundred colleagues. This, was the stuff of nightmares.

The weeks passed with moderate embarrassment and you soon found the merits of inhabiting such a big chunk of metal, floating in the vacuum of space. No one cared about you just stealing away from conversations and never leaving your station, except for an absolute necessary repair job. Until of course, someone noticed and your perfect constructed monotony was violently interrupted.

The humming of the instruments in the dimmed lights, the sole indication that it was nightshift, soothed your usually racked nerves. Nightshift was great because it only required one technician on duty, you were only too eager to take the shift from your complaining coworkers. All was as it was supposed to be: You, your instruments, and a hot cup of coffee in your hands. Paradise - however short lived. The marching of boots echoed down the hall outside your cozy station. Nothing unusual, yet like always your gut clenched and your head seemed to have a hitch in your record collection: 'Not here, not here. Not here!' The urgent footsteps passed and dropped in volume, you released your breath.

Suddenly, the echo came to a violent halt and after a second the the marching was back and gained in volume. You groaned inwardly while trying to set your face into ‘human interaction mode’, which consisted of a somewhat I'm-not-quite-sure-if-a-smile-is-appropriate expression. If you ever managed to force a facsimile of a smile on your face, it was certainly gone when General Hux entered the room. Clad all in black, from feet to collar, his red hair posed a stark contrast to his white face: Dressed for business. Though, not very tall he always radiated and inspired a fear in his subordinates.

Gathering your, rather small composure to begin with, you tried to stand at attention. The hand was supposed to go to the side, no that wasn’t right... like this, still not right... how did the Troopers make this seem so natural?

Hux witnessing your pathetic struggle didn't need to comment, his face first annoyed morphed into wonder at the complete lack of any form for elegance.

Finally you settled into an awkward position between a formal greeting and a child trying to copy a soldier, he took a deep breath stifling his annoyance: "You are hereby required to participate in the COFO program."

Silence. Both of you mustering the other. Oh, this is where you were supposed to acknowledge the demand, right? Unsettled by your silent stare, the General began to speak: "Did you-", right when you blurted out: "COFO program?" Once again there was a stalemate, Hux mustering you, trying to decide if you were making fun of him. 'Not good!' Just one way to turn this ship around, however, daring it may be! "Sir." you added lamely. At this the General seemed to set your tribunal on hold, no person would degrade themselves like this, in order to joke around.

"Cooperation of fellow officers, while your outstanding work has been noted-" here he looked very doubtful, certainly due to the great first impression you just made "your superiors have informed me that you tend to seclude yourself. This is unacceptable! In order to function on full capacity, interaction is required." At the word interaction you gulped audibly. "The program was created to foster this type of skill. Tuesday, 0800 room 394, do not be late!"

He turned, his coat giving an elegant furnish, and left you in the crumbling remains of your former little world.

If General Hux had been aware of what he just set in motion, he would gladly offered you a post on starbase 42, the most secluded base of the whole quadrant.

The first impression you formed about the COFO wasn't necessary a good one. At 0800 sharp, all the social delinquents had gathered in a too white room - the First Order’s understanding of a welcoming and warm color. Then the pairing began and your sweat glands took this as an invitation to go into overdrive. Finally, you stood face to face with your interaction partner: Gary a bored looking Stormtrooper, sporting slightly red eyes. "N...nice to ...meet you?" But the grimace, stretching uncontrollably on your face, spoke clearer words: 'Having an intestinal parasite would be better than this!'

Gary, just shrugged his shoulders. "Guess we're stuck with each other."

The days passed, and somehow you made it through a whole week of the program, with minimal awkwardness. Quite a feat! By now, you were sure, that if someone was to search for the definition of 'laidback' in the dictionary a picture of Gary, slouching somewhere, was included. Strengthened by not being swallowed by the earth yet, you felt brave enough to face the cafeteria at gamma shift tonight. Standing in line, musing what you should take: The gray puddle with pieces in it, or the brownish-reddish meat, at least you hoped that’s what it was supposed to be? Apparently the ‘best of the best’ motto didn’t include the kitchen personnel. The chain of your thoughts was broken by men’s laughter. "Come on Gary, what’s your hippy ass saying over the next mission?" Craning your neck, Gary and his tormentors fell into your line of vision. Never had you seen the man this uncomfortable, but the other Stormtroopers just grinned even wider enjoying this immensely.

"Come on guys, knock it off." Gary berated himself for choosing exactly this time to grab a late dinner. In the corner of his eye he saw movement, the flash of a data pad and... darkness engulfed the whole cantina. The few tired persons present started murmuring and shouting. Gary almost cried out when in the pitch black, a hand found his and started to drag him off, to an unknown destination, but something about the clunky ungraceful movements put him at ease. 'Just roll with it.'

