1888.

came home, sat down until I could stand up again stood in the hot shower until I had to sit down again and the twin sleeps between now and Friday morning sometime are a pair of five dollar bills tucked into my wallet enough to buy fumes with enough to keep the engine running but nothing I can count on certainly to fill up the fucking tank

Where The Wild Roses Grow - An August Walker Story - 3

You can find the previous parts on my masterlist

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Fern) Summary: Don't screw the crew? This doesn't work for August Walker Warnings: Smut, Sex, 18+, NSFW, unprotected sex, rough sex, slapping, kinda soft August Unbeta'ed! English is not my mother tongue, so please be lenient with me

Disclaimer: I don't own August Walker (but he owns me...)

Pics for the header taken from Pinterest.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @madbaddic7ed @artandotherdelights

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Chapter 3

Fern

So, today's the day. I'm going on a date. The first in I-don't-know-how-long. Two years, three years, I don't remember. After my long time relationship with Max went down the drain I didn't want to date and here in London there was just no opportunity. To be honest I'm quite nervous. I mean, I don't know much about Lucas and I haven't interacted with a lot of people since I'm in London. Actually just with my neighbor Sloane and her wife Jackie, who are very nice and we have a little chat from time to time and with Peter and August and our clients of course. But that's it. That's pathetic you say? Yeah, maybe you're right but that's just the way it is and it's okay. Basically I like my life the way it is, I love my work, I enjoy my affair with August but deep down inside I crave intimacy, tenderness and a life outside the office. So I'm really looking forward to this date and to getting to know Lucas a little better. 

I'm sitting in my car right now. I'm ten minutes early so I have enough time to check my make-up -I think I look alright- and to straighten my clothes. I get out of my car and check my reflection in the metallic paint of my Classic Mini Cooper. I'm wearing a light blue summer skirt, a plain white sleeveless shirt and white loafers. I considered wearing the blue dotted dress but I can't wear it without thinking of August so it wasn't really an option.

I lurk around the corner and there he is. Lucas is waiting for me at the entrance of the museum, checking his watch repeatedly. He looks good with his blond hair and the blue eyes, not extraordinarily handsome like August but attractive. A John Doe but in a good way. Okay, guess it's time to go. Wish me luck!

There was really no reason to be nervous, Lucas is really nice and charming, the perfect gentleman. He knows a lot about art and I love how he shares his knowledge with me but never mansplains. He's not a bit arrogant or bossy, unlike many other men. August for example. Speaking of which, I think I spend too much time with him. When Lucas and I were walking around the museum I thought I saw August from the corner of my eye. Twice! I must be hallucinating or something. 

Right now I'm standing at the souvenir shop waiting outside for Lucas who wants to buy a present for his son Milo who lives in Liverpool with his mum, Lucas' ex-wife. We're done with the exhibition and he asked me if I want to have a coffee with him in a cafe nearby. I said yes. I really enjoy his company and it feels so good to finally do something that has nothing to do with my work.

A loud noise suddenly startles me. It sounds like someone has dropped a glass that's smashed to pieces. I spin around quickly to localize the noise source and that's when I see him. It's really him. August Walker in the flesh, standing behind a pillar, watching me.

I stare at him, surprised, or to put it more precisely, stunned. What the hell is he doing here?

He gives me a nonchalant smile and strolls in my direction as if it was the most natural thing to meet me here.

"Fern. What a lovely surprise." 

Is he kidding me? Lovely? He never uses words like this, they are not part of August Walker's vocabulary.

"August. What are you doing here?" I don't feel the need to exchange polite phrases.

"Enjoying the exhibition."

"Oh really?" I cross my arms in front of my chest.

"Yes. Why would you doubt it?" He smiles innocently and it makes me mad.

"Because you're not interested in art."

"Well, I am now."

"I took both tickets because you said you didn't want to go." I point out.

"I changed my mind and bought a ticket."

I take a deep breath and roll my eyes. I can't even explain why I'm so annoyed by the fact that he's here.

"So? Where's your date?" he asks en passant.

Now it dawns on me.

"Is that the reason you're here? Are you spying on me?"

August's face hardens and he looks at me with a frown. "I'm not spying. I'm just keeping an eye on you."

"I don't need a babysitter, August." 

"You don't know anything about the guy, Fern. He could be dangerous."

He comes one step closer and is standing right in front of me now, our bodies almost touching.

"He's not dangerous. He's a teacher at a primary school."

"That's what he says." He almost whispers. It's ridiculous.

"Why would he lie to me?"

"Because maybe he wants to cover up his true identity."

I laugh out loud. "Like what? Like an undercover agent or something. You think he's after you?"

August gives me a death stare, his lips pressed together to a thin line. "Exactly. And he wouldn't be the first." His voice is only a low growl. "I mean, come on, Fern. He sees you for what -5 minutes maybe?-  and asks you out? Can he really be that smitten by you?"

I stare at him, his words cut right into my heart, and I try to hide it by being even more sarcastic than usual.

"Oh, you mean you find it more likely that he's a spy, sent by the government to get to you, than the simple thought that he's attracted to me and therefore asked me out? Wow, I mean, that's flattering, August. So basically you're saying I'm so uninteresting that it's not a realistic scenario that a man meets me and wants to date me?"

"That's not what I meant, Fern. All I'm saying is…"

"Hi." I freeze when I hear Lucas' voice. I step back to bring a little space between me and August and turn around.

"Lucas. Did you find something for Milo?"

"Yes. I did." He gives August a funny look and things are getting pretty awkward. I clear my throat.

"Um, Lucas. This is my boss. August Walker. We just bumped into each other."

"Lucas Bellingham. Nice to meet you." Lucas gives August a nod and August gives him a forced smile in return.

"Yeah. Nice to meet you."

I can't believe he used to be an agent, since he's such a bad actor.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. Fern, see you on Monday."

"Sure."

He leans in, grabs me by my elbows and kisses me goodbye french style. Two times. Right. Left. Mua. Mua. What the fuck? After the second innocent peck on my cheek I feel his breath hot against my ear. "You look hot in that skirt. Be a good girl and wear it on Monday." 

His soft words sent shivers down my spine and at the same time I'm fuming with anger.

All he can expect from me on Monday is a cold shoulder and a lecture.

August

Okay, that monitoring operation on Saturday didn't go exactly as planned. I guess I'm a little out of practice. Of course Fern wasn't supposed to see me nor was her date. Lucas Bellingham. A boring name for a boring guy. I checked his record, of course I did. How, you ask? I'm sorry but I can't tell you. If I would I'd have to kill you.

Hey, don't be so shocked, I'm just kidding. Really. Relax.

Anyway, I have ways and means to do a background check on someone and Lucas seems to be legit. On first sight that means. I told Pete to dig a little deeper, just to be sure. He has his ways and means too. I promised Fern she'd be safe with me when I hired her and I'm a man of my word. I'm not going to expose her to any kind of danger. And no matter what she says, it definitely is possible that someone is sending an undercover agent to spy on me or Peter. Could be the US authorities or the MI5 or someone from my past, there's no lack of enemies, I've pissed off a lot of people and I know one day I will regret it. You know what they say. Karma is a bitch.

Well, here she comes.

"Good Morning, Fern."

"Morning."

Okay. A look that could kill and no skirt. Tight black jeans and a turtleneck sweater. All buttoned-up. Okay, woman, I get it. You're mad at me. She goes straight to her office and I follow her and sit down on the edge of her desk. She doesn't even look at me but starts typing something into her computer. 

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I am." 

"Really? You don't even look at me."

She takes a deep breath before her eyes meet mine.

"Just stay out of my way today, August."

I know I should take the hint and leave her alone but I can't. I don't take orders. Not from her, not from anyone anymore. I'm the one in charge, she should know that.

"What if I don't want to?" I give her a smug smile.

"I don't care what you want. Just fuck off."

"Woman." I growl. "Who do you think you're talking to? I'm still your boss."

"Then let me do my work. Boss." She holds my gaze and I know I'm going to lose any kind of staring contest with her so I decide to change my tactics. I hop off her desk and sit down in a chair.

"I just don't get why you're in such a bad mood." I try to smile and I have a feeling that it makes me look like an idiot. Fern furrows her brows. "Oh really. You have no idea?"

"Is this about Saturday?" 

"Yes, you bloody genius, of course it is. Your behaviour was beyond the pale."

"My behaviour? I was visiting an exhibition. Just like you."

"Don't give me that, August."

I stare at her. What does she want from me? I did nothing wrong goddamn.

"I was just trying to protect you, Fern. You tend to trust people too easily."

Her eyes shoot daggers at me and god, that's so sexy. Why the hell isn't she wearing that bloody skirt like I told her?

"People like you, you mean?"

Ouch. That hurts.

"I don't need you to protect me, okay? Not in a situation like this. Fuck, August. It was just a date with a harmless guy in a public place. What was he supposed to do? Kidnap me? Murder me?"

I don't know how to respond to this so I just shrug it off but the way she looks at me tells me she expects me to say something.

"I was just trying to keep my promise, Fern. You know I guaranteed your safety and I guess you have no idea how many people want to see me dead. You never know what they are up to and when someone new appears on the scene I get suspicious. This has nothing to do with you. It's just me and maybe I overshot the mark." The next words are the hardest part but I know if I want her to wear a skirt or dress ever again I have to say them. "I'm sorry."

Her face softens a little. 

"Just don't do it again, August. My private life is none of your business."

I nod and I really want to know if she's going to see him again but I don't ask.

The next few days totally suck. 

Tuesday: blue jeans and a cold shoulder. Shit.

Wednesday: skinny jeans and distant behaviour. Goddamn.

Thursday: A jumpsuit and a little smalltalk  but not much more. 

She's driving me crazy and she knows it. If she keeps on acting so stubborn she must not be surprised if I don't want her anymore. Ah fuck, who am I trying to fool. Truth is I want her more than ever. I want to fuck that distant look off her face. I want her to moan my name. I want her to obey. To give in. To acknowledge that I'm in charge.

On Friday I don't expect much, but to my big surprise and relief she shows up wearing the blue dotted dress she wore when I took her for the first time. I give her a glance when she walks past my office with swaying hips and she returns it. She even smiles at me. 

Okay, I have to get rid of Peter. Asap. I go to his office and close the door behind me.

"August?"

"Peter. Go home." 

"Excuse me?"

"Leave. Work from home today."

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms with a frown.

"Why?"

"Because I say so."

He snorts and turns to his laptop again.

"Fuck off, August."

I roll my eyes and sigh.

"Please." I say through clenched teeth. "I need some time to talk to Fern."

"Talk, huh?"

"We had a little fight the other day and now it seems she's willing to forgive me." I know I sound desperate and Peter looks at me again. "Yeah. I know about your visit to the museum. And you think you can get back into her pants today."

She told him about it? This takes me by surprise. But I don't say a word and he knows me well enough to interpret it as a yes.

"You know my opinion on your little affair."

"I do and you know it's none of your business."

"Right." He hesitates and scratches his chin. "Well, do what you think you have to do. I'm going to have breakfast in the little cafe around the corner and try to get the number of the hot waiter. You have an hour." He gets up and grabs his wallet and his phone.

"Thanks, Pete."

"I'm not doing this for you, August. I'm doing this for our business and my future. If you and Fern don't talk you can't do your job properly and this could ruin everything we have built up yet. So get your shit together and return to normal. Whatever it takes."

He leaves and I can tell he's pissed but well, he's gone and that's all that matters. I go straight to Ferns office and now that I'm standing right in front of her I'm so aroused and full of anticipation I feel like I'm about to explode with lust and I'm sure I look like a predator. She looks at me and slowly stands up.

"You've been a really bad girl." I growl.

"Is that so?" She bats her lashes innocently. Oh, her audacity.

"Yes." I murmur. "You kept me waiting for four days."

"You deserved it." Heavens, she's really a challenge.

"I'm gonna show you what you deserve, woman."

Two wide strides and I'm standing right next to her. I grab her by her waist, spin her around and bend her over her desk before I lift her dress and rip her panties into shreds. I press her down with one hand between her shoulder blades and unzip my trousers with the other. My dick is so hard it hurts. I don't waste time. I enter her without any kind of preparation or the slightest hint of foreplay. I wanna punish her by being raw and ruthless but she won't let me. She is wet. So fucking wet and she takes me as well as usual. Sighing with lust when I stretch her pussy. Moaning when I start to fuck her deep and fast. I let out a moan too. "You're so wet. You've been looking forward to this." I hiss into her ear while railing her so hard that the desk moves under us. "I've been all wet since the moment I put on the dress." Her voice is dripping with desire. "I've missed your dick so much." 

I keep on fucking her with long, deep movements and when I slap her ass out of the blue she cries out my name. "August." She likes it, oh yes she does. She likes it a lot. I can tell by her moans that get even louder. I've never done this before though I wanted to, but I was scared she might not like it or think I'm a perv and tell me to fuck off. I move faster and we are both gasping and panting like never before. I'm close and so is she. I can feel it.

"Again." She begs. Oh how I like the sound of it.

"What did you say, pretty?"

"Again. August. Please."

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes."

"You want it?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"Slap my ass, August. Please."

She's a whimpering mess now and I slap her again. Harder this time. She shrieks and it sounds incredibly hot. I go on and on and after the fifth slap I feel her come. Her walls clench around me and her legs shake. "Fuck...oh god. August…" Her sweet little cunt milks my cock and when I cum too I throw my head back and sigh her name softly  till my orgasm is over. I press a kiss on her back and give her ass a few gentle strokes to sooth the pain. I bet it stings, her cheek is crimson red. I pull out reluctantly. I feel the strange urge to stay inside of her but I fight it. She turns around and looks at me with a smirk. She licks her lips and it's obvious how much she's enjoyed this.

And so have I.

I enjoyed it and I've missed it.

I've missed her. 

Months of tolerance

So, I was looking back at my ranpoe valentines story and I got an idea. Why not write a little collection? A little trio or so of Valentines-themed sort of ship stories?

And so, I wrote a second one for Shin-soukoku! Though, please be forgiving, I’m not a super big fan of Atsushi, so I don’t have a lot of ideas and experience on how he works and behaves, so I kinda took inspiration from the rp me and my friend did for BSD and their sort of rendition of Atsushi mixed with canon.

Atsushi had never really experienced Valentines day or White day, so when Dazai offered to take him out on one of his days off and introduce him to the basics of the event he accepted it. He was quick to find it to be a bit depressing.            “Dazai, I don't think I have any real...reason to be here," The tiger sighed, putting down one of the little Valentines bears he'd been looking at in the shop and looking over at the bandage-clad brunette that was to be his mentor in the ADA. The rail of a man just pouted at him,            "Nonsense, Atsushi! You're learning about romance," he assured, giving the white-haired man a sweet smile, which made Atsushi grimace,            "Yeah, but this holiday is obviously for couples, and I don't have any romantic partner of any sort," He pointed out, a stone of loneliness settling in the bottom of his stomach as he spoke, but his mentor simply snorted as if that point was moot.            "Sushi, you don't need a romantic partner to celebrate Valentines day, you can just as easily get gifts for friends. After all, I don't have a partner but I'm gonna get a gift for someone." He assured, and while the tiger was still a bit unsure, he just nodded.

After that, he just went back to milling around up and down the aisle as he poked at the little toys, knick knacks, or sweets scattered about until Dazai clapped his hands together in an idea,          "Atsushi! I have an idea for what you can do on Valentines day!" he chirped, bouncing on his feet in some childish, giddy high, "Why not get a gift for Ryuunosuke!" The tiger blinked and scowled at the idea,          "Why the hell would I do that? I don't have any sort of feelings for him," he about spat, almost feeling his lip curl in a snarl at the mere mention of the wheezing, gothic, Dazai fanboy. However, the brunette simply rolled his eyes at his venom,          "There is a very common phrase, 'kill your enemies with kindness', you ever hear it?" before the weretiger could answer, he continued, "Akutagawa doesn't like you. At all. Hates your guts. But! If you get him a gift, maybe be as friendly as you can be, you can get him to warm up to you!" the weretiger's scowl only deepened, which made his mentor huff and drop the excited, bubbly tone, "If you get him to like you, you won't have to spend quite as much on shirts every week." Atsushi ended up buying a cheap little gift for the goth. However, that now left him with a question. How was he to get the cheap plush cat to Akutagawa? He'd been pondering the question all through out the three days that led up to Valentines day, going back and forth on whether or not he should even bother with Dazai's stupid idea. Is it really worth risking getting stabbed again? Just to give this cheap little thing to a bastard like Akutagawa? He thought bitterly, though his cheeks burned a slight pink while he glared down at the floppy little beanie baby cat that was sprawled out on his meager little coffee table, staring up at the tiger with glassy amber eyes while he sat on his couch the evening before Valentines day. I'd sooner drink my own piss then give Akutagawa a Valentines gift. He told himself firmly, getting up from his couch and plucking the toy from the cheap table to get rid of it. To do this, he threw it out of his livingroom window into the darkness of the cold night and listened to it land in the dumpster across the street with a soft thud thanks to how hard he'd thrown it. And, with that, he shut his window with a decisive 'humph' and went to bed. Dazai was a smart man, but Atsushi was not going to have conflicting and confusing feelings plague him just to placate a violent asshole with a hateboner for him. An hour later, the tiger went out to the dumpster he'd heard the cat slam against and dug the poor thing out to be washed. Not that the weretiger had changed his mind or anything, he'd just spent money on the derpy little toy, he didn't want to waste it. Or, so he told himself. So, he instead returned it to his bedside table after washing it a few times, trying to see if he could somehow rub the new crack out of his amber eye while doing his best to get the dumpster stench out of its fur. If he really was going to 'kill Akutagawa with kindness' like Dazai said, the least he could do was make sure the gift didn't reek of three day old take out and dog vomit. When the next day came, he took the toy to work, then walked home with it draped over his arm after a day of dealing with petty couple squabbles that had turned nasty, or helping Ranpo to and from the smattering of robberies he'd been requested on. Y'know, this just proves why I should've kept this thing in the garbage, he fumed to himself, staring at the sidewalk ahead of him so he didn't see even more lovey-dovey couples for the day, If I gave this to Akutagawa somehow, all that would happen is I'd be a statistic. Nothing more. He hates me too much, it'd probably off- Atsushi's ill-tempered thoughts were cut short when he ran into someone else on the sidewalk, sending them both sprawling to the pavement.           "O-oh my god! I'm so sorry, are you hurt miss?!" The weretiger squeaked, hopping up to his feet at record speeds to offer a hand to the pretty lady in white. She had long black hair, and a familiar style of dress on, but it was her light, steel-colored eyes that finally got her face to click in the frazzled tiger's irrational mind.          "Oh!...Gin, right?" he asked as she took his hand and let him help her up while she nodded,          "Sorry, I didn't mean to run you over," she said, her voice as quiet as the first time he'd met her with Katai and Kunikida, but her words shot a nebulous sort of anxiety into his veins,         "Oh, no no no, it was my fault, I wasn't looking where I-I was going," he stammered, trying desperately to comfort her as he reached to dust her off, but then changed his mind half way, doing that would be super weird, so he instead tried to think up another way to make up for running into her. He felt awful for knocking her over, but had no clue what to do, so he just ended up putting a hand over his anxious heart and staying quiet. Gin, meanwhile, had spotted the saggy stuffed toy on the sidewalk,           "Um, is that yours?" She asked, picking it up and dusting the little thing off gently, snapping Atsushi out of his thoughts,          "What? Oh! Yeah, that's...actually, I bought it for...Akutagawa." he admitted, not knowing what else to say to explain why he had a stuffed cat. Gin blinked at him, raising an eyebrow,           "No offense, but why did you buy my brother a toy? Is it for Valentines day?" Atsushi gaped for a moment, for some reason his brain struggling to give even the simplest answer for a moment,          "I...D-Dazai suggested getting him a gift..." he muttered, his cheeks beginning to heat up as he spoke, which Gin seemed to notice, but she said nothing,          "Well, how about I deliver it to him? He likes cats, I'm sure he'd enjoy this one," she offered sweetly instead, and for a moment Atsushi could only stare at her while his cheeks undoubtedly glowed a healthy pink until he cleared his throat, get yourself together Atsushi! This is a fine way to get the damned gift to Akutagawa, then Dazai can get off your ass, he told himself, pushing down the weird flustered feeling in his chest,         "Um, t-that would be helpful," She nodded, smiling a bit at the toy cat. With that, she wished him well as the sky darkened from the yellow-purple gradient of Atsushi's eyes, to a dark, star-speckled blue, leaving the tiger to walk home and contemplate his day. For the next few days, the weretiger was on edge, just waiting for the wheezing goth to pop out from behind every corner ready to stab him. However, it never happened. Atsushi was expecting it, always at the ready to defend himself, but for the entire month he didn't even see his nemesis on jobs, let alone when he was walking home or too work. So, he began to relax. Maybe he really did enjoy the stuffed toy, he thought a month or so later on his walk home from the ADA. The thought brought an odd warm feeling to his chest, but he was swift to stomp the detested feeling back down into that part of himself he refused to acknowledge. He could accept his tiger, but he was not ready to face anything like that emotion. Then, something slammed into the side of his head. In an instant, Atsushi was knocked onto the sidewalk with his world swimming for a moment or two. In those moments, he laid there in a daze, forced to wait for his senses to return and the throbbing ache in his skull to die before he could finally stumble to his feet. When the pain stopped and he could bare to stand once again, the white-haired man looked around for what might've hit him in the head, but the only thing he found was a can of soda. A soda that, upon closer inspection, he found to be one of his favorites, which was weird enough, since usually his favorite soft drink doesn't fly at people's heads, but, no one was currently around to explain why an unopened, very dented can of his preferred soda was rolling around at his feet after knocking him on his ass like it had. He'd tried to look around, taking advantage of his improved night vision to try and spot anyone trying to hide from the blame for throwing it at him, but the street was currently sparse in other people in the area. However, after a moment of thinking, and examining the near-bursting can, it slowly dawned on the tiger who might've thrown it. Then, the date set in, bringing a stronger wave of hot embarrassment to his cheeks.           "Um?? T-thanks I guess?" he called out into the swiftly growing darkness, and then swiftly continued home, before the hiding goth caught sight of the way his cheeks tinged a small shade of pink or decided to come out to maul him for acknowledging him.

Father Dearest Part 4

Fandom: Harry Potter: Golden Trio Era Pairing: Harry Potter x reader Summary: Your third year at Hogwarts is about to start and with it come a lot of new changes. Harry, your best friend and crush, is in trouble from some man named Sirius Black. You try desperately to keep Harry safe but what happens when you find out some heartbreaking, mind shattering information about your father? Warnings: angst, long writing lol! A/N: Enjoy! Please like and reblog if you like it!!

“Did you hear about what happened to (Y/L/N) during DADA?”

“Oh my god, do you think that she is being abused at home?”

“I knew it, I knew that there was something off about her.”

 These were the whispers that followed you around for the rest of the week. Harry, Ron and Hermione would throw a dirty look at anyone that even dared to look at you wrong and maybe due to that, and the fact that other more threatening news was flooding Hogwarts, the incident that occurred in the DADA class was forgotten from almost everyone’s mind.

 The only thing you had been looking forward to after Moony’s class was Hagrid’s first lesson. Looking forward to it seems to be too happy a phrase to use. You had heard from Fred and George who already had their Care for Magical Creatures class that Hagrid had them caring for some crazy dangerous creatures. In fact, most of the castle was muttering about Hagrid’s lessons and you were apprehensive of what monstrous creature Hagrid would introduce to your lot. To make matters worse the Gryffindors were paired with the Slytherins for Magical Creatures. After the encounter in Lupin’s class Malfoy had been a bit more reserved in talking back in class but you were sure his tongue was going to wag in Hagrid’s class. As you made your way down to Hagrid’s hut you found that the Slytherin Prince was already there, barking all sorts of rubbish that is puny crew was lapping up. Pansy Parkinson, a toad of a girl, was hanging on every word that drew from his lips.

 “Wait till my father hears about this, that Dumbledore’s got this oaf teaching class. Honestly this whole school is going to hell,” he stated disgustingly as Hagrid was fixing something up in his garden. Harry who heard the remark turned around fuming, you had to grip his arm and hold him back before he launched himself a Malfoy.

 “What is it Potter? Got something to say?” he taunted Harry.

 “Last I checked your father was sacked from being a governor of Hogwarts after threatening the other governors. So, having your now unemployed father hear about the news of Hagrid’s post doesn’t really carry that much weight,” you recounted as the gryffindors sniggered and Malfoy turned red. You knew that the Malfoy’s were rich beyond measure and that his father technically didn’t need a  job to survive, however it still managed to bruise Malfoy’s ego.

 “At least I have a father, what was it that the boggart said? Right, ‘You’re scum, and I never wanted you’,” Malfoy stated smirking at the effect those words had on you. You froze up beside Harry, and Harry seizing the chance of you letting go of his arm grabbed his wand and threw a spell at Malfoy.

 Malfoy was about to retaliate when Hagrid came walking towards you booming, “What’s goin on ‘ere? You lot be’er not be causin’ ‘rouble ‘his early in.” Hagrid lead you into a clearing at the edge of the forest and went on to explain what the lesson was for today.

 You who had been beaming at him to show your support felt a pricking sensation in the back of your head. It was a sensation you had grown accustomed to over the past summer, a feeling of being watched. You didn’t know what it was but the past summer when you were taking your nighttime walks or when you were running errands for Remus on the weeks of the full moon you would feel this weird sensation. Nothing ever came of it, you would turn around constantly, checking your surroundings yet you would find nothing, no one was watching you. You didn’t want to alarm Remus, who (you were sure) would lock you up in the house all summer had you disclosed this information to him.

 The feeling stopped the last few weeks of summer vacation, you were sure that due to all the excitement and busyness of packing up for Hogwarts you mind simply didn’t have time to make you feel uneasy. However, the feeling was back, you instinctively turned around, you were met with nothing but trees and shrubs. There was a slight rustling of a shrub but just then a sudden breeze had started from nowhere and you heard Harry scream. When you turned your attention back to the class you saw Harry riding on a Hippogriff. Had Harry not looked like he was going to vomit, the site would have been majestic. You knew all about the hippogriffs having stumbled across an old Care for Magical Creatures textbook of Moony’s. You were slightly jealous that Harry got to ride one, and even more impressed at Hagrid for not showing a dangerous creature. Sure, the Hippogriffs may look intimidating, and yes they can cause serious harm but that’s only if you were daft enough to disrespect them.

 As Harry touched down, you along with the rest of the Gryffindors cheered. Harry was placed back onto the ground by Hagrid and you were about to get his attention to ask for a ride yourself when Malfoy pushed you out of the way. Thankfully, Dean was able to catch you before you met the floor. “Yeah, you’re not scary at all are you, you big chicken,” you heard Malfoy confidently strut to the Hippogriff. Before any of you could stop it, Malfoy was attacked, and Hagrid was fussing over him saying that Malfoy would be fine. It took ‘Mione and you to scream that Malfoy needs to go to the hospital wing for Hagrid to snap out of his panic and carry the oaf who was now moaning in pain. Dean who had been holding you still, let go of you almost as if you were made of hot iron and apologized under his breath and sprinted to catch up with Seamus.

 You were about to yell out thank to Dean for catching you when you turned around and realized the reason for Dean’s sudden odd behavior. Harry was still watching Dean with an emotion that you were not able to place filling the green irises that you were so familiar with.

 “How much trouble do you reckon Hagrid’s gonna be in?” Ron asked as you all made your way towards the castle.

 “I don’t know. Knowing Malfoy’s father, we haven’t heard the last of this,” you somberly stated.

The next few weeks went by in a blur, Malfoy moaned over his arm, which in your opinion had nothing wrong with it. You saw him catch a piece of parchment you had thrown at him with his bandaged hand without so much a thought, or a bit of pain. He just put on a show whenever he thought people weren’t paying enough attention to him. The oaf. Urgh. You would purposely throw things at him and place heavy books atop his “broken arm” whenever you had the chance. Alright you suppose it was very mean to laugh in his misery but in your opinion had he just listened to Hagrid’s instructions nothing would have happened. Hagrid obviously felt awful and kept apologizing, but Malfoy was still a git about it. He was going on and on about how he was going to have Hagrid sacked and Buckbeak killed. Once he said it very loudly in front of Hagrid that it brought the happy giant man to tears. You, being the ever so kind and patient person, you were, “accidentally” pushed Malfoy into Bowtruckle dung while he was still laughing getting dung even into his mouth.

Aside from Malfoy there was a rather awkward situation that occurred between Harry, McLaggen and you. McLaggen was a showy upperclassman, he was the epitome of the stereotypical Gryffindor. Tough, and brash, but not exactly the brightest of the bunch. He stalked up to you during one morning, chest puffed out and toothy grin plastered over his face. To you he resembled more of an ape than a boy but that didn’t stop some girls from eyeing him. “Hey (Y/N),” he charmed as he pushed Harry and you apart and sat down between you.

“Top of the Mornin’ to ya, McLaggen,” you sarcastically stated. Harry and Ron snickered at the disinterest in your voice but McLaggen clearly didn’t get the hint (again nOt tHe bRiGhTeSt bUlB)

“Listen so the Hogsmeade trip is coming up,” he started.

“Is it? I didn’t know you could read a calendar,” you retorted but he chose to ignore your statement.

“I know that this is your first trip to Hogsmeade and for a bird it’s just sad to go alone. I know that you’re probably fretting over it but not to worry, you to accompany me,” he finished his proposition. You were actually dumbfounded for a second at his remark. He hadn’t even asked you out, he told you that you can go with him.

“McLaggen, though I’m sure that would be, er- well fun isn’t the right word, tolerable, it would be tolerable. I will not be going alone. However, if I ever find the need to be in the company of a donkey, I’ll let you know,” you hotly stated and walked away. 

“Mate she just called you an arse,” you faintly heard George bellow out over the laughter that filled the Great Hall. 

Soon it was time for your first ever Hogsmeade trip. You offered to stay with Harry when you realized that he wouldn’t be able to go with you, but he told you to go have fun. While on the way to Hogsmeade you noticed Ron nervously looking at you, he always looked like he wanted to say something but after sneaking a peak at Hermione he opted to stay quiet. Once you got to the village even Hermione started acting odd, glaring at you every once in a while. Upon getting the clue, you jogged on ahead of them, citing that you wanted to buy Harry something and went into Zonko’s Joke shop. As you made your way out of  Honeyduke’s you felt an arm wrap around you, but no one was near. Vanilla and Pine Cones. “Harry, no way, how?”

“Fred and George gave me this wicked map,” he explained getting out of his cloak. “It showed me a great route to take without alerting Filch.”

“Great. I was starting to get bored. Let’s go into Three Broomsticks and get a butterbeer. I��ve never tried one,” you stated while dragging him along with you.

“Where’s Ron and Hermione?” Harry asked as you found an empty booth in the corner. Madame Rosmerta, the bartender had given you a rather weird look when you went to counter to place the order.

“They were acting odd once they got here. I decided to leave them alone,” you stated. Your butterbeers came and you both drank the liquid, letting it fill you with warmth. You dragged Harry around with you through the entire village. From Honeyduke’s Harry brought enough sweets to last till Christmas, you had made a comment on it when he said that more than half of it was for you. From Zonko’s you brought Ron the Screaming Yo-Yo he had mentioned wanting. You even walked over to Madam Pudifoot’s but one look at the pink exterior and you pulled Harry with you in the opposite direction.

“Harry,” Hermione exclaimed, as Ron and she came out of the joke shop. Ron looked rather glum until you handed him your package. He opened it and almost tackled you onto the ground in a hug.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the action and kept talking to Harry, “How did you get here?”

“Never mind how,” Ron laughed, “Harry, we’ve got to go into Zonko’s there’s some wicked stuff in there for pranks.” As Hermione hit Ron, you noticed Madame Rosmerta outside of her pub.

“Hey ‘Mione, look who it is,” you diverted their attention to the bartender who was talking to the Minister of Magic, he was looking rather intimidated by her antics. You looked over at Ron who was very red in the face as Hermione took to teasing him about his crush on dear old Rossie.

“Sirius Black?” you heard her say over the chipper of the crowd. Almost immediately you felt movement from you back and you knew Harry was making a beeline for Three Broomsticks. Without another thought you placed an invisibility charm on yourself and walked in Harry’s footsteps.

“Sirius Black? Come now Minerva why would he be coming to Hogsmeade of all places?” you heard Rosmerta ask as McGonagall started to explain the horrendous crimes that Black did. You huddled in a corner far away from everyone in the room but still close enough to hear the conversation. You felt a warm presence next to you that you guessed to be Harry.

“In the darkest times, when James and Lily Potter had to go into hiding Sirius Black was appointed as their secret keeper. He was the only one in the world that knew about their whereabouts, and when it came time to, he betrayed them,” McGonagall explained as tears welled up in your eyes.

Poor Harry must be going through a tsunami of emotions right now, you worried. Knowing that Sirius Black was after him was one thing but now realizing that he was the sole reason his parents were killed must be doing a number on him. You could tell he was shaking, and you felt around for his arm and held on to it.

“So, you think what? That he wants to finish the job You-Know-Who started and kill the boy?” Rosmerta questioned.

McGonagall’s lips stretched into the thinnest line you had ever seen, “Rosmerta the fact of the matter is that he still remains Harry’s godfather. Not only that, that poor girl (Y/N), she has no clue of course.” Your head was spinning from all the revelation that was happening but at your name your ears perked up.

 “Oh, that lovely doll, the one with brown eyes and black hair,” Rosmerta added, “I just saw her in my shop, she’s a splitting image of her mum, it made me tear up a bit. I will say her eyes and that hair, that she got from her father. She reminds me so much of her mother, even smiles the same way. (Y/L/N) was such a wonderful woman.”

 “”Metra, my dear,” Fudge interrupted, “The lass has no idea that her mother was Estella (Y/L/N) and that her father is Sirius Black.”

Taglist: @missmulti​ @may-machin​ @magicalaquarian​ @junkersandroadies-son​ @prongsyy​ @cute-but-weirdo​ @lozzybowe​ @minecraftlover444​ @selmeuuh @play-morezeppelin​ @ilovespideyyy​ @wecouldbreakthedistance​

Could I possibly have a scenario with a fem s/o who is constantly high but yet Bakugou can’t help but fall in love :) thanks in advance!

Anonymous- “Can I pls get first date with bakugo and reader goes to pay for her half and bakugo shits her down with some tsundere ass response like “I just know if you pay for this you’re gonna complain you dont have money to buy other shit.”

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I mashed these two request together!

Enjoy the fluff while it last cuz it’s finna get ANGSTY in this bitch!

HnM💕

How Stop liking a Stoner (Bakugou x Reader)

Bakugou absolutely hated you. Of course he didn’t get along with most people that he met, but the way that he despised you felt different  from others somehow. 

It all began the day that the two of you met. You had walked into class with a very distinct odor. You considered yourself to be a professional at hiding your more delinquent lifestyle; however, masked away under the layers of fruity and sweet perfumes that you had coated yourself in, was a slight, but very recognizable, dank and smokey smell.

You also had certain mannerisms that could alert even the purest of minds to your…ahem… extra-curricular actives.

Now, you weren’t a complete noob. You could handle the high well enough that you weren’t overly quiet, or loud, but you did often find yourself in situations that could expose your habits: such as when Mina asked you to feel how soft a furry piece of her hero costume was, and you ended up petting it for a few uncomfortable minutes before someone called you out, snapping you out of your trance.

Bakugou, being the ever perceptive grump that he was, noticed any of these sorts of slip ups and drew up the conclusion that you were indeed a stoner.   

But that wasn’t even what he could bring himself to hate about you. No, it was the way that you made him feel whenever you were around that made him wholy despise you. 

When you stupidly giggled at every slight occurrence, he could only replay the sound in his head over and over. Disgusting. When you absentmindedly swayed your body in a slight dance during lectures he couldn’t help but to watch you with a terrifyingly light feeling in his chest. Fucking gross. Even as you sat chomping on the insane mountain of snacks that you brought to class, he couldn’t fight the urge to steal glances at the little smile that was perpetually plastered onto your face. Absolutely adorable. WAIT? WHAT THE FUCK?! 

God, he couldn’t stand your ass.

The furious blond found himself sitting at his desk, glaring at his laptop. He sat in thought for a moment before violently popping his knuckles and leaning into the search engine in front of him, allowing his fingers get to work.

Is marijuana bad for you? 

Bakugou scrolled along the first page and found many differing views on the subject, but most scientific articles and studies mostly said the same things: “maybe”, “it depends”, and “we don’t know.” He groaned in frustration, before trying another phrasing of his question,

Can smoking have long term effects? 

The teen was surprised by the overwhelming amount data that appeared, before realizing that they were mostly referencing to cigarettes and cigars. He growled and angrily smashed his fingers against his keyboard to correct his question.

Can smoking weed have long term effects?

As he eyeballed his screen he was once again disappointed by very vague and unclear answers. He slammed a fist onto his laptop in frustration. How the hell could you put that shit into your body without knowing what it would do to you later?! 

Wait. A better, more pressing question shoved itself into his mind.

WHY THE HELL DID HE CARE SO DAMN MUCH ABOUT WHAT YOU WERE DOING?!

Bakugou groaned in frustration and roughly snatched a fist full of his hair, as if he were trying to rip you clean out of his mind. He knew for a fact that mind-altering wasn’t your damn quirk. So why the hell does he give a fuck about you? You weren’t even around him, yet he found himself having his thoughts wander to your well being. It pissed him off. 

Bakugou once more smacked his fingers against his keyboard as he typed one final question,

How to stop liking someone?

As soon as he saw the words flash across his screen, it was like the weight of the entire situation finally cracked something inside of him. Shit. He did like you. The boy suddenly slammed his laptop shut and threw it away from him like it had suddenly disgusted him.

He then decided that he was going to pretend like the last hour of his life just didn’t happen. Yeah he was gonna “control, alt, delete” the fuck out of every thought he just had. 

God dammit, he didn’t have time to dwell on crushes if he was going to be the number one hero! That stupid, delinquent girl wasn’t going to get any more of his time or thoughts!!

But.

It seemed like fate had something else planned as you hurriedly walked to your classroom, 1-A, the next morning. You absolutely couldn’t risk being late today. You hadn’t had enough time to grab your eye drops that morning and Aizawa would certainly notice your altered state if attention was drawn to you. 

The hallway ahead of you moved in choppy frames before you finally whipped a turn to enter the door of your classroom. As soon as you turned into the class, you were slapped with a warm sturdy object, sending you flying back onto your butt.

Bakugou immediately thrashed his body around to confront whatever idiot just knocked into him, “HEY WATCH WHERE YOU’RE…” he trailed off as he recognized your figure. Your lunch box that you had been holding had spilled its contents all over you, but the dirty sight of you was somehow still enough to make his heart throb, “…going.” he finally finished.

“Sorry, Bakugou,” you apologized as you rubbed the side your your head, trying to stabilize your whirling mind, “Oh, man! My food!” you sadly exclaimed as you recognized the pathetic mess of snacks and small meals you had prepped for your day all over the floor and yourself.

The sight of your frown in contrast to your usual happiness gave Bakugou’s chest a twinge of pain. He growled at the emotion as he glared at you on the ground, “Well, maybe you should get your head out of the damn clouds and watch where you are going!” he yelled before stiffly turning on his heel and heading to his seat. 

You blinked in surprise at his retreating figure. Well, you hadn’t exactly expected him to apologize or help you or anything, but you also didn’t expect to see the blush that creeped across his face before he stormed off. 

Huh.

You cleaned yourself up easily enough. Honestly, the situation and Bakugou’s subsequent outburst had helped you make it through the day without getting suspended, drug tested or expelled. By the time you cleaned yourself up and made it back to the classroom, your eyes had pretty much returned to their normal state. 

Today might not be so bad after all!

GrrrrRRRrrRRrrr, your stomach screeched, causing almost all of your classmates to whip their heads toward you in surprise. 

Shit…

You hurriedly grabbed your stomach with a nervous laugh, trying to console the despairing little monster; however, you still spent the rest of the school day with your tummy loudly yelling at you. Watching everyone eat during lunch was absolute torture as your stomach cursed at you for being so damn clumsy. You honestly could have died. 

Death by munchies.

However, it seems as if the cannabis lords took pity on you that day and you actually made it through your last class. You were the first one out of their desk as you rushed out of the classroom and down the hall— the thought of food on your mind, but suddenly you felt a heavy hand snatch your wrist,

“Hey, idiot!” When you looked back your eyebrows shot straight up at the sight of Bakugou’s hardened expression, “Let’s go grab some food.”

Um… hWhat? The suggestion completely threw you off balance. You shook your head as if the vibrations that just came in through your ear needed some readjusting,  “Like… together?” you tilted your head in shock. You’ve never seen Bakugou willingly hang with anyone else besides Kirishima, let alone initiate an event with them!

Bakugou fumed at your questioning appearance, “Are you really that stupid!? I could hear your stomach growling from across the classroom!!”

You giggled at yourself in embarrassment, not quite sure of what else you could do in the moment, “…Why do you care?” you laughed.

Your laughed sent a searing wave of heat to his face. You’d… never directed this display of happiness toward him before, and for some reason it made him feel extremely hot,

“I don’t!” he yelled as he tried to fight the warmth away, “I just knocked your food down earlier and… I don’t want to owe you anything,” he suddenly noticed that he was still clinging to your hand. The heat in his face doubled as he snatched his hand away from yours, “So where do you wanna go? I am not taking no for an answer,” he began as he walked away from U.A.’s campus with a rigid nod for you to follow him. 

You paused for a moment. Is this real? 

A large smile began spreading itself across your face– the cannabis lords once gain raining mercy down upon you, “Maybe a… Mcdonalds!” you happily suggested as you skipped into a light jog ran to catch up with him.

“Mc.. donalds?” Bakugou threw you an expression that resided in an area between horrified and disgusted for a moment before correcting himself back into his comfortable anger, looking at the ground as the two of you walked.

“Yeah, like the clown place!” you added. Bakugou growled at your answer. He wasn’t a fucking idiot he knew what a damn McDonald’s was. You laughed at his response as you continued, “You’re not scared of clowns are you, tough guy?” you teased.

“Fuck you,” he simply huffed, refusing to even entertain your accusations. 

“Wow, on the first date?” you boldly retorted with a stifled laugh, causing him to falter in his steps for a moment. He snapped himself out of whatever stupid emotion he felt at your words, 

“IT’S NOT A DAMN DATE!” he roared, causing you to simply shrug, a pleased smile on your face as you continued to walk without him. 

“Where are you going, you idiot?! There is a Mcdonald’s right there!” he angrily gestured to the golden arches the other direction of where you were headed. 

“I like the one by my house better,” you explained, “It had a gas station attached to it, so I can grab some snacks on the way out.”

….

G-gas Station McDonald’s….? Bakugou could have thrown up right then and there. 

“DISGUSTING!” the blond screeched, “I am not walking all the way over there just to walk back to the dorm! Are you an idiot?!”

Alright. Who the fuck did this to him? Made him crush on a complete loser?! Cupid? God?! He was gonna fight whoever the fuck it was! 

“Fineeee,” you laughed and the two of you walked over to the inferior McDonalds. Bakugous eyes widened in repulsion as you ordered both a Big-Mac meal and a twenty piece chicken nugget with a dozen cookies.

As soon as you happily reached out to give the cashier your money, he swatted your hand away and shoved his own cash at the associates face, “No, take mine.” he harshly ordered. The employee shakily agreed and accepted his money. 

You threw him a confused glance but before you could even open your mouth to question him, he spoke up, “I just know that if you pay for this, you’re gonna complain that you don’t have money to buy other shit,” he explained, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

You noticed this red tint, but decided to tease him instead of pointing it out, “Yeah, like gas,” you nodded with a sly smile. 

“Gas? You’re fifteen and don’t have a damn car, you idiot,” He argued, but the boy immediately paused as soon as he saw the suggestive expression that you held on your face. Things finally clicked as soon as you wiggled your eyebrows towards him. Gas… you meant weed. He angrily snatched the two soda cups that the cashier was extending out as he loudly yelled at you,  “FUCK! YOU MAKE IT SO DAMN HARD TO BE NICE TO YOU, YOU KNOW THAT?!” He screamed as you cracked up at his uncharacteristically slow uptake.

The two of you had decided to eat at a booth near a window. You found yourself being really surprised at the quality of this McDonald’s chairs. Bakugou loudly chastised you for gawking at the chairs like some freak before the two of you promptly began eating your food. 

It was mostly quiet between the two of you as the textures of the meal performed on your sensitive tongue until Bakugou finally spoke up, “Why do you put that nasty shit into your body?”

“Uh,” Your eyes danced away for a split second, “McDonalds?” your faced crinkled in confusion.

“No, you dumbass!” Bakugou fought the urge to facepalm, “marijuana!” he angrily corrected.

Oh… you felt yourself deflate for a moment, as the question absorbed into your mind. You suddenly let out a giggle, “I don’t know. It makes me feel good, I guess.” Bakugou had to fight another blush at the sight of you adorably shrugging your shoulders. 

“That’s a stupid answer. You can’t feel good on your own?”

You tilted your head as you thought about it for a moment. Of course, you could feel good on your own. Just take a look at you! You weren’t even very high anymore, yet you were still on cloud nine right now for some reason, “Well… I feel good right now with you.”

That did it. His adrenaline flared up in an instant. Bakugou couldn’t even come up with fluid words as a series of death threats and curses instinctively flooded to the forefront of his mind,  “S-shut up.”

You giggled at his loss for words before letting the conversation die again. The two of you once again found yourselves in silence as you sat with a smile on your face.

This time, it was you who broke the silence, “Thank you, for hanging out with me today. I really appreciate it.”

“Whatever, loser. Don’t get used to it,” he huffed, angrily stuffing a few fries into his mouth. 

“So…. there’s not a second date ahead?”

“I didn’t say that,” he grumbled, snatching his glare away from you and out of the restaurant window. 

So it was a date. A huge smile once again spread across your face for the millionth time that evening. You happily plopped another fry into your mouth at the sight of him blushing once more. 

Mixer-ed Emotions - Jealous!GavinxMC

Finally!

I know, I’ve taken days over this!  But it ran into 12 pages and took all day for me to reread it just to make sure it made sense!  I’m going to dedicate this to @voltagesmutter​ for listening to me tease sentences and quotes from it as I fought my own body to get any damn work done!

Mixer-ed Emotions

Jealous!GavinxMC (Emci)

Summary:  When you agree to make up numbers at a mixer you don’t realise Gavin is doing the same.  With misunderstanding after misunderstanding and some irritating attendees, will Gavin get to ask you his question when another man shows a lot of interest?

Warnings:  Swearing, threats, violence.

‘C’mon, Willow, do I have to?’  You whined, dragging your feet much like a child being taken somewhere they didn’t want to go.

‘Yes, you do.  You agreed to help me out.’  Your colleague glanced back at you with a stern look.

‘When I said I’d do this to help you out I didn’t realise you meant it was tonight!’

‘I wouldn’t have needed your help if it wasn’t short notice.’  Willow turned and linked her arm with yours, pulling you along.  ‘And you know there’s no commitment involved, you’re just making up numbers.’

‘But a mixer?  Seriously?’

‘I know you hate the idea but it’s for one night, you are under no obligation to either attend another or decide maybe you like one of the guys tonight and go home with him…’

‘I won’t be going home with anyone!’  You gasped, wide eyed at her suggestion.

‘Sure, okay, you won’t be going home with anyone.’  She shrugged with a smirk.  ‘Anyway, we’re here, and you’ll know more than just me so relax, you’re among friends.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’  You muttered as she opened the door to the bar, the noise hitting you like a solid wall immediately.  With a sigh, you entered, hoping this evening wouldn’t be a bad as you imagined it could be.

🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍🏍

You had a large table at the back for the ten participants.  So far you knew Willow and Kiki, as well as two women from another company who you shared the office building with.  Three of the men were there and Willow assured you that the last two were only a block or two away, according to her phone waved at you when you pointed out you could leave as the numbers weren’t even.

‘Why would you want to go and leave now?  We just got here!’  The man seated opposite you was already a few drinks in and he showed no sign of letting up.  All you had established from his inane consistent drivel was that he was some hot shot in sales, had to turn down several women to make himself available for tonight, and that he loved himself almost as much as he loved the sound of his own voice.  You had so far nodded along with his stories but you really had hoped the other two guests having not arrived might be your chance to escape.

‘We did but if the numbers aren’t even it’s not exactly fair on the other girls, is it?  So if I leave then it’ll be one step closer to even.’

He leant in, breathing fumes all over you.  ‘Or we could both leave and visit this little hotel I know not far from here.’

‘Or we could not.’  You leant away from him as the door to the bar opened, showing Minor rushing through it and towards the table.

‘Sorry, Willow, my friend was running late.’  Minor grinned as he ran his fingers through is unkempt hair, his eyes meeting yours a moment later.  ‘Oh, hey, boss!  Didn’t know you’d be here!’

You narrowed your eyes, his words seeming to imply that perhaps he did, but what difference did that make?  You were knocked out of your pondering by the guy who loved himself tapping your arm.

‘So, are you actually the boss or is that some kind of honorary title because you’re bossy?’

‘Actually, I own the company.’  You gave him a deadpan stare.  ‘I am literally the boss to three people at this table.’

‘Ohhh, a ballbuster, huh?’  He nodded before taking another slug of his drink.  ‘Well, good luck to you, it’s a mans world out there and it’ll all be for nought once you get married and start popping out babies.  But I guess your husband could take over the business, probably make it more profitable too.’

‘We’re already profitable.’  You replied.  ‘And I have no plans to get married or have children in the foreseeable future!’

‘That all changes when you career women meet the right man.’  He laughed.  ‘Same story, every time.’

‘Sorry I’m late.’

Your open mouth full of some choice words snapped shut as you turned toward the new voice, seeing Gavin standing at the end of the table, looking sheepish and like he didn’t want to be there.  He didn’t seem to have noticed you yet and you wondered if it was too late for you to make a break for the bathroom and escape through a window.

‘Huh, new guy.’  The salesman slung his arm around the back of your seat territorially.  ‘Being late makes a bad impression.  Now, take me.  I was early, had a bottle of sake on the table ready for your arrival.  That’s husband material.’

‘Drinking half the bottle before anyone else gets here though, that’s not.’  You retorted but you were still side eyeing Gavin as he took his seat, one of the women from the other office shuffling closer to talk to him.

‘I’ll buy another.’  He snapped his fingers for the wait staff, finally leaning away from you and allowing you to take a breath of fresher air.

Your eyes were back on Gavin in seconds, like something drew you to him, and this time he was looking back at you, a mixture of surprise and horror on his face.  You guess you were the last person he was expecting to see here tonight.  The woman was talking to him animatedly but you could tell from the look on his face that he was only being polite, his eyes clouded over and his gaze just as dark.

‘Now we’re all here I’ll get our food brought out.’  Willow waved to the bar where the manager, apparently a friend of hers, acknowledged her with a smile and headed into the kitchen.  In minutes several platters of finger foods were delivered and arranged on the table within reach of everyone.  You were happy of the distraction and picked up a mozzarella stick, biting the end off while the guy continued to talk about himself.

Your mood had been bad enough before Gavin’s arrival but now it was worse, stolen glances his way showing the woman hand feeding him food from the platters.  Gavin wasn’t one for PDAs and he blushed easily, you could see the rose on his cheeks from here, but you were unsure whether or not it was from being embarrassed or because he was enjoying himself.  You huffed a sigh, just as you caught the last few words the man beside you.

‘Don’t you think?’

You looked at him while trying to hide your confusion, having no idea what you were supposed to be agreeing on.  ‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’  You got to your feet without another word and headed towards the bathrooms at the back.

‘Don’t be too long.’  He called after you and you rolled your eyes.  Never again, favour to a friend or not.

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Just as you reached the door you noticed the outdoor seating area and decided to detour.  You didn’t actually need the bathroom just an escape from the inane conversation…and Gavin being so damn happy with another woman.  You took a deep breath in through your nose of the cool night air but it did little to clear your head or heart.  You knew this was a stupid idea, you just hadn’t known how stupid.  Which was very.

‘Hey.’

You jumped as the voice of the very man you were thinking of spoke from the door, turning to see Gavin strolling towards you with his hands in his pockets, head lowered, a sheepish expression on his face.  You turned back around immediately, swallowing hard as so many emotions ran through you.  You didn’t want to see him, you didn’t want to see anybody, and even now you were considering scaling the fence and escaping this entire event.

‘Can we talk?’

Oh you hated that phrase.  It was never the start of a fun conversation, it never ended well.  ‘I don’t see that we have anything to talk about.’

‘Then rather than talk, just answer me one thing.  This is what you blew me off for?  Some mixer with random guys who could be anyone?’

‘I didn’t blow you off.’  You argued as you sensed him stop behind you.  ‘Willow asked me to make up numbers a couple of hours before you asked me to dinner and I’m not one to go back on a promise to a friend, no matter how stupid.’  You muttered the last to yourself.  ‘And what about you?  I ask for a rain check and you start food play with the first woman who looks at you?’

‘That’s not what…’

‘I don’t even care any more.’  You interrupted him mid sentence.  ‘I’m done for the night.’  Heading back towards the restaurant you half expected him to try and stop you, and when he didn’t you weren’t sure if you were disappointed or relieved.  You went to the table, grabbed your bag and jacket, telling Willow you would see her at work before leaving to calls asking where you were going from at least three people, one you were sure was the chatty show off.

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You pulled on your jacket as the first spots of rain fell from the sky, quickly turning into a deluge as you walked, wanting some distance between you and the restaurant, between you and Gavin and his little foodie friend.  You tried hailing a cab but they were all taken and that left you with no choice other than to walk to the nearest station.

You had almost made it when your arm was grabbed from behind and you spun, half ready for it to be a mugger, half ready for it to be Gavin, either way you were ready to swing your bag and cause as much damage as possible.  But it was neither one.  Yeah, of course it was that jerk from the mixer.

‘Where are you heading?’  He asked, drawing you to a halt as you stopped the progress of your bag swing.

‘Home.’  You stated firmly, proud that your voice held firm despite how churned up you felt inside.

‘I’m not going to say no to that offer.’  He grinned.  ‘I have a car parked not far from here.’

‘That’s not what’s happening here!’  You shook his hand off your arm.  ‘I am going home, alone, end of story.’

‘Don’t be a prude.’  He scoffed, catching your wrist with his hand in a firm grip you were unsure you could break.  ‘You’ve been coming on to me all evening and you aren’t leaving me with blue balls.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself!’  You swung your bag at him only to have your other wrist caught and wrenched behind your back with the other.  You suddenly found yourself very up close and personal with this douchebag with no way out.  ‘Get the fuck off me!’  You growled, but it only made his grin broaden, his eyes darken.

‘If I didn’t know better I’d think you’re getting a kick out of this.’  He closed the distance between you, his tongue protruding as he approached.

Your heart leapt in your mouth as fear dragged its cold fingers up your spine.  This wasn’t how you wanted tonight to go, none of it was, and you were beginning to wonder if you had been cursed from the minute you had to turn Gavin down.

‘If you want to keep that attached to your body you’d better rethink your entire position.’

You had never been so relieved to hear Gavin’s voice, the jerk before you freezing before looking back over his shoulder.  ‘This doesn’t concern you, pretty boy.  I’m just getting what I’m owed from this prick tease here.’

‘Emci is a lot of things,’ Gavin remarked casually as he slowly walked to stand parallel to the two of you, keeping his movements measured and cautious, ‘but that isn’t one of them.’

‘What do you know?’  He released one of your arms as he leant threateningly towards Gavin.