When he and his mysterious savior- or possible serial killer- burst into the light of the corridor he finally saw the woman from the program. After a few more turns they came to a stop and she slowly turned around. She dropped his hand shocked, as if an evil spirit just had just been exorcised from her body and she just became aware of her actions. With her change in demeanor the old awkwardness bleed back into her moves and once again, each shift of arms made them look too long for her frame.

Her head turned down, eyes squinting over every perfectly boned floor tile, she mumbled: "S...sorry?"

"Dude!" She flinched at the too loud and enthusiastic voice. "What you're sayin' sorry for? That was awesome!" He never knew that eyes could get that big, but here they were: Looking at him in a wonder that somehow made his insides turn, too fragile. Add a bulky Stormtrooper with a loose mouth like him and it simply spelled disaster. He shrugged 'Since when did I ever give a shit about something like that?'

In that very moment, in a somewhat dimly lit corner of Starkiller base a Stormtrooper and Radar technician formed an unholy bond that would let chaos and mayhem rain down upon their enemies.

"And then Ren just started screaming at us and trashing the whole room! Guess who the lucky fella on cleaning duty is." Gary's arms, still in uniform, surged through the air. He was an exotic bird visiting the mundane planes of existence: Namely the gray walled radar technicians work station- much to the annoyance of Matt, your coworker. He currently was shooting glares like laser beams at the interruption of his most holy and cherished routine. When the object of his continued affectionate thoughts didn't melt into a puddle under his scrutiny, he huffed and stalked out of the room. Leaving Gary and you alone, not even taking notice of his departure. Ideas shifted in your head, turning, grinding against each other and finally: Clack, something stuck!

When you looked at your friend a new gleam ignited in your eyes, pregnant with the promise of danger, but also excitement. "So let's pay him back." Your voice was bar any stutter or insecurity. Gary felt a cold shiver running down his spine, he wasn't quite sure if he liked the change.

General Hux strode through the polished corridors, personnel squirting around him and parting to let him pass. A sharp turn right and he reached the cantina, bend on getting his exact one o'clock lunch. When his eyes caught sight of dark billowing robes, it took all his discipline not to groan in a- very much warranted- but undignified manner. Kylo Ren! Twenty-four hours in a day, and the insufferable man just had to pick this exact time to get his coffee.

Gracing the Sith with an aggressive ruck of his head, just barley balancing the rope of civility, the General strode to the counter. He stopped and turned however, when a storm of cursing accompanied by the sound of liquid spraying out onto the floor reached his ears. The powerful Kylo Ren, Sith, leader of the knights of Ren, and protégé of Snoke himself was helplessly trying shield himself against the dark spray of coffee erupting from the machine. When he finally managed to vacate the area of danger, slipping more than walking on the steaming liquid on the floor. Hux was sure the sight before him was a gift delivered by whatever force resided in the universe. The dark knight was seething, black hair plastered to his red face and robes dripping.

The cantina was very still, no one dared to ridicule the man any further for fear of being cut down. Hux however had no qualms of walking up to his 'partner', mustering his drenched form slowly. His face perfectly straight, only the rising eyebrow indication of his thoughts. "Do try to keep the floor clean, Ren." Then he turned and exited, the loss of lunch not bugging him in the least.

For the rest of the day General Hux's staff was constantly on edge- Hux in a good mood? It had to be a trick, or drill! At first the General had simply thought himself lucky, in having witnessed the total mortification on Kylo Ren that afternoon, but when reports of a group of Stormtroopers running around in their underwear, due to a malfunctioning capacitor in the locker system his suspicion started to rise.

The monitor before him spluttered out all data of the last month, and his sharp eyes narrowed. That's what he thought! This particular band of Troopers had been victim to quite a few of these irregularities occurring on base. First, their entrance codes stopped working, leaving them to spend half of the night in front of the barracks, then their new arriving uniforms were several sizes too small, followed now by this ridiculous display of running around almost naked. A disgrace! He wouldn't stand for the First Order being the point of jokes due to these misfits! 'Time to visit the troops.' With that last thought the ginger wrath of the Order descended on the unfortunate souls.

Just a few more steps! You sat by the ledge of the upper section of the training room, hidden by a crate and fixing your next victims with a killer stare. Captain Phasma and Kylo Ren strode down the aisle, with the constant air of an imposing couple of regents. However, they were unaware that they were just three steps between them and their new makeover. “Get down on the floor and show me some real pushups!” Phasma raged, her silver armor making her easy spotable against the backdrop of oppressive black walls. Ren followed suite: “What is this embarrassing display of drills supposed to be!? The rebels won’t be impressed by this!” His mask while obscuring a most certainly murderous expression did little to ease the sting, so the two Troopers in question hastily altered their movements.