‘I know you have three seconds to get your damn meathooks off her before I make you.’

The man laughed, long and hard, as though this was the funniest thing he had ever heard, which gave you the opportunity to make eye contact with Gavin.  He nodded infinitesimally for you to side step away from the man as far as you could, and you were only too happy to oblige.

‘That’s your three seconds, junior, what are you going to…’

He didn’t get to finish.  A gust of concentrated wind hit him square in the chest, jarring his hand from your arm as he staggered back into a parked car.  You stumbled away from him and towards Gavin with his hand reaching towards you encouragingly.  The moment you reached him he had you close, his eyes never once leaving his target.

‘You okay?’

‘Been better.’  You nodded rapidly.  ‘But yeah, I’m okay.’

‘You son of a…!’  Your brief chatter was broken by the man dragging himself to his feet, drawing a knife as he did so.

‘You brought a knife to a mixer?!’  You yelled, not quite believing your eyes.  You could have been in a lot more trouble than you imagined.

‘That bitch is mine for the night and I’m not going to let a kid like you take her from me.’  He slashed out at nothing, almost a warning shot, Gavin backing you up a step to give you more distance.

‘See, that’s where we differ.’  Gavin replied.  ‘I don’t just want her for a night.’

‘Gavin, be careful.’  You warned him as he showed no signs of retreat.

‘I’ve got this.’  He assured you, keeping you one step behind him.

‘You’ve got nothing!’  The guy lunged forward the knife swinging through the rain, but his wrist was met by Gavin’s foot, the sound of the two meeting resonating loudly.  Whatever tough guy facade this guy had put on dissolved in an instant, the knife flying from his grip as he grasped his wrist, crying out loud like a wounded animal.

‘Okay, let’s get out of here.’

‘But what about him?’  You had been unable to take your eyes off the man until now, looking up at Gavin as he wrapped both arms around you.

‘I’ll get his details from Willow tomorrow.  He’s going to have to explain himself down at the station.’

‘But…’

‘No buts.’  Gavin interjected.  ‘I want you safe.’

You didn’t know how to argue with that and Gavin took your silence as permission, taking you both into the air on a wind that pushed the rain away from you.

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Minutes later Gavin set you both down outside your apartment building, following you inside in silence to ensure you got in okay.  You put your key in the lock and opened the door before turning to Gavin.

‘You should come in a dry off a bit.’  And, without waiting for a reply, you went inside.  Kicking off your shoes you headed to the bathroom and grabbed two clean towels from the shelves, draping one over your own head before going back out to find Gavin standing just inside the closed door.  ‘Here.’  You passed him the towel and headed into your kitchen, planning on making yourself a coffee to help calm your nerves which were even now causing tremors to run through your body.

You were leaning heavily on the countertop waiting for the coffee to drip through when Gavin spoke from behind you.

‘Are you okay?’

You sighed long and loud before replying.  ‘I don’t even know.’

‘You’re not hurt though?’  He must have stepped closer.  His voice was still low but it was nearer now.

‘Not physically.’

‘I know being attacked can be traumatising, you don’t have to be hurt for it to affect you.’

‘You think this is about that dick with his overcompensatingly large knife?’  You looked over your shoulder at him.  ‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘If you don’t mind, but you seem kind of…on edge.  If you’d rather I go…’

‘And you know what else?’  You spun on him.  ‘Why would you let that woman finger fuck you with food?  I happen to know she’s known as the office bike!’

‘Office…bike?’  He looked thoroughly confused by your statement.

‘Yes, the office bike!  As in everyone has had a ride!’

‘A ride…oh.’  Gavin flushed pink all the way up to his ears.

‘If you hadn’t come after me chances were you were onto a good thing.’  You took two mugs out of the cabinet, fixing them automatically to how you both liked it.

‘I wouldn’t call that good.’  Gavin winced.  ‘And what about you?  Listening all doe eyed to a knife wielding maniac all night?’

‘Doe eyed?’  You glared at him.  ‘I was zoning out, he was so boring!’

‘Well, I was force fed so much food I almost gagged!  It’s not my idea of a good time!  I wanted to take you out to dinner tonight and ask you to be my girlfriend!’

‘Pass me the milk!’  You all but screamed it at him, not knowing how else to react to what he had just said other than to finish making the drinks.

‘Here!’  He slammed it down on the countertop beside the cups and for some reason that broke you.

You sputtered a laugh, bowing your head as you tried to keep it in, shoulders shaking with the effort.

‘Emci, I’m sorry.’  Gavin spoke rapidly.  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, please don’t cry.’  His hand fell on your shoulder and you finally looked up at him, you face a barely kept grin.

‘We are such idiots, Gavin.  Stupid, stupid idiots.’  You shook your head.  ‘If I’d known you wanted to take me out I would never have agreed to stand in for Willow, and if I had known you were going to be there tonight I’d have paired off with you.’

‘Maybe then you could have hand fed me.’  He asked tentatively.

‘And I wouldn’t have an asshole draw a knife on me.’

‘But then he might have cornered some other girl.  At least this way he’s getting reported.’

‘That’s the bright side you’re getting out of this?’  You looked up at him in disbelief.  ‘I just told you I’d rather be with you, and you said you were going to ask me to be your girlfriend, and something about wanting me for more than just a night?’

Gavin flushed cutely as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.  ‘I might have said something like that.’

‘Something like that or that exactly?’  You pushed.

‘That exactly.’  Gavin’s blush darkened a few shades.  ‘You aren’t making this easy, are you?’

‘And the whole asking me to be your girlfriend thing?’

‘After tonight I’m not as sure as I was that you’ll say yes.’

You stepped forward and brushed his wet bangs aside.  ‘Why don’t you try me?’

‘Now?’  His eyes went wide.

You shrugged.  ‘I’m all ears, if there’s something you want to ask.’

‘Right.’  He cleared his throat before taking both of your hands in his.  ‘I had this whole speech prepared for how to ask you but I have totally forgotten it, so, here goes: Emci, I’d really like it if you’d consider becoming my girlfriend.’

‘Huh.’  You nodded as he looked at you expectantly.  ‘To the point, sweet, very you.  Having considered it, as you suggest, I would have to say…’

‘Please, Emci, don’t leave me hanging.’  He begged.

‘Umm…yes!’

‘Yes?’  Gavin looked at you in disbelief, his face splitting into a grin when you nodded.  ‘That’s…amazing!  So great!  Can I…can I kiss you?’

You nodded happily and his hand came up to caress your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as his lips drew closer to yours.  Your heart raced, your pulse loud in your ear.  The butterflies in your stomach took flight as his lips…pressed softly to your cheek.

You looked up at him in surprise as he leant back again, his cheeks redder than you had ever seen them.

‘I don’t want to rush you.’  Was the noble sentiment that came out of his mouth, but that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

‘Oh, Gavin.’  You sighed, before stepping into his personal space, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and pulling him down for a long, slow kiss.  As you came away from one another you kept your eyes closed for a moment, savouring the tastes and sensations of Gavin’s lips, sighing contentedly as you opened them again.  ‘Totally worth almost getting stabbed for.’

‘Nothing is worth that, and I’m going to teach you some more self defence.  My girlfriend needs to be able to protect herself when I’m not around.’

‘Your girlfriend.’  You pondered it a moment.  ‘You know, I could definitely get used to that.’

Gavin pulled you closer once more, ducking his head for another kiss.  ‘Me too.’

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You were woken early the next morning by the text tone on your phone.  Reaching out you grabbed it and dragged it into the blankets with you, squinting at the bright screen.

Willow:  Well, you were right!  You didn’t leave with anyONE from last night, you left with two!

You still felt warm and fuzzy from Gavin’s goodnight kiss on your balcony and you couldn’t muster the anger you held last night.

MC:  Yeah, and one of those two ended up in jail.

Willow:  Wait, jail?  What happened?!

MC:  We’ll talk at work on Monday.

Willow: 😬

Checking the time, you nuzzled back into your pillow.  Gavin was meeting you for lunch, but until then, you could stay contentedly snug and relive the best parts of last night.

A Piece of You: Chapter 4

Pairing: Zen x MC

Synopsis: After the death of his sister, Zen is entrusted with raising her daughter. Six years later and MC has settled into RFA, but she just wants to be back on the roof with the love of her life like she was two years before. But dealing with teenage years, dragged out engagements and a lot of unsaid feelings, you start to lose a piece of you. Or, perhaps, find a piece you had that had been missing the whole time.

Warnings: None!

Song: Things You’ve Never Done - Passenger

⇦ Previous Chapter

***

To be honest, Zen was not having a good day.

Although, he wasn’t having a particularly bad one either, it was just…a day. He aimlessly wandered through the convenience store, idly picking things off the shelves and chucking them into his basket, a gaping emptiness inside him that he couldn’t label as anything other than boredom, and he wasn’t even sure it was that. He had done this routine enough times that he didn’t even need to think about what he was buying anymore, his muscle-memory guiding him to each isle and each section.

On second thought, perhaps he really was just bored. He had the week off work and Gi was at school during the day, and to top it all off, the RFA chatroom had been dry as hell lately. Not even Saeyoung was logging in that often to start drama or blabber on about physics for half an hour. Zen was in desperate need of something, anything to do.

“Hyun, sweetie! How are you doing today?” the older lady at the counter beamed.

The creases of her face were enhanced at the sight of Zen approaching, a kind glint in her eye and a gentle spirit to her. Zen couldn’t help but return her warm smile as he lifted his basket onto the counter, “I’m well, thank you, So-yi. And yourself?”

“Same as ever,” she winked, making Zen chuckle, “How’s our little Gi? Still a little terror?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started. You know she got in trouble last week for hiding her teacher’s keys in the fish tank?”

She guffawed, and Zen chortled despite himself, “That’s a smart little girl right there. Sounds just like her daddy.”

“More like her mother, actually…” Zen’s voice trailed off, his smile faltering a little as the light behind his eyes diminished ever so slightly, but enough for the woman to detect.

So-yi had been the owner of the local convenience store since Zen had moved into the area, and from the moment she laid her eyes on the broken man, the broken child, she knew she would have to look out to for him. When he stumbled in at three in the morning requesting liquor and cigarettes, she would sneak a packet of aspirin and a sandwich into the bag as well. Then when he came in to buy diapers and baby wipes, she would slip some cookies in. Little by little, she started to see some colour in his cheeks and a honesty in his smile as he wished her a good day. She was the only person in his life who knew him when he was Hyun, and stayed to witness him become Zen. She was the closest thing to a mother that he had, and he the closest thing she had to a son. It was perfect timing, for the both of them.

So-yi promptly changed the subject, “Have you seen this?” she said, handing him a flyer from the stack that stood proudly next to her. It appeared to be advertising some jazz band playing at a nearby bar, for one night only. “I’ve seen them before, real good music, I’ll tell ya. Came in last week asking if I’d be willing to sell some tickets here, and you know I’m a sucker for jazz. They’re playing tomorrow night, I think you’d enjoy it.”

Zen considered it for a moment. Gi was going to be with Jaehee tomorrow night - by her request - so he’d just be home alone anyway. And maybe…if he asked…

“Sure, sounds like a fun evening,” he looked down to his feet, his shoelaces suddenly very intriguing to him, “Can I get two, please?”

So-yi’s smirk widened, and she didn’t even bother to hide it, “Planning to take someone special?”

He returned the grin in amusement, “Calm down, So-yi. It’s not like that.”

She handed Zen the tickets along with his bag, shooting him a mischievous look, “Mmhmm, okay then. Well, I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

Zen rolled his eyes playfully, “There’ll be nothing to hear about. She’s just a good friend,” he called over his shoulder, waving her goodbye as he left the store. Her smile grew wider.

Oh to be young, So-yi thought to herself. Oh to be so naive.

***

Zen pulled up to the school just as kids in tutus started to filter out the doors, darting towards open arms and stumbling into their parent’s embrace. He smiled fondly, getting out of the car and making his way to find his own little monster.

“Daddy!”

Zen didn’t even have time to turn around when Gi threw herself at him, almost toppling him over, though he managed to save himself with an outstretched arm before he smacked against the concrete. He clutched his chest in feign defeat, crying out dramatically as Gi clambered off, “Oh, the beast has slain me. I will never recover, I am mortally wounded!”

“Dad, stop, you’re not at work right now,’ she tutted, crossing her arms, “Such a drama queen.”

“You’re no fun,” he teased, and she stuck out her tongue in response. “How was ballet?” he asked, grabbing her hand as he started to lead her back to the car, only to be stopped by a tap on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, are you Gi’s guardian?”

Zen’s mouth twitched as he swivelled around, carefully watching Gi in the corner of his eye. She seemed unfazed. Good. “I’m Gi’s father, yes. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Oh yes, of course. My mistake,” she said flatly and turned to the young girl, “Gi, why don’t you go and play whilst I have a quick chat with your dad? It’ll only take a moment.”

Gi looked to Zen and he gave her a subtle nod, an indication for her to go. She ran off excitedly, and Zen started to feel a tad defensive about the situation, “So, what did you need to talk to me about?”

They sat down on a nearby bench in the playground, the teacher crossing her legs and her chin stuck out. She eyed him, almost scrutinisingly as she began to talk, “I wanted to talk to you regarding some…concerns I have about Gi’s progress and behaviour.”

“Right,” Zen began, attempting to keep his expression neutral, “What are these concerns exactly?”

“Well, whilst we always value enthusiasm and freedom of expression, her energy could be considered as, how should I phrase this…uncivilised at times. Of course, we want to encourage our students to embrace their passions, and we want her to continue to dance.

He clenched his jaw and counted to ten, trying with all his might to stay calm. It wasn’t working, “Okay. With all do respect, if you feel that her dancing is, as you say, ‘uncivilised’, then isn’t your job to teach her the ‘correct’ way of ballet?”

If she was caught off-guard by Zen’s bluntness, then she did a brilliant job of hiding it, “There’s only so much we can teach her, Mr Ryu. And any how, we believe that the problems are rooted further than just her lessons.”

“I want to know exactly what you mean by that.”

“Ballet is about grace and precision, there is a femininity to it, whereas Gi currently demonstrates a rather wild and boisterous approach. Gi is at an age where her behaviour is heavily effected by her environment, and therefore we feel that this behaviour may have something to do with her slightly wilder upbringing and life at home-“

Zen had stood up now, fists clenched and breaths staggered, “This is ridiculous, Gi is six years old. If she enjoys to dance, then for Christ’s sake just let her dance her way. This isn’t the Royal Ballet. She is a child.”

“A child with incredible potential, Mr Ryu,” she explained evenly, which did nothing to calm Zen’s vexation, “I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t think it mattered. Gi is not like any student I’ve taught before. She has an immense athleticism, and with some discipline, I have faith that she will go far with her ballet. She is capable of great things.”

“I’ve heard enough, you lost me when you brought her home-life into this. You have no right to make comments on her ‘wild’ upbringing. Does she have a typical upbringing? No. Because guess what, it’s pretty damn hard to achieve ‘normal’ when her mother is dead and her biological father is nowhere to be found. Mind your own damn business,” he spat, already walking towards Gi, picking her up and storming to the car.

The drive was eerily quiet, only the sound of Zen’s heavy breaths could be heard as Gi silently watched out the window, blissfully unaware of the event from just before. Zen’s hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were white, and his teeth were gnawing on his bottom lip in an attempt to prevent himself from shouting his anger at the top of his lungs. He was absolutely fuming.

It had gone from ‘just a day’ to a bad day real quick. He needed to calm down.

He needed to call her.

***

The coffee shop was bustling when MC joined Zen, relief instantly washing over him as he caught a glimpse of her through the glass door. They ordered their drinks, and they settled down at a little table in the corner, Zen’s hands still shaking slightly as he placed his cup down.

For the first few minutes, MC remained quiet. She knew by now that when Zen needed to talk, he really needed to think. So she sipped on her coffee whilst she patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts, and prepared herself to give him her undivided attention. He needed to be heard, so she needed to listen.

As soon as he opened his mouth, the words came tumbling out in an exasperated mess. MC was pretty experienced with Zen’s emotions at this point, but today she could tell that something had really hit a nerve with him. He was passionate with his explanation, but MC also clocked a despair in his voice, an ache in his eyes. Zen wasn’t just angry, he was hurt.

“She just…like what does that have to do with anything? Who has a meeting about a student’s home-life when the child seems perfectly happy at school?” he asked defeatedly, his fingers fiddling with the handle of his cup, “Why can’t they just let her do ballet her way if that’s what she wants.”

MC nodded along, reviewing the situation as she took another sip of her drink, “Well, is it what she wants?” Zen eyed her curiously, so she continued, “You said that the problem was that she is incapable of being elegant and graceful when dancing, but is she incapable or is she unwilling?”

Zen looked down into his now empty cup as he considered MC’s words. He had sat in on many of Gi’s classes, and whilst she always seemed satisfied after class ended, she seemed…frustrated during it. Zen always thought it was because she couldn’t get the moves right, but now he wondered if there was something else at play, “I guess she does always appear discouraged during her lessons, like she’s being held back. But she adores dance, it’s all she talks about. She always says that she likes to move with the music, but ballet just seems too restricting. She’s tried other kinds of dance but she likes how ‘pretty’ ballet is…”

“Has she ever considered figure skating?”

Zen quirked an eyebrow. MC chuckled, “Figure skating. She’ll get to use her power and athleticism so she won’t feel held back, but then she can still incorporate the elegance and ‘prettiness’ of ballet. There’s an ice rink that just opened nearby, you should let her give it a go.”

“I don’t know…I don’t know if it’s best to just stop it all together.” MC gave him a glare. “I just don’t want her to end up like her teacher, MC. She’s so..odd!”

MC placed down her cup and leaned forward on the table, waiting for Zen to focus on her, “Zen, I think it was odd that she brought that up as well, but don’t you think she did it because  she was desperate? Because she knew that Gi was special? Can you not at least let her try it? You never know, she might surprise you.”

Zen sighed, recognising that MC was right. She very well might be a natural, and even if she wasn’t, as least she tried. “Okay, I’ll bring it up with her. Thank you, MC.”

MC merely smiled and dipped her head, clearly not understanding how loaded that ‘thank you’ was.

They continued to chat casually for a while, when Zen quickly had a realisation, “Oh! I meant to ask you, are you free tomorrow night?”

MC’s face dropped a little, a response that was small enough to go unnoticed anyone, but not small enough to go unnoticed by Zen, “I’m sorry, I have plans with Chul tomorrow night.”

Of course, how could he forget? Obviously he couldn’t just assume that she would available any night of the week anymore. She was in a relationship. She was busy.

The dull ache he felt in his chest surprised him, a disappointment that he couldn’t have anticipated. This was the first time that she had other plans, that she didn’t have time for him. Had he taken her company for granted? Had he taken her for granted? Was this, after all they had, the beginning of the end?

But, the end of what, exactly?

“Ah, no worries,” Zen replied easily, his acting skills being put to good use, “It was nothing, just wanted to hang out. How are things going with Chul anyway?”

“Good,” she responded, a smile playing on her lips and her eyes regaining a bit of their usual glimmer, “Really good.”

“I’m glad,” he said and felt a pang of guilt, because Zen didn’t like to lie, and he certainly didn’t like to lie to MC. But he was going to have to get used to it.

The following evening Zen went back to the convenience store, his best shirt on and the two tickets in hand. So-yi watched him curiously, a melancholic expression on her face. Zen walked up to the counter, “Would you like to come with me?”

She smiled sympathetically at him as she mentally connected the dots, “Of course, sweetie. I get off my shift in five minutes. I’ll meet you outside.”

And so they strolled to the bar together, So-yi holding onto Zen’s arm as they laughed and sang through the street. Not many men his age wanted to spend their Friday night with a little old lady like her, but Zen wasn’t most men, which made So-yi’s heart ache a little more for him. He deserved the world.

She didn’t ask about the girl, because she knew that, even if he hadn’t realised it yet, she was someone special, and she had said no.

She’ll come around, So-yi thought.

They always do in the end.

***

“Saeran, come look at this.”

Saeran strolled over to the couch, milkshake in one hand and a soda in the other. Chucking the can to Saeyoung he sat next to him to get a good view of the laptop that was balanced on his twin’s knees, examining the screen as his eyebrows furrowed, “What is this?”

“I-uh…may have done a background check on Chul.”

Saeran sighed, giving his brother a pointed look, “You know MC told you not to. She’s gonna kill you.”

“I know. I know I wasn’t meant to but I just wanted to be sure and-“

“Wait, is this a criminal record?”

Saeran studied the document, taking in every detail, and his heart dropped when a certain set of words caught his eye.

REASON FOR ARREST: Assault

“It says in his notes that he got into a fight at a bar,” Saeyoung added gently, cautious of Saeran’s reaction, “In his statement he said that it was self-defence-“

“They’re together right now, correct?” Saeran said smoothly.

“Um, yeah. MC said they were going ice-skating, but why do you-“

“I’m going out. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Saeran, you can’t just go and interrogate or beat up the guy. We don’t even know what happened.”

“I’m not going to, I just need to see for myself that he’s okay for MC.”

Saeran didn’t wait for Saeyoung’s reply, instead he just put his hood over his head and marched out the door, missing the look of pure defeat on his brother’s face.

It took him less than half the time it usually took to reach his destination, but as soon as Saeran walked through the automatic doors of the ice-rink, he started his search.

They weren’t in the lobby, and they weren’t in the cafe, so they must still be on the ice. He managed to sneak his way onto the rink without going to the front desk, because of course he could. Saeran had no idea how much longer MC and Chul were going to be there, and he definitely didn’t want them to catch him in the foyer. So, sneaking in it was.

Which, though he would never admit, he found more fun anyway.

After only a few seconds of glancing over the other skaters, his eyes landed on the couple. He was moments away from marching over to them to have a little chat with Chul, but was halted by one thing.

MC’s face.

Saeran had never seen her face so bright, so glowing. Not even when she bought her new apartment, not even on her birthday. Not even when she was with Zen.

Her smile met her eyes, free of restraint and absolutely beaming. And Chul looked the same way, but he was completely enraptured by her, as if he was hanging on to her every word like she was a lifeline to him. They looked happy. They looked in love.

And nobody, especially not Saeran, would ever make that look on MC’s face disappear when it was as rare as rubies. Who was he to judge a man based on his past, anyway? Saeran didn’t know Chul’s story, nor did he know the Chul in front of him particularly well, but he would give him a chance, just like MC had given Saeran a chance.

He’d tell Saeyoung not to worry, but to keep a watchful eye. Because yes, Chul gave MC a spark that had nearly died out, but when there is a spark sometimes it’s hard to see the smoke; and when there’s smoke, there’s fire.

***

Masterlist || Next Chapter

I Need a Hero Chapter One

Synospis: Seen as the demon bastard of his village, Nezha is sent on a quest to redeem his character. It was supposed to be simple. Rescue the maiden, marry her off to the viceroy, collect community service points, and done. He really didn't think one mission alone was all that it took to unravel his past, present, and future like an onion. When a cursed princess swamps him under a horde of secrets, he is faced with two choices; accept fate...or fight it.*A story loosely (or largely) based on good ol' Shrek with some other influences sprinkled here and there for giggles.

Once upon a time, in a palace far, far away, lived a maiden. Said to be the fairest of her kingdom, she was doomed to spend twenty years in solitude, locked away from all life. A curse was placed upon her, only to be broken by true love's first kiss.

If she was not saved by her twentieth birthday, then her soul would be claimed by the Dragon Lord of the East Sea.

Her true face was never seen by anyone, as the tower was guarded by a terrible dragon.

Many have tried to free her from this dreadful prison, from the warriors of the state to the princes of Agrabah. None prevailed.

Thus the maiden waited in her chambers, in the highest room of the tallest pagoda, still waiting for her true love...And true love's first kiss-

"What a load of bull!"

Nezha busted out laughing. It was a bitter sound that bounced off the walls, traveling at least half a corridor down the hall.

An ear-grating tear echoed from the rooms of Li Manor as a frustrated shout followed just seconds after.

The double doors flew open with a terrifying bang, revealing the youngest young master storming around his room in a fit of disbelief.

"People still read this shit?!" Nezha forced a harsh laugh that scraped at the butler's eardrums. "Bring me better reading material next time or else I'll send you flying to the nine levels of hell and back!"

His pointed finger at one of the butlers was enough to send the latter teetering over the edge of an epileptic seizure.

The poor butler could only sputter as he tried every method in the book to lessen his suffering "Y-yes! Young master! I apologize for my transgression! Next time-"

"There's no next time!" Nezha fumed. "One more stupid story from you and I'll take my leave to the village where I can actually have fun!"

A lopsided grin broke across Nezha's face while he uttered the last words, as if just thinking about seeing the horrified faces of the villagers could serve as ample entertainment. The dimwitted guards by the manor would be no match for him if he really wanted to leave.

It would seem that it was inevitable for a run in with the law that day. Paying no attention to the stuttering servant next to him, Nezha frowned, debating the pros and cons over leaving right then and there.

"Young master," the butler started, "how would you like to-"

Nezha interrupted with a swift wave of a hand. "Scram already!"

To add to his point, the young man snapped his gaze to the quivering butler, scowling for good measure. It worked, as expected.

The older man scrambled backwards, squeaking for mercy. But he didn't need to go far, for the subject of his terror had long left the spot where he had originally stood. Nezha was on the rooftops in a blink of an eye.

"W-wait!" The butler tried to climb over the decorative stones, only to find himself hanging by the sides of the ledge like a helpless kitten. "Where are you going, young master?!"

At the sight of such, Nezha smirked. He made no attempt to help the butler up to his level.

"You gotta try harder than that."

"But you can't go out the manor!" the butler wailed. "Master Li has specific orders that you-"

"Stay in for the rest of your life," Nezha cut in for the upteenth time. "I heard it the first time."

Cracking his knuckles, he let out an obnoxious yawn before looking down at the latter with utmost boredom. "But anyways, I'll see ya later!"

The mischievous smile never left his face as he hopped down from his perch, disappearing from the butler's vision just as fast as he did before.

It was futile to attempt to control Nezha, especially now that he had grown right into his adolescent form. Had it been a year earlier he would've still been a child no older than eight. Even then, the demon child was a living nightmare, but at least he could be consoled with a few magical trinkets.

The Nezha now was a bottle of raging hormones a few buttons away from implosion. His butler didn't want to entertain the idea of some unsuspecting villager accidentally triggering his fury, thus adding more to the Li Family's monthly bill.

There was still more renovation needed for the living room. Nezha had created a hole right in the middle of Li Manor square during one of his 'experiments'. And that alone sucked hundreds of pounds of gold into construction fees.

Putting two and two together, the butler slapped a hand over his hand, inches away from a mental breakdown. He had to come up with an excuse as to how he let Nezha slip away.

He had to save his own ass at least.

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

Not a lot of effort went into devising a plan to escape the manor. Hell, the word 'escape' never registered in Nezha's head over the two years since he began his daily avoidance from the manor servants.

In a second's time, he could turn himself into a maid. So a maid he did turn himself to.

With the excuse of buying the daily grocery, Nezha had no trouble in slipping past the manor guards. The duo of metallic chumps had no doubts, lifting the spell between the doors just enough for the disguised maid out the building.

If he could, Nezha would've been on the floor convulsing with laughter by now. There was nothing more hilarious than repeatedly fooling the same people around him with the same tricks every time, and still getting away with it.

Not bothering with another extra thought, Nezha made a beeline towards the main entrance of Chentang Pass.

The fun was just getting started.

Crunch.

His feet squandered a pitiful branch below him with a brittle snap. Nezha didn't bother with his usual surreptitious style of tormenting the villagers. Weeks of the same old pop and scream had taken to the boring side for him.

He wanted something fresh.

Like he predicted, heads snapped in his direction the moment his bare foot stepped into the street market. The stares from people were like an automatic feature the town had inserted for him.

All sounds of life came to a screeching halt in his presence. Even the leaves seemed like they had minds of their own and stopped rustling as soon as Nezha popped up.

Dead silence washed across the mass, readying its ugly fingers around their necks, urging them to scream.

The way his tendons popped as his slender fingers clenched to fists sounded akin to a bone-crusher readying himself for a new victim. It was of no help that the young man's inhuman mark glowed with his excitement.

Before Nezha, a man towards the front of the market opened his mouth. His distorted face combined with the growing tint of purple on his cheeks was a good indicator of the things that were about to spout from his lips.

It's the demon! Run for your lives! Get away!

Nezha waved lazily at them, their old scripts running through his head like a broken record. It was impossible to get them to think of something more enticing to say about his grand entrance.

For a moment, Nezha actually feared that the illiterates before him could only speak those three phrases. Crossing his arms, he allowed the grin on his lips to morph into a wolfish smile.

"You all know the drill right?" Nezha beat the man to the talking punch. "I don't need to say more than I have to."

The unified gasp was a good indicator that they got the message. Nezha scoffed.

"One."

All at once, sound rushed back to the village as screams shot through the air like a needle piercing through flesh. Under the dust of everyone shuffling at the same time, civilians stepped over one another in a frenzied attempt to hurl themselves into the nearest shelter they could find.

Soon, it was every man for himself. No place was barred from being taken up by bodies: pots, cabinets, closets, haystacks, and coffins, too.

"Four."

If the squawking chickens and kicking cows weren't a sight enough, a few villagers had somehow come to the conclusion that as long as they couldn't see him, then he couldn't see them.

"Eight."

There were times when Nezha wanted so desperately to capture the scene before him in his mind and replay it by himself in his room for shits and giggles. He wanted to memorize each and every wrinkle of terror everyone made, taking in the affects he could have on them.

"Ten." He uttered the last number with soft delicacy, but anyone with a brain could hear the restrained agitation seeping under the words.

Nezha was losing patience. Flinging an apple onto the head of a still running man, he marked the beginning of hide-and-seek with a screech from the villager.

The man skidded onto the ground in a thud, shivering uncontrollably. Something about the way he curled up into a ball, avoiding eye contact with him irked Nezha.

A grown ass man can't be that much of a coward?! I didn't even throw that hard!

Nezha scowled, passing the fallen civilian without as much as another glance.

He shouted into the void, "I hope everyone's gonna try harder than this! Ready or not, here I come!"

It was too easy; some failed to cover their mouths as they breathed in and out like a dragon in battle. Despite going on about it for over two years, the village never improved.

There was no point for Nezha to use his heightened senses to scope out the 'players'. They might as well hold up a sign that scribbled 'I'm right here!' at that point. Running finger along the cement walls in a haphazard manner, he whistled a jolly tune too festive for the tension around him,

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" Nezha called. Lifting the lid off of an empty wine pot, he feigned surprise at the lack of shrieks.

He could hear the one person in the next pot over practically whimpering under their cover. The fear must've been great enough for the entire container to shake.

Nezha hummed to himself as he stepped towards the pot, twirling a branch in his hands. With a languid drag, his feet thudded against the dirt ground with emphasized force. A tiny squeak echoed from the container, officially giving away to the person within.

"Hmm." Nezha stroked the other pots besides it almost lovingly. "Now where did ya go?"

Fwip. The pot second to the left was slapped away. Each smash of a china elicited a shriek. If Nezha had a third eye, he swore he would see the fear radiating in the last pot of the bunch.

His smile grew; playtime was over now.

Reaching over, Nezha wrapped his fingers over the handles, breathing in the anticipated rush of adrenaline the shear horror from the man would bring.

Lips peeling back to reveal sharp canines, the young man readied his most terrifying expression. At the same time, the villager inside prepared himself to beg for mercy.

Funny enough, it would appear that his prayers were answered, because the lid never opened.

Instead, Nezha's eyes were glued to the posters nailed onto the columns over his head. The stark contrast of red against white caught his attention. A warrant of some kind had been posted all over the town square.

It had to be fresh; the last time he had been in Chentang's center, Nezha didn't notice such a thing. Littering the walls of restaurants and stands, the warrants were hard to miss.

Without a second thought, Nezha's arm shot out and tore off a poster. Even the ink smelled like it had just been stamped onto the paper.

"Viceroy of Chentang calls for any brave warrior willing to rescue his bride, the maiden of the East Sea Pagoda. If successful, the reward of one hundred thousand taels of gold and twenty acres of land..." Nezha mumbled out the information in a string of low growls.

Pathetic.

In a huff, he crumpled the paper, tossing it aside. It sounded like some cheesy bedtime story plastered into reality, and he couldn't help but remember the stupid fairytale he'd read earlier in the morning.

As much as Nezha appreciated the celestial aspects of life, sappy legends were very much barf-inducing, real or not. He had seen enough men who forced others to fight their own battles to not give a hoot for this dime a dozen opportunity.

Agitation spiked through his veins. He realized he wasted a good minute of his time mulling over a poster. It almost derailed him from his original plans. Speaking of which...

Nezha chuckled, eyes zoning back to the quivering pot next to him. Throwing all thoughts of the fairytale out the window, he cracked his knuckles.

There was still a town left to scare.

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

Li-Jing's voice boomed over the courtyard, threatening to take down trees had he been any louder. The deep baritone made matters worse, echoing off the buildings like an angry thunder god seconds away from blasting lightning to the ground.

"I am about done with you!"

The servants scurried back to their quarters, not bothering to deliver dinner. Though, it didn't sound like the Li Family was hungry either.

Clustered around the mess of a room, Li-Jing and Lady Yin were currently looming over a lounging Nezha, who clearly wasn't going to pretend to give them an audience.

"What must I say to make you obey me?" Li-Jing demanded. "The village's tolerance of you is waning! One more misshape and they'll be at your neck!"

The threat made no difference in aiding their argument. If anything, the fine lines between Nezha's brows creased deeper, forming harsh valleys contorting his face in the most horrifying way possible.

He snapped, "And why do I care? That's what they said last time. If they really had the guts, they'd be dead by now."

Venomous abhorrence spewed from the youth, matching the volume of his father's with no trouble.

Li-Jing narrowed his eyes, balling his fists at his sides.

Not thrilled to see another fistfight break out, Lady Yin rested a hand against his back, trying desperately to reel her husband back from the land of rage.

The general was at his limits. In spite of all the training with Taiyi in the past two years, the volatile nature never left Nezha.

Reality crushed Li-Jing with an insufferable amount of pressure that he swore his back would break if it got any worse.

"You're not helping!" the general argued. "The more you retaliate, the more monsters you have to slay to appease them. You'll be back in square one."

Out of everything Li-Jing said, one of the words seemed to trigger Nezha, because the latter was up in his father's face in a flash, teeth baring like a wild boar beaten to a corner.

"So what," Nezha hissed through gritted teeth. "That's for me and me only! I'm not slaying monsters to make them happy. Those ingrates could rot for all I care!"

It didn't take a grand scholar to see that Li-Jing wanted to slam his own head against the poles.

Chen-Tang's general, held to the highest standard of all citizens, couldn't even control his own son. It wasn't clear if the red tint on his cheeks was from anger or embarrassment.

Lady Yin, on the other hand, didn't appear to give up. "Please, Nezha. I'll stay with you longer tomorrow. Just promise mother you won't go out like that again."

Nezha let out a bitter chuckle. Her consolidation had long lost its meaning to him. After the thirtieth time she failed her promise, he stopped counting. The efforts to calm him only served as an insult to his wounds.

"I wouldn't dream of holding you back," Nezha slurred. "Save your pity party for next time."

He rose to excuse himself, but the arm of his father appeared in his way, blocking the exit. Nezha did a double-take, but he could feel the smoldering indignation rising at incredible speed.

"That's not gonna stop me."

Li-Jing sighed. "Son, I understand your frustrations. But what happened today happened, and we need to do something about it."

"No we don't." Adamancy was Nezha's strong suit.

"I know you better than you'd think," his father retorted. "You want them to accept you. But every time some villager gets to you, you go right back to your old self. It's not doing favors for any of us. We only want you to be happy. And you do, too. But you know you won't get any better by terrorizing them."

A slight twitch at the corners of Nezha's lips was a bigger sign than all else. He was listening, albeit begrudgingly.

Exhaling in relief, Li-Jing took the silent invitation to go on. At least he had a foot in the door now.

"There might be a few assignments we could give you," he continued. "They're not boring for sure. You might have to get physical with a few demons, though. But it could come in handy for training."

At the sound of demons, Nezha made a rigid turn towards his father, his pointed ears stood at attention. As long as he had the chance to put his two-years worth of training to work, anything was negotiable.

Li-Jing knew he had his son's full interest. He just had to give one more nudge and-

Bang!

A crash exploded by the doors, slapping all three Li's from their stare-down. Li-Jing groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. They had everything smoothed over, inches away from calming Nezha, and this motherf- just had to ruin it.

The general whipped his gaze to the dusty entrance, mouth open to unleash a slew of grievances, before his eyes widened at the sight of the guest.

Standing over the crumbles of what was left of the gates, Taiyi stumbled over his two left feet, mumbling something about wine and pretty women.

Nezha couldn't roll his eyes any harder. His master was undoubtedly drunk over his head, maybe even rejected by a few girls on the streets. The scene before him was too familiar.

Huffing, he glared. "Get lost, old geezer. I'm in the middle of something."

Taiyi ignored his demand, instead sauntering over in a giddy fashion like he just discovered the next best thing.

"Yohohoho!" The stench of alcohol escaped from the deity's mouth, gagging the poor audience around him. "Found the next adventure for ya, boy! I Overheard tha 'hole thing back there!"

Nezha growled. "You could've at least knocked!"

Taiyi snorted, patting his beer belly. "Can't a retired model relive his catwalk entrance?"

If he thought that was supposed to be funny, then he flopped hard. Nezha's previous agitation was on the rise once more, this time with full force.

"Spit it out already, old man! Can't you see I'm busy?!"

"Jeez," Taiyi complained. "Alright, alright! I found the perfect mission to repair your majesty's tarnished reputation, you little ingrate."

The deity grounded the last words in a whisper, trying but obviously failing to hide his distaste. Nezha's enhanced hearing caught it without a problem.

In light of his hammered state, Nezha stayed silent despite feeling a vein pop. There was always another day to light Taiyi's pants on fire.

"Spit. It. Out," he grounded.

Taiyi seemed to find amusement in twirling Nezha's mood, opting to wag a finger in front of the youth's face. The god knew his ass was going to pay for it later, but the petty in him had to take the opportunity.

Fumbling through his many pockets, Taiyi's face lit up with child-like jubilation at the sound of crinkling paper.

Nezha was not prepared to have a smelly and stained piece of parchment shoved into his face. He was sure if Taiyi had another pot of alcohol, he would've straight up crashed into him instead.

His master wiggled his caterpillar of a brow.

"Ya interested in some dragonslayin'?"

It took Nezha a moment to come back down to Earth. He snatched the paper, scowling at the deity before him. Focusing on the words of the parchment, the young man almost coughed blood at the sudden recognition.

It was the warrant for the princess.

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

A/N: QUICK! Somebody insert Allstar in the scene! ;)

Timing -- Ch. 3

“You’re not Mulder.”

Dreamland time baby!!! 

Tagging @today-in-fic​ | Read it on Ao3

<- Previous Chapter | Start from the Beginning | Next Chapter ->

---

“Is this supposed to be a date?” Scully cocked a brow at the dusty Nevada road they were driving down. “You know Kersh will have our asses if he finds out about this.”

“Depends on if you want this to be a date,” he ignored the second half of what she’d said. They passed a mile marker. “Two more miles to go.”

“I’m all a-tingle,” She deadpanned.

She asked about his supposed “source,” who he claimed worked at Area 51, and she found herself thinking about his constant search for proof. For truth. Before they had embarked on this new phase of their relationship, it had started to drain her. But everything had a slightly new feeling to it now that they were together. Like when you finally clean off an old pair of earrings or shine an old pair of shoes and realize how much potential they’d had. To be honest, she was a bit excited to be out on the road with Mulder again like this, though she refused to let him know that. They hadn’t worked anything resembling an X-File in a while.

Still, her mind wandered to thoughts about the people who lived near here. Raising families and buying homes while they drove on, endlessly.

Will that ever be us?

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She realized she’d spoken out loud. “I mean, uh- There are people who live around here. People who live normal lives. Nine-to-five jobs and a cookie-cutter house with a white picket fence and-” she stopped herself from mentioning kids, not wanting to re-open that wound for a casual conversation.

He glanced over at her. “Are you saying you want a nine-to-five job and a cookie-cutter-”

“No, no,” She cut him off, shaking her head. She couldn’t imagine a life in suburbia. “I just mean, like...settling down,” she sighed. “Something resembling a normal life.”

“Well, this is a normal life,” He argued. Seeing her look, he continued. “Normal for us, at least.”

“That’s true,” She said. They didn’t really have lives that lent to normalcy.

“But if you want something normal, then we can try something normal,” He said, reaching over and taking her hand in his, resting them on the center console. “What is it you want? The white picket fence? I can get one for my apartment, but I don’t know where I’ll put it.”

She smiled, her mind slightly more at ease. He’d made a joke, but she knew his sentiment was real. It had always been clear that that sort of life didn’t quite fit him, but he’d be willing to try it. For her.

The sound of tires squealing and the blinding headlights streaming through the car disrupted their moment, and they pulled their hands apart.

“Mulder.”

“I don’t know if we’re going to meet that crackpot after all.”

---

“Come on, Mulder, let’s go,” She tugged on his sleeve, shooting a glare at the man who had confronted them, who had an odd look on his face.

Mulder was uncharacteristically quiet as they drove away, and Scully repeatedly glanced over at him. She didn’t say anything, assuming that he was just stewing about not being able to meet his contact.

When they pulled up to the gas station, she decided to try to pull him out of his funk. “Are you okay, Mulder?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you haven’t said anything since we left those men on the highway. Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine. Gas cap’s on your side.”

She frowned. He always got the gas. He’d even once made a joke about chivalry while she argued that pumping gas was hardly chivalrous. “Okay...if you don’t wanna talk about it.” She got out and started pumping the gas. 

Still in the car, Mulder turned the radio on, fiddling with the dial. Her phone rang, slightly muffled by the noise and the confines of the car.

“Mulder?” She called through the window. He didn’t hear her. “Mulder.” She repeated.

No response. Was he ignoring her? Maybe he just couldn’t hear her. She closed her eyes with a sigh of frustration, then left the pump to open the door and get her phone. The music blasted out of the car at deafening levels, but she got in anyway.

“Hello?” She asked, but couldn’t hear over the radio. Her lips pursed, she reached over and turned it down. “Hello?” No response. Whoever was on the other end had hung up. “Ugh.” She hung up and got back out of the car.

“Oh, Dana?” Mulder leaned over. “Want to pick me up a pack of Morleys please?”

Dana? “Since when do you smoke?” She eyed him with doubt. Was this some sort of joke?

He heaved a sigh. “Well, you’re not gonna be a Nazi about it, are you?”

The question genuinely stunned her and she didn’t know how to respond. Slamming the door shut, she went inside, lost in her thoughts. 

Mulder didn’t smoke. He’d never smoked. In fact, they’d had multiple conversations where they’d talked about how neither one could even stand the smell of cigarettes after all their dealings with the Cancer Man. So why did he request a pack? He hadn’t seemed any more stressed than usual or anything, so she didn’t understand what could be driving him to smoke.

She recalled their conversation in the car. Was that it? Had her questions about normalcy set him off? He’d seemed receptive enough to it at the time. Maybe it was actually bothering him and he was lashing out in some weird way, trying to push her away before she could ask about it again.

She pursed her lips, feeling a flash of anger. She put back the bag of sunflower seeds she’d grabbed on instinct and stalked out without getting the cigarettes. If he wanted to be a child and not talk about what was wrong, so be it. But she wasn’t going to encourage him. When she got back in the car, Mulder looked over at her expectantly.

“They were out,” She said shortly as she buckled in.

“Of Morleys?”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes forward. She was very clearly mad at him and he knew her well enough to pick up on that, but for some reason, he didn’t seem to. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything.

They drove for a while before she turned to him. “Mulder, if I said something that upset you-”

“God, this again?” He looked at her as if disgusted. “I told you I’m fine, Dana. Jeez, you’re just like my wife.”

“Excuse me?”

A panicked look crossed his face. “A wife,” He corrected. “You’re like a wife.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but she had no words. So that  was  what this was about. One discussion about settling down and he was pushing her away. She hadn’t even said anything about getting married. So much for no regrets.

Scully had half a mind to yell at him, to argue with him. But she couldn’t bring herself to. She didn’t want him to know just how hurt she was, so she sat back in her seat and sulked, staring silently out of her window for the rest of the drive.

---

“‘I’d give you his name if I had it?’” Scully repeated Mulder’s words back to him in an incredulous tone. Their meeting hadn’t gone at all like she’d expected it to. “Whatever happened to protecting our contacts? Protecting our work?”

He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “He asked. Hang on a second.”

She watched in disbelief as he went over to chat up Kersh’s assistant. Right in front of her. Scully stood up to her full height in indignation, her lips pressed in a thin line. She’d hoped that whatever streak of pettiness Mulder had displayed last night would be gone by now so that they could have a proper discussion about it, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

He noticed her anger this time as he got back to her. “What?”

“What is going on with you?” She couldn’t help but ask, despite not wanting to discuss this at work.

Mulder scoffed. “Will you please stop trying to pick a fight with me?”

“Mulder, you are acting bizarre!” She hissed.

He turned and looked back at Kersh’s assistant through the office windows, then looked back at her with a gloating smile. “Jealous?” He asked, then slapped her ass before walking off.

Scully’s jaw dropped in shock. Her face burned a bright red with the amount of embarrassment and anger she felt. Her hands curled into fists; she was absolutely fuming now, and she’d had it with him. Once they were off work, she was going to confront him. She might even need her gun.

She angrily chewed her lip as she sat at her desk, occasionally looking up to glare at Mulder as he played some golfing game on his computer. It was strange that he was playing a game at work, much less a golf game, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that right now.

Her phone rang. “Scully,” She answered.

“Oh thank goodness. Scully, it’s me.”

She frowned. The phrase was a familiar one; she’d heard it from Mulder countless times. But Mulder was right there. And this voice didn’t sound familiar.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“It’s me, Mulder.”

“Mulder?” From his desk, Mulder waved dismissively, clearly thinking she was talking to him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call sooner," the voice continued. "Look, something really weird happened last night when that UFO passed over us.”

“UFO?” Her frown deepened. That was certainly a very Mulder thing to say, but there hadn’t been a UFO last night. And again, Mulder was right there.

“You don’t remember?” He asked. “You don’t remember. Okay, the man that you’re with, that’s not me. His name is Morris Fletcher. He’s an Area 51 employee.”

“Morris Fletcher,” She repeated as she wrote the name down. A thought crossed her mind. Was this Mulder’s contact? But why would he call her? And why would he claim to be Mulder? She considered getting Mulder’s attention so he could listen in on the call and let her know, but she decided against it. If he could be petty, so could she.

“That’s right.” The man said. “Everyone else seems to think that I’m him, but I’m not. I’m me. I’m Mulder.”

“Look,” She sighed. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but-”

“It’s not a game, Scully, I can prove it. I-” He stopped and was silent for a moment. “Well, I don’t know if this is a secure line. I don’t want to say anything too risky. Are you telling me that Mor- that Mulder hasn’t been acting weird?”

She opened her mouth to defend him on instinct but realized she didn’t have any defense. He had been acting weird. “Well, he-” She stammered, then turned in her chair to prevent Mulder from hearing her. “He, uh, he asked for cigarettes. And...flirted with some woman,” She added under her breath, unable to believe she was confiding in this random man.

“Flirted?” The man sounded disgusted. “See, Scully? I would never do that, you know that. First of all, I wouldn’t want to, especially not now. And second of all, I know you’d probably murder me for that.”

She hesitated. He was right, and it seemed like he was alluding to her and Mulder’s relationship with his comments. But it was just too crazy to believe. “I don’t know…”

The man sighed. “Scully, I love you, but things would be a lot easier if you just believed me sometimes. Look, just get out here as soon as you can, and I’ll prove it to you. I promise.”

I love you? “W- How will I get in touch with you?”

“You won’t. I’ll get in touch with you.” He hung up.

Scully hung up too, staring at the name she’d written down. Morris Fletcher. She’d look him up and have that call traced.

Mulder turned back to her. “Who was that?”

She shot him a glare. “None of your business.”

“Jeez, lady.” Mulder reclined back in his chair. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Scully shot up from her seat, fully intending to lash out at him, but stopped when a few of their desk neighbors looked up at her in surprise. She remembered where she was. Smoothing down her skirt, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, needing to cool off.

---

At the sight of Kersh’s assistant leaving Mulder’s apartment (giving Scully a catty look, to boot), she’d decided it was time to commit murder. She could excuse some of his behavior as weird immature lashing out because he was uncomfortable, but this was taking it way too far. She rapped at his door.

“Just can’t get enough, can you?” His voice sounded from inside.

She fumed at his audacity. “It’s me.”

The door opened and Mulder stood just inside, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and his shirt half off. He looked completely unfazed by her anger. “Oh, hey, Dana.”

Dana again. Since when was he calling her Dana? That was low-priority compared to everything else, though. She burst into his apartment and whirled around to face him as he shut the door.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was forceful, and she was grateful it wasn’t wavering.

He looked confused by her tone. “Oh, you know, just a little lunch break. What’s up?”

“A lunch break?” She whispered, so mad she couldn’t even speak. “A lunch break?” She repeated, louder. “You have the gall to tout some woman around right in front of me and then play it off as a lunch break?” 

He raised his arms in surrender. “Jeez, Dana, I didn’t know I owed you anything.”

“Owe me anything,” She mouthed the words in anger, then took a deep breath, trying to calm down so she didn’t actually murder him. “Mulder, if you- If you wanna break up, this is far from-”

“Break up?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oho! That’s what this is about?”

“Excuse me?” She asked. What else would this be about?

He ignored her, though, his hand going to his chin in amazement. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been wasting my time with that bitch when you and I were an item this whole time?”

Scully stepped backwards, looking and feeling like she’d just been slapped. She’d never heard Mulder call anyone a bitch before. And why was he acting so surprised that they were together? Was this some sort of ploy? Some sick game? A way to act like they’d never been together?

It’s not Mulder, a small voice in the back of her mind said. She instinctively brushed it off, but then thought back to that phone call. That man — Morris Fletcher — had almost made a convincing argument. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t encountered Mulder imposters before. She recalled the shape-shifting man who’d showed up at her motel room to try and kill her years ago. And Eddie van Blundht.

“Well, Dana,” Mulder started speaking again. “I’m real sorry.” (he didn’t sound sorry at all) “I think I just, uh, haven’t been myself. Whaddaya say we start over?” He moved closer and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t touch me,” She stepped back from his grip, her anger flaring up again. She wasn’t going to turn to some crazy theory to excuse Mulder’s actions. And a half-assed apology like that certainly wasn’t going to fix anything. “We’re done.” She spat, then turned and stormed out of his apartment.

“Done?” He called after her. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t answer.

---

Scully blinked in surprise as Morris Fletcher’s wife slapped him and called him a son of a bitch. Not a good day for relationships, huh?

Still a bit stunned, she tried to get her bearings. “I’m sorry, um, Morris Fletcher?”

Fletcher — who looked strangely excited to see her — closed the door and guided her away from it. “Scully, it’s me,” He spoke quietly. “It’s Mulder.”

“Uh,” She shrugged off his hand and stepped back. Why was this man so close to her? “You’re the man from the other night? From Area 51?”

He opened his mouth to answer but was distracted by his wife shouting “Liar!” from the house.

“You phoned me,” Scully continued. “What is this all about?”

Fletcher looked frustrated. “I'm Mulder. I'm really Mulder. I switched bodies, places, identities with this man, Morris Fletcher. The man that you think is Mulder, but he's not.” He added, then seemed to notice his reflection in the window of the car. “Of course you don't believe me. Why was I expecting anything different?” He said, mostly to himself. 

She just looked up at him, wondering if this man was crazy. If she was honest, part of her wished he was right, if not to have some reasoning for Mulder’s recent behavior.

After a beat, he turned to her. “Your full name is Dana Katherine Scully. Your badge number is…” He thought for a moment. “Hell! I don't know your badge number. Your mother's name is Margaret, your brother's name is Bill. He's in the Navy and he hates me.”

He does hate Mulder, She thought to herself. But anyone could know that. Her brother would probably buy a billboard if he could.

He continued. “Lately, for lunch, you've been having this six-ounce cup of yogurt — plain yogurt — into which you stir bee pollen because you're on a bee pollen kick, even though I tell you you're a scientist and you should know better.”

She blinked at that. How did he know that? She didn’t even register his wife shouting something else.

“Look…” She floundered for something to say, some reasoning. It was just too crazy to believe. “Any of that information could have been gathered by anyone.” They often ate lunch in the bullpen, now. Tons of people saw her do that.

“Even the bee pollen thing?” He asked, incredulous. “That is so you, that is so Scully. Well, it’s good to know you haven’t changed.” He was nearly ranting now. “That’s somewhat comforting.”

Scully opened her mouth to retaliate. Whatever was going on, it was uncomfortable hearing some strange man act like he knew her.

He took her by the shoulder and guided her even further from the house before she could speak, though. “Look, what about this?” His voice was nearly a whisper, as if he was afraid someone would hear. “We’re together. Only you and I know about that.”

She stiffened. Shrugged off his hand again. “Mr. Fletcher, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but lots of people tend to assume that my partner and I are romantically involved. I can assure you that’s not-”

“Oh, c’mon, cut the crap, Scully!” His voice rose in frustration. He gestured as if searching for something to say. “I can- I can get more specific!”

“I don’t-”

“I told you I loved you in the hospital after you saved me from that ghost ship,” He charged ahead without letting her stop him.

That got her attention. At least enough for her to listen.

“You didn’t wanna believe me,” He continued, slightly calmer now. “You thought it was the drugs. You drove me home after I was discharged and we had an argument about it, and then we-” He stopped and glanced behind himself, as if worried someone would hear. When he spoke again, it was nearly a whisper. “We slept together. For the first time.”

Her heart pounded with panic. How could he know all of this? “Mr. Fletcher-”

“Afterwards, we ate Chinese food and talked about how we shouldn’t tell anyone. You spent the night and woke up so sore from my couch that you said you’d never do that again, but you have.”

She was about to argue, but paused. He was missing something. “Something happened between those things.”

He smiled. “The Gunmen dropped by. You hid in my room like a teenage girl whose boyfriend’s mom just came home.”

She knew her face was flushed now. It was all too accurate. She shook her head. “Mulder and I have both been bugged before. Spied on. How do I know that’s not how you learned all of this?” It made her deeply uncomfortable to think of someone spying on her and Mulder during such intimate moments, but it was more likely than body swapping.

Fletcher sighed in exasperation. “You really do make me work for everything, don’t you, Scully?” He ran a hand through his hair — the same way Mulder did, she realized — then looked back down at her. “Okay. Ask me anything.”

She licked her lips in thought, trying to think of a good question. “What was our first date?”

He smirked. “Depends who you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you.”

“The cemetery,” He said with a small smile. “You laughed.”

Her throat tightened. Part of her wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that all of the craziness between her and Mulder today was because it wasn’t Mulder. But the investigative part of her brain pointed out that they’d had that conversation in a public place. Someone could have overheard. She searched for a memory, something she could ask him about where she knew they were totally and completely alone.

Try any of that Tailhook crap on me, Scully, I’ll kick your ass, Mulder’s voice sounded in her head.

She looked up at Fletcher. “What did I sing to you?” No further explanation.

He frowned for a second, as if confused by the question. Then recognition crossed his face and he smiled. “Joy to the World.”