The prepared maintenance droid - ‘of doom’ as Gary helpfully added, each time the two of you spoke about the mission in hushed whispers – slowly rolled down the room toward the, self-proclaimed, pair of drill sergeants. “That has to be much faster, if-” Kylo stopped mid yell, when he felt a sudden nudge on his leg. Starring down he was greeted by a small maintenance droid rolling again, and again against his leg, the big lense occupying the front, making it look almost like a loyal, innocent - but somewhat retarded puppy.

“Shush!” Captain Phasma turned around and was astonished by the scene unfolding before her: Kylo Ren, was trying to get the the small machine away from himself, but somehow the little guy managed to evade all of his kicks. Sighing she strode over, bend on grabbing the thing and chucking it down the trash compactor. This certainly wasn’t very beneficial for their image. A strong hierarchy was founded on discipline, and discipline was only gained by respecting as well as fearing your superiors. Which was arguably hard at the moment, Phasma had to admit, when Ren grabbed his lightsaber and ignited it, the angry hiss of plasma filling the room.

General Hux choose this exact moment to stride into the room. The scene before him couldn’t have been a more unfitting display for commanding officers: His Capitan crouched down, in order to make a grab for a small droid at the feet of Kylo Ren. Meanwhile, the Sith was raising his red lightsaber threatening over his head, ready to strike down the malfunctioning disturbance. Hux lips thinned to a small line, annoyance along with a headache rising in him. Just when he was about to gift his ‘colleagues’ with scathing remarks:

Boom! The middle of the room erupted in a cloud of pink dust and glitter. The remains of the machine squirting to a halt directly before the General’s feet. The following silence was far too loud. The last part of golden glitter glided to the ground, giving a free view on a, now, very pink robed and armored Captain and Sith. “Who was THIS!?” The golden pieces of paper floating down Ren’s shoulders did little to accent his intimidating roar. He turned, robes billowing and emitting a new pink gust, the hand gripping his lightsaber with even more force now. Hux had to commend the Troops for their stoic expressions, stifling every snicker, for it would most certainly be their last.

In the corner of his vision the General caught sight of a face on the landing above, quickly vanishing behind a stack of crates. ‘Found you!’

Clack, clack. Your hurried footsteps leading you to the security of your station resonated in a scarry manner from the halls. This was bad! You were so screwed! But once the initial burst of panic had passed, you realized something: ‘Why do I even care? From the very start I wanted to find a way out of this garbage station?’ This was your ticket to freedom! A sweet way into the secluded confines of Station 42. Granted, you had to avoid being disciplined by Phasma - and being killed by Ren, but once Hux found you, you were certain, the only thing to expect was a degradation and being thrown off the base. Your goal from the moment you said foot on this godforsaken piece of space litter.

Still you couldn’t fight the flinch when the General sporting his most terrifying expression, reserved only for the most serious of transgression, strode into the radar technician’s office. He didn’t stop at an arm’s length though, and kept invading your privet space, coming to a standstill just directly before your face. In this moment you could have sworn, that he could melt steel with the intensity of that glare. His voice however was even and quiet, which made it all the more terrifying: “So, we have a joker amongst our crew, have we?” You choose the only reasonable position someone was allowed to take if they weren’t sorry at all: Eyes cast down, regarding your feet and mumbling a not so heartfelt “I am very sorry, sir.”

Couldn’t he back off a little? You felt the heat radiating from him, but did not dare to move even an inch. “Sorry, doesn’t cut it for humiliating your superiors! In one case more than once!” You flinched again. “So the appropiate punishment is…” At this you looked up a hopeful gleam in your eyes, which was however, short lived once you caught sight of his cold, blue stare and the knowing smile creeping on his face. “… a transfer to…” ‘Yes, say it! Station 42!’ “… my personal staff!”

‘Wait… what?!” There was no need to pose a question, your flaggerbasted expression, complete with a slack jaw did the job for you. The grin on the ginger man’s face had an almost feral quality to it. “You don’t think I am going to accommodate your wish to get transferred from this base, now, do you?! Also, there is no way I am going to leave…” here he leaned in even further, your noses almost touching and whispered: “… such talent go to waste!” As fast as he had entered he turned on his heels and strode out. His farewell tinted with a somewhat dark humorous manner, made your skin crawl: “Monday, 0800, my office. You should start to make yourself comfortable… in your new home.”