Her lips parted in shock and she leaned forward, searching his face as if half-expecting it to open like some sort of skin suit, revealing someone else. “Mulder?” She whispered, her voice thick with disbelief.

“Yeah,” He smiled, breathless with relief and nodding emphatically. “It’s me, Scully.”

Her gaze wandered, her mouth agape. “I don’t- How?”

“Something flew over us the other night,” He explained. “A UFO or something. No one else seems to remember it but me. And Morris, I’m assuming. I don’t know how it did it, but all of a sudden I was watching you get in the car with Morris, only you thought he was me.”

She didn’t seem to be fully paying attention to him, though, still reeling at this discovery. After a moment, she looked away in thought. “I was so mad at him,” She murmured quietly, as if to herself.

“Morris?” He asked. “What did he do?”

“He-” She ducked her chin in embarrassment. “I caught him...fooling around with Kersh’s assistant,” She muttered, almost too quiet to hear.

“He what?”  His eyebrows shot up in surprise, which quickly turned to anger.

“I don’t- I don’t know if they actually slept together-”

“Oh my God,” He buried his face in his hands.

“But I saw her leaving his — your — apartment,” She said, looking thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. “She wasn’t fully dressed.”

Fletcher —  Mulder, she reminded herself — lifted his head up to look at her. “Scully, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t do that, you know that.” He looked genuinely contrite, knowing how she must have felt witnessing that.

She nodded thoughtfully, feeling relieved despite the fact that she still wasn’t fully sure she believed him. That was more like Mulder. After a moment, she spoke. “So...what do we do now? I mean, how do we fix…” She gestured to all of him. “This?”

“Unfortunately, I’m still looking into that,” He said. “I’m gonna go back to ‘work’ and try to get ahold of something — a piece of evidence.” He leaned a bit closer. “Can you meet me tonight? I’ll need you to take it to the Gunmen and have it analyzed.”

She hesitated, not exactly excited for yet another four-hour flight back to Washington (and probably another flight back here). She thought for a moment. “Is that going to help us change you back?”

“I don’t know,” He admitted. “But it’s at least a starting point. Can you meet me, Scully?”

“Hold on, Mulder,” She lifted a hand as if to stop him. It would take both parties to switch bodies back. “We have to think about this. Even if we find a way to fix this, there’s no guarantee that we can do it without Fletcher’s cooperation. He might even know how to do it. But he definitely doesn’t seem interested in giving up your life anytime soon.”

“What are you saying?”

She chewed her lip. “I’m saying that...as much as it’ll probably kill me, I’m gonna have to gain his trust. Go along with his charade. I might be able to get some information from him in case we don’t find anything with this ‘evidence.’”

He smirked, and she thought she could see a ghost of Mulder’s smirk on that ugly face. “You’re not gonna kiss him, are you?”

Her face scrunched up with disgust, which was all the answer he needed. “Where do you need me to meet you?” She asked.

“I’ll get in touch with you.”

---

Mulder — Fletcher — had followed her. That was the only explanation. How else would he have known that she went back to Nevada? Or that she’d talked to “Fletcher?”

She’d been backed into a corner. Kersh had threatened her job, and there was no knowing how much she could help Mulder if she got fired. Plus, she needed to gain Fletcher’s trust.

Mulder approached her in the gas station, a paper bag in his hands. “Scully, I got it. I got the proof.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything to him, instead only looking up at him with guilt. He registered it a split second too late as multiple vehicles pulled up, nearly blinding him with their lights.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered before turning away, unable to watch as the soldiers barged in and took the bag from him before cuffing him.

“Scully?” His voice was more urgent now.

She looked back at him, her expression saying what she couldn’t out loud. I had to, Mulder. I’m so sorry.

She thought she saw understanding register in his face, but they were both distracted as Fletcher walked in, flanked by two other men. “Damn it, Morris,” One of them said to Mulder.

Mulder ignored him, though, completely losing it at the sight of Fletcher in his own body. “You! You son of a bitch!” He fought against the soldiers who were holding him. “You orchestrated this whole thing!” He continued struggling — fruitlessly — as the soldiers dragged him out of the store. “You bastard! Tell them the truth! He’s not me, Scully! Would I do this?”

At the sound of her name, she had to turn away again, pressing her lips together to fight the tears in her eyes. Did he think she didn’t believe him? That she’d willingly helped Fletcher do this? 

I didn’t have a choice. She kept repeating that in her head as if it could shake away the feeling that she’d just betrayed her best friend. Her partner. The person who trusted her more than anyone else in the world. 

She would fix this. She had to.

After a few moments, she felt Fletcher’s hand on her shoulder and had to resist the urge to shrug it off.

“You hate me now, right?” He asked. When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Dana, I’m sorry I narced on you to Kersh, but I was afraid you’d lose your job. I mean, when you stomped out of my apartment and I found out you were going to Nevada, I was worried you were going to do something crazy.”

She bit back a million retorts that built up in her mind, instead setting her jaw and turning to face him with a carefully even expression. “You did the right thing, Mulder.”

He blinked in surprise. “I did?”

She gave a tight smile. “I’ve been telling you for years you should play more by the book, haven’t I?”

He smiled with relief, unable to read her body language the way the real Mulder could. “Hey, it’s the new me.”

---

Two weeks suspension without pay. And on top of that, she couldn’t believe she’d agreed to dinner with Fletcher. Or that he’d asked. Was it really that easy to win him over after she’d nearly ripped his head off? A simple “you were right” and he thought everything was okay? She’d been even more stunned when he suggested a home-cooked meal. As far as she was aware, Mulder wasn’t exactly a master chef. In fact, she wasn’t sure what he could cook. Everything he did further squashed any doubts she had that Mulder — the real Mulder — had been telling the truth.

Still, she had to get Fletcher to cooperate. And she had a plan. She double-checked that she had her cuffs and gun before knocking on the door.

The sight of Mulder wearing an apron that said “something smells good” would normally be enough to make her bust out laughing, but unfortunately there was little to be found funny about this situation.

“Perfect timing,” Fletcher said. “Welcome.”

It wasn’t until he moved aside that she noticed how clean the apartment was. “Wow.” Her eyebrows shot up, genuinely impressed. A small part of her noted what a shame it was that it took some weird body-switching scenario for Mulder’s apartment to be cleaned. She was so stunned that she barely even noticed Fletcher taking her coat.

“You like, huh?” He asked a little too close to her ear. “Yeah, I thought it was time I stopped living like a frat boy.” He shrugged. “Come see the rest of the place.” Taking her hand, he led her through the living room and into the bedroom.

If the sight of Mulder’s clean apartment stunned her, then the sight of his bedroom — completely spotless and now including a bed — nearly overwhelmed her. Her jaw dropped at the sight. She was surprised to find a part of her actually missed the boxes and dusty Playboys. It may have been annoying, but at least it had been Mulder.

“Come. Sit.” Fletcher excitedly patted the bed.

“Um, no,” She started to back out, worried he was trying to trap her into something. There was a difference between going along with his act and going so far as to sleep with him. 

“Seriously, just check it out.” He reached out and pulled her by the wrist and sat her down on the bed. It moved under her way more than a normal mattress should. 

Oh, God. A waterbed? she thought, trying to hide her disgust. He sat down beside her and the movement of the bed knocked her off balance, falling back onto it. Her jaw dropped again as she saw her own reflection staring down at her, and her face flushed at the thought of being able to see herself during...  certain activities.

Fletcher propped himself up on his elbow. “D’ya hate it?” He asked, grinning devilishly.

She hesitated, trying to calm herself. “No, I don’t hate it,” she said, and unfortunately it wasn’t a complete lie. As awful as a waterbed was and as horrifying as an above-bed mirror was, at least Mulder had a bed now. Once this was all over, she might be able to actually stay the night here without stiff muscles. Perhaps just mild nausea from the waterbed.

His grin widened. “Well, alright then. Don’t go away.” The bed shifted nauseatingly as he got up and left the room. When he came back with champagne and accompanying flutes, Scully couldn’t stop her eyebrows from shooting upwards. Big plans.

He handed her a flute and she stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, deciding it was time for one last test. She was already certain that this man wasn’t Mulder, but as a scientist she needed all the evidence she could gather.

“Mulder,” She kept her voice light. “Remember that time we were lost in the woods down in Florida? And you got injured?”

He frowned, looking a bit panicked. “Uhh, vaguely. Why?”

“I just-” She shook her head with a frustrated sigh. “I can’t seem to remember the name of the song that I sang to you. Do you remember? The tune’s been stuck in my head all day,” She added, then started humming the chords to “Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown” to throw him off.

“Oh, that’s the, um-” Fletcher snapped his fingers a couple times, trying to remember. “The Jim Croce song. Leroy Brown.”

“Thaaat’s right,” She said as if she’d just remembered. “And that was what I sang to you?”

“Of course,” He turned his attention back to the champagne bottle. “I vividly remember that part.” He winked.

“Mhm,” She nodded, her jaw tight. She licked her lips and then turned to him. “Do you know what would really be fun?”

“What?”

She pulled out her handcuffs and dangled them in front of him with a cocked eyebrow. Fletcher looked like he’d nearly come on the spot. “Oh, yeah. Me first?”

“You first,” She smirked.

Excited, he couldn’t seem to take the cuffs from her fast enough. While he cuffed himself to the bed, she stood up and pulled out her gun. “Now what?” He asked, turning back, but flinched in surprise when he saw her gun aimed at him.

“You’re not Mulder.”

The panicked look on his face was nearly comical. “What?” The champagne cork popped at that moment, and Scully could already imagine laughing about that with the real Mulder in the future. “Baby-”

“‘Baby’ me and you’ll be peeing through a catheter,” She said, lowering the aim of her gun. “Your name is Morris Fletcher. It was Mulder who was arrested in the desert. Now, how do we get things back to normal?”

---

Fletcher had turned out to be completely useless and somehow knew nothing, but luckily Mulder’s source called while Scully was interrogating him. And after two more flights to Nevada and back — along with a nearly unsuccessful bar adventure — they arrived at the Lone Gunmens’ lair, flight recorder in tow.

Scully pressed on the buzzer. “Open up,” She called out. After a few moments, she started hearing the clicks and clanks that meant someone was unlocking the various locks.

Frohike opened the door. “Mulder.” He let them in, and Scully tried to brush off the fact that she hadn’t been greeted. It wasn’t even really Mulder, after all. “If I had known you were coming, I would have made more salsa.”

“We need your help right now,” Scully said, offering up the flight recorder to Langly.

“Who crashed?” He looked it over with interest.

“Who, what, why,” She said. “I need to know everything that’s on that data recorder.”

The three rattled off technical terms that she didn’t care to remember, then Byers turned to Fletcher. “Where did you get this?” He asked him.

What am I, chopped liver? “Groom Lake,” Scully answered. “Outside Area 51.”

“Dreamland.” Frohike raised his eyebrows. They had a brief discussion about some spy plane before Fletcher — browsing through an issue of the  Lone Gunman  — started giggling to himself.

“What’s with him?” Frohike asked.

“Ignore him,” she said.

“Mulder-”

“He’s not Mulder,” She corrected with exasperation. 

All three Gunmen turned to her with questioning looks.

“This aircraft.” She pointed at the flight recorder. “When it crashed it somehow resulted in a…a body swap. Between Mulder and…” She gestured to Fletcher. “This asshole.”

The three looked confused, both by the situation and by the fact that Scully was the one saying these sorts of things. They laughed nervously, but stopped when they saw she wasn’t laughing along with them.

“Asshole?” Fletcher sounded offended, putting down the paper and approaching her. “Listen here, lady, you probably wouldn’t have even realized I wasn’t Mulder if you two weren’t banging.”

Scully stiffened, feeling three pairs of eyes slowly turn to look at her.

“Banging?” Langly asked.

She clenched her jaw, thinking quickly. “No, he’s just trying to rile me up because I embarrassed him when I caught him with Kersh’s secretary.”

“Kersh’s secretary?”

“Ah,” Fletcher nodded in understanding. “Keeping it a secret, huh?”

“There’s no secret to keep,” She bit back, her eyes threatening murder. Fletcher seemed more amused than fazed, though, which only angered her more.

The Gunmen exchanged looks, unsure who to believe. Scully inwardly groaned. Great. Now the three most suspicious men in the world had reason to wonder if she and Mulder were together. That'll be fun to deal with.

“Who the hell are you?” Frohike asked him.

Fletcher explained who he was, then managed to rile the three of them up by claiming to be the one who came up with most of their stories. Scully let it continue at first, simply grateful that they were distracted from the topic of her relationship with Mulder. But then Frohike brandished his spatula.

“The name’s Frohike, you punk ass. What the hell did you do with Mulder?”

“Shut up, all of you,” Scully stepped in, then pointed to the flight recorder. “If you guys want Mulder back, then get me these results.”

---

“You don’t look too happy. Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to put two kids through school.”

Scully looked up at Mulder, hugging herself. She still couldn’t quite believe it was him. “I just got off the phone with Frohike.”

She explained how the whole thing had been reliant on completely random variables — ones that they had next to no chance of replicating. And even if they could, there was no guarantee that it would work.

Looking completely downtrodden now, Mulder glanced over to the car where Fletcher sat. “What about him?”

She followed his gaze and sighed. “‘Agent Mulder’ has become Kersh’s new golden boy. The son of a bitch confesses to Kersh more than I do to my priest. I’m just tagging along for the ride.”

He turned back to her. “What do you mean, ‘just tagging along?’”

She pressed her lips together. “I’m out of the Bureau. I’ve been censured and relieved of my position.”

“No.” His voice was nearly a whisper. “You can explain it to them like you explained it to me,” he said urgently “You have the data. You can make them understand. You can get your job back.”

She looked back up at him affectionately, appreciating his sympathy. But she felt no desire to continue at the Bureau without him. Or worse — with a fake him. 

“I’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly,” she said, and meant it. By far one of the worst parts of this situation was that she wasn’t able to give him a proper goodbye. They’d known each other for years, but their relationship was still so new. Ever since it started, she’d been afraid of how it might end, but she’d never imagined it would be like this. Forced apart by some weird, random X-File. Not even a conspiracy, just completely random variables within a nearly impossible feat of science. She supposed it was some sort of poetic justice, maybe they even deserved it. Like so many other times before, a chance for happiness was being stolen away from her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Mulder smiled wistfully at her and nodded, looking like he wanted to kiss her anyway. They stared into each other's eyes the way they always did, and she wondered if he was thinking about the same things she was, but the moment was interrupted by Fletcher honking the horn.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” He called out, his head hanging out of the window.

“If I shoot him, is that murder or suicide?”

“Neither, if I do it first.” She squeezed his arm, then turned towards the car. 

“Hey, Scully.”

She turned back, and he held out a closed hand in offering. She held out her own, and he dropped some sunflower seeds into it before taking one back to put in his mouth. Yep, she thought, looking up at him. That’s Mulder.

She got in the car and watched him get in his. What kind of lives would they have now? She didn’t know what she would do when she got back home. She couldn’t even teach at the academy anymore. Maybe she would turn back to medicine, finally returning to what would have made her parents proud years ago.

She only knew two things for certain: she wouldn’t stop searching for a way to fix this, to bring Mulder back. And she wouldn’t stop investigating X-Files. What was his life’s work had become hers as well, and she could only hope that continuing to investigate them would help heal what was being broken at having to leave him like this. Maybe she would even find a solution to this problem buried in a random case.

And what about Mulder? She indulged in wondering what he would do with his life as she drove. He had a wife now. And kids. And a more regular job than theirs had been. That normalcy that she’d asked about, he was now forced to experience without her. No doubt he’d try to repair Fletcher’s marriage despite the fact that he wasn’t him and didn’t love his wife. That was just the kind of person Mulder was. He’d learn to like the kids, probably even grow attached to them. Despite his insistence on being a misfit and an outcast, he had a knack for dealing with others. When he tried.

He’d go to work, probably using it as a way to get the inside scoop on some X-Files. She knew he’d never stop investigating them, either. Maybe someday, by complete coincidence, they’d meet up again on the same case. They’d catch up, and it would be nice, except it wouldn’t be. Because it would still be Mulder, but it wouldn’t be him, not fully.

She wiped away a stray tear as Fletcher started talking, telling some story about the motel manager.

---

“Come on, Mulder, let’s go.” Scully tugged on his sleeve, shooting a glare at the man who had confronted him. She saw him light a cigarette as they drove away.

For some reason, the four-hour red-eye back to Washington felt like it was nearly the tenth one she’d made. She brushed it off, assuming it was just because they were always flying. Mulder — in the seat next to her — looked like he was trying and failing to sleep.

“Sorry your confidential source didn’t pan out,” she murmured, not wanting to wake anyone who was actually sleeping.

He turned to her with a smile, then took her hand. “Well, I guess you were right, Scully. Just another crackpot who watches too much Star Trek.”

They managed to get back in time to change clothes at her apartment and go to work, where the two yawned all day and barely got any actual work done. Luckily, their unauthorized trip to Nevada seemed to go unnoticed by Kersh. At one point, Scully opened her desk drawer and noticed what looked like two coins fused together. Where had that come from? She considered getting Mulder’s attention to show it to him, but decided she was too tired to hear a conspiracy ramble today. 

After work, they walked to her car (not having had time to drive him by his place to pick up his car before work). She yawned. “It’s Friday,” -which was strange. Wasn’t it just Monday? Maybe she was more tired than she thought- “are you staying at my place tonight? Or would you rather sleep alone?”

He yawned back. “I don’t know, Scully. After being treated to the comforts of your bed, it’s been getting harder and harder to fall asleep on my couch.”

“You should get your own bed, then,” she quipped, putting her car into gear.

“Then what would be my excuse for spending the night at your place?”

She snorted. “I can think of a few.”

They dropped by his place so he could grab some things, and she begrudgingly followed him up to his apartment, sleepily leaning against the wall next to his door as he unlocked it. His jaw dropped when he opened the door, then he checked his apartment number as if unable to believe he was at the right unit. 

“Mulder?” She straightened up. “What’s wrong?”

Wordless, he gestured into his apartment, and she turned to look. Her own jaw dropped at the sight of the spotlessly clean apartment with a few new tasteful decorations. They both stepped into it, mouths agape, and looked around.

“Mulder, did you...hire someone?” Her voice pitched up higher than usual due to her state of shock.

“No, I-” He stammered, then looked at her. “You aren’t joking with me, are you? Was this you?”

She shook her head, her eyebrows raised in innocence. “It looks nice,” she said, then turned to him with a cocked brow and a smirk. “But where will you put the white picket fence?”

He smiled and put an arm around her shoulder. “Oh, I was thinking right about here, in the middle of everything.”

She grinned at him, but he looked away, distracted. He’d noticed that his bedroom door was open and went over to it, peering inside. 

“Scully.”

“What?” She rushed over to look, following him into the room, but stopped short at the sight of a new bed. Standing proudly in the middle of his now-clean room. “Holy crap, Mulder. How- How did this get here?”

He shrugged. “Maybe it was a gift. Maybe someone overheard you badgering me to get one,” he joked, but she wasn’t paying attention to him.

“Mulder,” She muttered, leaning towards the bed and looking up. He followed her gaze and saw his own reflection looking back. Slowly, they both turned to look at each other with equal amounts of incredulity.

“Well,” He put his hands on his hips and sighed. “I guess...gift horse and all that.”

“Mulder, you’re not at all suspicious about how this happened?”

“Right now, all I care about is getting some sleep. And now I’ve got a bed.” He sat down on it and was startled by how much it moved. 

“A waterbed?” Scully’s eyebrows looked like they would just about shoot off her forehead.

He groaned and flopped back fully. “Just when I thought my back would get a break.”

live typing extra life 2019

warning: this a fucking LONG post. if you plan on reading it all, godspeed.

i typed all of this as it was happening on stream so this gets progressively less coherent as i grow more sleep deprived. prepare yourselves. i may or may not go off topic at some points

larry vehemently vomiting pure malic acid. we’re off to a great start

what the fuck the soggy ass popcorn in that ranch jesus christ

lindsay in the song from AH the musical. i love her so much

jeremy going YAAAAAAY after someone eats a cursed oreo

matt getting AGGRESSIVELY kissed by larry

“this kiss this kiss” before geoff and jack kiss

geoff “i’m from alabama” ramsey

THIS FUCKING RANCH SEGMENT HAS ME GAGGING

jeremy “the alcohol demon the whiskey goblin” dooley

alfredo “you wont believe what the white people did today” diaz

DUSK BOYS DUSK BOYS DUSK BOYS GET THAT DICK ESSENCE

wait why does it sound like wonderwall

they look like characters from the matrix

the speaking parts. make my teeth hurt

in conclusion: they weren’t kidding abt the tight pants 

okay everyone get ready for eric soundboard spamming YEAH BABEY

“hi i’m from broadcast and i don’t want to be here” they represent themselves well

also, let’s take a second to appreciate broadcast here!! they have a really tough job and don’t get a ton of credit. lots of love to all of broadcast!!! you guys are awesome

i am: foreseeing problems with this eric sound board

which one is eric?? will the real eric please stand up?? was the real eric the one we found along the way??

“i’m... just really worried that i won’t ever find love-” “i really don’t care”

WHY DO THEY HAVE THAT ON THE SOUNDBOARD (what does that apply to? whatever it is you’re thinking of, but mostly “daddy wants some”)

ooh someone’s about to get a fReE tongue piercing from a pineapple

god dammit i went to the bathroom for thirty seconds and now they’re eating chad’s chest hair

owie the shock collar and belly slap look painful, but drinking natty light from a shoe? that’s a true punishment

“and this roast was brought to you by meundies”

ah yes what better way is there to end a segment than people throwing up

“man action” oh no

THROBERT MULVEINY

K A R B is blind in T W O of her eyes

“my last name is cottagecheese”

I HAVE A PIECE OF METAL SHOVED UP MY A S S 

chris has somehow managed to lose 23 years of age and roughly 412 pounds

“just open throat like baby bird” who the fuck is writing this and why is it jeremy

jon. jon you’re breathing in adam’s ass fumes

a summary of this segment: ass and cottage cheese

BARB IS HERE I REPEAT BARB IS HERE

“to fitness” -starts choking-

final fitness coach: tad, here to workout your issues so they can beat you into submission

“will you buy my wet” well i don’t see that on the raffle items

we’re back folks & i’m loving this walk around segment

moonball wall and gavin&michael will soon be reunited can we get an F in the chat

jeremy getting a borderlands tattoo is very on brand

what’s extra life without a little satan

“starvation army, putting lead back into paint, increasing childhood obesity” people in chat: TAKE MY MONEY

chris “i’m doing a different hole” demarais

ah yes. the game we all play in hell: twister

nobody edit chris getting mustard shot down his throat. i’m scarred enough from the original clip

oh fuck. oh god. the mayo. oh god what the fuck is up with the misuse of condiments this year

this just in: a human soul costs roughly $12,700

D̷̯͑̆̈́͝Õ̸̲��̥̬͈̬̙͕��G̸̢̧̠͉͚̙̲̙̓̔̀̇S̷̥̀́͆̈́̇̀ ̶̣̞̗͚̬̭̖̦͇̈́̎̈́̿̓̈́͆̒̋D̷̙̟̩̫͉̺̐̊̚Ö̶̥́̋́̓ͅĜ̵̞̌͋̏̉̌̕͝͝S̵̤̹̣̫̮̻͛̍̑̕͝͝ ̷̧̨̞̙̥̟̜͍̉̍̑̏̇̀̾D̴̻̮̩̯͓͉̖͎̘͐̒͋̓̉͝ͅỎ̶̰͓̳̥͑̅͛͊̒͐͊͘̚G̵̩̻̦̥̠̃̔Ş̶̹͚̩̱͖̀͆͘ ̸̢̢͇̻͔̗̺̼͖̱̏̾̔̚D̴̨̨̫̙̃̾̋̾̆̓̓Ớ̷̡͓͎͊G̶̱̣̣̰̝̖̰̗̓͐̐̊͋̀͊̀̕͝Ş̷̩̺̬̖͙̺̟͗̈́͒͗̀̑́́̕͠ ̷̡͈̼̲͈̳̫̺̝̈́̋͌͗̒ͅD̸̨̬̞̪̗̘̄̑͆̿̈́͘͠͝O̸̡̡͇͕̻͎͍͉̅̌͗̄͌̑̉̔͂̎Ḡ̸͙̟̪̞̬̬͕͐̈̏S̶̝̪̼̮̠̜̭̳͖̘̑

urine: to help with aerodynamics

jon: maya, speak! maya: *the smallest arwoo*

today’s mvp: any dog. pick one. no matter which you pick, you’re right

how the fuck did blaine change back from satan so quickly

barb as a cat is... my new sleep paralysis demon

blaine: barbara speak! barbara: climate change is real

#dogsforkids

this just in: extra life killed my wifi

we’re back & kdin is in the business of killing people with spice. she is the spice queen

queue six thousand well-timed 1337 donations

HOLY SHIT THAT’S COLIN FROM WHOSE LINE IS IT ANYWAY

hmm “questionable liquids” is very... questionable

trevor: oh there’s four of them! we all get to join in the Fuckkkk

“what’s your favorite kind of candy” “any meat”

i like pickles and i would rather rip my eyebrows off than drink the juice so i feel for trevor

the only thing worse than drinking apple cider vinegar is shooting it out of your nose

“can you feel the love tonight” “i used to and that’s the problem”

“flubs every word man” damn, really missed the chance to say captain hair

jeremy not being able to intentionally flub his words is so fucking funny

OK BOOMER 

wow i can feel my blood pressure spike just watching these shots

Xavier Woods is here and he wants to know if it’s Christmas

miles doesn’t know what a question is

WHERE’S YOUR HAIR

oh no. oh no helping hands is next. everyone clear a splash zone

CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE

miles bossing around chef mike is priceless

“you leave that fucking dough on the floor”

“you wanna slam your hands down on the table” *pizza sauce goes flying everywhere*

HOEDOWN HOEDOWN HOEDOWN jesus why do i keep doing that

“If Colin Mochrie is listening, I’ll see you here next year” OH FUCK YEAH

--- this is when i take a break so my soul can return to my body (aka i have work to turn in. college will never not be a pain in my ass) ---

oh god dammit i missed all of Always Open. fuck college who needs a medical degree

so... we have some very interesting things happening in family feud and i’m not sure if i like any of them

hmm. is now the time to get drunk

oily twist feels very... ominous

what do you mean you don’t remember gandalf having a taser in lord of the rings?

someone in the chat said “big stupid sleeping thing is what my parents called me in high school”

i think i’m blacking out what’s going on i don’t remember the past two hours

ah yes. voldemort and snape having a talk show together sounds exactly like something J.K. Rowling would make a spinoff book or show or porno of

can we just talk about how much shit chris has been doing this year? what a guy. what a dude

“coldy with voldy” actually means getting knocked the fuck out cold because you only got three hours of sleep last night and you don’t want to miss chef mike and lindsay cooking

this snape poem is summarized by one phrase: “that was terrible sit the fuck down” (sorry chris)

“let’s destroy a weasley” enter chad

fucking called it

“you smell poor” i need a caffeine drip

heh the wheel spins are at 69 heh nice

i’m a grown ass woman

welcome to a section called: we torture chad for your entertainment

“who wants us to kill weasley?” *massive cheers from the audience*

“wait weasley step away from the wideshot so i can masturbate to this later”

“i’m not gonna rub my eye mom”

oh they’re really gonna kill chad on stream huh

i felt that chest slap in my soul

i think i felt my own ribs crack

oh fucking

tumblr deleted my thoughts on the fanfic section

alright. fine. brief summary: my teeth are burning

my mom lindsay is on next and i’m so excited but i’m nearing the point of loopiness so things will go downhill dramatically from here

this is my fucking fourth extra life, you would think i’d be smart enough to sleep the night before

LINDSAY LINDSAY LINDSAY THAT’S MY MOM

JEREMY JEREMY JERE- wait a second... did jeremy get taller

oH CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE

i hope Xavier comes back next year because he’s funny as fuck

m y a t t

oh god the mcdonald’s shade i’m rolling

lindsay “who’s the chef here” jones

chef mike mentioned mayo and i involuntarily gagged

chef mike clowning the big mac. i’m crying

he made the right choice with ryan bc i’ve seen his cooking stream(s) and it’s nothing if not great content

i heARD A MICHAEL JONES

“lindsay you haven’t done anything but warm up cookies so far” “yeah and?? you’re welcome”

you know that classic snack. slightly warm oreos

JEREMY THE LIQUOR GOBLIN DOOLEY IS BACK

oh god him screeching across set is making me cry laughing

why does it remind me of trevor’s voice cracks in the one minecraft ep where they’re singing the lion king

the biggest spoon for the smallest shot glass

i just realized we’re not even halfway through yet and i’m scared for the length of this list i’m gonna end up falling asleep involuntarily at some point

lindsay no your teeth are going to errode from that shot in your mouth

well timed leet donation #1829495

this gorden ramsey bit is so fucking good

jack: what do you think of the arugala? matt: i don’t even know what you said

iT’s NoT jUsT tWo CoOkIeS miCHeAL

jeremy and michael just chillin amidst the choas is exactly my demeanor at any party i’ve ever been to

lindsay scores: ryan = 7 because diet coke, matt = still eating lindsay’s meal so it’s a 10, xavier = also still eating it so it’s an 8. total: 25

“deep fry everything but a remote control”

chef mike scores: ryan = 9 for no death, matt = greens are present, words were said, score is 8. xavier = Gourmet Mcdonald’s, food is edible, score is 8. total: 25

oh fuck it’s a tie

now they fight to the death. death = doing as many shots as possible

i think we’re all going to need liver transplants after tonight

no jesus please don’t vomit oh goD oh fUc k please- oh thank god

okay i’m making a part two this is too much

Lost: Chapter 2

Anne heard voices talking around her. They seemed alarmed: someone was slapping her cheeks lightly but firmly, while another was calling her name. No, actually, it was the same person. Her husband. She opened her eyes with difficulty and was greeted by the sight of Tim kneeling beside her, one of his hands holding her right hand tight, while the other that was waking her, was now stroking her face. Apparently she was lying on the sofa. She looked around. Her mother was standing not far from her, wringing her hands with worry. She ignored her mother’s and husband’s questions, her eyes unfocused. What was happening to her? Why couldn’t she live peacefully? Why did she have to experience heartaches multiple times in her life? What did she do to deserve this? She felt tears streaming silently down her face but when her husband started to wipe them with his hand, she closed her eyes tightly. The door opened then and Anne could hear her granny’s nurse and father talking. She reopened her eyes and watched the lady taking her blood pressure and checking her blood sugar levels.

“Nothing to worry about Ma'am, just a bit of low blood pressure and a slightly low blood sugar. Nothing that a cup of coffee and a slice of cake couldn’t help with. I suspect it’s because of work pressure and fatigue. Likely holidays are coming and you could rest,” the nurse reassured them and  soon left. Anne watched her parents sharing a look, then her mother said she would send someone to bring her coffee and sweets and left with her father. Tim, who was standing by the sofa, kept silent. 

Minutes later someone brought a tray with the food. He took it from them and helped Anne sit down, his eyes watching her closely while she ate. When she felt a little better, she looked at him.

“I want a divorce.” She blurted. Tim’s face dropped and he started to say something but she cut him off. “I feel like we’ve faked it long enough. I know you’re not happy with our relationship and you certainly made it clear by leaving today, I’m sorry that I held you back. You ca-" 

"Stop! Just stop Anne, and shut up for once!” Tim practically exploded. “First of all, we are not getting a divorce and won’t be divorcing as long as I am alive, or separating. Live with it. I didn’t fight to have you only to lose you later.” His face was red, his eyes sparkling from anger. She stayed quiet. 

“Second of all, I wasn’t leaving alone, you were coming with me. In fact, you’re still coming with me. I admit I could have phrased it better and saved you the anxiety, and I am sorry for that. So please, finish your food, we are leaving as soon as you feel better.”

She just stared at her husband who went to sit in a nearby armchair still fuming.

“But what about what you said yesterday on the phone? And why are we leaving early?” She asked. 

“So now you’re eavesdropping on my conversation too?” He looked at her in disbelief. “Lovely, just lovely.”

“It was by accident! And you haven’t answered me. Why are we leaving early?” She asked again, and he royally ignored her, only pointing at the piece of cake on her tray, ordering her to eat. In all honesty, she didn’t know if she should laugh or cry or shout. On one hand, she was frustrated from the lack of answers and on the other hand, he looked bloody cute when angry, and all she wanted to do was to hug him, kiss him and ask for forgiveness and to make it better.

She finally finished eating, got up, fixed her hair and clothes, and walked to the door, her husband beside her still silent. She was greeted by her family asking her how she was feeling and her kids embracing her concerned about her health. She reassured everyone that she was fine and that it was just a malaise. Tim nudged her, so she said farewell to everyone, hugged her children, and left with her impatient husband.

“We’re taking my car, Peter will take care of yours.” Tim said curtly. She just nodded, too tired to argue. He was still silent but looked less angry. After some time, she noticed that they were not taking the usual road to Gatcombe, but when she voiced her observation to Tim he just said no, they’re not going home.

“Are we visiting your mother?” She pressed.

“No, you know my mother is visiting some friends in Kent ” He answered her. Of course she forgot. The silence was cut by the music in the car. Anne looked back at her husband, but he was looking straight ahead to the road. She didn’t know why, but something felt familiar for her, like it happened before. About two and a half hours later they stopped at a petrol station that had a shopping center nearby. Tim suggested they go in to use the facilities and let their PO stretch their legs a bit. To be honest she’d forgotten about them and she felt a bit guilty. Once inside, she kept close to her husband who stirred her toward the women’s clothes section and urged her to get something.

“At least tell me where we are going so I could pick something appropriate.” She was slightly irritated. He just shrugged at her.

“Whatever you like. A sundress, a swimsuit, shorts, tops… whatever you want, it has only to be light and summery.” Tim said but kept looking at some t-shirts 

“And what about a dress for dinner and heels too?” Anne asked sarcastically.

“No need, I took care of those and if we must we can shop tomorrow for something more to your liking.”

For God’s sake, he was serious! Anne wondered why he was all secretive. He could have told her beforehand and she could have packed something from her own clothing. She had not needed to buy clothes so hastily since she went with Tim to- 

Oh now she got it! The music, the drive, shopping on the road… now she started to understand. She searched for her husband and when she spotted him he looked at her then lifted two items: a baggy t-shirt with a cartoon on it and a silky black nuisette, indicating for her to choose. She blushed and shook her head at her husband’s antiques, and mouthed ‘both’. She was glad that no-one was around, it would be slightly embarrassing if it was printed in tomorrow’s paper. “The Princess Royal’s husband Commodore Tim Laurence spotted buying his wife nighties in a shopping center near a petrol station on their way to vacation”. 

After paying for their purchases, they went to a café to grab something light to eat then took to the road again to their destination. Anne started teasing her husband, who was still not talking to her.

“I could drive. You know, it’s not safe to drive when you’re angry.” Tim just raised his eyebrows at her but a light smirk adorned his face.

“I beg your pardon, I didn’t know that, but thank you. I am perfectly capable of driving as I am not angry at all,” and he turned up the music. She just chuckled, remembering what happened 14 years ago.

-

They weren’t in a relationship that time, but they were more or less dancing around each other, each one afraid of confessing their feelings to the other. That summer, she thought that maybe her relationship with Mark could be repaired: his mother had passed away a month earlier, and she had been there to comfort her husband, and they became close again. For the first time in a long while, they’d even slept together. The kids were happy their parents seemed to be closer than before, which made her happy, even if that meant forgoing her strong attraction to Tim and ignoring her heart that labelled that as falling in love. She told Tim about her new marital situation. He was happy for her, at least that was what he said until she looked at him and saw the hurt in those green eyes. Nevertheless, he helped her plan a getaway with her husband but advised her not to book anything until she confirmed it with Mark in case he had other plans for them. She sent the children to Balmoral early - not that they minded - and was ready to mend her broken marriage.

But on the night she was about to tell him, Mark had come home late, clearly having had too many drinks. His tongue loosened, he admitted that he had other plans that might well include taking someone to bed, but certainly not his wife. Of course he didn’t realise to whom he was speaking, and the next day he didn’t remember a thing. She didn’t tell him anything either. When he left, she cried, feeling completely at a loss again. She didn’t want to fly to Scotland ,and she certainly did not want to confront her family. A week home alone it is then. Every one of her friends were on vacation. She thought of calling Tim, but hesitated. 15 minutes later she was holding the phone waiting for her friend to answer, and was about to hang up when he finally picked up.

“I thought you weren’t at home?” She asked after greetings.

“You caught me just as I was leaving!” Tim answered. When she asked where he was going, he said to his mother’s house then to Cornwall with his brother, sister-in-law and some friends, for a four-day trip.

“Oh, a couples trip?” She asked a bit bitterly, but he just laughed at her.

“You know I’m the ultimate bachelor. Everyone is coupled except me." 

"No single ladies or potential girlfriend then?” Her questions only increased his laugher.

“I’m afraid not. I’m not interested, really. What about you? How did your plans go?” Her mood darkened further and she relayed to him everything that happened. By the time she’d finished, she was crying. “…and now I feel like a miserable bitch, stuck home alone. I have no desire to do anything productive except locking myself inside for the next four days before I fly to Balmoral.”

Tim was silent for a moment then he said the most incredulous and impulsive thing she ever heard from him. 

“Why don’t you join us? Tell your detective where you are and meet me at my mother’s house in Wiltshire. We’ll leave your car in her garage and from there we can drive mine to Tintagel." 

She was shocked. A litany of questions crossed her mind and she voiced them to him. "What about your friends? What would they think? I don’t know them, what if they tell the press?” But he reassured her that he trusted them with his life and if anything leaked to the press, they would know who the mole was, but it wouldn’t happen, as they would be delighted to meet her and respect their friendship. He kept convincing her until she finally agreed, and it took her some time to convince her detective that she would be fine. He agreed reluctantly when she told him that one of her friends was Commander Laurence and she would be safe with him. His one condition was that he would accompany her to Wiltshire to take the necessary information about where she would be staying from the Commander, as well as names and addresses of their companions. She indulged him, and prepared a light bag of clothing, called her children to tell them she was on vacation with friends and went to meet Tim. It was the first time she’d met his Mum and she was a lovely lady. Anne could understand where Tim got his kindness and compassion and loveliness. The others had gone ahead of them, much to the displeasure of her detective, but he was at least content with the list Tim provided for him, the cottage’s address and phone number, all info about his friends and such.

On the road while discussing potential places to visit, Anne remembered that she didn’t pack swimwear or even a dress appropriate for dinner, so her poor friend had to pull over when they neared a shopping center, so she could purchase what she needed. When they took the road again she asked if she could drive and he agreed. While they were listening to the radio, “I Will Survive” started playing, A/N: sorry I could not help myself 😉. She started driving faster, and Tim looked concerned. “Anne maybe I should drive.. you know, it’s not safe to drive when you’re angry." 

She just glared and sarcastically answered. "Well I beg your pardon, I didn’t know it wasn’t safe. But thank you I am perfectly capable of driving as I am not angry at all.” But Tim was so insistent and literally forced her to pull aside. She got out of the car and walked a little far from it and started crying. Her cries transformed to sobs when she felt strong arms hugging her. She turned around and buried her face in his shoulder. He didn’t say a word but kept holding her. When she calmed down they returned to the car with him driving to somewhere where she spent one of the best holidays in her life, made new friends and discovered another side of her best friend, his playful side, knowledgeable side and cheeky side. He gave her his bedroom but after the first night he spent on the couch she took pity on him and convinced him to separate her bed and sleep with her in the room. “Keep the door open if you want” she shrugged at him.

Everyone, except their party, thought they were a couple. Miraculously nobody recognised her. She ditched her engagement ring and only left her wedding ring on. The trip was heavenly and she felt refreshed and so much in love when they went back to Wiltshire.

She always laughed when she remembered ‘the Wiltshire incident’ as she came to call it. It was there that she experienced her first huge bout of jealousy, and their first kiss. That day, when they arrived to Tim’s mother’s house they were surprised to find his ex girlfriend there visiting his mum. Of course her jealous arse made her incredibly hostile to the poor woman. But Tim was quick to act and called her to his father’s old office to show her something. When he closed the door behind them he just crossed his arms.

“What’s wrong with you? Why were you acting snobbish out there?” It hurt her but she looked back at him defiantly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt yours or your friend’s feelings. Show me what you want to show me, I’ve got to leave soon. My detective is on his way-”

"You’re jealous.” It was not a question. She felt her face warming and was about to deny when he shifted closer to her and took her left hand in his.

“If anyone should be jealous, it should be me,” he said, tapping her engagement ring that she’d put back on, with his thumb. “She is just a friend, and I’m not interested in her in any other way. It would be stupid of me to continue denying that I am in love with you, that I love your imperfections, stubbornness, your eye rolls and your cheeky smiles, the way you act all perfect and proper in public, but in private, you’re all pranks and laughter-” she didn’t let him finish his monologue and kissed him. It was sweet and warm and head spinning. He put his hands on her waist and kissed her deeply, and when they separated she just put her head in the crook of his neck and hugged him tightly, softly whispering: “I love you too.” They didn’t linger in the office for long, just enough time for him to show her his father’s ships models and a picture of him in his workshop, just in case someone asked what they were doing.

-

She was pulled out of her memories by the sound of their car parking. She looked at her husband. Goodness, how she loved calling him that. He was still a bit irritated with her. They went inside the cottage after the PO, who went ahead of them then gave them the green light. 

It was night-time and she couldn’t see the surrounding area but the interior was cosy and lovely, beautifully decorated. She kept walking around when Tim came in with their luggage. She looked at him when he cleared his throat.

"I think it time to have a chat,” Tim said.

Uh oh. She was in trouble.

* * *

DAMN! That was a long fic but that is not a complaint! Someone had asked for this last week, so they’ll be happy to see how long it is too I reckon.

It had sadness. It had feels. It had drama. It had Mark being an arsehole. It was a wild ride but I really liked it, especially the cute flashback of him taking her on holiday. I’m pretty sure she went to a few dinner parties with him during that stage and his friends kept everything quiet? I think I’ve read that somewhere. Anyways It was very sweet and I await part 3 🥰

A Fairytale Beginning (Star is Snow White AU)

A/N: First chapter of the “Star is a Disney Princess series”. These tend to jump around a bit as I just write whatever I feel like writing and don’t follow a particular order, but I had to start with the first Disney Princess ever. Enjoy!

Summary: A series of one-shots and multi-chapters proving why Star Butterfly should be considered a Disney Princess, as Star and company take over the roles of all your favorite Disney Princess characters! (Starco inevitable)

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Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. Snow White belongs to Disney. All rights go to their respective owners. 

 Once upon a time in the far away kingdom of Mewni, there lived a beautiful princess with golden hair that sparkled like the stars that shined in the night sky and a heart so pure and kind that it was said that when she was happy heart-like symbols would appear on her cheeks and would bring joy upon any who looked at them. And her name was Star White. The reason for her strange and miraculous gift was because it was said that she had the ability to wield a lost art known as magic, aided by a powerful wand which had been past down to her by her late mother, Moon White. Armed with this mystic device, Star White was able to perform miraculous acts of good for her people and was beloved by all- Star White laughed at the passage on the scroll she was reading, the proclamation no doubt written by the Royal Wordsmith, who always tending to over-exaggerate things to fantastic proportions. “'Armed with the mystic device',” Star said in a mocking tone, waving around her wand in the air, goofily. “'She was able to perform miraculous acts of good for her people'.” Star continued to giggle incessantly, at the hilarity of it all. She sat down on the edge of the well she was drawing water from to rest, her stomach aching from laughing so hard. She was in the beautiful castle garden, a place she often liked to visit when her stepmother wasn't loading her down with a billion boring chores to do. “Seriously, like anyone would actually buy any of this junk,” Star said to herself, rolling her eyes. “I'm not more special than anybody else is.” “Here is the water you asked for, Your Highness.” Star looked behind her to see a shimmering butterfly holding the bucket she had sent it down the well with, the whole thing filled to the brim, the magical creature straining to hold the heavy object upright. “Great,” Star replied cheerily, smiling gratefully at the creature. “Just set it over there, somewhere.” She gestured to the marble stairs that led back into the castle, where a group of living brooms were already hard at work scrubbing every inch of the staircase, the whole thing already dripping with soapy water. The butterfly did a small mid-air bow, nearly sloshing some of the water out of the bucket, before slowly floating over to the hard-at-work brooms. Star took a moment to admire her creations attentively doing her chores, really in awe at the range of abilities her wand possessed, sometimes even managing to impress herself with how incredibly useful they could be. “Man am I lucky I found that living broom spell in my spell book or this would have been a disaster to clean,” she observed, laying down on the edge of the well, looking over the scroll again. “Now where was I,” she muttered, lazily. She scoffed, continuing to read the poetic garbage they were trashing out about her and her wand, the whole thing just so overly dramatic and cheesy that it was more silly than anything else. “Yeah right, like anyone would actually take any of this seriously,” she remarked, skeptically. … “What is the meaning of this?!” Queen Heinous screamed, crumpling up the scroll in her hands angrily, before throwing it to the other side of the room, one of her servants having to duck to avoid getting hit by the wad of paper. “How dare they print such disgusting dribble about that royal brat!” the queen continued her rant, stomping back and forth around the room in an almost temper-tantrum. “Gemini!” she called angrily. From another corner of the room, the queen's most trusted servant, Gemini, gulped in fear, not sure he had the strength to stand another one of the queen's jealous rages toward her stepdaughter. Queen Heinous had always had it out for Princess Star since the very beginning. Ever since she took the throne, taking over in place of Queen Moon, standing in for the young princess until she was old enough to inherit her own throne (the people feeling a child was unfit to hold all the powers of royalty) she had always hated the pretty princess. The biggest reason being that it was understood that once Princess Star reached the age of 21 she would be of legal age to take her stepmother's place as Queen of Mewni, which meant Heinous's time on the throne was limited. Not to mention that Star had of course inherited the most valuable heirloom in all of the Kingdom, the magic wand, being that only a true White family member could wield its incredible powers, which seemed to only be rubbing salt into an open wound, causing Heinous to grow more and more bitter and envious with every day that past. In fact, Heinous had begun treating Star more like a servant than the destined-to-be-queen she was, having her perform demeaning act such as cleaning up around the castle and refusing to allow her to wear her own crown in public. Though she was supposed to be teaching and guiding her to becoming a better leader she had done nothing to fulfill such a duty so far and that was not likely to change anytime soon. “Gemini, where are you?!” the Queen screamed again, her subject sucking in a deep breath, before stepping out of his hiding place and gingerly approaching his ruler. “Yes, Your Majesty,” Gemini greeted with a bow. “I would like to know the meaning behind these horrid scrolls!” Heinous demanded, Gemini trying not to shake with fear as the Queen's narrowed gaze rested on him. “Umm, well I believe it was to help promote the princess's image,” Gemini cautiously replied. “Image?!” Gemini flinched at the raised tone. “What about my image? I'm their queen! Are you honestly telling me that that little air-head is more beloved than me, their loving and merciful ruler?!” “Of course not, Your Majesty,” Gemini said in a comforting tone. “The people adore you, as they should.” “Well obviously they do not adore me enough,” Heinous scoffed, between clenched teeth, taking a seat back on her throne. She thought for a moment before saying in a commanding tone, “Gemini, send everyone else away. I need to be alone.” “Uh, yes, Your Majesty,” Gemini replied, with a small bow, fairly sure he knew where this was going. He quickly shooed the other servants away, clearing the room of any prying eyes until only him and his queen remained. Once they were gone, he approached his queen, who had a sadistic look in her eyes. “Milady, your not honestly thinking of consulting with it again, are you?” he asked, concerned. “Of course I am,” Heinous replied, rising from her seat and walking behind her throne, Gemini following quickly after. “It's the only way to know for sure if that little princess is going to be a nuisance to me or not.” “Yes but, you tend to get pretty emotional when it tells you something you don't like,” her servant pointed out and the queen turned to him with an angered glare. “I am not emotional!” she fumed and Gemini took a step back, quickly correcting his mistake. “O-Of course not, m-my queen,” he apologized, for being misspoke, bowing his head submissively. With a huff, the queen turned her attention back to the drapes in front of her, drawing them back to reveal her greatest and most well-guarded secret: a magic mirror. She took in a deep breath before saying, “Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the most beloved of all.” The mirror made a clicking sound as it became active, the image showing a small loading bar which was spinning endlessly. The queen tapped her foot impatiently as she awaited it to connect. Finally, the mirror image displayed a purple pixie looking thing which stated in an overly-cheery voice, “We're sorry but the person or magical creature you are trying to reach is not available at this time. Please call again at a later date. Thank you on behalf of Pixie Mirror Inc. for your patience and understanding.” And just like that the mirror went black again, Queen Heinous shouting in anger, “What?!” She began banging a fist a few times against the glass, trying to force it to reconnect. “Come on, you stupid-” she hissed angrily, before she called at the top of her lungs to her servant who was standing right behind her. “GEMINI! FIX IT!!” Her minion, ignoring the ringing in his ears, stepped closer to the magic mirror, saying, “Yes, of course, Queen Heinous,” while his queen crossed her arms, fuming unhappily. He cleared his throat, before trying a different phrase, “Mirror Mirror on the wall, please show us the One-who-knows-all.” The mirror once again began trying to connect, only this time a face appeared on the screen after a short wait, a small blue head just floating there in space. “Milady, he- uhhh it is here now,” Gemini said, turning to his queen. “Finally,” she huffed, shoving Gemini out of the way so she could get a good look at the mystical creature in front of her, recognizing it immediately by the same purple gem that was embedded into its bald forehead and its familiar long white beard. She also recognized the blank expression it always seemed to have on and she smiled. After a moment, the creature began to speak, in a loud, booming voice that echoed through the halls, as flames lit up behind his mirror image, “You have summoned forth Glossaryk, the One-who-knows-all, interrupted my life with your meaningless call. Within me lies the truths you so dearly do hunt, now all I ask is...” The flames instantly snuffed out and his voice lowered to a more normal level asking in a slightly annoyed tone, “What do you want?” Gemini gave his queen another begging look, not trusting the little creature one bit, his information often proving to be more troublesome than he cared to admit, but Heinous didn't even seem to notice her servant was there anymore as she asked, “I want to know who my people love more, me or my bothersome stepdaughter?” Glossaryk was silent for a moment, before saying, “The people do love her and adore her sweet ways, and this feeling only grows stronger over the days. Through her kind acts and heart that shines pure, she has stolen their attention with her gracious lure. In short, My Queen, it seems you worries were true, for Princess Star is so much more beloved than you.” “I KNEW IT!!” Heinous screamed angrily, her whole body shaking with rage. “That little brat is trying to take my throne away! Who does she think she is?!” “Um, the princess, Your Highness,” Gemini timidly responded. “Not anymore,” Heinous whispered darkly, pacing back and forth as she began scheming of a way to get rid of her happy-go-lucky competitor. “I'll just have her stripped of her royal power and sent to live with the peasants.” “Umm, my queen,” Gemini tried again, his voice even softer and more nervous than before. “I don't think that is a good idea.” “I'm inclined to agree, that would be unwise,” Glossaryk concurred in riddle.  “A different plan I would advise.” Queen Heinous stopped pacing for a moment, thinking over what her two advisers were saying. “Perhaps you're both right,” she sighed, seeing the flaws within her seemingly brilliant plan. “W-We are, Your Majesty,” Gemini stated in disbelief, not sure if he had heard his ruler right. He was unable to think of a time when the queen had ever agreed to being wrong about anything. “Yes,” she said, putting a hand to her chin, still deep in thought. “Simply revoking her right to the throne is only a temporary fix. I need something more... permanent.” Heinous smiled evilly. “P-Permanent,” Gemini stuttered, feeling his body grow cold. He didn't like where this was going. Heinous chuckled to herself. “Oh yes, what I need is to get rid of the princess. And then no one could ever challenge my right to the throne ever again.” She turned to her servant, him and the still-active mirror thrown off guard by the crazed look in her eye. “Gemini, summon the nearest huntsmen to my chambers, I have an extra special job for him,” she command, rubbing her hands together mysteriously. For a moment, the two just stared at the evil queen with varying levels of concern, until at last, the mirror image Glossaryk spoke, not even bothering to rhyme his very true observation, “Well, she's gone nuts.” … “Are you sure this is the right way?” Star asked the huntsmen who had guided her into the forest, skeptically. She turned to look at the tall green frog, dressed head to toe in traditional hunting clothes. Buff Frog, who had been smiling nervously the whole trip, refused to meet her eye, sweat dripping off of his face. “Uhh, da, princess,” he said in a heavy Russian accent. “This is definitely right way.” “Really?” Star said, raising an eyebrow at the huntsma... uhh huntsfrog. “Cause we were supposed to be going to put out a fire at the Dry Wood Meadows...” “Which is totally true and not just lie I make up so you come with me,” Buff Frog quickly said. “What?” Star said. “What?” Buff Frog repeated immediately. “Annnyywho,” Star said, feeling an uncomfortable tension beginning to form. “According to this sign...” She pointed out the sign in front of her, reading if off for her animal-like escort. “We're at some place called, 'Isolation Point: where no one can here you scream.' Huh.” Buff Frog said nothing, more sweat pouring off of his face, watching the young princess closely as she continued to examine the sign, slowly drawing a knife from his belt. “Sorry to say this, Buff Frog,” she continued. “But I think you may have gotten us lost.” The frog looked down at the knife, which was shaking in his nervous grip, unsure what to do. He had been given strict orders from the queen herself to dispose of the princess, an order which he wanted nothing to do with, wishing he had never even heard the command. He, like many in the kingdom, adored Princess Star and wished for her to be the ruler instead of her tyrant of a stepmother. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to kill her in cold blood. But if he didn't finish his mission, the queen would surely have his head instead. So, Buff Frog swallowed down his guilt, stepping closer to the unsuspecting princess and raising the knife into the air, preparing to stab her. The girl continued to be oblivious to the danger directly behind her, cocking her head to the side and humming to herself as she tried to make sense of the directions. But just as Buff Frog was about to thrust his knife right into her unsuspecting back, his nerves got the better of him, the hunter dropping the knife to the floor and collapsing to his knees. Star, hearing the loud thud, turned in surprise as Buff Frog began begging at her feet, bowing as low to the ground as his muscular body would allow him. “I'm sorry, princess,” he wept in sadness and guilt, grabbing onto her legs. “Please forgive me.” “Uhhh, it's okay, Buff Frog,” Star replied anxiously, unsure what had caused the frog's sporadic mood shift. “I know you didn't mean to get us lost.” “No, I'm sorry I tried to kill you,” Buff Frog admitted, his voice still chocked with sobs, as he looked sorrowfully up at the girl. “Wait, what?!” Star exclaimed, taking a step away from the monster and out of his grasp, suddenly unsure what to think of him. “Is true,” Buff Frog continued to confess, disheartened. “I lied to you, so you would come out here, princess, and I so sorrryyy!!” “Why- Why would you do that?!” Star asked, shocked, pulling out her wand and holding it out toward her would-be attacker, demanding an answer from the huntsfrog. “Is not me,” Buff Frog said, rising to his feet again. “Is queen she wants you dead!” “What?” Star whispered, her eyes widening. “Queen Heinous? But why, I haven't done anything?” Buff Frog shook his head. “Doesn't matter. Queen, she is very jealous of you, she will do anything to keep throne for herself.” Star gave him a disbelieving stare, keeping the wand raised. “Please, princess, you must believe me,” he added, trying to urge her with his begging tone.   Star said nothing for a moment, feeling extremely unsure of whether or not she could trust what the monster was saying. After all, he had just tried to stab her in the back. But, on the other hand... did it really seem all that far-fetched. After all, Star knew quite well of the spiteful feelings her stepmother often showed towards her. And the more she thought about the less crazy it seemed that her super jealous guardian would want to keep her away from the throne at any cost. Still, Star never would have thought she would have taken it this far. Star gave the monster a suspicious glare before asking, “Okay, let's say you are telling the truth and the queen does want me dead, why not just kill me, then, like she asked?” “Because I cannot kill beloved princess, even if means disobeying orders,” Buff Frog responded immediately. “I believe you make better ruler than her.” Though it might not have been the wisest choice, Star found herself believing the huntsfrog. After all, he had wasted his best chance to kill her a moment ago, when she had no idea the attack was coming. If he had really wanted to kill her, he would have done it then, confirming it in Star's mind that  Heinous did, in fact, want her dead. But that left Star with a bigger problem to deal with... now what? Star definitely couldn't risk going home. She knew that this failure would do nothing to ward the evil queen off from trying something like this again, the blond knew just how persistent her step-mom was, going to any lengths to get what she wanted. And right now she apparently wanted Star dead. Star began biting on her wand, something she often did when she was deep in thought, as she tried to come up with some kind of plan, with no results. Come on Star, think, she urged herself. If you don't figure this out than you are looking at spending the next couple of years of your life dodging Heinous' assassins. Finally, she sighed in exasperation, lowering her wand. “Yeah well, if I don't think of some kind of plan, then I may not get a chance to prove you right,” Star said to the frog bitterly, crossing her arms, feeling overwhelmed. Buff Frog hesitated for a second, taking in the look of uncertainty on the girl's scrunched up face, before saying confidently, “Will not come to that, princess.” Star looked surprised by this, giving him a skeptical look, asking, “What makes you so sure?” “Because I go back and tell queen that I successful with mission,” Buff Frog volunteered, his tone strong and sure. “While you escape into woods.” Star instinctively turned to look back at the forest behind her, quite aware of the fact that they were relatively deserted and very rarely traveled, the place seeming like the perfect place to hide from Heinous and anyone seeking her harm. Star's face brightened as she turned back to the monster. “Oh yeah! That could work!” Star shouted in excitement at the suggestion, glad she had some kind of plan to work off of. “Nobody ever goes in there!” “Exactly,” Buff Frog confirmed, nodding his head in approval. “You will be safe there.” Star, without thinking, gave the huntsmen a quick hug around the waist, saying sweetly, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” As she pulled away Buff Frog could swear he saw small pink hearts on Star's cheeks, glowing and pulsing, but when he blinked they were gone, causing the frog to believe it had just been a trick of the light. “You are welcome, princess,” Buff Frog said, respectfully. Star turned to face the forest, building up her nerve as she prepared to enter it. Suddenly, Star thought of something, swerving back around to face the frog. “But wait, what about you?” she asked, in concern. “What if she figures out you are lying?” Buff Frog didn't seem frightened of the thought, putting a hand to his chest and bowing his head. “Then I gladly face consequences for actions.” Star stared at the frog silently for a moment, before she whipped out her wand, using it to make a small chest. “Here,” she said, handing it to the frog. “Give this to Queen Heinous, it'll help throw her off the scent.” “Thank you, princess,” Buff Frog said accepting the gift in slight confusion. “But what is it?” “It's my heart,” she explained. Buff Frog's eyes widened in horror. “Your heart?!” he repeated in almost disgust, holding the box farther away from his muscular self. “Yep,” Star said with a smile. Before adding, “The heart necklace that my mother gave to me. It's been passed down in my family for generations.” She waved a finger in the air matter-of-factly as she explained this to the frog, who visibly relaxed as she did. “Oh, I see, that much better,” Buff Frog said relieved, visibly sighing. “Well yeah, what did you really think I was gonna put my actual heart in there or something?” Star asked, with a dismissive scoff. “Ha ha no, of course not,” Buff Frog said, chuckling nervously. With that Star turned back to the forest, just looking up at the tall treeline that towered over her, unmoving. Though she was anything but afraid of the dark overgrowth in front of her, she still couldn't help but feel hesitant to cross into the woods. Once she had, there would be no going back, she was leaving her old life behind, possibly forever and that thought was causing her insides to twist up uncomfortably, for just a moment remembering the life she was giving up. Though it was far from perfect, she would miss the friends she had made in the kingdom and, well, it was her home she had grown to love it, deeply. She took a deep breath reminding herself of the stakes, before forcing her feet into motion running into the dark woods, alone.

Mating Season / Hawks / 1

New multi-part series!! Commissions are closed but my tip jar is still open! I write headcanons in exchange for donations! If you’re interested, check it out HERE.

Mid-winter is by far one of the worst times of the year. It’s fucking cold. And the sun sets at like three in the afternoon. It tires you out easily, which means you can’t get as much work done as you’d like. Your numb eyes stare across the street as people mill by. 

The light is still green, much to your displeasure. At your side, Hawks fidgets, his wings curled tight to his body in an attempt to preserve body warmth. He seems colder than you are, despite his heavy jacket. Doesn’t he ever get hot in that thing?

You’ve seen him wear it during spring, too. On magazine covers and pictures in newspapers and the like.

Then again, you’ve only been living with him for a month. And it’s a strictly business arrangement, anyways. His fashion sense is fine, barring the backless shirts he often wears out of convenience. It’s hard to keep your eyes off the finely-tuned muscles of his back, so you scold him and tell him to be more modest to cover up how flustered you get.

“We didn’t have to go out today, you know?” You look up at him with curious eyes, “I mean, I appreciate this. But you seem really cold.” Two hours ago, you complained about how pricey certain clothing brands could be. Hawks immediately insisted that he take you to the nearest shopping center, with an unusual amount of fervency. 

Of course, he teased you about being your “sugar daddy”. But you can’t deny that it’s rather gentlemanly of him to try and buy you nice things, especially when you’re not actually dating him. Sure, you’ve come to like him. Probably more than you should. But he’s the number two hero and is probably busier than you can imagine.

“No, absolutely not,” He huffs, “You cannot say that to me after I flew us all the way over here.” Regardless, he doesn’t look as annoyed as he might hope. “After all, what kind of guy would I be if I didn’t buy you some nice things every now and then? If you want, there’s this really cute lingerie store we can—”

“I know,” You cut him off, giving him a stinging glare, “but if you get a cold, it’s gonna be my fault,” The light goes red and pedestrians file across the street in a semi-orderly fashion. “And I know you’ll guilt me into taking care of you.”

“You’re saying you wouldn’t take care of me? Wouldn’t even some chicken noodle soup for lil ole me?” He shoots you an amused glance. Inwardly, you know you probably would—damn the guy and his incredibly convincing puppy dog eyes. Before you can roll your eyes and tell him to make his own damn soup, you feel a looming warmth behind you. Your gae darts back and you find yourself bewildered when you see that one of his wings is curled around your back, sheltering you from the cold. Huh. He’s never done that before. Granted, you’ve only lived with him for a month. And spent much less time together.

As much as you would like to hang out more often, you wouldn’t demand his time.

“I’m pretty sure you could manage to make your own damn soup, number two hero.” You turn your attention back in front of you, disregarding the warmth swelling on your face.

“Really? How heartless.” You cringe as he begins to teasingly guilt you, but several squeals ring out as you enter the mall. A gaggle of pretty young women turns out to be your savior.

“Meet me at Bloomingdale's when you’re done.” You drawl and nudge him with your elbow. He rolls his eyes and looks like he wants to yell you off, but his adoring fans descend upon him and he’s once again all smiles and rainbows. You slink of before they can catch more than a glimpse of you. Fortunately, you’re an expert escape artist. Had you been a lesser person, the press would have jumped all over you months ago. Still, you couldn’t help the twinge of displeasure that strikes when you think of him surrounded by other, possibly prettier women.

It’s stupid, you think yourself as you stride down the shiny, chrome halls. You pass miscellaneous boutiques and sleek storefronts, able to weave in and out of the crowd without drawing attention. Still, it’s nearly impossible to smother the feeling that’s bubbling within. Not even internally mocking gaudy jewelry stores as you pass helps. Emotions just suck, you reason. It’ll go away eventually. It’ll go away.

The smell of churros draws your attention to one of the nearby food booths. Curse this capitalist establishment and its glorious, handmade pretzel stands. It’s agonizing to turn away from, but you know Hawks will bug you for any food you buy. It’ll just be easier to wait for him. 

You sit on one of the classy but uncomfortable benches near the store and pass time by pestering your friends in a group chat. Not many people are available, since it’s the middle of a work day, but a few of them immediately pop in just to tease you about Hawks. Those fuckers. After clarifying that no—you’re not dating Hawks (for the fourth of fifth time in a row), you close the chat and fume quietly.

“You waiting on someone?” A voice purrs slowly, behind you. Figures the moment you want to be left alone, some douche comes to piss you off. Your elbow rests on the back of the bench and you crane your head to look at him. Blonde hair, green eyes, freckles. Nothing outlandish, nothing much.

“No. Leave me alone.” You say, shooting him the most menacing glare you can muster. The guy seems to blink at that.

“Alright,” His voice abandons the sultry tone it had adopted, but he doesn’t leave. He shuffles to stand in front of you and reaches out, offering… your wallet!? You blink up at him, “Yeah. Probably shouldn’t have sounded like such a douche, but you dropped your wallet,” He sheepishly rubs the back of his head as you gently take it from him, opening it. Your gaze roams along the various pockets. Once you deem that nothing had been taken, you turn your gaze back up to him. “I was tryna come off as smooth. Sorry if I offended. I was gonna use it as a segway to ask you to lunch… Or something.”

You know to not trust anyone, especially guys who randomly walk up to you in public. Regardless, you shrug.

“‘S no problem. Just keep in mind that most girls don’t like when you try to act ‘smooth’,” He seems to deflate at that, and you realize just how young he looks. Rounded cheeks, uncertain expression, a glimmer in his eye that people your age usually lack. Phrasing it like that makes you feel old, but it's an unpleasant truth. Is he a highschooler? You wonder, but you don't bother asking. “But thanks for bringing it back to me, kid.”

“It’s no problem, I–”

“You were just about to leave her alone, right?” Hawks’s voice is syrupy sweet when he cuts in, standing behind the kid with a plastic smile. It’s a grin but its threatening undertones are unmistakable. You've never seen him wear such a hostile expression, too accustomed to the genuine mirth he usually wears like a crown. The feeling in the air has shifted and wrinkled like aluminum foil being crushed in a tight fist. It’s jarring and it’s unpleasant, but you don’t know why it’s here.

The kid seems to shudder, his eyes growing wide. He mutters something rushed, like “yes, sir” and scrambles off, head down. You immediately feel a sense of pity, because you can't imagine how being threatened by the beloved, number two hero must feel.

For a moment, silence settles. Only the loud hum of people walking back and forth, talking to each other, crowding along the chrome halls, reaches you. It’s a new type of silence. As much as you’d like to ask why he just intimidated and scared off a literal child, you don’t know Hawks well enough to judge if that’s a good idea or not.

It’s still baffling, because he’s usually so good in public. He stops to sign autographs and take pictures with eager fans, he’s gentle and caring with children… so why this? The question lingers on the tip of your tongue.

“Sorry for the wait,” He turns around to face you, and his smile is genuine again. It’s syrup and honey, so dazzling that any questions beginning to form vanish in the back of your throat. “You ready?”

“Y-Yeah.” You nod, pushing your feet to move. You don’t know where you want to go, but you know that you don’t want to stay in the middle of the corridor, because people are starting to stare and the air feels stifling.

Janis & Jimmy

Janis: hey Janis: I hope you're alright, like Janis: I am and Janis: yeah Jimmy: 👍 Janis: sorry about that Janis: just Janis: family shit Jimmy: Alright Janis: it's not Jimmy: if any dickhead gets that, it's me Janis: yeah Janis: but Janis: I said I'd try Jimmy: we've both said shit Janis: I meant it though Jimmy: that'll be why you're here now then Janis: trying don't mean I'll always get it right Janis: and will you let me in when I am or Jimmy: you know where the spare 🔑 is Jimmy: and I meant when I said I weren't kicking you out Janis: would it help if I explain or don't it matter Jimmy: would it? Janis: I don't know Janis: maybe Janis: so you know it weren't nothing to do with you or Jimmy: would it help you? Janis: I care about you Jimmy: I care about you Jimmy: stalemate that Janis: It's hard Janis: but this is probably easier than in person Janis: for you too, it's Jimmy: I'll put the kettle on then Janis: you'll wanna Janis: just careful you don't scald yourself with any spittakes Jimmy: I'm not at work and Ian's not gonna comp me Jimmy: 💔🎻😭💸 Janis: no flat whites for him Janis: really like this story and all so jokes on you, sir Jimmy: all black everything for him Jimmy: that's the dress code when you're mourning not being 24 still or at whatever point his #heyday began and ended Janis: definitely several jokes to be made there but I'm not really black enough and you look good so Jimmy: there's been enough #bants Jimmy: it's obvs a mancave for lads lads lads the second you leave Janis: gutted, truly Jimmy: #relatable Janis: ugh Janis: right Janis: what have you heard about my sister, Rio Jimmy: she's fit Janis: is that it? Jimmy: yeah why? Jimmy: like I've heard she's a porn star but I didn't feel the need to do a search Janis: just so I know where to start Janis: so that's her, right Janis: but on top of that she Janis: it'll sound like a joke but it ain't so go with it Janis: married our cousin when she was like 18 Jimmy: hang on, your cousin or your mum's friend's kid who you call your auntie but ain't owt to do with you actually Janis: actual cousin Janis: as in they have the same fucking grandparents Jimmy: how did that come about? Janis: good question Janis: this family is fucked Janis: it's not like they didn't know each other growing up or anything, like they didn't know each other from any fucker Janis: it's Jimmy: I get that, the fucked families bit Janis: yeah Janis: well, that was 5 years ago and they did it basically in secret 'cos yeah, they would've been stopped Janis: hopefully Janis: but now they're deciding they need to renew it and force us all to come Janis: and grace just dropped that in a DM like that was something I knew or would be chill with Jimmy: bit rude Jimmy: all round Janis: you're telling me Janis: she didn't know I didn't know apparently but still Janis: it's just so Jimmy: you're not gonna go and play happy families Jimmy: why would you Janis: exactly Janis: but they all will Janis: they always do Janis: they've got kids and that's a whole other tale too Jimmy: together? Janis: one, she has one that ain't his too Janis: surprisingly normal looking Jimmy: is it? Janis: [sends Grace's insta] Janis: boys theirs Jimmy: he don't look like a 🐙 or owt Jimmy: your sister must be fit Jimmy: rumour mill got one 🏆 Janis: they're both obsessed with themselves Janis: still think we could've diluted the DNA tbh Jimmy: 😂 Janis: alright, you can laugh Jimmy: sorry Janis: would if it weren't my family Janis: try to anyway Jimmy: she cheated on him and they're still doing another 💍👰? Janis: that's the other story Janis: she was meant to surrogate for my brother Junior Janis: who you'll have heard fuck all about 'cos he keeps to himself and everyone forgets he exists Janis: but then she didn't wanna give it up and it was stupid anyway 'cos he was fresh into uni and dating a lecturer like that situation needs a child Janis: and her life's such a roaring success she should be giving a hand Jimmy: what? Janis: I'll give you a sec Janis: it's literally the most blatant and stupid way she's wrecked a life, like Jimmy: 💔 Mia ain't told me 'cause I thought we had something 💕 Jimmy: but it's alright, I'll live Janis: who knows what Grace told her Janis: that one might actually be family only 'cos as I said, no one gives a fuck about him Janis: he stays well away now, sensible Jimmy: fucking hell, mate Janis: just the local freakshow Janis: it's neverending, the amount of shit there is like that Jimmy: I'll keep it 🤐 about Ian from now on like Jimmy: you can have 🥇 Janis: nah Janis: not a competition Jimmy: is a bit Jimmy: just 🤏 though Janis: well I don't want him feeling left out Janis: still a 🏆 for being an outright twat Jimmy: he ain't 💀💀💀 yet Jimmy: still time to #flex Janis: him and shaz can make it down the aisle 'fore them Jimmy: she ain't been back 🎻🎻 Jimmy: can't keep a mum me Janis: letdown Janis: really wanna be a bridesmaid but can't on principle Jimmy: no 😭😭😭 in my kitchen Jimmy: we're all 💔 Janis: stay strong, boy Jimmy: alright fine I'll bring my proposal forward so we can get 💍 before them Jimmy: stop begging Janis: it'd be worth pissing off the pope to piss them off harder Jimmy: 💕 taking that as a yeah Janis: go on then Jimmy: 😍😍😍 Jimmy: brb stealing my dad's 💳 to buy a 💎 Janis: 😂 Jimmy: gold or silver? Janis: it's called white gold, so silver but make it expensive #weirdflex Jimmy: #goalsforever Janis: put that in the vows Jimmy: obvs Jimmy: I'm writing them rn Janis: Thanks Janis: for making me feel better Janis: 🤏 Jimmy: if I can't do that then you'd have nowt to come back for Jimmy: have to hang up my boyfriend 😎 Jimmy: put on my 💔 ones Janis: I wasn't leaving you Jimmy: for now Janis: I won't Jimmy: don't promise owt to me, you've been warned, girl Janis: it's a threat Jimmy: hot Jimmy: alright then Janis: I mean it Jimmy: you don't scare me Jimmy: 😘 me or 💀💀💀 me ain't that the phrase Janis: you can't die right now Jimmy: might do Jimmy: you're really beautiful Janis: you don't know Janis: I'm a state Jimmy: bollocks Jimmy: that's fake news Janis: shh Jimmy: Alright Grace, put your sister back on Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: it's a good thing you can't see her too tbf Janis: not practical having to hide from you for life when you marry in Jimmy: wait, you're with her? Jimmy: I'll hide the body but bit of warning, babe Janis: ha Janis: yeah Janis: IOU on the rescue she wanted to cash Jimmy: if Mia's there an' all & you don't say hey from me I'll be fuming Janis: she's definitely not Jimmy: have you checked the boot? 👀🍿🔪 Jimmy: folds up like paper, her Janis: wouldn't pit it past her Janis: I'll dry my eyes and get on it Jimmy: 👍 Jimmy: tell Grace she ain't having a tea unless she's 💰💰 Janis: She's taking my spare bed at nans Janis: musical faves atm Jimmy: I won't go throw shit at her window tonight then Jimmy: tah for the head's up Jimmy: soon my dear 💕👵 Janis: subtle Janis: find somewhere else to kip, it's alright, like Jimmy: no Janis: 💕 Jimmy: I mean it, don't Janis: okay Janis: if you'll have me Jimmy: I want you Janis: I love you Jimmy: do you? Janis: I said it like Jimmy: yeah but Janis: you can pretend I didn't Jimmy: we don't do that it's like the only rule Janis: if you need a free pass then take it Jimmy: I'm not saying I do Jimmy: just Jimmy: It's nowt I ain't heard before and Jimmy: for what? Janis: what do you mean? Jimmy: she said it and she still went Jimmy: my mum Janis: it's okay, it doesn't have to mean anything Janis: I already didn't promise you, yeah Jimmy: it's not Janis: no Janis: it's not Janis: but Janis: I don't know Jimmy: why couldn't she just Jimmy: why did he have to be so Jimmy: fuck's sake Janis: it's bullshit Janis: and it's unfair Jimmy: you know that I Jimmy: so important you Jimmy: Alright? Janis: I know Janis: it's all good Janis: isn't it Jimmy: Yeah Janis: I'm sorry everythings shit Jimmy: not everything is Jimmy: you're Jimmy: 🥇 Janis: I like you too Janis: you're about all I do like Janis: no pressure Jimmy: is that what you wanted it to mean? Jimmy: when you said Janis: I meant Janis: that I give a shit about you and I think you're funny and nice and fit and I wanna be around you Janis: and I don't wanna fuck you over Jimmy: then I love you too Janis: yeah? Jimmy: I said what I said Janis: allright Janis: I'll come in then Jimmy: were you waiting for me to say it before you got off the doorstep or what? Janis: not exactly Jimmy: [is at the door like oh hey] Janis: [the most dramatic hug flinging yourself at him like it's been 84 years 'cos lowkey] Jimmy: [we're never letting go bitch thank god its april and not the dead of winter] Janis: [you need all the moments so deal] Jimmy: [has he ever held onto anyone this tightly, no he has not] Janis: [the casual state she is godbless] Jimmy: [when you still look more beautiful than anyone ever probably] Janis: [rude] Jimmy: [this is why Grace hates you girl but pop off] Janis: [when you say it out loud but really quiet] Jimmy: [just really snuggling into her like we're not all dying okay bye] Janis: [just saying how she's gonna stay and how scary it was and not making a whole load of sense 'cos didn't even get to that bit honey] Jimmy: [all the comforting touches ever because now isn't the moment to be like um what but we'll get to it] Janis: [too much to try and be reasonable and logical rn 'is everyone asleep?'] Jimmy: [nodding because you can't trust yourself to speak rn because if you start what are you even gonna say like] Janis: [just like yes good 'cos we don't need to be starting any more scenes do we 'this was not how I planned any of this going'] Jimmy: [especially not with Ian cos at least cali wouldn't give you a slap 'bit shit at plans, us'] Janis: [nods and does a little lol like 'understatement'] Jimmy: [just sitting on the step so you can 🚬 cos so needed but pulling her into your lap cos you don't wanna let go still] Janis: [could be worse, could be meth] Jimmy: [true facts] Janis: [now everyone calm] Jimmy: [take all the moments you can to be soft] Janis: [just got no business being this close and smoking but at least you both are so it's fine] Jimmy: [I'd die literally] Janis: [my poor boo can't speak 'cos she can't breathe] Jimmy: [don't like set anything on fire either tbh] Janis: [lmao not a mood] Jimmy: [that'd be next level drama] Janis: [winnie drama] Jimmy: [that silly old bear] Janis: ['is my tea going cold?'] Jimmy: [lols because he's obvs not made it yet because #distracted we've all been there boy just put the kettle on and get no further like] Jimmy: [but puts his hand out like help me up so they can go inside] Janis: [does but pulls him towards her first and is just looking like !!?! all the emotions] Jimmy: [says 'what' in the softest way literally ever] Janis: [just gonna kiss him but so soft 'cos you're unsure but also don't know where to begin with anything] Jimmy: [all the soft kisses and comfort ever because he's never seen her like this before so he's like must not say or do the wrong thing] Janis: [have a brew lads] Jimmy: [fixes everything so actually go and make it boy give her chance to work out how she's gonna do this like] Janis: [makes me lol but also sad like there's so much you gotta explain before you can get to the now] Jimmy: [literally like no wonder Grace don't wanna see a therapist how exhausting] Janis: when did your mum go Jimmy: does it matter? Jimmy: she's not gonna show up here tonight Jimmy: you're alright Janis: obviously Janis: just thinking Jimmy: what? Jimmy: we've got enough milk to see us through if that's what she went for Janis: doesn't matter Jimmy: go on Janis: if it was about the same time Janis: as my sister Janis: Bobby is 6, yeah Jimmy: She didn't leave him in the hospital or owt like that Jimmy: let him get to nursery age, like Janis: that's something Jimmy: might've been better Jimmy: wouldn't remember her then Janis: does he Janis: remember, like Jimmy: a bit Janis: yeah Janis: Grace said he asked if she had a mum Janis: at the fair Jimmy: he's always doing that Jimmy: tries to go home with kids if he likes the look of theirs an' all Janis: fair Jimmy: 💔 I can't get away with it, me Janis: you probably could Janis: some of them have very unsatisfying marriages, babe Jimmy: just trying to get a tea I don't have to cook myself, babe Jimmy: but tah Janis: don't get nothing in this life for free Janis: soz Jimmy: alright, rich girl Janis: shut up Jimmy: 🤐 Janis: you're taking forever Janis: am I getting a biscuit too, like Jimmy: ruin the surprise Janis: I can pretend Jimmy: you're not that good of an actress Janis: rude Jimmy: only if that's your back up career Jimmy: and you'd have to get well fed up of the modelling first Jimmy: unlikely love the 📷 you Janis: now I'm an attention seeker Janis: charming Janis: and the 📷 loves me, tah Jimmy: nah just a 🥇 muse Jimmy: so supportive of my talents you Janis: you are good Janis: no lie Jimmy: [brings in the tea and a mug cake he has made for her to be comforting cos cute nerd] Janis: [what a sweet boy] Jimmy: [when that's about the extent of your cooking ability bless him] Janis: ['you're so-' does 🙏 hands to show 😇] Jimmy: [😏] Janis: [she sits she sips] Jimmy: [likewise just drinking that tea] Janis: [just shrugging 'cos gotta be blase like this is so casual and matter of fact okay 'my sister did run away, like, but then she had a car crash so, dead now'] Jimmy: [just looking at her like ???!! cos what can you even say 'shit, sorry' so awks] Janis: ['was four years ago so it's whatever'] Jimmy: ['did she leave 'cause of all that bollocks with your sister and cousin?'] Janis: ['partially but Janis: 'partially but-' sighs 'she was fucked up because she weren't my dads, third kid in and white, not an easy time'] Jimmy: [just looking at her cos even if you have heard that rumour you'd have thought it was too ridiculous to be true] Janis: [nods like yeah, I know] Jimmy: ['I get why you don't wanna be here, it were like that for us before we moved an' all' a shrug too because obvs also so casual for you] Janis: ['people must've had a field day' sympathetic look 'probably why I said yeah, to the plan, why I give a shit what people say still' shakes her head 'stupid but'] Jimmy: [when you're just having a moment remembering what it was like and you have to shake yourself out of it cos not about you rn 'people are twats, no dickhead but Ian's loving that kind of attention' gives her a look like you're not stupid] Janis: [giving him a nudge like sorry but not wanting to say it 'cos what use is it] Jimmy: [giving her one back as a shameless excuse to then just lean into her shoulder with his for an age like it's not a hug it's so casual bye] Janis: [leaning into it too, which is good 'cos voice is strained now 'cos emotions 'but she thought it was fucked up too, what they're doing, what they all do, she got it, you know'] Jimmy: [nodding cos he agrees that it is fucked up and is also having many emotions but eye contact anyway because wants her to know he gets it and is not going anywhere even though he doesn't know what to do or say about any of this really] Janis: [maintaining even though you'd be trying really hard not to cry for a hot sec there before being so meh it's chill again 'cos easier lbr 'know this is a lot but otherwise you'll just think I'm even weirder, yeah'] Jimmy: [touching her hair for literally no reason like is it even in the way, probably not 'everyone's got something that makes them weird, but you're alright an' all, got loads more shit going for you that counts towards that'] Janis: ['I don't wanna mess this up' and then going in on a kiss 'cos that'll fix this] Jimmy: [letting it happen even though you probably shouldn't because you just wanna make her feel better and also don't want her to think you think she's weird/you don't want her anymore when you obvs love her] Janis: [will stop at a kiss 'cos it'd be clear he weren't into it like per and we don't need that to be a thing for either of you] Jimmy: ['I ain't gonna let you mess this up if you don't let me either' holds his hand out like shake on it with me cos nerd] Janis: [is like 😏 really? but does] Jimmy: [then draws a heart on her with his fingertip like he did at Cali's but on her palm this time after the handshake] Janis: ['you really are the biggest nerd though' but 😍] Jimmy: ['piss off' but a little genuine smile] Janis: ['still like you anyway'] Jimmy: [😏 a look like yeah? and a IRL 👍 because committed to being a nerd now] Janis: ['don't push it, mate'] Jimmy: [playfully pushes her but really soft] Janis: [playfight forever] Jimmy: [just 😍 the whole time like] Janis: ['you really are so'] Jimmy: ['I like you so much'] Janis: [nods 'cos words are risky] Jimmy: ['I- I love you so much'] Janis: ['I love you too, Jimmy'] Jimmy: [gotta just hide your face in a snuggle because dying]

Starker: Party Games Pt. 2

dang, this is turning into a lil story, im loving this and I hope you love it too.

💙💙💙

"Isn't that breaking the rules of the game?" Peter decides to be brave in his last living moments.

"I won't tell anyone." Tony whispers, walking closer to Peter.

He gives in, fear taking over. "Who are you the most afraid of here?" He sighs, not looking at Tony.

To Peter's surprise, Tony laughs. "Seriously? That's so pathetic Parker." He laughs as Peter sends a text to Aunt May to get him.

Ned would forgive him, if he survived this conversation.

"Of course, Ned is so not like that.. I got angry over nothing." Tony shrugs and Peter stares. "You aren't mad now? Aren't you always mad at pathetic poor pitiful Peter Parker?" Now Peter's mad. "You wonder why I said no to getting trapped in a room with you? For one I'm terrified of you and two, that's like accepting you beating me up..letting you beat me up by voluntarily being alone with you. But whatever, you beat me up weekly anyways."

Tony looks a bit shocked and Peter brushes past him to go get Ned. He's fuming, smoke from the ears mad.

He finds Ned talking to the girl he accidentally offended earlier and just drags him away. "We are leaving right now."

And Ned knows well enough to not anger a mad Peter, it mainly ends in frustrated tears actually.

They walk past Tony and walk to May's car. "What happened?" Is May's first words and Ned shakes his head in a warning. "Can we just go home please."

__________

Everyone seemed shocked to see Peter show up at school the next day. Except for Tony, which Peter hadn't seen and was trying to avoid. Some people even asked how he had survived Tony's wrath.

If anything, some could say that Tony was glad to come out of an angry conversation with Peter unscathed. Peter, of course, has never hit anyone or wanted to hit anyone.

Peter nearly makes it through history without Tony, when he shows up seven minutes before the bell rings.

He audibly curses when Tony walks through the door, earning himself a detention. He's glad Tony didn't hear the words "motherfucking shit nugget!!" aimed at him.

"Late Stark, detention." The teacher barks at Tony, who ignores her.

Now's a really good time to use the phrase motherfucking shit nugget.

Tony doesn't say a word or even look at him all class, which shocks Peter.

Ned even notices, and shrugs at Peter across the classroom.

Tony doesn't seem fuming angry like last night, or pissed off like when he speaks to Peter. It's like, the moment he saw him at the party last night he had changed.

Now, Peter's starting to guess what Tony really wanted to do in that room.

Beating Peter up seemed to have made the most sense, but it was a room for that.

There's no way.

There's absolutely no way.

That Tony Stark... could like Peter Parker.

__________

The moment the bell rings Peter follows Ned out, hoping he'd be some form of protection.

Wait, if Tony wasn't mad at him did Peter really need protection?

"Come on Peter, don't be late to detention.. you are already in enough trouble." Ned tries to push him away but Peter's glued to him. "No way dude, I'm waiting until Stark is already in there so he won't sit by me."

Ned rolls his eyes "He's always late though, wanna come over for dinner? My mom's making something she found off of pinterest." He gleams with pride for his mother and Peter laughs.

"Do you mean you found it and showed it to her? I've seen your pinterest Ned, nothing but Beyonce and baking videos." They stand outside the detention room.

"Very funny Peter, now go.. I don't want to be associated with a rule breaking hooligan." He pushes him through the door and walks away.

And just as Peter had hoped, Stark was already in the room. Staring of course as Peter sits far from him.

He takes a seat next to Michelle, who nods at him. "What are you in for?"

"Saying a curse word." He winces, realising how stupid it actually was. She raises her brows at him."I say fuck on the daily and never get reprimanded, what could you have possibly said to get put in here?"

"Motherfucking shit nugget." He whispers, mindful of the few people near them.

Michelle gasps in fake shock. "What a bad curse word, wanna play War?" She pulls out a deck of cards.

"Sure, I'm not that good so it'll be a short game." He admits with a shrug and Michelle looks around the room. "Hey he's pretty cool.. Stark, get over here."

Peter grabs her arm and hisses a menacing "You are the motherfucking shit nugget now."

She smiles as Tony walks over "Yeah MJ?" He pulls a chair up to her desk as she holds up the cards. "War."

"Sure, I'll kick your ass." It's as if Peter isn't here.

That's why he stays silent for the first few minutes. Unsure of what was going on in Tony's mind, he hadn't gotten a beating this week yet. He could slam his head down on the desk, shattering his nose and the teacher wouldn't even notice.

"Peter, go." Tony mutters, waiting for him to put his card down.

So he does realize Peter is here. He places down a card and a few seconds later, ends up losing even more cards to Michelle.

Peter stares anxiously at the few unturned cards in his hand, he was going to lose. "Scared Parker?" Michelle taunts and Peter scoffs. "Sometimes you gotta sacrifice your soldiers to end up winning the battle."

Tony snorts, amused but staying silent. Woah, that's a first. He usually laughs at his pain or struggles.

Peter still loses, all his cards now with Michelle, who wins overall. "Bitch, who kicked your ass? I kicked your ass! Biiiitch, who kicked your ass? I kicked your ass!" She cheers and Tony rolls his eyes. "I totally had that game, and you were totally looking at your cards the whole time." He groans defensively and Michelle tosses the cards all over her desk.

"Loser, 52 card pickup." She points at the splattered pile half on the floor half on the desk. Peter sighs, bending down to get all of the cards from the dirty floor.

"You need to up your game Parker, next time you call someone a motherfucking shit nugget you better have practiced before." She says as he puts all of the cards back in the box.

"Hey, it's technically a game of luck, what cards you get."

Ok something is seriously wrong. Peter stares in wonder, was that Tony defending him. "Is that why you lost? You got bad cards?" Michelle puts the box in her bag and slings it over her shoulder.

"Let's go to dinner, loser over here can pay.. right?" Her eyebrows are raised in a threating sort of way.

"I can't, Michelle I'll buy you dinner some other time. I'm already going over to Ned's." He's mindful of Tony's stare.

Has he always been staring at him and Peter just never noticed?

"This is why nobody likes you, I'll hold you up on that offer.. Toe-knee you are welcome to have him pay for you too." She gives a lame finger-guns snap before walking out.

It's already too uncomfortable for Peter to bear and he stands, chair squeaking awkwardly.

"Peter..." Tony's quiet and Peter pretends to not hear him and he grabs his bag. It's almost been 30 minutes and Peter sees no harm in leaving early.

Aunt May's texted him saying she's outside, and sweet freedom.

Until a hand grabs his wrist, pulling hard.

He stumbles back, legs buckling and he falls into Tony's chest. His muscular arms hold Peter tight, as Peter struggles.

This is it, Tony was holding in all of his rage for now. He was a goner.

"Peter." Tony mumbles, and it's almost like they're hugging.

"Tony please let me go... I'm so sorry for yelling at you just please don't hit me again." He begs, remembering he still had some bruises from last week.

Tony lets him go and Peter turns to face him quickly. "I'm sorry." He's so damn quiet.

"Look.. it's fine, my ride is here and I really need to go." He says, walking backwards slowly. He waits for a reply but is met with staring silence.

He turns and quickly walks out the doors.

__________

Damn it Stark, fucking pussy.

He watches Parker run out the doors and groans.

So weak, just tell the little shit already.

Last night, Peter had opened Tony's eyes. Shocked him to the very core.

He realized that he was seriously hurting him, which should've been obvious.

Besides yes, beating him up, emotionally hurting him. How could Tony not have seen it before? How shy he was, anxiety, never ate, didn't defend himself because he thought everything said of him was true.

I'm such an asshole.

Stuck in the cliché of bullying the person you like.

Peter would never ever want to be with him, it's like he said. "I'm terrified of you..."

It was like Tony had been shot, and he deserved all of the pain.

This boy would never say yes to Tony, ever... He'd think of it as a joke or ask if cameras were around.

He wishes he had his number, or any way to contact him. Spamming him would eventually work.

Maybe treating him like shit wasn't the best approach.

He needs to change.

the shape smoke takes

andreil + shotgunning + long-haired neil, nuff said.

“Do you want to try it again?” Neil asks.

Andrew tips Neil’s chin up, softly prying Neil's lips open with the hilts of his fingers and placing the cigarette in between them. “Breathe it in. Do it slow and make sure it reaches down into your lungs. You will feel it. Here,” Andrew brings Neil’s loosely curled palm up over the expanse of his own sternum and flattens it there with his hand. Neil detects the faint stir of Andrew's heartbeat. “Hold it for five seconds and kiss me.”

Neil does as he is instructed, his every thought pirouetting around the phrase kiss me kiss me kiss me.

Andrew said it out loud. That makes it real.

read it on ao3 or under the cut

Neil’s eyes are glued to the man sitting at the table nearest to the bar; dressed as always (like he’s prepared for his own funeral.)

The heavy gleam of a stare, ambling spectrally, giving itself away in its attempts to be inconspicuous. Neil’s fingers grow warm and leave lined imprints on the shot glass he’d been polishing. He has a feeling that his gaze is being carefully returned, somewhere past the foggy algorithm of dry-ice and the pool of flooding customers, all drunkenly swishing and swaying against one another like plastic bags caught in a squall. Their movements erratic and possessed, as if the bass dropped a demon in them. He catches a quick glimpse of a pale blond head thrown backwards, and the empty glass sure to follow suit. Neil’s stomach erupts with warmth at the sight; as if touched; by something as trivial as a blink.

Neil knows how dangerous it is. If his mother were here, she would strike him in between the shoulder blades, and tell him to snap out of it. His father’s bloodhounds will kill him if they sniff him out. Whether he plays by the rules or not, someday, his past is bound to return in the form of a haunting. The dead always catch up. He may be escaping the clutches of said death, having changed his name and being forced to lie low; working in the flashy wilderness of Eden’s Twilight to keep himself from raising any suspicion and assuming a whole new identity—but, it still feels like being strangulated.

He was offered a new life, the least he should be able to do with it is live a little.

Neil’s spent the past year under the Witness Protection Program, living with a tight leash around his neck in return for that protection. It’s a borrowed freedom, and Neil isn’t sure how long it’s going to last. The sharp, familiar gaze reaches him; burns a hole straight through him. He feels the leash loosening in silent revolt and a relief in his chest like a retreating snake.

He's still interested in me.

Neil looks up, just as Roland snaps heavily-ringed fingers in his face. “Hey, Romeo. Stop ogling and start attending. I know he’s cute, but will he still be cute after you’re fired for boning a customer?” Roland’s tone is lighthearted as he animatedly twirls a glass of vodka behind his back and expertly tosses it at him. Neil catches it on instinct, before pouring a drink for an eager woman with the foreboding depths of her cleavage propped up against the counter.

Neil offers her a dull, plastic smile as she carelessly waves her credit card in his face. He plucks it smoothly from her fingers before punching the price into the machine and handing it back to her.

Neil finds himself fascinated by this night-time species, this throng of people with dazzling grins, an insatiable thirst for alcohol and fairly inexhaustive wallets. This secret world that exists like a sweet distraction from the frantic city that lies above it. The job is easy enough. He’s worked up a colorful resume over the years, and though the training period was trying, six months in and Neil’s able to tie a cherry stem with his tongue while flinging a bottle up into the air with one hand, and pouring champagne with the other.  

Thrust into eye-contact, flighty feet, glass-shard violence and wrists tilted in precision—the bar becomes a stadium in its own right. Neil has gotten so used to people divulging their life stories to him under the influence; without asking for anything in return, that he almost forgets that the truth often comes at a price.

That is, until Andrew.

“Hey,” Roland murmurs. “Tuck that shirt in, we aren’t barbarians. Bar- barians. Get it?”

Neil slides him a bone-dry look. “No.”

There are two facets of the job Neil could live without: Roland and his shitty puns, and bar dress code. The uniform is far too flamboyant for his tastes. Neil can’t help but feel like he stands out, despite his repeated efforts to dilute himself as much as he can. Every staff member is required to, at the bare minimum, wear eyeliner and body glitter. Something about fitting the customer aesthetic and subliminal sales techniques; as if people actually give a damn whether Neil glitters or not before buying a drink. It doesn’t quite help that Neil is stuck in a pair of unforgivingly tight pants. The bartender’s vest he wears on top of a standard black shirt is heavy over the shoulders and clings to his torso like hide skin, the grating magenta making him feel like some kind of a glorified eggplant. Roland of course, often works shirtless, wearing nothing but an unnecessary and painfully bright tie around his neck. The eyeliner is doable, but the glitter splashing his eyelids and cheeks is rather itchy and unfavorable.

Luckily, Neil usually sweats it all off by the end of a routine shift. Unluckily, it gets extremely hot as the crowds drool in, and Neil hasn’t had a haircut in weeks. They’ve taken on a life of their own at this point and grown out just past his chin. He keeps the hair that will cooperate tied back in a bun, but it still manages to fall apart from friction. Neil would have chopped it shorter if it weren’t for the fact that Andrew seems to like getting his fingers tangled up in it. Now that his protection has been more or less secured, Neil has taught himself to let go of the clutch of contact lenses and hair dye. He’s still reminded of his father everytime he looks into a mirror and cold blue eyes stare back, but he’s still learning. He can’t live his entire life hiding. It’s not worth half the effort that goes into it. There’s also the fact that anyone with a keen enough eye would be able to recognize his frail disguises with no trouble. If he has no choice but to hide, maybe he should do it in plain sight.

It isn’t until the cocktail crowd clears up a little that Neil’s eyes gravitate to him again. This time, Roland’s gaze follows. “Can we share him? He could be my type. He’s a little short, but look at that body, and he’s got that whole dead-inside, estranged bad boy vibe going on. A mysterious hunk with definite chances of a damaged past. They’re usually really hot in bed. Kinky, too. That is, once you endure the tragic backstory, but it's worth it. Trust me. ” Neil can practically see the thirst building in Roland's eyes and alarms sound off in his head. “When he returns for a refill, I’ll be the one to serve him.” Neil isn’t sure if his voice sounds unnaturally gruff, or if he’s just imagining things. By his side, Roland pouts. “You never let me have any fun.”

“Sink your dirty claws in someone else,” Neil snaps, without sparing his coworker the attention he so craves.

“Uh oh,” Neil hears the grin in Roland’s voice before he realizes the insinuation it carries. “Threat Level Midnight.” Neil ignores him in favor of frothing at the mouth as Andrew begins to amble over, but now Neil’s caught up in the way the strobe lights limn the sharp length of his jawline, like the edge of a blade. In a millisecond, Neil’s caution furls into a disbelieving and growing fascination. Maybe it’s because he’s spent so much of his life in the shadows—but he’d convinced himself long ago, that he's incapable of conceptualizing notions of butterflies & pounding heartbeats & urges beyond that of the animal.  

Andrew parks himself right in front of Neil and swirls a vague finger at his empty tray. “Hi,” Neil’s voice trembles like a short circuiting wire, his hands reaching for the faucet. As he watches the gold liquid sloshing around in it, he puts every remaining ounce of effort in trying not to think about the places where Andrew’s lips met the rim of the glass.

Andrew slants an intent look his way. “When do you get off?”

Their eyes meet, and Neil’s anxiety ebbs away, transforms to a solid state of certainty. “That’s up to you.”

Roland’s lips curl up into a suggestive smirk. “Get out of here, you two. I’m practically suffocating in the fumes of your oh-so-sexual tension.” Andrew does not acknowledge the comment, but Neil turns his head. “My shift is still—”

“I’ll cover for you tonight, but you owe me one, Foxy.” Roland had taken to calling Neil that, solely because he turned up to work in a graphic t-shirt with a cartoon fox on it one time—and that had only been because Stanley had picked it for him. It isn’t long before Neil finds himself on Andrew’s solemn heel as they head down a dimly lit hallway. The smoking zone allows for just a little more room than an airport bathroom stall. It’s a small, airy balcony that Neil often takes the liberty to close off to the general public. This is not the first time Andrew and Neil have ended up here together, and it won’t be the last, but tonight feels different.

Tonight feels like a confession.

Andrew clambers onto the edge and settles down with his knees drawn up to his chest, and his back against the cold wall. Neil joins him, a leg dangling loosely on either side. There’s rain trapped in the air, and the clouds hang like blemishes yet to burst, a humid breeze that preys on skin. The steady trickle of dull music springs up from the ground beneath their feet, all too easy to compare to a heartbeat. Neil finds himself inexplicably drawn to Andrew, pulse thrumming like rippling water.

Andrew produces a pair of slightly bent cigarettes out of his back pocket and hands one to Neil. At his appraisal, Andrew leans in and bunches a fist in Neil’s collar. “Your shirt reeked of nicotine last week,” he explains, and lets go; even though Neil doesn’t want him to let go.

Andrew lights them, and Neil accepts his without a thought. The pure orange flame glows in the night like a rescue flare. Andrew’s cigarette slips effortlessly in the hollow between his lithe fingers, as he places it, like the barrel of a gun, to his mouth. Something craved and immediately lost in the thoughtless routine of the movement.

(They are caught up in this dance, in this game, in this ritual. Neil spoke his first truth in years, out loud in some back alley under a bleary moon, staring softly into a disenchanted pair of honeyed eyes, his words a relief and an invitation; spilled into Andrew’s open mouth; his chest soaring with quiet sounds of touch and need and want—all words that bloomed like roses along the thorny stems of resolute promises. Neil has never been interested in another person before, not like this. Even as his toes itch with the whim to run, his ribs burn for more, more, more. This is something he wants to hold onto. Does that make him selfish? Does that make him greedy? Does he care?)

“You’re staring,” Andrew says, watching the distant highway lights, the predictable performance of miniature cars snaking past narrow roads in a gentle, vein-like flow. Low sounds of traffic popping and fizzing far away from where they are. “Did you notice me watching you?” Neil knows the answer, but maybe he can trick himself into taking a confirmation as a promise. “I could barely focus on my job, you know. It’s starting to become a real problem.”

“Your problem,” Andrew corrects, and Neil smiles, cigarette flickering in a suicidal haze between his fingertips. “What’s one more problem to add to my multiplying list?”

Andrew falls quiet, and Neil chews on his bottom lip nervously. That’s a new feeling. He's spent a laughably large portion of his life in acute danger, and now he’s on a nightclub rooftop, growing nervous over something like this. Growing nervous over someone . Curious, too. Neil's mother used to say that learning about people will do him no good. Do you bother to learn the name of every road you tread on, to get you where you need to go? Of course not.

He doesn’t care. He’s hungry to know—every conceivable thing, hungrier more, for what’s invisible. The reason for the black cloth that veils Andrew’s forearms, the reason for the technicolor bruises he wears around his knuckles, the reason why he understands Neil, on a seemingly molecular level— without a morsel of question or concern.

“When did you start smoking?” Neil inquires, to which Andrew only blandly says, “You do not get an answer out of turn.” Neil frowns. “How about a bonus round?” When Andrew says nothing, Neil sighs and meets the other man’s eyes. “I do actually want to tell you something, and you can have this for free.” Andrew nods, before tilting his chin and taking a lengthy drag.

"Andrew-"

Neil hesitates, throat closing up at the sight of the muscles working in unison under Andrew’s neck and making a blue vein strain in result. Andrew exhales with the same efficiency, plumes of smoke exiting his lips like fluid ghosts, leaving him in search of the light.

“This… whatever it is we’re doing. It means a lot to me. I’m not used to having desires, or being attracted to other people. I didn’t even think I was capable of anything like it. You make me want to be something other than nothing. You… You don’t have to answer. I just wanted you to know that.”

Cool fingers close around his neck. Neil’s body is slack with notions he’s grown weary of trying to comprehend, notions bigger than the both of them, bright and wide as rivers. Neil’s attention flickers to the rapidly dying cigarette—and why does it feel like it’s burning him down with it?

“Did I ask for a reason?” There’s a stray ringlet of blond hair interrupting Andrew’s eyes. The urge that dawns over Neil is heavy and explorable, but it’s only when Andrew does not back away, that Neil raises his thumb to gently brush it off, tucking it as far as it’s willing go, just above the slender curve of his upper ear. “You asked for the truth.” Neil says, hand falling into his lap in between them; lest his touch mistakenly linger.

“The truth has its limits,” Andrew’s face is close and not close enough. Neil wants him so close that he can longer tell their bodies apart.

“Mm,” he mutters, absently; skin hot from the humidity or maybe from the need to be touched—not just any need. The need to be touched by Andrew is different—but maybe it’s more than different, something too sacred for words. It's not a purely sexual feeling, it's a certain, overwhelming sense of safety (a notion as unfamiliar as the surface of Mars). Safe. Somehow... Andrew makes him feel safe.

“How do you know?”

“Because you seem to have none. Come here,” Andrew’s fingers against the nape of Neil’s neck are shaping; guiding, as he gently pulls Neil towards him and picks the half-exhausted cigarette from his hands, before flicking it away. “How wasteful,” Andrew says, tone tinged with the palest hint of disapproval, while his lips part in earnest. “I need the smell, but I don’t really hold a desire to smoke it.” Neil admits. Andrew shoots him a hard glare, and it feels, for a moment, as though there is nothing in between them—not even air or moonlight. Neil can’t look away from the face of the man he has been kissing in silent corners for six months. He can’t quite keep his lungs from pooling either, like light through a doorway.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asks.

Neil’s answer is an incontrovertible ‘yes’ gasped out like a dying man’s final wish.

There’s a sudden look behind Andrew’s glassy eyes, and maybe Neil is just seeing what he wants to see, or maybe not. Maybe there was a shock of increible feeling that momentarily eclipsed Andrew, before passing as swiftly as it had arrived. Then again, maybe it was just a smoke-induced hallucination.

Andrew draws closer and Neil stares at the way his cracked and peeling lips navigate around his cigarette, how his fingers tremble without volition. Andrew watches him back; closely. Neil is unsure of the steel expression betraying nothing; but the flicker of his eyelids suggest he is furiously muling something over, something clearly substantial. Andrew lets out a preparatory breath, before taking one of Neil’s hands with his free one and placing it over his shirt, just beneath his ribs. The world shivers and Neil’s pulse rings out like a snare-beat. This is the first time Andrew has ever allowed him to touch him like that. To touch him somewhere below the neck. Neil finds himself suddenly overwhelmed with more gratitude than he can convey in the involuntary twitch of his fingers against the worn fabric of Andrew’s shirt. Andrew makes it a point to keep a firm hand wrapped around Neil’s wrist; now pressed into his diaphragm, before he inhales, deeply. Their gazes are rapt on one another. Beneath the scar-ridden skin of Neil’s fingers, Neil can feel the conscious rise of Andrew’s chest, the strong muscles expanding beneath his stomach, the lick of heat as Andrew's lips slide open to meet his own and he pours his breath into Neil’s mouth. Momentarily suffocating; dreamy. Libation-spill.

Neil’s eyes fall closed.

The back of his throat scalds and he has to repress the urge to break into a coughing fit, but then the discomfort passes, to be replaced with an indelible need. Even the smoke escaping between them seems to linger reluctantly against their mouths, and then everything within Neil returns to the eager slide of Andrew’s tongue. A gasp of pleasant surprise and a soft scratch of teeth and delicate devouring. Neil’s hair coming undone, his grip on Andrew’s shirt growing more faithful, their breaths rattling out heavy and indulgent.

Neil’s mind mimics a blank slate, Andrew’s breaths run through him. His free hand slips into Andrew curls. He does not tug or disrupt, just holds on for some sense of an anchor and Andrew’s palm latches harder onto Neil’s neck, a finger twisting a loose strand of hair. Just as Andrew begins to draw away so that they can catch their breaths, Neil tugs at his lower lip and pulls him in once again. The smoke is long lost to the whims of air. Neil can feel the way Andrew’s stomach contracts with the sudden gesture, how his body falls slack as if aching to be reshaped, the pronounced jut of his neck. This time, Andrew rips himself away and takes Neil’s lower lip between his fingers, pinching them together in feigned annoyance. They’re tangled together like a pair of wrinkled clothes on a washing line. Neil’s heart pounds dizzyingly. Andrew’s eyes slant lazily and take on a starry glaze, a consequence of a kiss shared like smoke and digested.

Andrew’s cheeks are red and raw with stray constellations of sticky flecks.

“I'm sorry I got glitter all over you,” Neil hums, unapologetically.

Andrew blinks a sparkling speck out of his lashes. "Liar."

"I've never kissed someone like this before."

"I can tell."

There's a pleasant halo of warmth spreading around them now. Neil pushes his hair back from his face. "You're really good at that."

(A perfunctory pale stare.) “You claim to hate it yet you consume like a junkie.”

(More importantly,) Andrew hasn’t dropped Neil’s wrist yet.

“I think I could get used to smoke as long as it comes from your lungs.” Neil grins. Andrew shoots him an unempathetic look, but it holds no bite. He looks so young all of a sudden, with glitter dust highlighting his features and Neil's hand held to his lungs, standing as a counterweight to the fumes.

"102%."

"What does it signify?"

"The likely chances that I will hurl you off this ledge to your untimely death."

“Before you kill me..."

"Do you want to try it again?” Neil asks. Andrew tips Neil’s chin up, softly prying Neil's lips open with the hilts of his fingers and placing the cigarette in between them. “Breathe it in. Do it slow and make sure it reaches down into your lungs. You will feel it. Here,” Andrew brings Neil’s loosely curled palm up over the expanse of his own sternum and flattens it there with his hand. Neil detects the faint stir of Andrew's heartbeat. “Hold it for five seconds and kiss me.” Neil does as he is instructed, his every thought pirouetting around the phrase kiss me kiss me kiss me . Andrew said it out loud. That makes it real. That makes it a promise. Neil’s hand creeps up Andrew’s chest and locks around his neck. He leans in and Andrew’s mouth falls open invitingly, swallowing the smoke that seemingly travelled light years to reach him.

They’re still kissing long after the smoke has dissipated and their mouths are sore and Andrew’s cigarette has died out in his hands. An airplane grazes the night sky overhead, drowning out the consequences of body heat and the sound of hitched breaths and transparent bodies colliding; like a car crash in the dark.

When they finally break apart, Andrew has glitter sprawled over his nose and Neil’s body is an ocean.

“Fuck,” Neil breathes. “Andrew, you’re amazing.”

Andrew blinks at him, expression steady, chest still heaving from the aftermath. “Don’t say stupid things.”

“I mean it,” Neil insists. “Thank you for…” He fumbles over the words for a moment, unsure of how to put a feeling so massive into a weak network of words. So he reaches out for Andrew's shoulders instead. The delirious feeling of fingers digging into the soft skin of his inner forearms, and tracing back. “Shh,” Andrew moves smoothly, like the start of a flame, and then he has Neil pinned down, the weight of a knee digging into his chest, and an arm, coiled over his side as counterweight to the ledge. Voice tender. “Stay.”

“Will you?” Neil asks, breath thin and collapsable.

The longest silence in the universe.

“I am not going anywhere.” Andrew’s tone is perfectly dry, but it conceals open wounds. Wounds Neil wants to fill with kisses and shared cigarettes and a heady rush of safety. The sort of imagined, persistent safety found beneath blankets after midnight, at the bottom of cardboard boxes, along a line of streetlights.

Neil smiles—big and genuine. “Me neither.”

Neil wants to see Andrew. Again and again. Why? Because of the way roofs cave in to mounds of snow, because of how a hand can be transformed by the simple act of touching another hand, because of a dry spell in the tropics, because of alcohol warming a system, because of the blood spoiling almost every single one of his shirts; the smell of nicotine. And the way that the world feels calmer; less angry, less out to get him. The way their friction reinvents hope and blocks out both sun and shadow. Because he does not want to live like the dead when he's not dead yet. Because Andrew’s breath tastes like a promise. Because he wants to be selfish and brazen and in love with something he can’t understand (not yet). Because Neil is tired and everything hurts and he just wants to feel something good. Because Neil could choose to run, like he always does, but he doesn’t. Not tonight. 

Because living like that doesn’t mean a thing.